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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
EIGHTH EDITION.
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA,
OR
DICTIONARY
OF
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
EIGHTH EDITION.
WITH EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME X.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH.
MDCCCLVI.
[The Proprietors of this Work give notice that they reserve the right of Translating it.]
NEILL AND CO., PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
FRANCE.
Introduc- In treating of France, a subject in itself of great inagni-
tion- tude, but one which, in a work like this, embracing the
entire circle of human knowledge, can only be delineated
in outline, we shall endeavour to observe the same method
which was followed in treating of England, and to place Introduc-
before our readers condensed abstracts of the History, Sta- ^ tl0n‘
tistics, Government, and Laws of that great country, long
remarkable for its high civilization.
L HISTORY.
Merovin- About half a century before the commencement of our
gians and era, Gaul, then inhabited by a race of Celtic origin and
Carlovin- descent, was subdued by Caesar, and for the space of near-
gians. jy flve centuries continued under the sway of the Romans.
During the first half of this period, w'hich was in a great
measure one of r’epose, the country made considerable ad¬
vances in improvement, and in fact received its full share
in that civilization with which Rome usually repaid the
turbulent independence destroyed by her conquests. Po¬
litical union, internal tranquillity, and the security result¬
ing from the firm and impartial administration of an admir¬
able system of laws, were amongst the direct advantages
which the people derived from their subjugation ; whilst,
collaterally, agriculture was improved, commerce extend¬
ed, industry encouraged, wealth accumulated, and the
general happiness promoted. To the wild and pernicious
liberty enjoyed by warlike savages had succeeded the vigor¬
ous but wise government of an enlightened conqueror,
whose policy it was to efface the recollection of indepen¬
dence by positive benefits conferred, and to secure to the
people those substantial advantages without the enjoyment
of which liberty is no batter than an empty name. Even
the climate was ameliorated in proportion as industry ex¬
tended its dominion ; and the soil, rendered capable of pro¬
ducing and maturing the choicest fruits, amply repaid the
labour employed in its cultivation. The vine, the olive,
and other useful plants, were introduced by the Romans ;
and even Christianity itself was amongst the boons which
this people latterly conferred on the subject nations in return
for their political independence. But during the latter half
of the period above mentioned, when the ancient Roman
valour and discipline had begun to decline, and degeneracy
VOL. X.
of manners had sapped the foundations of Roman power,
the province of Gaul became exposed to the incursions,
and was finally overwhelmed by the settlement, of barba¬
rian invaders.
Of the natural boundaries of the Roman province of
Gaul, the Rhine was by far the most important, as forming
the line of demarcation between the empire on the one
hand, and the multitudinous tribes of savage nations which
swarmed beyond the stream on the other. On one side
were wealth and civilization; on the other, want and bar¬
barism. Principles the most irreconcilable, and inveterately
hostile, were only separated by the breadth of the river.
But the genius of barbarism, hanging on the outskirts of ci¬
vilization, is essentially aggressive, and continually seeking
to destroy the monuments which the latter has reared. In
a word, the natural state between such neighbours is one of
war. As long, however, as the Roman legions preserved
their ancient discipline and spirit, the turbulence of the
German tribes was repressed, and the barrier of the em¬
pire maintained; one or two defeats, which imprudence or
temerity had entailed, were severely avenged ; and the
Roman generals, penetrating at different intervals into the
country of the barbarians, chastised their audacity, and
taught them to regard with salutary awe the power which
they had dared to defy. But the Germans, though little
versed in policy, began in time to be sensible that their fre¬
quent defeats were owing to their disunion ; that whilst
dispersed in different tribes, without any solid or permanent
bond of connection, they could never hope to contend with
success against the disciplined force of a great empire, im¬
pelled by and obedient to one supreme directing mind.
They now perceived that their former leagues, hastily
A
2
History.
254-355.
FRANCE,,
formed, were as easily dissolved ; that something more than
a sort of wild, irregular co-operation was necessary; and
that, without coherence and consistence, it would be vain
to expect success in any offensive enterprise. The con¬
sciousness of this defect produced in the third century those
extensive confederacies in which many tribes united perma¬
nently under one common name, and frequently under one
chief or sovereign, some assuming the appellation of Ale-
manni, descriptive of the combination which had been
formed, and others taking that of Franks, indicative of the
spirit or freedom in which they rejoiced.
The first mention made of the Franks by the historians
of the empire is about the middle of the third century. Of
their origin various and discordant accounts have been
given ; but the most probable supposition seems to be that,
about the time of the emperor Gordian, the people inha¬
biting the banks of the Lower Rhine entered into a con¬
federacy with those who dwelt on the Weser, and that the
tribes thus united assumed the name of Franks or Free¬
men. The chief seat of this confederacy, therefore, ap¬
pears to have been the marshy territory overflowed and
divided into islets by the Rhine, from the spot where the
river begins to run in a westerly direction, to its junction
with the sea. Their first irruption took place in the year
254, and the second in the reign of Valerian. On the lat¬
ter occasion they were but few in number, and were easily
repulsed by Valerian, who afterwards became emperor. Not
discouraged by this check, however, they returned in great¬
er numbers about two years afterwards, and were again de¬
feated by Gallienus, whom Valerian had now chosen as his
associate in the empire. But as fresh swarms still continued
to pour in from their native fastnesses, Gallienus, being no
longer in a condition to expel them by force of arms, adopt¬
ed the perilous expedient of negotiation, and, by means of
advantageous offers, engaged one of their chiefs to defend
the frontier against his own countrymen as well as against
other invaders. Such an admission of weakness, however,
could only have the effect of provoking further aggression.
In the year 260 the Franks, taking advantage of the defeat
and captivity of Valerian in Persia, broke into Gaul, and af¬
terwards into Italy, committing everywhere the most dread¬
ful ravages ; and five years afterwards they invaded Spain,
which they occupied, or rather desolated, for the space of
twelve years. But in the year 275 they were completely
overthrown and driven out of Gaul by the emperor Probus,
who pursued them into their own country, and there built
several forts to keep them in awe. Intimidated by this de¬
feat, they remained quiet until 287, when, in conjunction
with Saxon pirates, they plundered the coasts of Gaul, and
carried off from thence an immense booty. To revenge
this insult the emperor Maximian, the following year, en¬
tered their country, which he laid waste with fire and sword,
at the same time compelling two of their chiefs to submit
to his arms; whilst to such of the common people as chose
to remain in Gaul he allotted lands in the neighbourhood
of Treves and Cambray. The restless disposition of the
Franks, however, did not suffer them to remain long at
peace ; and about the year 293 they made themselves mas¬
ters of Batavia and part of Flanders; but they were once
more entirely defeated, and compelled to surrender at dis¬
cretion, by Constantius, the father of Constantine the Great,
who allotted them settlements in Gaul. In 306 their coun¬
trymen in Germany renewed their depredations, though
with little success; for having been overtaken by Constan¬
tine, they were completely routed, and two of their kings
who fell into his hands were thrown to wild beasts during
the sports exhibited in honour of the victory. All these
reverses, however, were insufficient to prevent the incur¬
sions of this restless and turbulent people. In the year
355 they again invaded Gaul, and made themselves mas¬
ters of forty cities in that province. But they were soon
afterwards defeated by the emperor Julian, who also drove History,
the Alemanni within their ancient boundaries; and again v—
by Theodosius, father of the emperor of that name, who 355-487
expelled the invaders, and pursued them with great slaugh¬
ter. They returned, however, in the year 388, when they
ravaged the province with greater fury than ever, cut off the
Roman army which was sent against them, and in some
measure established themselves in the country which they
had so frequently overrun. In fact, the western empire
was now reduced to so low an ebb that the Franks, until
their progress was checked by TEtius, experienced more
interruption from other barbarians roving in quest of new
settlements, than from the armies of Rome, which had so
often repulsed preceding invaders.
The commencement of the fifth century was marked by
an overwhelming irruption into Gaul of the barbarian hosts,
who, pouring in from different points, rolled on like a sud¬
den inundation, sweeping away every thing in their destruc¬
tive course. The church alone towered aloft above the ge¬
neral desolation ; her bulwarks were strong enough to resist
the shock of that fierce torrent of barbarism by which they
were assailed ; and had it not been for this circumstance,
all the records and traditions of the past must have perished
amidst the general ruin. But the progress of the invaders
was nevertheless destined to experience a vigorous check.
When the contest with TEtius commenced, the Franks were
governed by Pharamond, the first of their kings or leaders
of whom any distinct account has been preserved. This chief
or prince is supposed to have reigned from the year 417 or
418 to 428, and is generally believed to have been killed in
the war with iEtius. He is understood to have compiled the
Salic laws, with the assistance of four sages named Wisegast,
Losegast, Widegast, and Solegast; but Valesius is of opi¬
nion that the Franks had no written laws until the time of
Clovis. Pharamond was succeeded by his son Clodio, who
is said to have received a terrible overthrow from iEtius near
the city of Lens. But notwithstanding this defeat he advan¬
ced to Cambray, of which he made himself master, extend¬
ed his conquests as far as the river Somme, and destroy¬
ed the cities of Treves and Cologne, Tournay and Amiens.
He died in the year 448, and was succeeded by Merovaeus.
It is uncertain whether the new king was brother, or son,
or in fact any relation at all, to Clodio ; it seems probable,
indeed, that he was of a different family, as from him the
first race of French kings were styled Merovingian. He
was honoured and respected by his people, but did not
greatly enlarge the boundaries of his kingdom. Merovseus,
who died in 458, was succeeded by his son Childeric, who
being no longer kept in check by TEtius, made war upon
the Romans, extended his conquests as far as the river Loire,
and took the city of Paris after a lengthened siege. Chil¬
deric was succeeded by Clodovseus, Clovis, or Louis; and
as the Roman power in Italy had now been totally destroyed,
the latter set himself to make an entire conquest of Gaul.
Part of the province was still retained by a Roman named ‘
Syagrius, the son of iEgidius, who, like his father, governed
and was even said to have reigned at Soissons, where the
former had established himself on the downfall of the west¬
ern empire in 476. But Syagrius was defeated and taken
prisoner by Clovis, who afterwards caused him to be be¬
headed, and soon reduced his dominions under subjection.
I he French monarchy was thus established in the year Establish-
487 by Clovis, who possessed all the country situated be- ment of
tween the Rhine and the Loire. The secret of the rise ofthe Fre"ch
this conqueror, originally the chief or king of a small colony
of Franks established at Tournay, may be easily explained.
Of all the nations which overran Gaul, that which eventu¬
ally subdued all the others, and gave its name both to the
country and the people, was the most disunited and the
least advanced in the arts of life. The Goths and the Bur¬
gundians were much more civilized than the Franks ; for,
FRA
Historj. whilst the former constituted each a separate nation and
race, which obeyed one monarch or family of monarchs,
487-496. j.jie ia^er consisted of different tribes united in a species
of temporary confederacy, the ties of which became more
and more relaxed in proportion as they advanced from the
Rhine. Each town or territory had its petty independent
sovereign ; and, anterior to the time of Clovis, they do not
appear to have had any supreme chief or a general capital.
Whether this was or was not an advantage, we do not pre¬
tend to determine. But it obviously left them in a great
measure free to engage in any enterprise in which they chose
to embark ; and it also laid open the chieftaincy to the ambi¬
tion of the first leader distinguished for boldness and pre¬
eminent talents ; whilst, on the other hand, the vague com¬
prehensiveness of their name was calculated to congregate
under their banner such roving bands as might be in search
of either plunder or establishments. The principle of their
confederacy was such that any tribe or race might easily
be admitted within its pale. Of this Clovis skilfully took
advantage, and, by availing himself of its elasticity (if we
may be allowed the expression), became the founder of the
French monarchy.
Clovis had been educated in paganism, and continued to
profess it until the thirtieth year of his age ; but notwith¬
standing this circumstance, he allowed his subjects full liber¬
ty of conscience. When he married Clotilda, daughter of the
Duke of Burgundy, this princess, who was a zealous Chris¬
tian, used all her influence to persuade him to embrace her
religion. For some time, however, he continued to waver
between Christianity and paganism ; but having gained a
battle against the Germans near Cologne, where, when in
great danger, he had invoked the God of Clotilda and the
Christians, he afterwards lent a favourable ear to the dis¬
courses of Remigius bishop of Rheims, and having declar¬
ed himself a convert, was baptized in the year 496. But
his acknowledgment of the truths of Christianity was not
followed by any amendment of life ; on the contrary, he em¬
ployed the remainder of his life in aggrandizing himself, and
extending his dominions, by means of treachery, fraud, and
violence. In his attacks on Armorica or Bretagne, however,
he proved unsuccessful. The inhabitants of this country,
which comprehended the maritime part of ancient Gaul, had
united for their common defence, and, though abandoned by
the Romans, made a vigorous resistance against the bar¬
barians, who assaulted them on all sides. Clovis, finding
them too powerful to be subdued by force, proposed an
union with his people, which they readily accepted, chiefly
on account of his professing Christianity. Thus the new
religion of Clovis proved subservient to the purposes of
his ambition, and his power became gradually formidable.
At this time the Burgundians, under Gondebaud, the uncle
of Clotilda, possessed all the country from the forest of
Vosges to the sea at Marseilles; and their chief, to secure
his own authority, had put to death two of his brothers,
one of whom was the father of the French queen. But
the third brother, Godagesil, whom he had spared and al¬
lowed to possess the principality of Geneva, conspired with
Clovis to expel Gondebaud from his dominions. A war
accordingly commenced between the French and Burgun¬
dian monarchs, and the latter being deserted in battle by
the faithless Godagesil, was obliged to fly to Avignon, leav¬
ing his antagonist undisputed master of the cities of Lyons
and Vienne. The conqueror next laid siege to Avignon ;
but the place was defended with such vigour, that Clovis
thought proper to accept of a large sum of money and an
annual tribute from Gondebaud, who was likewise obliged
to cede to Godagesil the city of Vienne, and several other
places taken during the war. Gondebaud, however, no
sooner found himself at liberty from his enemies, than he
assembled a powerful army, with which he advanced to¬
wards Vienne, where Godagesil then resided. The place
N C E. 3
was garrisoned by five thousand Franks, and might have History,
made considerable resistance ; but Gondebaud being ad-
mitted into the city through an aqueduct, massacred most 496-511.
of the Franks, sent the rest as prisoners to the king of the
Visigoths, and put Godagesil to death. This was speedily
followed by the submission of all the other places which
had owned the authority of Godagesil; and Gondebaud
considering himself in a condition to resist the power of
Clovis, intimated his determination to withhold the pro¬
mised tribute ; a defection which Clovis, though exceed¬
ingly mortified, found himself obliged for the present to
overlook.
The next expedition undertaken by Clovis was directed
against the Visigoths, who possessed considerable territo¬
ries on both sides of the Pyrenean mountains. His motives
for this enterprise were expressed in a speech which he de¬
livered to his nobility when assembled in the city of Paris,
which he considered as the capital of his dominions. “ It is
with concern,” said the monarch, “ that I suffer the Arians
to possess the most fertile part of Gaul; let us, with the aid
of God, march against them, and, having conquered them,
annex their kingdom to our dominions.” The nobility ap¬
proved of the scheme ; and Clovis marched against a prince
for whom he had lately professed the greatest regard, vow¬
ing to erect a church in honour of the holy apostles if he
succeeded in his unrighteous enterprise. Alaric the king
of the Visigoths, though personally brave, was destitute
of military experience, and therefore hesitated not to en¬
gage with his antagonist; but, unable to contend with the
veteran troops of Clovis, his army was utterly defeated
on the banks of the Clain, near Poictiers, in the year 507,
and Alaric himself slain. After this victory the province
of Aquitaine submitted ; Toulouse soon afterwards surren¬
dered, and the royal treasures of the Visigoths were trans¬
ported to Paris. AngoulSme was next reduced, and the
city of Arles invested. But here the victorious career of
Clovis was stopped by Theodoric, king of the Ostrogoths,
who had overturned the dominion of Odoacer in Italy. He
had married the sister of Clovis, but having also given his
own daughter in marriage to the king of the Visigoths, he
had endeavoured, as far as possible, to preserve a good un¬
derstanding between the two sovereigns. This, however,
he found to be impossible * and, convinced that no bounds
could be set to the ambition of Clovis by peaceful means,
he sent against him one of his generals with a powerful army,
by which the French monarch was defeated with the loss of
thirty thousand men. This discomfiture obliged Clovis to
raise the siege of Arles; but the Franks still retained the
greater part of their conquests, and the province of Aqui¬
taine was indissolubly annexed to their empire. In 509 Clo¬
vis received the title of Roman consul, and was thus sup¬
posed to be invested with a just title to all his conquests, in
whatsoever manner they had been acquired. He was so¬
lemnly invested with the new dignity in the church of St
Martin, in the city of Tours. Clovis now proceeded to
confirm his power by the murder of his kinsmen the princes
of the Merovingian race. Amongst those who perished in
virtue of this bloody policy were Sigebert king of Cologne,
with his son Cloderic ; Cararic, another prince whose do¬
minions have not been accurately pointed out by historians ;
Ranacaire, who governed the diocese of Cambray ; and
Renomer, king of the territory of Maine. All these mur¬
ders, however, were supposed to be expiated by the zeal
which he expressed in behalf of Christianity, and his libe¬
rality towards the church. Clovis died in the year 511, af¬
ter having reformed and published the Salic laws; a few
lines of which, excluding women from inheriting any part
of the Salic lands, have been extended so far as to deprive
the females of the royal family of France of their right of
succession to the throne of that kingdom.
Clovis has been compared to Constantine, and they had
4 FRA
History, certainly this in common, that each embraced Christianity
in circumstances nearly similar, and from motives much
. 11-531. more closely allied to self-interest than conviction. In
both cases, too, the change of religion, instead of temper¬
ing their passions, or exercising a benign influence over
their conduct, appears rather to have exasperated their na¬
tural ferocity and blood-thirstiness. The domestic mur¬
ders committed by Constantine find their parallel in the
assassinations perpetrated by Clovis, who equalled the Ro¬
man emperor in cruelty, and perhaps surpassed him in per¬
fidy. In the abuse of the doctrines of confession and ab¬
solution each found an opiate to lull the remonstrances of
conscience; and as the church encouraged errors calcu¬
lated to augment its wealth and extend its power, the na¬
tural obstacles to the commission of crime were thus re¬
moved, and eventual impunity secured to the greatest of¬
fender, provided his means bore any proportion to his cri¬
minality. The founder of the French monarchy, therefore,
is to be regarded rather as a daring and fortunate ruffian
than as a great conqueror or an able leader; one who
reaped the fruits of the crimes he had committed, and
around whom success had thrown that false glare which so
much misleads the moral judgments of men.
The dominions of Clovis were divided amongst his four
sons. Thierri, or Theodoric, the eldest, received the east¬
ern part of the empire, and as he made the city of Metz
his capital, he is commonly styled the king of Metz ; Clo-
domir, the eldest son by Clotilda, obtained the kingdom of
Orleans ; whilst to Childebert and Clotaire, both infants,
were allotted the kingdoms of Paris and Soissons, under
the tutelage of their mother. During eight years the pru¬
dence of Clotilda maintained tranquillity in all parts of the
empire ; but about the year 520 a numerous fleet of Danes
arrived at the mouth of the Meuse, and their king Cochi-
liac having landed his forces, began to desolate the coun¬
try with fire and sword. Against the invaders Thierri sent
his son Theodobert, who defeated the Danish army, killed
their king, and forced the remainder to retire with precipi¬
tation. In 522 Hermanfroi, king of Thuringia, having put
to death one of his brothers named Berthaire, and seized
on his dominions, applied to Thierri for assistance against
’ his other brother Balderic, whom he intended to dispose of
in the same manner. Thierri assented, and embarked in
this creditable enterprise, upon condition that he should
have one half of Balderic’s dominions ; but after the un-
happy prince had been overcome and killed in battle, Her¬
manfroi, forgetting or despising the compact, seized upon
all his dominions. Thierri had no opportunity of reveng¬
ing himself till the year 531, when, perceiving that the
power of the Ostrogoths, whom he greatly dreaded, had
been considerably lessened by the death of king Theodoric,
he engaged his brother Clotaire to assist him. They ac¬
cordingly entered Thuringia with two powerful armies,
which formed a junction as soon as they had passed the
Rhine, and were soon afterwards reinforced by a consider¬
able body of troops under the command of Theodobert.
The army of Hermanfroi was advantageously posted ; but
being attacked by a superior force, it was totally defeated,
and Hermanfroi himself forced to fly from place to place
in disguise. His capital was soon afterwards taken, and
Hermanfroi himself being invited to a conference by Thier¬
ri, was treacherously murdered ; after which his extensive
dominions became feudatory to the murderer. In the mean
time Clotilda had excited her children to make wrar on the
Burgundians, in order to avenge the death of her father
Chilperic, whom Gondebaud, king of Burgundy, had caused
to be murdered. Gondebaud, who was now dead, had left
his dominions to his sons Sigismund and Godemar. The
former was speedily defeated, and soon afterwards delivered
up to Clodomir, who caused him to be thrown into a pit,
where he perished miserably. Clodomir now marched
N C E.
against Godemar, who, by the death of his brother, had be- History,
come sole master of Burgundy, and completely defeated him v—^
also ; but having pursued his victory too eagerly, he was 5M-f>67*
surrounded by his enemies and slain. After the reduction
of Thuringia, however, Childebert and Clotaire entered the
kingdom of Burgundy at the head of a powerful army, and
in 534 completed the conquest of that country.
In 560 Clotaire having murdered the sons of Clodomir, Clotaire
who had been killed in Burgundy as already related, ands°le mo*
Thierri and his children, as also Childebert, being now”arc^
dead, became sole heir to the dominions of Clovis. He * rance‘
had five sons, the eldest of whom, named Chramnes, had
some time previously rebelled against his father in Au¬
vergne. As long as Childebert lived he had supported the
young prince ; but on his death Chramnes was obliged to
implore the clemency of his father, by whom he was par¬
doned. But he soon began to cabal afresh, and engaged
the Count of Bretagne to assist him in another rebellion.
The Bretons, however, were defeated, and Chramnes re¬
solved to make his escape; but perceiving that his wife
and children were surrounded by his father’s troops, he
made an effort to rescue them. In this attempt, however,
he failed, and being taken prisoner, he was with his family
thrust into a thatched cottage near the field of battle,
which the king commanded to be set on fire, and all that
were in it perished in the flames.
Clotaire did not long survive this barbarous execution, The em-
but died in 562, and after his death the French empire pire again
was divided amongst his four remaining sons, Caribert, divided.
Gontran, Sigebert, and Chilperic. Caribert, the eldest, re¬
ceived the kingdom of Paris ; Gontran, the second, obtained
Orleans; Sigebert got Metz, or Austrasia; and Chilperic
had Soissons; whilst Provence and Aquitaine were pos¬
sessed by all of them in common. The peace of the em¬
pire was first disturbed in 563 by an invasion of the Abares,
a barbarous nation, believed to have been the remains of
the Huns. I hey entered Thuringia, which belonged to
the dominions of Sigebert, but were totally defeated, and
obliged to repass the Elbe. Sigebert pursued them closely,
but on hearing that his brother Chilperic had invaded his
dominions, and taken Rheims, with some other places in
the neighbourhood, he concluded a peace with the van¬
quished barbarians. Sigebert then marched with his victo¬
rious army against Chilperic, made himself master of Sois¬
sons, and seized his eldest son Theodobert. He then de¬
feated Chilperic in battle, recovered the places which he
had seized, and conquered the greater part of his domi¬
nions ; but, on the mediation of the other two brothers,
Sigebert abandoned all his conquests, set Theodobert at
liberty, and thus restored peace to the empire.
Soon after this event Sigebert married Burnehaut,
daughter to Athanagilde, king of the Visigoths in Spain;
and Caribert, king ot Paris, having died, his dominions were
divided amongst his three brothers. In 567 Chilperic mar-
xied Galswintha, Brunehaut’s eldest sister, and before her
arrival dismissed his mistress, Fredegonde, a woman of great
ability and firmness of mind, but ambitious, and capable of
committing the darkest crimes to gratify her ambition. The
queen, who had brought with her immense treasures from
Spain, and who made it her sole study to please the king,
was for some time entirely acceptable to him. But by degrees
Chilperic suffered Fredegonde to re-appear at court, and
was even suspected of having renewed his intercourse writh
tuis piofligate woman ; a circumstance which gave such of¬
fence to the queen, that she desired permission to return to
hei own country, at the same time promising to leave be¬
hind her all the wealth she had brought. Aware that this
would render him extremely odious, the king found means
to dissipate his w ife s suspicions, and soon afterwards caused
r. stranSled> llPon which he publicly mar-
i led the harlot hredegonde. Such an atrocious action could
FRA
History, not fail to excite the greatest indignation against Chilperic.
His dominions were immediately invaded by Sigebert and
507-533. Gontran, who conquered the greater part of them ; but
having effected this, they suddenly made peace, on Chilpe¬
ric consenting that Brunehaut should enjoy those places
which he had bestowed upon Galswintha, namely, Bordeaux,
Limoges, Cahors, Bigorre. and the town of Bearn. Ihe
French princes, however, did not long continue at peace
among themselves ; and a war having ensued, Gontran and
Chilperic made common cause against Sigebert. But the
latter prevailed, and, having forced Gontran to conclude a
separate pe/ ce, seemed determined to make Chilperic pay
dear for 1 perfidy, when he was assassinated by a contri¬
vance of Fredegonde, who thus saved herself and Chilpeiic
from the most imminent danger. Immediately on his death
Brunehaut fell into the hands of Chilperic ; but Gondebaud,
one of Sig ibert’s best generals, having made his escape into
Austrasia with Childebert, the only son of Sigebert, an in¬
fant of about five years of age, the latter was immediately
proclaimed king. In a short time, however, Merovaeus,
eldest son to Chilperic, fell in love with Brunehaut, and
married er without acquainting his father. On receiving
information of this, Chilperic went to Rouen, where Mero-
voeus and his consort were living ; and having seized them,
sent Brunehaut and her two daughters to Metz, and car¬
ried Merovaeus to Soissons. Soon afterwards one of his
generals being defeated by Gontran, wrho had espoused
Brunehaut’s cause, Chilperic in a fit of rage caused Mero¬
vaeus to be shaved and confined in a monastery. From this
he found means to make his escape, and arrived in Aus¬
trasia, where Brunehaut would gladly have protected him ;
but the jealousy of the nobles proved so strong that he
was forced to leave that country; and being betrayed into
the hands of his father’s forces, he was murdered at the in¬
stigation of Fredegonde.
The French empire was at this time divided between Gon¬
tran king of Orleans, called also king of Burgundy, Chil¬
peric king of Soissons, and Childebert king of Austrasia.
But Chilperic found his affairs in a very disagreeable situ¬
ation. In 579, having a dispute with Varoc count of Bre¬
tagne, who refused to do him homage, he dispatched against
his vassal a body of troops, who were defeated, and he wTas
in consequence forced to submit to a disadvantageous peace.
Meanwhile his brother and nephew, whom he had reason
to dread, lived in the strictest union ; his subjects, oppres¬
sed with heavy taxes, were poor and discontented; Clovis,
his son by a former queen named Andovera, hated Frede¬
gonde, and made no secret of his aversion; and, to add to
his embarrassment, the seasons were for a long time so un¬
favourable that the country was threatened with famine and
pestilence. The king and queen were both attacked by an
epidemic which then raged; and though they recovered,
their three sons Clodobert, Samson, and Dagobert, all died.
After this, the sight of Clovis became so hateful to Frede¬
gonde that she caused him to be murdered, as she likewise
did his mother Andovera, lest Chilperic’s affection for that
lady should return after the tragical death of her son. In 583
Chilperic himself was murdered by some unknown assassins,
when his dominions were on the point of being conquered
by Gontran and Childebert. After his death Fredegonde
implored the protection of Gontran, which he readily grant¬
ed, and obliged Childebert to put an end to the war. Gon¬
tran died on the 28th of March 593, having lived upwards
of sixty years, and reigned thirty-two ; and Childebert suc¬
ceeded to the kingdom without opposition, but did not long
enjoy it. His dominions were on his death divided be¬
tween his two sons Theodobert and Thierri; the former
being declared king of Austrasia, and the latter king of
Burgundy. But as Theodobert was only in his eleventh,
and Thierri in his tenth year, Brunehaut governed both
kingdoms with absolute sway. Fredegonde, however, avail-
N C E. 5
ing herself of the opportunity offered by the death of Chil- History.
debert, made herself mistress of Paris and some other places
on the Seine; upon which Brunehaut sent against her the
best part of the forces in Austrasia. T. he latter, however,
were totally defeated ; but Fredegonde died before she had
time to improve her victory, leaving her son Clotaire heir
to her dominions.
For some time Brunehaut preserved her kingdom in
peace; but her own ambition in the end proved her ruin.
Instead of instructing Theodobert in what was necessary
for a prince to know, she took care to keep him in igno¬
rance, and even suffered him to marry a young and hand¬
some slave of his father’s. But the new queen being pos¬
sessed of ability and good nature, so gained the affection
of her husband that he consented to the banishment of
Brunehaut. Upon this disgrace she in 599 fled to Thierri
king of Burgundy, by whom she was kindly received ; and,
instead of exciting jealousies or misunderstandings between
the two brothers, she engaged Thierri to attempt the re¬
covery of Paris and the other places which had been wrest¬
ed from their family by Fredegonde. This measure was so
acceptable to Theodobert, that he likewise raised a nume¬
rous army, and in conjunction with his brother invaded
Clotaire’s dominions. A battle ensued, in which the for¬
ces of Clotaire were completely defeated, and he himself
obliged to sue for peace, which was not granted except on
condition of his yielding up the best part of his dominions.
This treaty was concluded in the year 600 ; but three years
afterwards it was broken by Clotaire, who was again at¬
tacked by the two brothers. The war was carried on with
great vigour until the next spring, when Thierri having
forced Landri, Clotaire’s general, to accept battle, over¬
threw him, and put to death the king’s infant son Mero¬
vaeus, whom he had sent with Landri. After this victory,
Thierri, intent on the destruction of his cousin, marched
directly to Paris. But Theodobert no sooner heard of the
victory gained by Thierri, than, becoming jealous of his
success, he offered Clotaire such conditions as speedily
compelled Thierri also to listen to terms of accommoda¬
tion. This conduct of Theodobert greatly provoked his
brother; and his resentment was still more inflamed by
Brunehaut, who never forgot the disgrace of having been
banished from his court. A war was therefore commenced
in 605; but being disapproved of by the nobility, Thierri
found himself obliged to put an end to it. The tranquil¬
lity which ensued, however, was again disturbed in 60/,
when Theodobert sent an embassy to demand part of Chil-
debert’s dominions, which by the will of that monarch had
been added to those of Burgundy. But the nobility of both
kingdoms were exceedingly averse to war, and constrained
their kings to consent to a conference, attended by an equal
number of troops. By a scandalous breach of faith, how¬
ever, Theodobert brought double the number agreed on,
and compelled his brother to submit to whatever terms he
pleased to dictate. This act of treachery instantly brought
on a war. Thierri was bent on revenge, and his nobility
no longer opposed him. Having secured the neutrality of
Clotaire by a promise of restoring those parts of his domi¬
nions of which he had formerly been despoiled, Thierri en¬
tered Theodobert’s territories, defeated him in two battles,
took him prisoner, and treated him with the greatest in¬
dignity. Meanwhile Clotaire, thinking that the best me¬
thod of making Thierri keep his w ord was to seize upon
those places which the latter had promised to restore to
him as the price of his neutrality, did so accordingly ; upon
which Thierri sent to him a messenger to require him to
withdraw his forces, and in the event of a refusal, to de¬
clare war. Clotaire was prepared for such a proceeding,
and immediately assembled his forces. But before Thierri
could reach his enemies, he was seized with a dysentery,
of which he died, in the year 612.
6 FRA
History. On the death of Thierri, Brunehaut immediately caused
v^-Y-'w/ hig eldest Son Sigisbert, then in the tenth year of his age,
612-714. to be proclaimed king. It is probable that she intended
to govern in his name with an absolute sway; but Clotaire
did not allow her time to discover her intentions. Know¬
ing that the nobility both in Burgundy and Metz were dis¬
affected to Brunehaut, he declared war against her; and
the unfortunate queen having been betrayed by her gene¬
rals, fell into the hands of her enemies. Clotaire gave her
up to the nobles, who generally hated her, and treated their
Brunehaut captive in the most barbarous manner ; for, after having led
put to her about the camp, exposed to the insults of all who had
death. meanness to insult her, she was tied by the leg and
arm to the tail of an untamed horse, which, setting off at
full speed, quickly dashed out her brains. Thus, in the
year 613, Clotaire became sole monarch of France, and
quietly enjoyed his kingdom till his death, which happened
in 628.
This prince was succeeded by Dagobert, who proved a
great and powerful sovereign, and raised the kingdom of
France to a high degree of splendour. Dagobert was suc¬
ceeded by his sons Sigebert and Clovis ; the former of whom
obtained the kingdom of Austrasia, and the latter that of
Burgundy. Both the kings were minors at the time of
their accession to the throne, which gave an opportunity
to the mayors of the palace, the highest officers under the
crown, to usurp the whole authority of the state. Sige¬
bert died in 640, after a short reign of one year, leaving
behind him an infant son named Dagobert, whom he
strongly recommended to the care of Grimoalde, his mayor
of the palace. The minister caused Dagobert to be im¬
mediately proclaimed king, but did not long suffer him
to enjoy that honour. He had not the cruelty, however,
to put him to death, but sent him to a monastery in one
of the western islands of Scotland; and then, giving out
that he was dead, advanced his own son Childebert to
the throne. Childebert was expelled by Clovis king of
Burgundy, who placed on the throne Childeric, the second
son of Sigebert. Clovis died soon after the revolution, and
was succeeded in his dominions by his son Clotaire, who
also died in a short time without issue. He was succeed¬
ed by his brother Childeric, who, after a brief reign, was
murdered, with his queen, at that time big with child, and
an infant son named Dagobert, though another, named Da¬
niel, had the good fortune to escape.
Miserable The affairs of the French were now in the most deplora-
sitnation b]e situation. The princes of the Merovingian race had
ot I ranee. keen for some time entirely deprived of their power by their
officers called mayors of the palace. In Austrasia the ad¬
ministration had been totally engrossed by Pepin and his
son Grimaulde, whilst Archambaud and Ebroin followed
the same course in Neustria and Burgundy. On the reunion
of Neustria and Burgundy with the rest of the French do¬
minions, this minister ruled with such despotic sway that the
nobility of Austrasia, provoked to a revolt, elected as their
dukes two chiefs named Martin and Pepin. The forces of
the confederates, however, were defeated by Ebroin; and
Martin having surrendered upon a promise of safety, was
treacherously put to death. Pepin lost no time in recruit¬
ing his shattered forces; but before he had an opportunity
of trying his fortune a second time in battle, the assas¬
sination of Ebroin delivered him from all apprehensions in
that quarter. Pepin now carried every thing before him;
overthrew the royal army under the command of the new
minister Bertaire; and having obtained possession of the
capital, caused himself to be declared mayor of the pa¬
lace, in which station he continued to govern with abso¬
lute sway during the remainder of his life. Pepin, who had
obtained the surname of Heristal, from his palace on the
Meuse, died in the year 714, having enjoyed unlimited
power for twenty-six years; and appointed his grandson
N C E.
Theudobalde, then only six years of age, to succeed him History,
in his post of mayor of the palace. This happened during
the reign of Dagobert already mentioned; but as the latter 714-717.
had too much spirit to suffer himself to be deprived of his
authority by an infant, the adherents of the young mayor
were defeated in battle ; and this discomfiture was soon fol¬
lowed by his death.
But Charles, the illegitimate son of Pepin, was now raised Charles
to the dignity of duke by the Austrasians ; and by his great Martel,
qualities he seemed in every respect worthy of this honour.
The murder of Dagobert freed him from a powerful oppo¬
nent ; and the young king Chilperic, who after Dagobert’s
death had been brought from a cloister to the throne, was
not qualified to cope with so experienced an antagonist.
On the 19th of March 717, Charles had the good fortune
to surprise the royal camp as he passed through the forest
of Ardennes; and soon afterwards a battle ensued, in
which the king’s forces were entirely defeated. Upon this
Chilperic entered into an alliance with Eudes duke of
Aquitaine, whose friendship he purchased by the final ces¬
sion of all the country which Eudes had seized for himself.
Charles, however, having placed on the throne another of
the royal family, named Clotaire, advanced against Chilpe¬
ric and his associate, whom he entirely defeated near Sois-
sons. After this disaster Eudes, despairing of success, de¬
livered up Chilperic into the hands of his antagonist; hav¬
ing stipulated for himself the same terms which had been
formerly granted him by the captive monarch. Charles be¬
ing now advanced to the summit of power, treated Chilpe¬
ric with the greatest respect, and on the death of Clotaire
caused him to be proclaimed king of Austrasia; but by
this proceeding his own power was in no degree diminished,
and henceforth the authority of the kings of France became
merely nominal; indeed so inactive and indolent were they
accounted, that historians have bestowed upon them the
epithet of rots faineans, indolent or lazy kings. Charles,
how'ever, had still one competitor to contend with. This
was Rainfroy, who had been appointed mayor of the palace,
and who made so vigorous a resistance, that Charles w as
obliged to allow him to retain peaceable possession of the
country of Anjou. But no sooner had he thus set himself
at liberty from domestic enemies, than he was threatened
with destruction by foreign invaders. The Suevians, Fri¬
sians, and Alemanni, were successively encountered and de¬
feated ; Eudes also, who had perfidiously violated the trea¬
ties by which he had bound himself, was twice repulsed;
after which Charles invaded Aquitaine, and obliged the
treacherous duke to hearken to reason. This however had
scarcely been accomplished when he found himself engaged
with a more formidable enemy than any he had yet en¬
countered. The Saracens having overrun the greater part
of Asia, now turned their victorious arms w estward, and
threatened Europe with total subjugation. Spain had al¬
ready received their yoke ; and having crossed the Pyrenees,
they next invaded France, appearing in vast numbers un¬
der the walls of Toulouse. Here they were encountered
and defeated by Eudes; but this proved only a partial
check. The barbarians having once more passed the Py¬
renees, entered France with a powerful army, which Eudes
was no longer able to resist. He encountered them indeed
with his accustomed valour; but being obliged to yield to
superior force, he solicited the protection and assistance of
Charles. Upon this occasion the latter, on account of his
valour and personal strength, acquired the name of Martel,
or the Hammer, in allusion to the violence of the strokes
which he bestowed on his enemies. Three hundred and
seventy-five thousand Infidels, amongst whom was their
commander Abderrahman himself, are said to have perish¬
ed in a single battle fought near Poictiers. But notwith¬
standing this slaughter, they soon made another irruption,
though with no better success, being again defeated by
FRA
History. Charles, who by so many victories established his power
^ on the most solid foundation. Having also defeated the
717-746. Frisians, and with his own hand killed their duke, he as¬
sumed the sovereignty of the dominions of Eudes. At
length his fame became so great that he was chosen by
Gregory III. as his protector. The latter also offered to
shake off the yoke of the Greek emperor, and to invest
Charles with the dignity of Roman consul, sending him at
the same time the keys of the tomb of St Peter ; but whilst
this negotiation was going on successfully, the pope, the
emperor, and Charles Martel himself, all died.
France After the death of Martel, which happened in the year
divided 741, his dominions were divided among his three sons,
—It le Carloman, Pepin, and Grippon, according to dispositions
Charles, which he had made in his lifetime. Carloman, the eldest,
received Austrasia ; Pepin, the second, obtained Neustria
and Burgundy ; but Grippon, the third, had only some lands
assigned him in France. This inequality displeased him so
much that the tranquillity of the empire was soon disturb¬
ed. With the assistance of his mother Sonnechilde he
seized upon the city of Lahon, where he sustained a siege -,
but in the end he was obliged to submit; when Sonne¬
childe was put into a monastery, and Grippon imprisoned
in a castle at Ardennes. The two brothers, having thus
freed themselves from their domestic enemy, continued
to govern the empire with uninterrupted harmony, until
its tranquillity was disturbed by the intrigues of Sonne¬
childe. That enterprising and ambitious woman having
negotiated a marriage between Odilon duke of Bavaria,
and Hiltrude the sister of the two princes, instigated Odi¬
lon, who, alarmed at the growing power of the two princes,
entered into an alliance with Theodobald duke of the Ale-
manni, and Theodoric duke of the Saxons. Having as¬
sembled a formidable army, he advanced directly against
the princes, and took post in an advantageous manner,
with the Lech in front. But Carloman and Pepin having
passed the river at different fords in the night time, attack¬
ed the camp of the allies, and entirely routed the Bavarians
and Saxons, and compelled the vanquished dukes to submit
to the clemency of the victors. During their absence on
this expedition Hunalde duke of Aquitaine passed the Loire,
ravaged the open country, and burned the magnificent ca¬
thedral of Chartres. But the invader was speedily obliged
to retreat, and afterwards to withdraw into a convent, after
resigning his dominions to his son. This was soon followed
by the resignation of Carloman, who, notwithstanding his
uninterrupted success, suddenly took the resolution of re¬
tiring into a convent, and persisted in his design, in spite of
the entreaties of Pepin, who ostensibly did all he could to
dissuade him.
Pepin. By the resignation of Carloman, which happened in the
year 746, Pepin became sole master of France; and in this
exalted station he acquitted himself in such a manner as to
render his name deservedly illustrious. One of his first
acts was to release from prison his brother Grippon. That
treacherous prince, however, had no sooner regained his
liberty than he again excited the Saxons to take up arms.
But his enterprise proved unsuccessful. The Saxons were
defeated, their duke was taken prisoner, and his subjects
were obliged to submit to the will of the conqueror. Grip¬
pon then fled to Hiltrude, whom, in requital of a favour¬
able reception, he betrayed, and afterwards assumed the
title of Duke of Bavaria; but being driven by Pepin from
the throne he had usurped, he was obliged to implore his
clemency, which was once more granted. Pepin having
thus subdued all his enemies within and without, resolved
to assume the title of king, after having so long exercised
the regal power. His wishes in this respect were quite
agreeable to those of the nation in general; but the no¬
bility were bound by an oath of allegiance to Childeric the
nominal monarch, and this oath could not be dispensed
N C E. 7
with except by the authority of the pope. A dispensation History,
was therefore procured; the unfortunate Childeric, degrad- -n'-'w'
ed from his dignity, was sent to a monastery; Pepin as- 746-771-
sumed the title of King of France, and the line of Clovis
was finally set aside.
This revolution took place in the year 751. The first
claim on the attention of the new monarch was a revolt of
the Saxons; but they were soon reduced to subjection,
and obliged to pay an additional tribute. In the mean
time Pepin continued to advance his fortune. The sub¬
mission of the Saxons was soon followed by the reduction
of Bretagne, and the recovery of Narbonne from the Infi¬
dels. His next exploit was the protection of Pope Stephen
III. against the king of the Lombards, who had seized on
the exarchate of Ravenna, and insisted on being acknow¬
ledged king of Rome. The pope, unable to contend with
so powerful a rival, hastened to cross the Alps and im¬
plore the protection of Pepin, who received him with all
the respect due to his character, and attended him in per¬
son during a dangerous sickness with which he was seized.
On his recovery Stephen solemnly placed the diadem on
the head of his benefactor, bestowed the regal unction on
his sons Charles and Carloman, and conferred on the three
princes the title of patricians of Rome. In return for these
honours, Pepin accompanied the pontiff into Italy at the
head of a pow erful army, and obliged Astolphus to renounce
all pretensions to the sovereignty of Rome, as well as to re¬
store the city and exarchate of Ravenna, and to pay an an¬
nual tribute. Pepin returned to France in triumph; but
the peace of his dominions was soon disturbed by another
revolt of the Saxons. Their attempt, however, proved un¬
successful ; and they were obliged to submit and purchase
their pardon by a renewal of their tribute, and an addi¬
tional supply of three hundred horse. But whilst the king
was absent on this expedition, Vaisar duke of Aquitaine ra¬
vaged Burgundy, carrying his devastations as far as Cha¬
lons. Pepin returned, and entering the dominions of Vai¬
sar, committed similar devastations, and would have re¬
duced the whole of Aquitaine, had he not been interrupted
by the hostile preparations of the Duke of Bavaria. This,
however, was ultimately effected, and the duchy of Aqui¬
taine once more annexed to the crown of France. But Pe¬
pin had scarcely time to indulge himself with a view of
his new conquest when he was seized with a slow fever,
which in 768 put an end to his life, in the fifty-fourth year
of his age and seventeenth of his reign. Being of short
stature, he had the surname of Le JBref; but his great
actions justly entitled him to the character of a hero. Un¬
der the succeeding reign, however, his own fame seemed
to have been entirely forgotten ; and on his tomb was only
inscribed, “ Here lies the father of Charlemagne.” Pe¬
pin was succeeded by his sons Charles and Carloman, to
whom he bequeathed his dominions, and who continued
to reign jointly for some time ; but the active and enter¬
prising spirit of Charles gave such umbrage to the weak
and jealous Carloman, that he regarded him with envy, and
was on the point of coming to an open rupture with him,
when he himself was removed by death, and thus the tran¬
quillity of the empire was preserved.
The death of Carloman, which happened in the year Charle-
771, left Charles sole master of France ; but the revolt ofmagne.
the Saxons involved him in a series of wars, from which it
required thirty-three years to extricate himself. The latter
had long been tributaries to the French, but frequently
revolted; and now, when freed from the terror of Pepin’s
arms, they thought they had a right to shake off the yoke
altogether. Charles entered their country with a power¬
ful army ; and having defeated them in a number of small
engagements, advanced towards Eresburg, near Paderborn,
where was the image of their god Irminsul, represented as
a man completely armed, and standing on a column. The
8 FRA
History. Saxons made an obstinate defence, but were at last obliged
to submit; and Charles employed his army three days in
771-778. demolishing the monuments of idolatry in this place. But
the news which Charles now received from Italy induced
him to relax a little the severity with which he was other¬
wise disposed to treat the Saxons. He had concluded a
marriage with the daughter of Didier king of the Lom¬
bards, but this had been dissolved by the pope ; and as the
Lombard monarchs appear to have had a kind of natural
antipathy to the popes, this feeling now broke out with
uncommon fury. Didier having seized on and terrified to
death Pope Stephen IV. used his utmost endeavours to re¬
duce his successor Adrian I. to a state of entire depen¬
dence. The pontiff applied to the French monarch, who
was inclined to grant the necessary assistance ; but as the
nobility were averse to an Italian war, he was obliged to
act with circumspection. Several embassies were there¬
fore sent to Didier, entreating him to restore to the pope
those places which he had taken from him, and even offer¬
ing him a large sum of money if he would do so. But these
propositions being rejected, Charles obtained the consent
of his nobility to make war on the Lombards. Didier, how¬
ever, disposed his troops with such ability, that the officers
of Charles were of opinion it would be impossible to force
a passage; but, either by the superior skill of Charles, or
from the effect of panic, this was accomplished ; after which
Didier, with the Duke of Aquitaine, who had taken refuge at
his court, shut themselves up in Pavia, whilst Adalgise, the
only son of the Lombard monarch, together with the widow
and children of Carloman, fled to Verona. The latter city
was immediately invested, and in a short time obliged to
submit; but Adalgise had the good fortune to escape to
Constantinople. After paying a short visit to Rome, Charles
returned to the siege of Pavia. The place was vigorously
defended, but famine and pestilence ultimately obliged the
inhabitants to implore the clemency of the conqueror.
Hunalde fell a sacrifice to his own obstinacy in opposing
the intention of the people ; Didier was taken prisoner and
carried into France; his kingdom was totally dissolved,
and Charles crowned king of Lombardy at Milan in the
year 774.
Having received the oaths of allegiance from his new
subjects, Charles set out for Saxony, the inhabitants of
which had again revolted, and re-possessed themselves of
Eresburg, their capital. The king however soon recovered
this important post; but a detachment of his army having
been cut off, and new troubles having arisen in Italy, he was
obliged to accept the proposals of the Saxons, though dis¬
trustful of their sincerity. Having strengthened the for¬
tifications of Eresburg, and left a sufficient garrison in the
place, he set out for Italy, where his presence restored
tranquillity ; but the Saxons having in the meanwhile re¬
taken Eresburg, and destroyed the fortifications, threatened
to annihilate the French power in that quarter. On his
return Charles found them employed in the siege of Sige-
burg. But his sudden arrival struck them with such terror
that they instantly sued for peace, which the king once more
granted; but, to secure their obedience, he constructed a
chain of forts along the river Lippe, and repaired the forti¬
fications of Eresburg. An assembly of the Saxon chiefs
was then held at Paderborn, and a promise extracted from
them that the nation should embrace the Christian religion.
His next enterprise was an expedition to Spain, under¬
taken in 778 at the request of Ibunala, the Moorish sove¬
reign of Zaragoza, who had been driven from his territory.
Having reduced the cities of Pampeluna, Zaragoza, and
Barcelona, and also the kingdoms of Navarre and Aragon,
Charles restored Ibunala ; but, on his return, he met with
a severe check from the Gascons, who attacked and de¬
feated with great slaughter the rear-guard of his army,
in a pass of the Pyrenean mountains. This encounter, the
N C E.
result of which seems to imply some defect in the pru- History,
dence or military skill of Charles, has been much celebrat- "y'w
ed among romance writers, on account of the death of Ro- 778-787.
land, which took place on this occasion.
The following year Charlemagne paid a visit to Italy
with his two sons Carloman and Louis, and having passed
the winter at Pavia, entered Rome next spring amidst the
acclamations of the inhabitants. Here, in the thirty-ninth
year of his age, he divided his dominions between his two
sons Carloman and Louis; the former, who now took the
name of Pepin, receiving Lombardy, and the latter Aqui¬
taine. Having then received the submission of the Duke
of Bavaria, he set out for Saxony, where the people had
once more revolted, and where he now inflicted a severe
chastisement for the many treacheries of which they had
been guilty. This insurrection had been stirred up by a
chief named Witikind, who having twice before fled from
the victorious arms of Charles, and taken refuge at the court
of Denmark, had returned in the king’s absence, and rous¬
ed his countrymen to arms, whilst the generals of Charles,
divided among themselves, and neglecting to take the pro¬
per measures for putting down the revolt, were entirely
defeated on the banks of the Weser, in the year 782.
Charles arrived in time to prevent the total destruction of
his troops, and having penetrated into the heart of the
country, Witikind, unable to resist his antagonist, once
more fled into Denmark ; but four thousand five hundred
of his followers perished at once by the hands of the exe¬
cutioner. A general insurrection ensued; and though
during three years the French monarch was constantly
successful in the field, he found it impossible to subdue the
spirit of the people, and was at last obliged to have recourse
to negotiation. Witikind and several other chiefs wTere
invited to an interview, and Charles having represented to
them in strong colours the ruin which must ensue to their
country from persisting in an obstinate and fruitless oppo¬
sition, they were induced not only to persuade their coun¬
trymen finally to submit, but also to embrace the Christian
religion.
Having thus brought his affairs in Saxony to a satisfac¬
tory conclusion, Charles turned his arms against Tassilon
duke of Bavaria, who had secrectly supported the Saxons
in their revolts; and having entered that country with a
powerful army in the year 787, he advanced so rapidly,
that seeing his destruction inevitable, Tassilon privately
entered his camp, and threw himself at his feet. Charles
looked with pity on his faithless kinsman ; but no sooner
did the latter find himself at liberty, than he stirred up the
Huns, the Greek emperor, and the fugitive Adalgise, and
also fomented the discontents of the factious nobles of
Aquitaine and Lombardy. His subjects, however, fearing
lest these intrigues should involve them in destruction, made
a discovery of the whole; upon which Tassilon was arrest¬
ed by order of the French monarch, and being brought to
a trial, and found guilty, he was condemned to lose his
head; a sentence which was afterwards mitigated to per¬
petual confinement in a monastery. The duchy of Bavaria
was then annexed to the dominions of Charles.
But the Huns and other enemies of the French mo¬
narch, disregarding the fate of Tassilon, continued to pro¬
secute their enterprises against him. Their attempts, how¬
ever, only served to enhance the fame of Charles, who de¬
feated the Huns in Bavaria, and the Greek emperor in
Italy, at the same time obliging the latter to renounce for
ever the fortunes of Adalgise. As the Huns, not disheart¬
ened by their defeat, continued to infest the French do¬
minions, Charles entered their country at the head of a
formidable army ; and having forced their intrenchments,
penetrated as far as Raab on the Danube ; but he was com¬
pelled by an epidemic to retire before he had completed
the conquest of this people. On his return to his own do-
FRA
History, minions, he had the mortification to learn that his eldest
787 S°n ^>eP^n conspired against his life. The plot having
been discovered by a priest, Pepin was seized, and con¬
demned to expiate his offences by spending the remainder
of his days in a monastery. But Charles was no sooner
treed from this danger than he was again called to arms by
a revolt of the Saxons on the one hand, and a formidable
invasion of the Moors on the other, whilst the Huns at
the same time renewed their predatory attacks on his domi¬
nions. As to the Moors, the king foresaw that they would
be called off by their Christian enemies in Spain ; and this
accordingly happened, the victories of Alonso the Chaste
having obliged thetn to quit France. Charles then march¬
ed in person to attack the Saxons and Huns, the former of
whom again consented to receive the Christian religion, and
were likewise obliged to deliver up a third part of their
army to be disposed of at the king’s pleasure ; but the lat¬
ter defended themselves with incredible vigour, and the
war was only terminated by the death of their king, and
an almost total destruction of the people.
these exploits occurred between the years 793 and 798.
Charles next invaded and subdued the islands of Majorca
and Minorca. But the satisfaction he received from this
new conquest was soon damped by the troubles which broke
out in Italy. Alter the death of Adrian, his nephew as¬
pired to the papal dignity; but a priest named Leo having
been preferred, the disappointed candidate determined on
revenge, yet managed matters so well as to conceal for
four years his design. At last, on the day of a procession,
a furious assault was made on the person of Leo, and the
unfortunate pontiff was left for dead on the ground. But
having with difficulty recovered, and made his escape to
the Vatican, he was protected by the Duke of Spoleto, ge¬
neral of the French forces, and his cause was warmly es¬
poused by Charles, who invited him to his camp at Pader-
born in Westphalia. Leo accepted the invitation, and not
long afterwards returned, with a numerous guard, to Rome,
which the Prench monarch promised soon to visit, and
there redress all grievances. Having constructed forts at
the mouths of most of the navigable rivers, and further
provided for the defence of his territories against the de¬
scents of the Normans, by instituting a regular militia, and
appointing proper squadrons to cruise against the invaders,
he set out for the fourth and last time to Rome, where he
was received with the highest possible honours. Leo was
now permitted to clear himself by oath of the crimes laid
to his charge by his enemies, whilst his accusers were sent
into exile.
'hiirles At length, on the festival of Christmas in the year 800,
'rowned after Charles had made his appearance in the cathedral of
.he west St Peter’ and assisted devoutly at mass, the pope suddenly
put a ciown on his head ; and the place instantly resound¬
ed with acclamations of “ Long life to Charles the August,
crowned by the hand of God ; long life and victory to
the great and pacific emperor of the Romans.” His body
was then consecrated and anointed with the royal unction ^
and after being conducted to a throne, he was treated with
all the respect usually paid to the ancient Ceesars; from
this time also he was honoured with the title of Charle¬
magne, or Charles the Great. In private conversation,
however, he usually protested that he was ignorant of the
pope’s intention, and that, had he known it, he would
have disappointed it by absenting himself; but these pro¬
testations were not generally believed, and the care he
took to have his new title acknowledged by the eastern
emperors evidently showed that the conduct of his holi¬
ness on this occasion was neither unexpected nor disagree¬
able. Being now raised to the supreme dignity in the west,
Charlemagne proposed to unite in his own person the whole
power of the first Roman emperors, by marrying Irene, the
empress of the east. But in this he was disappointed bv
VOL. x. 3
N C E. g
the marriage of that princess to Nicephorus, who, however, History,
acknowledged the new dignity of Augustus bestowed on WyO
his rival, and the boundaries of the two empires were ami- 800-814.
cably settled. Charles was further gratified by the respect
paid him by the renowned Haroun Al-Raschid, caliph of
the Saracens, who yielded to him the sacred city of Jeru¬
salem, together with the holy sepulchre. But in the mean
time his empire was threatened with the invasion of a for¬
midable enemy, whom even the power of Charles would
have found it difficult to resist. We allude to the Normans,
who were at this time under the command of Godfrey, a
celebrated warrior, and who by their adventurous spirit and
skill in maritime affairs threatened all the western coasts of
Europe with desolation. From motives of mutual conve¬
nience, a temporary peace was concluded, and Charles em¬
ployed the interval thus afforded to settle the final distri¬
bution of his dominions. Aquitaine and Gascony, with the
Spanish Marche, were assigned to his son Louis ; Pepin
had Italy confirmed to him, to which was added the greater
part of Bavaria, with the country now possessed by the Gri-
sons; whilst Charles, the eldest, had Neustria, Austrasia,
and Thuringia. This division, however, had scarcely taken
place when the princes were all obliged to defend their do¬
minions by force of arms. Louis and Pepin were attacked
by the Saracens, and Charles by the Sclavonians. All these
enemies were indeed defeated; but whilst Charles hoped
to spend the remainder of his days in tranquillity, he was
once more called into the field by the hostile demeanour
of the Norman chief. Charles sent him a message of de¬
fiance, which was returned in the same style by Godfrey;
but, by artfully fomenting divisions amongst the northern
tribes, Charles prevented for a time the threatened danger.
When these disturbances were quelled, however, the Nor¬
mans renewed their depredations, and Charles was obliged
to confront them in the field. But an engagement was pre¬
vented by the death of Godfrey, who was assassinated by
a private soldier; and the Norman army having retreated,
the dominions of the empire remained free from these in¬
vaders. Still the latter days of Charles were embittered
by domestic misfortunes. His favourite daughter Rotrude
died, as did also Pepin king of Italy ; and these misfor¬
tunes were soon followed by the death of his eldest son
Charles. The emperor then resolved to associate with
himself in the government his only surviving son Louis;
and this was formally executed at Aix-la-Chapelle. But
Charles survived the transaction only a few months ; and
his death, which happened on the 27th of January 814, in
the seventy-first year of his age and forty-seventh of his
reign, removed the last remaining barrier against the con¬
fusion and anarchy which ensued.
By the martial achievements of this hero the French
monarchy was raised to the highest pitch of splendour. He
had added the province of Aquitaine to the territories of his
ancestors ; he had confined the inhabitants of Bretagne to
the shores of the ocean, and obliged them to submit to an¬
nual tribute ; and he had reduced under his dominion
all that part of Spain which extends from the Pyrenees to
the Ebro, including the kingdoms of Roussillon, Navarre,
Aragon, and Catalonia. He possessed Italy from the Alps
to the borders of Calabria ; but the duchy of Beneventum,
including the greater part of the present kingdom of Na¬
ples, escaped from his yoke after a transitory submission.
Charles also added to his territories the whole of Germany
and Pannonia; so that the French jurisdiction extended
from the Ebro in Spain to the Vistula in Poland, and from
the duchy of Beneventum in Italy to the river Eyder, the
boundary between Germany and the dominions of Den¬
mark. In acquiring these extensive dominions, Charles
had committed frequent and barbarous massacres, for which
he had no other excuse than the fierce and rebellious dis¬
position of the people with whom he had to deal. But in
B
10 F R A
History, establishing schools throughout the conquered provinces,
he showed an inclination to govern his subjects in peace,
814-833. an(j j.0 take means for promoting their civilization ; though
many parts of his conduct still evinced no small inclination
to cruelty, particularly the fate of the sons of Carloman, of
whom no distinct account could ever be obtained. His
advice to his son Louis was indeed excellent: in exhort¬
ing the latter to consider his people as his children, to be
mild and gentle in his administration, but firm in the exe¬
cution of justice, to reward merit, to promote his nobles
gradually, to choose ministers deliberately, and not remove
them capriciously or without sufficient reason, he displayed
a degree of sense and wisdom worthy of his fame. But
these prudent maxims were insufficient to enable Louis to
govern dominions so extensive, or to restrain people so tur¬
bulent as he had to deal withal.
At the time of the decease of his father this prince was
about thirty-six years of age, and had married Ermengarde,
daughter of the Count of Hesbai, of the diocese of Liege,
by whom he had three sons, Lothaire, Pepin, and Louis.
Lothaire, the eldest, was associated with himself in the
empire, and the two others were intrusted with the govern¬
ments of Aquitaine and Bavaria. But these princes prov¬
ed unfaithful to their father, as well as enemies to one an¬
other. The death of Ermengarde, and the marriage of
the emperor with Judith, a princess of Bavaria, artful but
accomplished, proved the first source of calamity to the
empire. In the year 823 was born Charles, the emperor’s
youngest son ; and his pretensions eventually became more
fatal to the public tranquillity than the ambition and diso¬
bedience of all the others. Various parts of the imperial
dominions were likewise attacked by foreign enemies. The
inhabitants of Bretagne and Navarre revolted, and the
Moors invaded Catalonia; whilst the ambition of Judith
produced a war amongst the brothers themselves. Charles
at first had been appointed sovereign of that part of Ger¬
many which is bounded by the Danube, the Maine, the
Neckar, and the Rhine, together with the country of the
Grisons and Burgundy, comprehending Geneva and the
Swiss Cantons; but this was opposed by the three elder
sons. Pepin and Louis advanced with the united forces
of Aquitaine and Bavaria, whilst the imperial forces desert¬
ed their standard and joined the malcontents. The empe¬
ror was taken prisoner, and the empress retired to a monas¬
tery. Lothaire, the eldest of the young princes, was the
person who retained the emperor in his possession ; but,
notwithstanding his breach of duty, his heart was touched
with remorse on account of the crimes he had committed.
Dreading the reproach of the world at large, and threaten¬
ed with the censures of the church, he threw himself at his
father’s feet, begged pardon for his offence, and consented
to relinquish the power he had unjustly usurped. Being
thus re-established in his authority by the diet of the empire,
which had met to depose him, Louis recalled his empress
from the monastery to which she had retired ; but this
princess, implacable in her resentment, so persecuted Lo¬
thaire that he was obliged to join his two brothers Pepin
and Louis in a confederacy against their father. The old
emperor attempted to check this rebellious disposition by
revoking his grant of Aquitaine to Pepin, and bestowing it
on his youngest son Charles, then only nine years of age ;
but Pope Gregory IV. conferred the imperial dignity it¬
self on Lothaire, deposed the unhappy monarch, and again
sent the empress to a nunnery in the forest of Ardennes.
As the unnatural behaviour of his son, however, had once
more excited the compassion of his subjects, Dreux, the
bishop of Mentz, used his interest with Louis of Bavaria to
arm in defence of his father and sovereign. In this enter¬
prise the Bavarian monarch was joined by the French and
the Saxons ; and the aged emperor was again restored, the
empress being released from her nunnery, and Charles
N C E.
from his prison, in the year 833. But the ambition of Ju- History,
dith again kindled the flame of discord. Taking advantage
of the affection of her husband, she persuaded him to invest
her son Charles with the sovereignty of Neustria, as well
as the dominions formerly assigned him; a proceeding
which was productive of great discontent on the part of
Lothaire and Pepin. But their power was now too much
broken to enable them to accomplish any thing by force of
arms ; and the death of Pepin, which happened soon after¬
wards, produced a new division of the empire. The claims
of Pepin and Charles, the sons of the deceased prince, were
entirely disregarded, and his French dominions divided
between the two brothers Charles and Lothaire, the latter
of whom was named guardian to his infant nephew. This
enraged Louis of Bavaria, whose interest was entirely ne¬
glected in the partition, and induced him to revolt; but the
unexpected appearance of the Saxons obliged him to sub¬
mit and ask pardon for his offence. Still, however, the
ambition of the empress kept matters in a continual fer¬
ment, and the empire was again threatened with all the ca¬
lamities of civil war ; but this was prevented by the death
of the emperor, which took place in 841, after a most un¬
fortunate reign of twenty-seven years. Louis was emi¬
nent for his mild manners and peaceful virtues, which pro¬
cured him the title of Le Debonnaire ; but such was the
excessive turbulence and barbarity of the age in which he
lived, that his virtues, instead of procuring him respect and
esteem, were productive only of contempt and rebellion.
The decease of the emperor was followed by a civil war Civil war:
among his sons. In 842, the united forces of Lothaire and partitions,
his nephew Pepin were defeated by those of Charles and^*
Louis in a bloody battle on the plains of Fontenoy, where
a hundred thousand Franks perished. This victory, how¬
ever, did not decide the fortune of the war. The conquer¬
ors having, from motives of interest or jealousy, retired
each into his own dominions, Lothaire found means to
recruit his shattered forces, and even pressed the other
two princes so vigorously that they were glad to consent
to a new partition of the empire. By this Lothaire was al¬
lowed to possess the whole of Italy, with the tract of coun¬
try situated between the rivers Rhone and Rhine, as well
as that between the Meuse and Scheldt; Charles obtained
Aquitaine, with the country situated between the Loire
and the Meuse ; whilst Louis.received Bavaria, with the rest
of Germany, and from this was distinguished by the appel¬
lation of Louis the German. By this partition Germany
and France were disjoined in such a manner as never af¬
terwards to be united under one head. That part of France
which was allowed to Lothaire was from him called Lotha-
rivgia, and afterwards, by the gradual corruption of the
word, Lorraine. The sovereignty, however, which that
prince had pursued at the expense of every filial duty, and
purchased with so much blood, afforded him so little sa¬
tisfaction, that, disgusted with the cares and anxieties of
his situation, he sought relief in a monastery in the year
855. On his retreat from the throne, he allotted to his
eldest son Louis II. the sovereignty of Italy ; to his second
son Lothaire the territory of Lorraine, with the title of king;
and to his youngest son Charles, surnamed the Bald, Pro¬
vence, Dauphine, and part of the kingdom of Burgundy ;
so that he may be considered as properly the king of
France. From the year 845 to 857 the provinces subject¬
ed to his jurisdiction had been infested by the annual de¬
predations of the Normans, from whom Charles w as at last
glad to purchase peace at a greater expense than might
have carried on a successful war. The people of Bretagne
had also revolted; and though obliged, by the appearance
of Charles at the head of a powerful army, to return to
their allegiance, they no sooner perceived him again em¬
barrassed by the incursions of the Normans, than they
threw off the yoke, and under the conduct of their duke
FRANCE.
11
History. Louis subdued the neighbouring diocese of Rennes ; after
which the latter assumed the title of king. By this bold
857-877. usurper Charles was totally defeated; and his subjects,
perceiving the weakness of their monarch, put themselves
under the protection of Louis the German, whose ambi¬
tion prompted him to give a ready ear to the proposal.
Taking the opportunity of Charles’s absence in repelling
an invasion of the Danes, he marched with a formidable
army into France, and was solemnly crowned by the Arch¬
bishop of Sens in the year 857. But being too confident
of success, and fancying himself already established on the
throne, he was persuaded to dismiss his German forces;
upon which Charles marched against him with an army, and
compelled Louis to abandon his new kingdom. Notwith¬
standing this success, however, the kingdom of Charles
still continued in a very tottering condition. Harassed by
the Normans on one side, and by the king of Bretagne on
another, he marched against the latter in 860; but had
the misfortune to sustain a total defeat, after an engage¬
ment which lasted two days. The victory was chiefly
owing to a noted warrior named Robert le Fort, or the
Strong, who commanded the Bretons; but Charles found
means to gain over the latter to his interest, and for some
time the abilities of Robert afforded support to his tottering
throne. The difficulties, however, returned on the death
of that hero, who was killed in repelling an invasion of the
Danes. Some amends were indeed made for his loss by
the death of the king of Lorraine in 869, by which event
the territories of Charles were augmented by the cities of
Lyons, Vienne, Toul, Besan^on, Verdun, Cambray, Viviers,
and Urez, together with the territories of Hainault, Zea¬
land, and Holland; whilst Cologne, Utrecht, Treves,Mentz,
Strasburg, with the rest of the territories of Lothaire, were
assigned to Louis the German.
All this time the Normans still continued their incur¬
sions ; but Solomon king of Bretagne having joined his
forces to those of Charles, in order to repel the common
enemy, the Normans were besieged in Anglers, and oblig¬
ed to purchase leave to depart by relinqftishing all the spoil
they had taken. Thus freed from a formidable enemy,
Charles began to aspire to the imperial crown, which soon
became vacant by the death of Louis. This indeed be¬
longed of right to Louis the German; but Charles, having
assembled a powerful army, marched into Italy ; and being
favourably received at Rome, the imperial crown was placed
on his head by the pope, in the year 873. Enraged at his
disappointment, Louis discharged his fury on the defence¬
less country of Champagne; and though the approach of
Charles obliged him to retire, he continued his preparations
with such vigour that Charles would probably have found him
a formidable adversary, had he not been removed by death
in 877. Informed of his brother’s decease, Charles invad¬
ed the dominions of his son Louis, who possessed Fran¬
conia, Thuringia, and Lower Lorraine, with some other ter¬
ritories. But the enterprise proved unsuccessfid. Charles,
though at the head of superior numbers, was defeated with
great slaughter, and had scarcely time to reunite his scat¬
tered forces when he received information that the Normans
had invaded his territories, laid waste part of the country, and
taken possession of Rouen. These disasters affected him
so deeply that he fell dangerously ill, and he had scarcely
recovered when he was called into Italy to assist the pope
against the Saracens. Charles passed into Italy with a few
followers ; but when he arrived at Pavia, where the pontiff*
had appointed to meet him, he was informed that Carlo-
man, king of Bavaria, son of Louis the German, was already
in Italy with a powerful army, and laid claim to the impe¬
rial title. Charles accordingly prepared to oppose him by
force of arms ; but his generals conspired against him, and
the soldiers declared their resolution not to pass the Alps.
This obliged him to retire to France at the moment when
Carloman, dreading his power, was preparing to return to History.
Germany. This was the last enterprise of Charles. His —y-'w
journey brought on a relapse of illness, which was rendered 877-987
fatal through the treachery of a Jewish physician named
Zedechius, who administered poison to him under the pre¬
tence of curing his malady; and he expired in a miserable
cottage upon Mount Cenis, in the fifty-fourth year of his
age, and thirty-eighth of his reign over the kingdom of
France.
The ambition of Charles had been productive of much Louis the
distress both to himself and to his subjects. His son Louis, Stammer-
surnamed the Stammerer, from a defect in his speech, was er’
of a different disposition ; but his feeble administration
was ill calculated to retrieve the fortunes of his country.
He died on the 10th of April 879, whilst on a march to
suppress some insurrections in Burgundy, leaving his queen
Adelaide pregnant; and some time after his decease the
latter was delivered of a son, named Charles. His death
was followed by an interregnum, during which a faction
was formed for setting aside the children of Louis the
Stammerer, in favour of the German princes, sons to Louis
the brother of Charles the Bald. But this scheme proved
abortive ; and the two sons of the late king, Louis and
Carloman, were crowned kings of France. But in 881
both princes died; Louis, as was suspected, of poison;
and Carloman of a wound he had received whilst hunt¬
ing. This produced a second interregnum, which ended
in calling in Charles the Gross, emperor of Germany, whose
reign was even more unfortunate than that of any of his
predecessors. The Normans, whom he had allowed to set¬
tle in Friesland, having sailed up the Seine with a fleet,
and laid siege to Paris, Charles, unable to force them to
abandon their undertaking, prevailed on them to depart by
a large sum of money. But as he could not advance the
money at once, he permitted them to remain during the
winter in the neighbourhood of Paris, which they in return
plundered without mercy. After this disgraceful transac¬
tion Charles returned to Germany in a declining state of
health ; and having quarrelled with his empress, he was
abandoned by all his friends, deposed, and reduced to the
greatest distress.
On the deposition of Charles the Gross, Eudes count of Charles
Paris, chosen king by the nobility during the minority of t'ie Simple.
Charles son of Adelaide, afterwards named Charles the
Simple, defeated the Normans, and repressed the power
of the nobility. On this account a party was formed in
favour of Charles, who was sent for from England ; but
Eudes having peaceably resigned the greater part of the
kingdom, consented to do homage for the remainder, and
died soon after the agreement, in 898. During the reign
of Charles the Simple, the French government declined.
By the introduction of fiefs, those noblemen who had ob¬
tained the possession of governments, and got these con¬
firmed to themselves and their heirs for ever, became in a
manner independent sovereigns ; and as the great lords had
others under them, and these in like manner others who
again had their vassals, instead of the easy and equal go¬
vernment which formerly prevailed, a vast number of in¬
supportable little tyrannies was erected. The Normans,
too, ravaged the country, and desolated some of the finest
provinces of France. But Charles at length ceded the
duchy of Neustria to Rollo, the chief of these barbarians,
who having become a Christian, changed his own name to
Robert, and that of his principality to Normandy.
During the remainder of the reign of Charles the Simple, Hugh
and the entire reigns of Louis IV. surnamed the Stranger, Capet.
Lothaire, and Louis V. the power of the Carlovingian race
continually declined, till at last they were supplanted by
Hugh Capet, who had been created Duke of France by
Lothaire. This revolution happened in the year 987, and
was brought about much in the same manner as the former
12 F R A
History, one had been by Pepin. Capet proved an active and pru-
dent monarch, and possessed other qualities requisite for
keeping his tumultuous subjects in awe. He died on the
24th of October 997, leaving his dominions in perfect quiet
to his son Robert.
Robert. The new king inherited the eminent qualities of his fa¬
ther. In his reign the kingdom was enlarged by the death
of Henry duke of Burgundy, to whom he became heir.
This new accession of territory, however, was not obtain¬
ed without a war of several years continuance ; and had it
. not been for the assistance of the Duke of Normandy, it
is doubtful whether the king would have succeeded. As
Robert was of opinion that peace and tranquillity were pre¬
ferable to wide and extended dominions held by a precari¬
ous tenure, he refused the kingdom of Italy and the im¬
perial crown of Germany, both which were offered him, and
died on the 20th of July 1030.
Henry I. Robert was succeeded by his eldest son Henry I. In
the beginning of his reign he met with great opposition
from his mother, who had always hated him, and preferred
his younger brother Robert, in whose favour she now rais¬
ed an insurrection. With the assistance of Robert duke of
Normandy, however, Henry overcame all his enemies, and
established himself firmly upon the throne. In return for
this service he supported William, Robert’s natural son,
and subsequently king of England, in the possession of the
duchy of Normandy. Afterwards, however, having become
jealous of the power of the future conqueror, he not only
supported secretly the pretenders to the duchy of Nor¬
mandy, but actually invaded that country. This enter¬
prise, however, proved unsuccessful, and Henry was oblig¬
ed to make peace ; but no sincere reconciliation ever fol¬
lowed ; for the king retained a deep sense of the disgrace he
had met with, and the duke never forgave him for invading
his dominions. The treaty was therefore speedily broken ;
and Henry once more invaded Normandy with two armies,
one commanded by himself, and the other by his brother.
The first was harassed by continual skirmishes, and the
last totally defeated ; after which Henry was obliged to
agree to such terms as the duke thought proper to dictate.
But the rancour which had been generated between them
never ceased, and was in reality the cause of that impla¬
cable aversion which for a long series of years produced
perpetual quarrels between the kings of France and those
of the Norman race in England.
Philip. Henry died in 1059, not without suspicion of being poi¬
soned, and was succeeded by his eldest son Philip, at that
time in the eighth year of his age. Baldwin earl of Flan¬
ders was appointed his guardian, and died in the year
1066, about the time that William of Normandy became
king of England. After the death of his tutor, Philip began
to show an insincere, haughty, and oppressive disposition.
He engaged in a war with William the Conqueror, and sup¬
ported his son Robert in a rebellion against him. (See
article England.) But after the death of William, he as¬
sisted Robert’s brothers against him, by which means the
latter was forced to consent to a partition of his dominions.
In 1092, Philip, being wearied of his queen Bertha, pro¬
cured a divorce under pretence of consanguinity, and af¬
terwards demanded in marriage Emma, daughter of Roger,
count of Calabria. The treaty of marriage was conclud¬
ed ; and the princess was sent over, with jewels and a con¬
siderable sum in ready money. But the king, instead of
espousing her, retained her fortune ; dismissed the princess
herself; carried off the countess of Anjou, esteemed the
handsomest woman in France, from her husband, and, not
satisfied with the illegal possession of her person, procured
a divorce from her husband, whilst he prevaile-d upon some
Norman bishops to solemnize a marriage with her. But
these transactions were so scandalous, that the pope, hav¬
ing caused them to be revised in a council held at Autun
N C E.
in the year 1094, pronounced sentence of excommunica- History,
tion against Philip in case he did not part with the countess.
On his professing repentance, however, the censure was
taken off; but as the king paid no regard to his promises,
he was in 1095 excommunicated a second time. He again
professed repentance, and was again absolved ; but as he still
lived with the Countess of Anjou as formerly, he was soon
afterwards excommunicated a third time. This unworthy
conduct exposed him to the contempt of the people. But
too many of the nobility followed his example, at the same
time that they despised his authority. In the year 1100
Philip prevailed on the court of Rome to have this affair
reviewed in an assembly at Poictiers ; where, notwithstand¬
ing his utmost efforts, sentence of excommunication was a
fourth time pronounced against him. Yet, in spite of all
these sentences, as Bertha was now dead, and the Count of
Anjou offered, for a large sum of money, to give whatever
assistance might be requisite for procuring a dispensation,
Philip at last prevailed, and the countess was proclaimed
queen of France. But though his domestic concerns were
now in some measure arranged, his negligence in public mat¬
ters had thrown the affairs of the nation into the greatest
disorder. He therefore associated with him in the govern¬
ment his eldest son Louis, a prince the reverse of his fa¬
ther, and who by his activity and resolution kept constant¬
ly in the field with a considerable body of forces, reduced
the rebellious nobility to subjection, and saved the state
from being utterly subverted. For these services the queen
looked upon the prince with so jealous an eye, that he
found it necessary to retire for a time into England; but
he had not been long at the English court before Henry
I. received a letter from Philip, urging him, for certain
important reasons, to throw his son into close confinement,
or even to dispatch him. The king of England, however,
instead of complying with this infamous request, showed
the letter to Louis, and sent him home with all imaginable
marks of respect. Immediately on his return he demand¬
ed justice ; but the queen caused poison to be administered
to him, which operated so violently that his life was for a
time despaired of. A stranger, however, undertook the
cure, and succeeded. On his recovery, the prince was on
the point of avenging his quarrel by force of arms ; but his
fathe^ having caused the queen to make the most humble
submissions to him, his resentment was appeased, and a re¬
conciliation took place.
Philip died in the year 1108, and was succeeded by his Louis the
son Louis, surnamed the Gross. The first years of his Gross,
reign were disturbed by insurrections of his lords, which
proved the more troublesome as they were secretly fomented
by Henry I. of England, that by weakening the power of
France his duchy of Normandy might be the more secure.
This quickly brought on a war, in which Henry was de¬
feated, and his son William obliged to do homage for Nor¬
mandy. As the kings of England and France, however,
were rivals, the latter espoused the cause of William the
son of Robert duke of Normandy, whom Henry had unjust¬
ly deprived of that duchy ,; and this brought on a new war,
in which Louis, having sustained a defeat, was obliged to
make peace upon such terms as his antagonist thought pro¬
per to prescribe. The pacification, however, was but of
short duration. Louis renewed his intrigues in favour of
William, and endeavoured to form a confederacy against
Henry; but the latter found means not only to dissipate
this confederacy, but to prevail upon Henry Y. emperor
of Germany to invade France with the whole strength of
the empire on one side, whilst he prepared to attack it on
the other. But Louis having collected an army of two
hundred thousand men, both thought proper to desist from
the attempt. Upon this the king of P'rance desired to
march into Normandy to put William in possession of that
duchy; but his great vassals refused to assist in such an
F R A
History, enterprise, alleging that they had assembled to defend the
territories of France from the invasion of a foreign prince,
1108-1270. an[j not to eniarge p0wer by destroying the balance
produced by the king of England possessing Normandy,
which they reckoned necessary for their own safety. This
was followed by a peace, which was concluded on pretty
equal terms, and maintained during the life of Louis, who
died in 1137, leaving the kingdom to his son Louis VII.
Louis VII. The young king was not endowed with any of those qua¬
lities which constitute a great monarch. From the super¬
stition of the age in which he lived, he undertook an expe¬
dition into the Holy Land, whence he returned without
glory. In this expedition he took his queen Eleanor along
with him ; but was so much offended with her gallantries
during her stay in Palestine, as well as her behaviour after¬
wards, that he divorced her, and returned the duchy of
Guienne, which he had received as her portion. Six weeks
after this she married Henry duke of Normandy, count of
Anjou and Maine, and heir apparent to the crown of Eng¬
land. This marriage proved a very great mortification to
Louis, and, on account of the folly of his conduct, procured
him an unenviable cognomen. His reign was wholly un¬
distinguished. He died on the 18th of September 1180,
leaving the kingdom to his son Philip.
Philip the This prince, surnamed The Gift of God, The Magnani-
Great. mous, and The Conqueror, during his life-time, and styled
Augustus after his death, is reckoned by some historians
one of the greatest princes who ever sat on the throne of
France. It does not appear, however, that these titles were
at all deserved. In the beginning of his reign he was
opposed by a strong faction excited by his mother, which
he suppressed with a vigour and spirit that did him honour ;
but his having taken part with the children of Henry II.
of England, in their unnatural contests with their father,
and his treacherous combination with John to seize his
brother’s kingdom when he was detained in prison by the
emperor of Germany, are indelible stains in his character.
In military skill and personal valour he was inferior to
Richard I. of England; nor can his recovering the pro¬
vinces held by the English in France from such a mean
and dastardly prince as John entitle him with any justice
to the surname of Conqueror. In politics he was evident¬
ly the dupe of the pope, who made use of him to intimidate
John into a submission, by promising him the kingdom of
England, which he never meant that he should enjoy. For
an account of these transactions, see the article England.
Reign of Philip died in 1223, and was succeeded by his son Louis
Lcuis IX. VIII. who, again, was, in 1226, succeeded by Louis IX. af¬
terwards styled St Louis. This prince was certainly pos¬
sessed of many good qualities, but deeply tinctured with the
superstition of the times, which induced him to engage in
two crusades. In the first of these, against the Saracens
of Egypt, he was taken prisoner, and treated with great
cruelty ; but ultimately obtained his deliverance, on con¬
dition of paying a million of pieces of gold, and surrender¬
ing the city of Damietta. No sooner had he regained his
liberty than he entered Syria with a view of doing some¬
thing worthy of his character. But from this expedition
he was obliged to return sooner than he intended, by the
news of the decease of his mother, Queen Blanch, whom
he had appointed regent in his absence, and who had
managed the national affairs with great prudence. Upon
his return, however, the king found many and great dis¬
orders in the kingdom, which he set himself to reform with
the utmost diligence. The reputation of this monarch for
candour and justice was so great that the barons of Eng¬
land, as well as King Henry III. consented to make him
umpire of the differences which subsisted between them.
But though he decided this matter justly, his decision was
not productive of any good. At last the king, having set¬
tled every thing relating to his kingdom, set out on another
N C E. 13
crusade for Africa, where he died of the plague, on the Historv-
25th of August 1270.
Notwithstanding the misfortunes of Louis, his successor 1270-1285,
Philip, surnamed the Hardy, continued the war against the Philip the
Infidels with great vigour. Being reinforced by his uncle Hardy.
Charles king of Sicily, he brought the contest to a more for¬
tunate conclusion than his predecessor ; the Saracens were
defeated in two engagements ; and the king of Tunis was
obliged to sue for peace, offering at the same time to dou¬
ble the tribute which he formerly paid to the crown of Si¬
cily, to reimburse the expenses of the war, and to permit the
Christian religion to be freely propagated throughout his
dominions. Having accomplished this, the two princes
set sail for Europe; but the distemper which had infect¬
ed the army in Africa not being eradicated, it broke forth
on their arrival in Sicily, and for some time raged with
great violence. On his return to France, Philip took posses¬
sion of the counties of Provence and Toulouse ; married his
second son, though then very young, to the only daughter of
the king of Navarre ; and himself espoused Mary the daugh¬
ter of the Duke of Brabant, reckoned one of the most beau¬
tiful princesses of the age. He steadily enforced the re¬
gulations of his predecessor, who had prohibited the barons
from making private wars upon one another; secured the
friendship of Edward I. of England, by ceding to him the
county of Agenois; and entered into a war with Spain in
support of the pretensions of his nephews, the Infants de
la Cerda, to the throne of Castille. The events of this
wrar were of no great importance; and the king’s attention
was quickly called away from them by the death of his eld¬
est son Louis at the age of twelve years. This event hap¬
pened in the year 1275, not without a suspicion of poison,
which is common enough when princes are cut off by sud¬
den deaths, and the king and queen were themselves loudly
condemned. Meanwhile the Sicilians, over whom Charles
of Anjou had established his authority, instigated by John
of Procida, a noble exile, came to a determination of freeing
themselves from the French yoke by a general massacre.
This resolution was accordingly carried into execution, and
the French, to the number of eight thousand, were mur¬
dered in one night; after which Pedro of Aragon sailed to
the island, where he was received by the inhabitants as their
king and deliverer. Charles was sensibly affected by this
misfortune ; and having laid siege to Messina, sailed di¬
rectly to Marseilles, where he obtained a powerful rein¬
forcement. But during his absence, his son, to whom he
had entrusted the conduct of the siege, having rashly ven¬
tured an engagement with the Spanish fleet, was entirely
defeated and taken prisoner. This so much affected the
father that he died of grief, and Sicily became inseparably
attached to the house of Aragon. The misfortunes of
Charles were followed by others which equally affected
Philip himself. Pope Martin IV. in the warmth of his zeal
for the cause of the Duke of Anjou, had excommunicated
Pedro of Aragon, and bestowed his kingdom on Charles of
Valois, a younger son of the king of France. In attempt¬
ing to defend himself against the execution of this unjust
sentence, Pedro was mortally wounded ; but, soon after¬
wards, the French fleet being defeated by that of Aragon,
the king was so much affected by the misfortune that he
fell sick, and expired at Perpignan, in 1285, in the forty-
first year of his age and sixteenth of his reign.
By the death of Philip the Hardy, the French crown de-Philip tha
volved on his second son Philip the Fair, who had espoused Fair,
the princess of Navarre, and who at the time of his accession
was in his seventeenth year. By the marriage with this prin-
ce-ss he had obtained the counties of Champagne and Brie ;
yet even with this increase of territory he found himself un¬
able to support the wrar in which his predecessor had engaged,
for which reason he abandoned the interest of the Infants
de la Cerda, and settled the differences with Castille. The
14 FRA
Historj-. treaty was concluded through the mediation of Edward I.
of England, by whose intercession Charles the Lame, son
1285. 0f Duke 0f Anjou, was released from captivity, Edward
himself paying part of his ransom. Charles consented to
renounce his claim on Sicily; and Philip himself promised
that his kinsman Philip of Valois should renounce all pre¬
tensions to the crown of Aragon. The tranquillity result¬
ing from this treaty was, however, soon interrupted by
differences with Edward, Pope Boniface VIII. and Guy de
Dampier, count of Flanders. The difference with Eng¬
land arose by accident. A Norman and an English ves¬
sel having met off the coast of Bayonne, and having both
occasion to water, the crews met and quarrelled at the same
spring, and in the squabble a Norman was killed with his
own weapon by an Englishman, whom it was alleged he
had assaulted with it. But however this may have been,
a complaint was made by the Normans to Philip, who,
without giving himself much trouble to inquire into the
merits of the cause, instantly allowed them to redress their
supposed injuries. The consequence was, that a kind of
piratical war commenced between the two nations; the
Irish and Dutch seamen taking part with the English, and
those of Flanders and Genoa with the French. Thus the
force on both sides was gradually augmented, until at last
the affair became so serious that in one engagement fifteen
thousand French are said to have perished. Alarmed at
such a carnage, Philip summoned the king of England as
his vassal to attend ; and, on his refusal, declared his estates
in France forfeited. After a great deal of negotiation, how¬
ever, Philip declared that he would be satisfied with the
nominal cession of the province of Guienne; and Edward
complied with his demands ; but no sooner had the French
monarch obtained possession of that country than he per¬
sisted in the forfeiture of the English possessions in France ;
and this treacherous proceeding instantly produced a war
between the two nations. Edward, that he might the
better defend himself against so formidable an adversary,
concluded a treaty with the emperor Adolphus, and the
courts of Bretagne, Holland, Bar, Juliers, Gueldres, and
Flanders ; whilst Philip strengthened himself by an alliance
with John Baliol of Scotland, and thus laid the foundation
of that intimate union which subsisted between France and
Scotland for about two centuries. During this war the
French made a descent upon the coast of England, and de¬
stroyed the town of Dover; whilst Edward, in revenge,
landed in Gascony with a powerful army. But no great
exploits were performed with this armament; and the bel¬
ligerents, finding themselves equally matched, consented to
a suspension of arms for two years, during which time a
peace was finally concluded through the mediation of Boni¬
face VIII. Guienne was restored ; Edward espoused Mar¬
garet the sister of Philip ; and his daughter Isabelle was
given in marriage to the prince of Wales. Philip and Ed¬
ward treated the allies whom they had engaged in their
cause with equal perfidy. Baliol was abandoned by Philip
to the resentment of Edward ; and Guy, earl of Flanders,
was left equally exposed to the vengeance of Philip.
The reconciliation between the French and English mo-
narchs was soon followed by a difference with Pope Boni¬
face, whom they had appointed mediator between them.
Sensible of his assuming disposition, they had inserted in
the reference made to him a provision, to the effect that
he was chosen as a private individual, and not as the suc¬
cessor of St Peter. The pontiff, however, soon showed
that he was not to be treated as a private person; and a
contest with Philip quickly ensued. Boniface began with
forbidding the clergy, under pain of excommunication, to
grant the king any subsidies, without first obtaining the
consent of the Holy See ; and Philip revenged himself by
prohibiting ecclesiastics from sending money out of the
kingdom without his leave, and by protecting the Colonnas,
N C E.
the implacable enemies of Boniface. Irritated at this de- History
cided proceeding, his holiness sent an abusive letter to
Philip, and then summoned the clergy of France to attend l305-1314.
a council at Rome. Philip retaliated, by seizing the tem¬
poralities of those who obeyed the summons, and recalling
his brother Charles of Valois, who was styled the pope’s
general. Sensible of the danger which attended this con¬
test, however, Philip dispatched two emissaries under the
pretence of conciliating differences, but in reality to levy
a body of troops sufficient to execute his hostile purposes
against the holy father ; and with these he suddenly invest¬
ed the pope in his native city of Anegnia ; so that, whilst the
bull was preparing to excommunicate Philip, and release his
subjects from their obedience, the pope himself was obliged
to surrender to the troops of the prince whom he intended to
anathematize. But although Boniface had been delivered
up to the troops of Philip through the treachery of the
people of Anegnia, he was no sooner taken prisoner, and
reduced to distress, than they rescued him from his guards,
and conveyed him to Rome, where he soon afterwards died
of chagrin and disappointment. Benedict, his successor,
revoked the excommunication prepared by Boniface, and
attempted to conciliate the good-will of Philip ; but, before
this could be effected, he was himself cut off by death, not
without strong suspicions of poison. After the decease of
Benedict, Philip offered to procure the papal chair for Ber¬
trand, archbishop of Bordeaux, provided the latter would
condemn the memory of Boniface, restore the honours and
estates of the Colonnas, which had been forfeited, allow him
the tenths of the clergy of France for five years, and grant
other concessions which at that time it was not thought pro¬
per to divulge. Bertrand complied with the terms proposed
by the king, and ascended the papal throne by the name
of Clement V.; but narrowly escaped being killed on his
return from the cathedral of Lyons, by the falling of a wall,
by which accident the Duke of Bretagne was killed, and
the king and Count of Valois were considerably bruised.
The new pope fixed his residence at Avignon, where he
punctually complied with all the conditions of the treaty,
except that of condemning the memory of Boniface, which,
instead of attainting, he vindicated with much solemnity.
The condition which Philip had at first concealed was dis¬
covered by the death of the emperor Albert of Austria,
after which he sought the assistance of Clement to place
his brother Charles of Valois on the imperial throne. But
his holiness, apprehensive of the danger which might arise
from being surrounded with the powerful relations of Phi¬
lip, urged the diet to proceed instantly to an election, and
recommended to them Henry of Luxemburg as a proper
person to fill the imperial throne. This scheme succeeded,
and the election was concluded before Philip could arrive
at Avignon ; but, as some consolation for his disappoint¬
ment, the latter took possession of the city of Lyons, which
had hitherto been independent, but which was now induced
to submit to the authority of Philip.
In the mean time, Guy earl of Flanders having been Expedition
abandoned by his ally Edward king of England, was obliged against the
to throw himself on the clemency of the French monarch, Larl °f
who had sent his brother, Charles of Valois, with a power-*landers'
ful army to invade his dominions. From the latter indeed
he had obtained a promise, that if he could not, within a
year, settle the differences subsisting between him and
Philip, he should be at liberty to retire and pursue whatever
measures he pleased. But Philip, to gratify the resent¬
ment of his queen against the captive prince, detained him,
with two of his sons, in close confinement; whilst he him¬
self, having entered Flanders in triumph, was everywhere
received as sovereign of the country, and at his departure
appointed John de Chatillon, a relative of the queen, as
governor of the newly-acquired territory. This person,
however, being of a haughty and tyrannical disposition,
FRANCE.
15
1314.
Historj. treated the people so harshly that an insurrection speedily
broke out. The commotion, nevertheless, was not general,
and would have been effectually quelled by the diligence
of the magistrates, had not Chatillon entered Bruges, and
publicly displayed two hogsheads of ropes, which he threat¬
ened to employ in the execution of the inhabitants. Upon
this the people flew to arms, and massacred fifteen hundred
French, whilst Chatillon himself escaped their fury only
by swimming across the town ditch. The insurgents daily
gathered strength, and having assembled an army of sixty
thousand men, laid siege to Courtray. Here they were
rashly attacked in their trenches by the Count d’Artois,
who met the reward of his temerity in being cut off, with
twenty thousand of his troops. Determined on revenge,
Philip, by debasing the coin of the kingdom, raised ano¬
ther army, and was thus enabled to enter Flanders with a
force which would probably have subdued the whole coun¬
try, had not Edward artfully communicated to the queen
of France, as a secret, a feigned correspondence between
the French nobility and the court of Rome; by which
false intelligence the king was induced to abandon the en¬
terprise without perfoi’ming any thing worthy of the pre-
{xarations he had made. The war was continued some time
onger, but the attempts of Philip were constantly defeat¬
ed by the steady valour of the Flemings ; and the only re¬
compense Philip obtained for all his trouble and expense
was the city of Courtray.
The other remarkable transactions of this reign were the
expulsion and confiscation of the estates of the Templars,
who at that time enjoyed immense possessions in France.
These confiscations took place without any form of trial, and
upwards of fifty of the knights were put to death in a cruel
manner. The grand master, with three of his principal
officers, were burned by a slow fire in the presence of the
king and his attendants. The whole body of these unfortu¬
nate knights had been accused of the most gross and abo¬
minable sensualities. The particulars were revealed, or
pretended to be so, by two criminals, who received their
pardon for the discoveries they made; and these discove¬
ries were confirmed by the confession of the Templars them¬
selves. But this confession was afterwards retracted, as
being extorted from them by the fear of absolute destruc¬
tion ; and those who suffered asserted their purity to the
last; so that, on the whole, it was believed that Philip con¬
sulted his avarice more than his justice by this cruel exe¬
cution.
The latter part of his life was embittered by domestic
misfortunes. His three daughters-in-law were accused of
infidelity to their husbands, and, after a severe examination,
two of them were condemned to perpetual imprisonment,
whilst their paramours were flayed alive, and afterwards
hung upon a gibbet, together with an usher of the cham¬
ber, who had been their confidant. The uneasiness of
mind which Philip suffered on this account is supposed to
have impaired his health, and he died of a consumption in
the year 1314, being the forty-seventh of his age and thir¬
tieth of his reign.
Louis the On the accession of Louis surnamed the Boisterous, he
Boisterous, found his treasury so much exhausted that he was obliged
to delay for some time the ceremony of his coronation, and
that of his queen Clemence, daughter of the king of Hun¬
gary. Having found the kingdom otherwise in a distracted
state, he applied himself diligently to appease the discon¬
tents of his subjects, and conciliate their affection by every
means in his power ; and in this he was assisted by his uncle
Charles of Valois, on whom he at length entirely devolved
the government of the kingdom. This regent, however, be¬
haved with a degree of cruelty which is supposed to have
proved fatal to the king himself; for having put to death a
nobleman who had enjoyed the confidence of the former
king, this act was so much resented by his friends that they
were thought to have administered poison to the king, who
expired suddenly after drinking a glass of cold water, in
the twenty-sixth year of his age and Second of his reign.
Immediately after his death, Charles prepared to dispute
the sovereignty with the brothers of the deceased sovereign.
Philip count of Poitou, the eldest brother, wras at that
time at Rome assisting in the election of a new pope ; but
on his arrival in France, the throne was assigned to him
by the unanimous voice of the people. His prospects,
however, were for a short time clouded by the queen do¬
wager Clemence being delivered of a son, who has been
enrolled amongst the kings of France under the name of
John I.
The death of this infant in three weeks secured the Philip tlie
throne to Philip. The conduct of this monarch, who, on Long,
account of his stature, was surnamed the Long, proved
superior to that of his predecessor, -who had unsuccessfully
attempted to subdue the Flemings, and had even suffered
himself to be duped by their count. By his vigorous policy
Philip compelled their sovereign to consent to a peace upon
honourable terms. He also summoned Edward II. of Eng¬
land to do homage for his possessions in France; but that
monarch finding himself involved in difficulties which ren¬
dered the visit inconvenient, sent excuses to Philip, which
the latter was pleased to sustain. As the French monarch
had formerly taken the cross during the life-time of his fa¬
ther, he now proposed to perform his vow; but he was dis¬
suaded by the pope himself; and, at the instance of the
pontiff, he sent an army into Italy to put an end to the con¬
tending factions of the Guelphs and Ghibelines, who had
long filled the country with violence and bloodshed. The
event proved unfortunate ; and the disgrace was rendered
the more mortifying by a contagious distemper, which swept
off many thousands of the French. The remaining part of
the reign of Philip was spent in attempting to regulate the
internal concerns of his kingdom. A design having been
formed by his predecessors of establishing a certain stand¬
ard for the coin, and also of weights and measures, through¬
out France, this was adopted by Philip, who, in order the
more effectually to carry it into execution, purchased from
the Counts of Valois, Clermont, and Bourbon, the right of
coinage within their respective dominions. But notwith¬
standing all his endeavours the scheme misgave, and hav¬
ing failed to conciliate the affection of his subjects, he died
of a fever and dysentery in the year 1322, being then in the
twenty-eighth year of his age and sixth of his reign.
By the death of Philip the crown of France devolved on Charles
his brother Charles IV., who had obtained the surname ofthe Fair,
the Fair. After settling some disputes with the Duke of
Burgundy, he obtained the dissolution of his marriage with
Blanch, who still continued in prison, and espoused Mary
the daughter of Henry emperor of Germany. This mar¬
riage was contracted with a view to the imperial crown,
which had been so long separated from that of France ; and
in 1325 an opportunity for Charles to gratify his ambition
presented itself. At that time the imperial dignity was dis¬
puted between Louis of Bavaria and Frederic of Austria,
the latter of whom had been taken prisoner in a battle with
Louis. But Popq John, who entertained an implacable
hatred towards Louis, fulminated sentence of excommuni¬
cation against him ; and the king of France was induced
to embark in the same cause, by a promise of the spoils of
Bavaria ; whilst Frederic consented to relinquish his pre¬
tensions. Louis, however, by instantly releasing his pri¬
soner, and dismissing him in an honourable manner, secur¬
ed his friendship, and disarmed his most formidable anta¬
gonist. But the pope was not to be disappointed. A con¬
siderable sum of money induced Leopold, who had been in¬
trusted with the execution of the excommunication, to per¬
severe in hostilities; and it was determined that anew council
of electors should be held in order to transfer the imperial
History.
1314-1325.
16
FRANCE.
History, crown to Charles. In pursuit of this scheme, the king of
France set out with a splendid army for the frontiers of Ger-
1325-1337. many; but he soon found it impossible to attain the object
of his ambition. Leopold alone remained his friend, from
motives of interest; the others showed the greatest indif¬
ference, and even his brother in-law, the king of Bohemia,
absented himself from the diet; whilst in a short time the
death of the queen put an end to all connection with that
crown. On the decease of Mary, Charles espoused Joanna,
daughter of the Count d’Evreux, and, to avert the cala¬
mity of an infant succession, he entered into an alliance
with Robert, king of Scotland, by which it was provided,
that should either of the sovereigns die without an heir
apparent, the states of the kingdom should fill the vacant
throne, and the survivor of the two kings should with his
whole force support the legality of such nomination against
any other competitor. But even this proved insufficient
to avert the danger which now threatened the kingdom.
The re- Charles died in the year 1328, leaving his queen preg-
gency. nant; and as the succession depended on the fruit of the
Philip the queen’s pregnancy, a regent was in the mean time neces-
< or.unate. gary. Two candidates accordingly appeared for this im¬
portant office, urging at the same time their right to the
crown as well as to the regency. These were, Philip of
Valois, cousin-german of the deceased king; and Edward.
III., king of England, who aspired to the throne in right
of his mother, and as nephew of Charles the Fair. The
pretensions of the latter, however, were easily set aside,
and Philip was confirmed in the regency ; from which,
on the queen being delivered of a daughter, he soon step¬
ped on the throne, and acquired the surname of For¬
tunate. But though the pretensions of Edward, both to
the regency and the crown, were rejected by the people,
it was still impossible for Philip to think of the claims of
such a formidable rival without uneasiness. He therefore
summoned the English monarch to do homage for his pos¬
sessions in France ; and, upon the latter not answering his
summons, forfeited them, and seized his revenues. This
at last induced Edward to cross the sea and pay homage,
which Philip consented to receive in any form, upon con¬
dition of a proper explanation being afterwards given; but
as this was studiously delayed after the return of the king
of England, the province of Guienne was again seized by
the French monarch. Unwilling to lose his continental
dominions, or involve himself in a war for the sake of a
mere ceremony, Edward sent over a forrhal deed, by which
he acknowledged that he owed liege homage to F'rance.
The flame was thus smothered for the present, and would
perhaps have been entirely extinguished, had it not been
for the intrigues of Robert of Artois, brother-in-law to the
king of France himself, who had been expelled his coun¬
try, and had taken refuge in England. For some time,
indeed, neither party made any open declaration of hosti¬
lity ; but as both monarchs possessed great sagacity, they
soon penetrated each other’s designs. Philip, under pre¬
tence of taking the cross, began to make great preparations,
strengthening himself at the same time by alliances on
every side ; whilst Edward, determined to renew his claim
to the crown of France, projected the conquest of Scot¬
land. This, however, he failed to accomplish ; and in the
mean time Philip, in order to favour the Scotch, with
whom he was in alliance, suffered his subjects to make ir¬
ruptions into Guienne.
Edward’s But at length, in 1337, the war broke out in earnest. Phi-
first expe- lip having detached a squadron of his fleet against the Infi-
dition. dels, employed the rest, consisting chiefly of Genoese vessels,
against the English. In this contest the Flemings, whose
aid was of importance, were courted by both parties. Louis
count of Flanders declared for Philip, but his subjects
were more inclined to Edward. James Arteville, a brewer,
the most able and artful man in the country, governed
them at that time as if he had been their prince; and as History,
the advantages arising from the English commerce deter-
mined him in favour of Edward, that prince, at his request, 1337-1340.
embarked with a numerous army for Sluys, where he ar¬
rived in 1338. Upon his landing it was resolved that the
German princes in alliance with him should act against
France. But for this a pretext was wanting. The vassals
of the empire could not act by Edward’s orders, nor even as
his allies, without directions from the emperor, and he was
in league with France. This difficulty, however, was soon
overcome. The French had made themselves masters of
Cambray, and the emperor resolved that it should be re¬
taken. With this view he created Edward vicar-general of
the empire ; an empty title, but one which seemed to give
him a right to command the services of the princes of Ger¬
many. The Flemings, who were vassals of France, likewise
pretended scruples at invading the territories of their liege
lord; but, to allay these, Edward, by the advice of Arte¬
ville, assumed the title of king of France, and in virtue of
this claim challenged their assistance to dethrone Philip of
Valois, the usurper of his kingdom. Such a step, which
could scarcely fail to beget endless jealousies and animosi¬
ties, Edward did not take without hesitation ; and from
this time may be dated the commencement of that animo¬
sity which the English have until very recently borne to¬
wards the French. Edward’s first attempt was upon the
city of Cambray, to which he laid siege; but in a short
time he was prevailed upon by Robert of Artois to raise the
siege and march into Picardy, which he entered with an army
of about fifty thousand men, composed chiefly of foreigners.
Philip came in sight with an army of nearly a hundred thou¬
sand men, composed chiefly of native subjects; and it was
daily expected that a battle would ensue. But the English
monarch was averse to engage against a force so greatly
superior ; and Philip thought it sufficient to elude the at¬
tacks of his enemy, without running any unnecessary hazard.
The two armies faced each other for several days, and mu¬
tual defiances were exchanged; but Edward at last retired
into Flanders, and dispersed his army. Such was the fruit¬
less and almost ridiculous conclusion of Edward’s first ex¬
pedition, which had plunged him into the greatest difficul¬
ties. He had contracted nearly L.300,000 of debt; he had
anticipated all his revenue ; he had pledged every thing of
value which belonged either to himself or his queen ; and
he was obliged in some measure even to pawn himself to
his creditors, by desiring their permission to go over to Eng¬
land in order to procure supplies, and by promising on his
word of honour to return in person if he did not remit
their money. On his arrival in England, however, he ob¬
tained a large supply, sufficient to enable him to make all
the necessary preparations for a new invasion ; and so cer¬
tain were the English that France would now be conquer¬
ed, that the parliament, before Edward’s departure, protest¬
ed that they owed him no obedience as Idng of France,
and that the two kingdoms must remain for every distinct
and independent.
The king of England set out on his second expedition Edward’s
with a fleet of two hundred and forty vessels. Philip had second ex.
prepared a fleet of four hundred vessels, manned with forty pedition.
thousand men ; which he stationed off Sluys, in order to
intercept Edward on his passage. The two fleets met on
the 13th of June 1340 ; but the English, either by the su¬
perior abilities of Edward, or the greater dexterity of his
seamen, gained the wind of the enemy, and with this ad¬
vantage began the action. The battle was fierce and bloody.
The English archers, whose force and address were now
much celebrated, galled the French on their approach ;
and when the ships grappled together, the example of the
king and his nobility so animated the seamen and soldiers,
that they maintained everywhere a superiority over the ene¬
my. Meanwhile the Flemings observing the battle, hurried
FRA
History, out of their ports, and brought a reinforcement to the Eng-
lish, which contributed to decide the fate of the action. Two
.340-1341. and thirty ships were taken, and thirty thousand
Frenchmen, including two of their admirals, were killed ;
wEilst the loss of the English was inconsiderable compared
to the greatness and importance of the victory. After this
brilliant victory Edward landed his forces and laid siege
to Tournay. . Philip marched to its relief with a numer¬
ous army, but acted with so much caution that Edward
found himself in a manner blocked up in his camp. At
length the Countess Dowager of Hainault, sister of Philip,
and mother-in-law of Edward, interposed with so much
spirit and address, that she engaged all parties to agree to a
truce for a year, and might perhaps have brought about a
peace if she had survived.
France In 1341, however, Edward’s ambition was once more
thlrdUnf exc^te^ bY the invitation of the Count de Montfort, who
ir lme- had possessed himself of the province of Bretagne, and
applied to Edward to second his claims. An offer of this
kind entirely coincided with Edward’s views. Ele was
happy in the promised assistance of Montfort, which thus
opened to him an entrance into the heart of France. But
this flattering prospect was for a time damped by the impri¬
sonment of Montfort, who, on the discovery of his inten¬
tions, was besieged in the city of Nantes, and taken prisoner.
But Jane of Flanders, his wife, courageously undertook to
support the falling fortunes of her family. Having assembled
the inhabitants of Rennes, where she then resided, she
appeared before them carrying her infant son in her arms,
and having deplored her misfortunes, attempted to inspire
the citizens with an affection for her cause. The inhabi¬
tants of Nantes instantly espoused her interests, and all the
other fortresses of Bretagne embraced the same resolution.
The king of England being apprised of her exertions, was
entreated to send succour with all possible expedition to
the town of Hennebone, in which place she had resolv¬
ed to sustain the attack of the enemy. Charles de Blois,
Philip’s general, anxious to make himself master of so im¬
portant a fortress as Hennebone, and still more to take
the countess prisoner, sat down before the place with a
large army, and conducted the siege with indefatigable in¬
dustry. But the defence was not less vigorous than the
attack, and several sallies were made by the garrison, in
which the countess herself led the assailants. But at length
the besiegers made several breaches in the walls, and a
general assault was hourly expected. A capitulation was
therefore proposed, and a conference already commenced,
when the countess, who had ascended a high tower, and
was looking with great impatience towards the sea, descried
some ships in the distance, and, immediately exclaiming
that reinforcements had arrived, forbade any further ne¬
gotiation. Nor was she disappointed. The fleet which she
had descried carried a body of English gentlemen, with six
thousand archers, whom Edward had prepared for the re¬
lief of Hennebone, but who had been long detained by
contrary winds. This seasonable relief entered the har¬
bour under the conduct of Sir Walter Manny, one of the
most gallant commanders of his time, and served to keep
up the spirits of the Bretons until the expiration of the
truce, when Edward would be at liberty to renew the war
in regular form.
The succours under Sir Walter Manny were speedily
followed by a more considerable reinforcement command¬
ed by Robert of Artois, who soon after his arrival made
himself master of Vannes; but the French speedily reco¬
vered that city, and Robert was compelled to relinquish
his prize after receiving a mortal wound. Edward, eager
to revenge the death of his ally, soon landed at Morbihan,
near Vannes, at the head of an army of twelve thousand
men; and with this small force he undertook at once the
siege of Vannes, Nantes, and Rennes; but having divided
VOL. x.
N C E. ij
his troops, he failed in every enterprise, and gave John History,
duke of Normandy, the king of France’s eldest son, an op-
portunity of besieging him in his camp. In this situation 1341-134G.
his provisions began to fail; and, notwithstanding all his
valour, Edward would have been obliged to surrender, had
he not, by a train of artful negotiations, induced Philip to
relinquish the advantage he had obtained, and consent to
a truce of three years, which was brought about by the me¬
diation of the court of Rome.
Philip now endeavoured to secure himself against the
power ot his rival by alliances, and by purchasing the city
of Montpellier from the king of Majorca. But in the mean
time the English, under the command of the Earl of Derby,
invaded Guienne, and, having twice defeated the French
army, commanded by the Count de Lisle, made themselves
masters of a great number of towns. Philip, by reason of
the exhausted state of his treasury, was for some time in¬
capable of making any opposition ; and, to recruit his finan¬
ces, he was obliged to impose a duty on salt, which gave
great offence to his subjects. But when these discontents
were allayed, he soon raised an army of a hundred thou¬
sand men, whose courage was excited by the presence of the
Dukes of Normandy and Burgundy. The English general
was therefore compelled to act on the defensive, and one
fortress after another surrendered to the French, until at
length the total extinction of the power of England upon
the Continent appeared inevitable. In this situation Ed¬
ward resolved to bring relief in person to his distressed
subjects*and allies; and accordingly embarked in 1346, at
Southampton, on board a fleet of near a thousand sail. Be¬
sides the chief nobility of England, he carried along with
him his eldest son the prince of Wales, afterwards sur-
named the Black Prince, from the colour of his armour, a
youth of about fifteen years old, and already remarkable for
understanding and valour far above his age. His army,
which consisted of four thousand men at arms, ten thou¬
sand archers, ten thousand Welsh infantry, and six thou¬
sand Irish, were all landed in safety at La Hogue, a port
in Normandy. _ The intelligence of Edward’s landing, and
the devastation'caused by his troops, who dispersed them¬
selves over the whole country, soon spread consternation in
the French court. The rich city of Caen was taken and
plundered by the English ; the villages and towns as far as
Paris shared the same fate ; and the French had no other
resource but to break down the bridges, in order to check
the advance of the ifivader. In the mean time Philip was
not idle in making preparations to oppose the enemy. Hav¬
ing stationed one of his generals, Godemar de Faye, with
an army on the opposite side of the river Somme, which
Edward had to cross, whilst he himself, at the head of a
hundred and twenty thousand fighting men, advanced to
give the English battle, he so hemmed in Edward that the
latter found himself exposed to the danger of being en¬
closed and starved in an enemy’s country. In this dilem¬
ma he offered a large reward to any one who should bring
him information of a passage across the river Somme ; and
a peasant of the country, named Gobin Agace, having dis¬
covered a ford, Edward had just time to get his whole army
across the river, when Philip appeared in his rear. A battle
ensued, in which the French were overthrown with great
slaughter, and which, under the name of Cresey, the place
where it was fought, is equally memorable in the annals of
England and France. Edward next laid siege to Calais,
which was then defended by John de Vienne, an experien¬
ced commander, and supplied with every thing necessary
for defence ; but it was nevertheless taken, after a twelve¬
month’s siege, the defenders having been reduced to the
last extremity by fatigue and famine.
From the beginning of this unfortunate war, Philip had
invariably showed himself desirous of peace, and the victory
of Crescy rendered him still more so. Edward also, not-
c
18
FRANCE.
History, ■withstanding his successes, found himself unable any long-
er to suPPort the expenses of the war. The mediation of
6-13o0. court 0p j|ome was therefore readily accepted, and a
truce for three years concluded. At the same time, Philip
met with some recompense for the losses he had sustained,
by the acquisition of Dauphine, which afterwards gave the
title of Dauphin to the eldest son of the king of France.
The subsequent events of his reign are unimportant, and
he expired in the year 1350, at the age of fifty-seven.
King John. On the death of Philip, his eldest son John took posses¬
sion of the kingdom; but scarcely was he seated on the
throne when he disgusted his nobility by a most unseason¬
able act of severity. Robert de Brienne, count of Eu and
Guisnes, had been taken prisoner by the king of England
at Caen, and, under pretence of negotiating his ransom,
had passed several times between France and England;
but being accused of maintaining a treasonable correspon¬
dence with Edward, he was suddenly arrested, condemned,
and beheaded, without any form of trial. At his death he
is said to have confessed his treasonable practices, but this
has not been authenticated by any historian of credit.
Having been constable of France, the sword, the badge of
his office, was delivered to Charles de la Carda.; but the
fate of the latter was not less unfortunate than that of his
predecessor, inasmuch as he was soon afterwards assassinat¬
ed by Charles king of Navarre, surnamed The Wicked.
This prince, celebrated for his personal qualifications, but
detested for his crimes, was the son-in-law of John. He
had demanded the duchy of Angouleme of the king ; but
as the latter had thought proper to bestow it upon Carda,
he sought to revenge himself by assassinating his rival.
John did not fail tp show a proper resentment; but such
was the weakness of his government, that the king of Na¬
varre set him at defiance, and would not even condescend
to go through the ceremony of asking pardon until John
had sent him his second son as an hostage for his personal
security. To these offences the king of Navarre added
another still more atrocious, namely, that of aiming at the
crown of France, to which, as grandson by the female side
to Louis the Boisterous, he pretended a title in right of his
mother. But his more immediate demand was that the
countries of Champagne and Brie should be given up to
him. To obviate all difficulties on this head, however, John
bestowed the duchy of Normandy on his eldest son Charles,
and commanded him to seize the estates of the king of Na¬
varre ; upon which the latter soon made his appearance at
Paris, and John found himself obliged to appease his op¬
position at the expense of a hundred thousand crowns.
During all this time the truce with England had been but
ill observed on both sides ; the French had possessed them¬
selves of the port of St Jean d’Angeli, and the English had
surprised the town of Guisnes. The rival houses of Mont-
fort and Blois also indulged their animosities, whilst Ed¬
ward continued to threaten war. The king of Navarre
also persevered in his intrigues, and even the dauphin was
drawn into a confederacy against his father; but John,
being informed of their machinations, found means to de¬
feat them. The dauphin was reclaimed by pointing out to
him the impropriety of his conduct, and the disadvantage
which must unavoidably ensue to himself from the con¬
nections which he had formed. The king of Navarre, with
his principal adherents, were invited to an entertainment,
where they were unexpectedly arrested ; the former being
sent prisoner to Chateau Gaillard, and several of the most
obnoxious of the latter put to death. But the rest of the
conspirators, instead of being dismayed by this check, im¬
mediately broke out in open rebellion ; and finding them¬
selves unable to gain their point without further assistance,
they immediately invited Edward to come over from Eng¬
land.
That warlike and enterprising monarch had never lost
sight of the object which he had originally contemplated ; History,
and on the expiration of the truce had sent his son, the
prince of Wales, surnamed the Black Prince, with a squa- 1
dron towards the coast of France. With this force the *'iancc
prince entered the mouth of the Garonne, burned the towns
and villages of Languedoc, and then retired with his plun- Edward’,
der into the country of Guienne, whilst Edward himself, who
had likewise passed over to the Continent, wasted the coun¬
try as far as St Omer ; but the French king, notwithstand¬
ing all these provocations, determined to avoid a battle, and
accordingly prohibited his general, the constable of Bour¬
bon, from coming to an engagement, though his army was
much superior to that of the prince of Wales. With the
flower of his troops, however, he pursued Edward from St
Omer to Hesdin, where he defied him to a pitched battle ;
but the latter, without minding his bravadoes, continued
his march towards Calais, whence he embarked for England.
After his departure, John called an assembly of the states
at Paris, where he explained the distressed situation of his
finances, and showed so fully the necessity of their assist¬
ing him in the defence of the kingdom, that they consented
to maintain an army of thirty thousand men during the war.
To supply the other exigencies of government, they reviv¬
ed the duty upon salt, and added a variety of other imposts ;
but at the same time appointed a committee of their own
number to take care that the money should be strictly ap¬
propriated to the public service. But the satisfaction which
John received from these grants, and from the suppres¬
sion of some disturbances which happened about this time,
was soon overcast by the news that the prince of Wales
had marched with an army of twelve thousand men from
Bordeaux, and, after ravaging the Agenois, Quercy, and
the Limousin, had entered the province of Berry. The
young warrior had penetrated into the heart of France with
this trifling body of forces, in hopes of joining the Duke of
Lancaster in Guienne. But he soon found that his scheme
was impracticable. The country before him was too well
guarded to permit him to advance further ; and all the
bridges behind were broken down, which effectually barred
a retreat. In this embarrassing situation his perplexity
was increased by being informed that the king of France
was actually marching at the head of sixty thousand men to
intercept him. He at first thought of retreating ; but soon
finding it impossible to retrograde, he determined calmly to
wait the approach of the enemy, and, notwithstanding the
disparity oi forces, to commit all to the hazard of a battle.
At a place called Maupertuis, near Poitiers, both armies
arrived in sight of each other. The French king might
^easily have starved the English into terms ; but such was
the impatient valour of the French nobility, and such their
.confidence of success, that it might have been equally fatal
to attempt repressing their ardour to engage. In the mean
time, whilst both armies were drawn up in order of battle,
and expecting the signal to advance, they wjere stopped by
the appearance of the Cardinal of Perigord, who attempted
to act as mediator between them. But as John, who made
himself sure of victory, would listen to no terms which did
not include the restitution of Calais, the Black Prince re¬
fused to listen to such a proposition, and the combat was
deferred till the next morning, for which both sides wait¬
ed in anxious suspense^ During this interval the young
prince strengthened his position with new intrenchments,
and placed three hundred men in ambush, with as many
archers, who were commanded to attack the enemy in flank
during the heat of the engagement. Having taken these
precautions to ensure success, he drew up his army in three
divisions; the van commanded by the Earl of Warwick,
the rear by the Earls of Salisbury and Suffolk, and the main
body by himself. The king of France also arranged his
forces in three divisions; the first commanded by the Duke
of Orleans, and the second by the dauphin, attended by
FRANCE.
19
History, his younger brothers, whilst he himself directed the main
body, seconded by his youngest son, then about fourteen
1356. years of age. As the English could be attacked only by
marching along a narrow defile, the French suffered great¬
ly from the English archers, who were posted on each side
behind the hedges. Nor were they in a better situation
upon emerging from this pass, being met by the Black
Prince himself, at the head^of a chosen body of troops,
who made a furious onset upon their troops, already in
great disorder. A dreadful overthrow ensued. Those who
were as yet in the defile recoiled upon their own forces;
whilst the English troops who had been placed in an am¬
bush took the opportunity, by a flank attack, to increase
the confusion and confirm the victory. The dauphin and
the Duke of Orleans were amongst the first who fled. The
king of France himself made great efforts to retrieve by
valour what rashness had forfeited; but his courage was
unable to check that panic which had now become gene¬
ral throughout his army ; and his cavalry soon flying, he
found himself exposed to the whole fury of the enemy. At
length, overpowered with fatigue, and despairing of suc¬
cess, he thought of yielding himself a prisoner, and fre¬
quently cried out that he was ready to deliver himself to
his cousin the prince of Wales. But the honour of taking
him was reserved for a more ignoble hand ; he was seized
by Dennis de Morbec, a knight of Arras, who had been
obliged to fly from his country for murder.
This defeat, which happened in the year 1356, almost
entirely ruined the French affairs; and the miseries which
ensued were greatly augmented by internal commotions.
The dauphin, who had now assumed the government, was
altogether unfit to govern a turbulent and seditious people
at a crisis like this. An assembly of the states, which he
called, took the opportunity to limit the power of the prince,
to impeach the former ministers, and to demand the liberty
of the king of Navarre; and the treasurer of the crown
was basely murdered by one Marcel, a partisan of that
worthless prince, who had filled the city of Paris with con¬
fusion by his intrigues. The public disorders were also
augmented by the escape of the king of Navarre; and,
though the dauphin was even assured that this royal ruffian
had administered poison to him, he was nevertheless oblig¬
ed to pay him some appearance of regard. A scheme was
even formed by the chiefs of the sedition to change the
government, to vest all the power in the commons, and to
leave the king no more than an empty title; but though
this was favourably received by the city of Paris, the other
cities of the kingdom refused to concur in the project.
The dauphin was likewise recognised as regent by the
states^general, and the inhabitants of Picardy and Cham¬
pagne took up arms in his cause. In this disastrous state
of affairs, the miseries of the people were heightened by a
new and unexpected evil. The peasants, who had all along
been oppressed by the nobles, were now treated in such a
manner that, having risen in great numbers to revenge
themselves, the castles of the nobility were razed to the
ground, their wives and daughters ravished, and themselves
put to the most cruel torments. At last they were obliged
to arm in their own defence. The Duke of Orleans cut off
ten thousand of the insurgents in the neighbourhood of
Paris ; twelve thousand were massacred by the king of Na¬
varre ; and nine thousand who had laid siege to the town
of Meaux, where the dauphiness and three other ladies of
the first rank resided, were routed and pursued with dread¬
ful slaughter by an officer in the service of Edward.
Amidst these confusions, Marcel, the seditious leader al¬
ready mentioned, perished in a tumult of his own raising ;
and the most virtuous and prudent people of the nation
supported the pretensions of the dauphin. But his most
dangerous enemy was the king of Navarre, who had enticed
to his standard numbers of those Norman and English ad¬
venturers who had followed Edward into France, and re- History,
mained there to seek their fortunes, having associated
themselves under the name of the Companions. By this 1356-1363.
formidable competitor the dauphin was reduced almost to
the last extremity, when his hopes were revived by an
unexpected proposal of peace upon equitable and moderate
terms. Historians in general have ascribed this to the
natural levity of the king of Navarre ; but some have been
of opinion that he acted from prudential motives, and that
he justly supposed it would be more easy to deal with the
dauphin, who was his own kinsman, and humbled by so
many misfortunes, than with a haughty and imperious con¬
queror like Edward.
On the expiration of the truce in the year 1359, Ed-^newln;
ward, having again set sail for France, anchored before
Calais with a fleet of eleven hundred sail, assumed the title "V
of King of France, and augmented his army to a hun¬
dred thousand men. The dauphin, finding himself unable
to oppose so great a force, was obliged to act upon the
defensive ; and having chosen the city of Paris as his sta¬
tion, he allowed the English to ravage the open country.
Thus they were suffered to penetrate through Picardy into
Champagne; but the city of Bheims, where Edward de¬
signed to have been crowned king of France, baffled his
utmost efforts. From Champagne, therefore, which had
already been laid waste, the English monarch marched into
Burgundy, pillaging Tonnere, Gaillon, and Avalon. Bur¬
gundy was saved by the payment of a hundred thousand
merks, and an equal sum was paid for Nivernois. At last,
after a long and destructive march, Edward arrived at the
gates of Paris ; but the prudence of the dauphin and the
citizens had rendered it impregnable to the attacks of fa¬
mine as well as the assaults of an army. The war proceed¬
ed, however, till the year 1360, when the king of Eng¬
land showed himself inclined for peace. Notwithstanding
all the victories he had gained, the French nation evinced
not the least favour to his claim of succession ; the king of
Navarre was a dangerous rival; and the caution of the dau¬
phin, in avoiding an engagement, deprived him of the ad¬
vantages he expected from his valour and military skill.
Conferences for a peace were accordingly opened at Bre-
tigny in the Chartraine, and it was at last concluded, on
the conditions that King John should pay for his ransom,
at different periods, three millions of crowns of gold, or
about a million and a half of our money; and that Edward
should for ever renounce all claim to the kingdom of
France, and remain possessed of the territories of Poitou,
Xaintonge, I’Agenois, Perigord, the Limousin, Quercy,
Rouvergne, I’Angoumois, and other districts in that quar¬
ter, together with Calais, Guisnes, Montreuil, and the
county of Ponthieu. Some other stipulations were also
made in favour of the allies of England, as a security for the
execution of these conditions. But, upon John’s return to
his dominions, he found himself unable to ratify the terms
of peace which had just been concluded. At the head of an
exhausted state, his soldiers were without discipline, and
his peasants without subordination. The latter had in fact
risen in great numbers, and one of their chiefs had assum¬
ed the title of The Friend of God and the Terror of Man.
A citizen of Sens, named John Gouge, also got himself
acknowledged king, by means of his robberies, and soon
caused almost as many calamities by his depredations as
the real king had brought on by his misfortunes. Such .
was the state of France on the return of its captive mo¬
narch ; yet so incredible was his absurdity, that he had
scarcely been replaced on the throne when he prepared
for a crusade into the Holy Land. But this folly was pre¬
vented by the exhausted state of the country, and the mi¬
sery of the people, who, in fact, were even unable to pay
the king’s ransom. In these circumstances, however, the
conduct of John was truly noble. “ Though good faith
FRANCE.
20
History, should be banished from the rest of the earth,” said he,
“ yet she ought still to retain her habitation in the breasts
1360-1377- 0f kings.” He accordingly returned once more to Eng¬
land, and yielded himself a prisoner, since he could not be
honourably free. It has indeed been said by some, that
his passion for the Countess of Salisbury was the real cause
of his journey ; but there seems to be no foundation for a
report so injurious to his honour. During his captivity he
resided in the Savoy, and afterwards closed a long and un¬
fortunate reign by his death, which happened in the year
1364.
Charles Charles, surnamed the Prudent, succeeded his father upon
the Pru- the throne of France ; and by a finely-conducted policy,
dent* even though he suffered some defeats, restored his coun¬
try once more to tranquillity and power. He dispers¬
ed a horde of banditti, who having associated themselves
under the name of Companions, had long been a terror to
the peaceable inhabitants. He had them even enrolled
into a body, and led them into the kingdom of Castille
against Peter, surnamed the Cruel, whom his subjects had
dethroned, and who, by means of an alliance with the
English, endeavoured to get himself reinstated in power.
The consequence was, that the English and French again
came to an engagement; the army of the former being
commanded by the Black Prince, and that of the latter by
Henry of Transtamarre, and Bertrand du Guesclin, one of
the most consummate generals and accomplished men of
the age in which he lived. The usual good fortune of the
English prince however prevailed, and the French lost
above twenty thousand men, whilst only four knights and
forty private men were slain on the side of the English.
Nevertheless these victories were attended with but little
effect. The English, by frequent levies, had become quite
exhausted, and were unable to continue an army in the
field. Charles, on the other hand, cautiously avoided coming
to a decisive engagement, but contented himself with al¬
lowing his enemies to waste their strength in attempts to
plunder a fortified country ; and when they retired, he then
sallied forth, possessing himself of such places as they
were not strong enough to defend. He first fell upon Pon-
thieu ; the citizens of Abbeville opened their gates to re¬
ceive him; those of St Valois, Rue, and Crotoy, imitated
the example; and the whole country was in a little time
reduced to submission. The southern provinces were in
the same manner invaded by his generals with equal suc¬
cess ; whilst the Black Prince, destitute of supplies from
England, and wasted by a cruel disorder, was obliged to
return to his native country, leaving affairs in the south of
France in a desperate condition. In this exigency the re¬
sentment of the king of England was excited to the utmost
pitch, and he resolved to take signal vengeance on his ene¬
mies of the Continent. But the fortunate occasion had now
passed, and all his succeeding designs were unsuccessful.
The Earl of Pembroke and his whole army were intercept¬
ed at sea, and taken prisoners, by Henry king of Castille.
Sir Robert Knolles, at the head of thirty thousand men,
was defeated by Bertrand du Guesclin ; and the Duke of
Lancaster, at the head of twenty-five thousand men, had
the mortification of seeing his troops diminished without
even coming to a battle. At length, when the affairs of
the English were totally ruined by the death of the Black
Prince and of King Edward, the armies of Charles attack¬
ed the English on all sides. One, under the command of
the Duke of Burgundy, entered Artois; another, under
the command of the Duke of Berry, penetrated into Au¬
vergne ; that which acted in Guienne was commanded by
the Duke of Anjou; the forces in Bretagne were under
the constable Guesclin ; and the king put himself at the
head of a powerful body of troops, that he might be able
to repair any accident to which the chance of war might
give rise. The constable having found it difficult to op¬
pose Sir Thomas Felton and the seneschal of Bordeaux, History,
was joined by the Duke of Burgundy, and soon afterwards
attacked and defeated both, making them prisoners of war. 1377-1385-
At the close of the campaign of 1377, Bayonne and Bor¬
deaux, with the surrounding districts, and the fortress of
Calais with its dependencies, were all that England had
now left on the Continent. But Charles having thus once
more established the house bf Valois on the throne of
France, did not long live to enjoy his good fortune. He
died in the year 1379, at the age of forty-four, in conse¬
quence of the poison formerly administered to him by the
king of Navarre, and the immediate operation of which had
been suspended by the skill of a physician sent by the em¬
peror Charles IV.
Charles V. was succeeded by his son Charles VI. sur- Charles
named the Well-beloved, who, at the time of his acces- VI.
sion to the throne, was only twelve years of age. The
Duke of Anjou, eldest brother to the late king, had been
appointed guardian during the minority of the prince ; but
being totally unfit for the office, and distinguished only for
his ambition and rapacity, he resigned his charge to the
Dukes of Burgundy and Bourbon, the former being uncle
to the king by his father’s side, the latter by his mother’s.
None of these tutors, however, proved faithful to the trust
reposed in them. At this time Joan, infamous for her pro¬
fligacy, reigned in Naples, where she had appointed one
Charles Durazzo, her relation, to succeed her on the throne ;
but the inhuman wretch murdered his benefactress, who
with her last breath revoked her grant of the kingdom to
him, and bestowed it upon the Duke of Anjou. The in¬
fluence of the latter at the French court enabled him to
waste the treasures of the kingdom in support of his preten¬
sions ; but he proved ultimately unsuccessful, his forces having
been defeated, and his designs frustrated, by the superior
skill of his adversary. Meanwhile the citizens of Paris, op¬
pressed with taxes, broke out into tumults, and were with
difficulty quelled ; and the mal-administration of the duke
soon involved the nation in hostilities with the Flemings,
whose country lie invaded at the head of an army of eighty
thousand men, accompanied by the young king and by the
principal nobility of France. The first operations of the war
were favourable to the Flemings ; but they were at length
totally defeated on the banks of the river Lis, where their
leader, with twenty-five thousand men, perished in the
field. This victory was followed by the submission of the
whole country; but the satisfaction which this event af¬
forded the king was disturbed by new seditions and revolts
in Paris and other great towns. Llis return, however, at
the head of a victorious army soon reduced them to their
duty, and several of the revolted cities were severely pun¬
ished ; at the same time that the death of the Duke of
Anjou having freed him from the immediate dependence
on his tutors, enabled him to assume the reins of govern¬
ment, in the year 1384.
The genius which Charles displayed in his early years
raised the hopes of the nation ; but these were soon over¬
cast, and greater misfortunes than any which had yet oc¬
curred were in reserve. His administration was for some
time prudent and vigorous. He conciliated the affections
of his people by restoring their privileges, punishing their
oppressors, and relieving them from the taxes which had
been imposed in his minority. He compelled the Flemings
to submit to the authority of his uncle the Duke of Bur¬
gundy, and detached fifteen thousand archers and fifteen
hundred men-at-arms to assist the Scotch in their incur¬
sions into England. Lastly, in 1385 he fitted out a mighty
armament against England. A vast fleet assembled in the
harbour of Sluys, and a numerous army was collected in
the neighbourhood. According to some writers, the arma¬
ment consisted of twelve hundred ships, twenty thousand
foot variously armed, twenty thousand cavalry, and twenty
FRANCE.
History, thousand cross-bow men. There was besides a vast wooden
edifice or floating town, which had been contrived for the
385-1393. protection 0f j-hg soldiers when landed. But all these pre¬
parations came to nothing through the obstinacy of the
Duke of Berry, who, having been originally opposed to the
expedition, conducted his part of the armament so slowly
that he did not arrive at Sluys till the middle of September,
when the season was too far advanced, and an invasion im¬
practicable. In addition to this, a storm which happened
soon afterwards drove the greater part of the fleet on shore,
and beat down the wooden edifice, and completely ship¬
wrecked the whole project.
But the destruction of the French fleet was only a pre¬
lude to calamities of a more extraordinary description.
The Sieur de Craon, a profligate nobleman, having been
intrusted by the court of France with a considerable sum
destined for the support of the Duke of Anjou during his
Italian expedition, had dissipated this money at Venice;
but, by the credit of the Duke of Orleans, the king’s bro¬
ther, he had obtained his pardon, and even returned to court,
where he sought to gratify his private resentment by the
assassination of the constable Oliver Clisson, whom he sus¬
pected of having promoted his disgrace. The latter was
attacked on his return from the Hotel de St Pol, by a band
of twenty ruffians, against whom he defended himself with
wonderful intrepidity, but at last fell, after receiving more
than fifty wounds. Happily, however, the veteran recover¬
ed from his. wounds ; and the assassin, in order to screen
himself from vengeance, fled for protection to the Duke of
Bretagne. The king demanded the surrender of Craon ;
and the duke having professed that he knew nothing of
him, he marched with all his forces into Bretagne. But
when the army had arrived at Mons, the king was seized
with a slow fever, during which he became delirious, and
killed several persons with his own hand. When the ex¬
citement subsided he fell down and lay as if he had been
dead; upon which he was taken up, bound in a waggon,
and carried back to Mons, where he lay two days in a le¬
thargy, from w iich he recovered a little, and expressed
reat sorrow on account of the blood he had shed in his
elirium. But it was soon discovered that he no longer
possessed that strength of judgment and understanding for
which he had formerly been remarkable; and hence a re¬
gency became indispensably necessary. The competition
for this office brought to light the characters of the queen
and the Duke of Orleans, which had not hitherto been dis¬
played to public view. The former was a beautiful and
accomplished princess, but vindictive, suspicious, and in¬
triguing, insensible to natural affection, but easily accessible
to flattery, and ready to yield to every impulse of lawless
passion. The latter was equally remarkable for personal
accomplishments, and had married Valentina, daughter of
the Duke of Milan ; but his engagements with that prin¬
cess did not prevent him from engaging in a number of
licentious amours, and amongst the rest, as was supposed,
with his sister-in-law Isabelle. During the king’s illness
he openly aspired to the regency; but his pretensions were
overruled by the states, and the administration of affairs for
the present conferred on the Duke of Burgundy. In a few
months indeed the health and understanding of the king
seemed to be sufficiently restored; but in the year 1393
it was again disturbed by a sudden alarm, which occasioned
a relapse, and he continued delirious at intervals as long as
he lived. During his lucid intervals Charles frequently as¬
sumed the government into his own hands ; and as the war
with England still continued, though in a languid manner,
the French monarch in one of those intervals of reason had
an interview with Richard of England, in order to put an
end to hostilities. But their respective claims were so dif¬
ficult of adjustment, that, as an intermediate arrangement,
they concluded a truce for twenty-five years ; during which
21
time it was hoped that a lasting peace might be establish- History,
ed. Richard gave up Cherbourg to Charles, and Brest to
the Duke of Bretagne; and a marriage was also conclud- 1393-1405.
ed between the king of England and Isabelle the daughter
of Charles, but, by reason of the tender age of the princess,
this marriage was never consummated. During this reign
France was still further weakened by the succours sent to
the Hungarians against the Turks. On this expedition
upwards of one thousand of the bravest and most experi¬
enced knights were sent under the conduct of John count
of Nevers, eldest son of the Duke of Burgundy ; the Count
of Eu, constable of France; John de Vienne, admiral of
France ; and the Count of Marche, a prince of the blood
royal; together with De Courcy, one of the most experi¬
enced captains in Christendom. But the prudent counsels
of this veteran were not obeyed by the youthful warriors
by whom he was accompanied, and who, having attacked
the enemy rashly, whilst heated with wine, were all either
killed or taken prisoners. Notwithstanding this disaster,
however, assistance was in the year 1400 sent to Wances-
laus, emperor of Germany; and the Duke of Orleans, who
commanded the army on this occasion, acquitted himself
so well that he acquired the duchy of Luxembourg for him¬
self, and left his ally satisfied.
But whilst the friendship of France was thus courted by
foreign powers, the kingdom itself was in the most miserable
situation. The king’s distemper daily gained ground ; and
the discordant interests of the contending parties kept the
whole nation in a ferment. The most violent animosity
broke out between the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy.
The former, by means of his interest with the queen, and
the ascendency which his duchess possessed over the king,
had for some time got the advantage of his rival, and was
made lieutenant-general and governor of the kingdom ; but
presuming on his power to levy new imposts on the people,
and oppress the churchmen, whom in that age he ought
to have conciliated, he was deprived of his authority, and
obliged to yield to the Duke of Burgundy. For some time,
however, these powerful rivals were kept within some
bounds by the mediation of the Duke of Bourbon, the only
grandee who appears to have maintained a pure and un¬
spotted character ; but by his death in 1404, the unhappy
nation was left totally exposed to their relentless fury. In
1405 the queen and the Duke of Orleans again seized on
the administration, which, however, they were soon deprived
of by the unanimous voice of the people. During this period
Charles and his children were neglected and abandoned to
distress ; but they were relieved by the Duke of Burgundy
on his obtaining the regency, whilst Isabelle and the Duke
of Orleans were obliged to retire from Milan. But a sud¬
den return of the king’s reason now deprived both parties
of power, and the administration was vested in the queen
and a council composed of princes of the blood. The rival
dukes being thus prevented from interfering in public af¬
fairs, exercised themselves in committing hostilities against
the English, with whom the truce had lately been conclud¬
ed. They were encouraged to commit this infraction of
the treaty by the unsettled situation of affairs under Henry
IV.; but their attempts having proved unsuccessful, the
truce was renewed after obtaining the restoration of the
princess, who, as has already been mentioned, had been
betrothed to Richard II. The failure of their enterprises
produced a new scene of discord between the dukes, and
led to mutual recriminations. By the interposition of
the Duke of Berry they were, apparently reconciled ; but
the Duke of Burgundy pretended friendship only in order
to take a more signal vengeance, to which he was now in¬
flamed by jealousy as well as by political animosity. The
Duke of Orleans was accordingly attacked one evening by
eighteen ruffians hired for the purpose, who set upon him
whilst attended by only two pages. A Norman gentleman
22 FRA
History, who had been deprived of an employment headed the as-
sassins, and in person attacked the duke; at the first blow
1405-1415. jje cut off his grace’s hand, at the second he struck him
from his mule, and at the third put an end to his life. The
Duke of Burgundy escaped to Flanders ; and the whole na¬
tion was rent into two factions, called the Burgundians and
Armagnacs, the latter being the title of the party of the
Duke of Orleans, from Armagnac, the father-in-law of that
prince. A state of dreadful confusion and anarchy ensued.
The Duke of Burgundy soon returned into France, and ex¬
torted a pardon from the unhappy king, who was now no
longer able to resist him ; and some notion may be form¬
ed of the state of the kingdom from the circumstance that
two thousand people perished in one tumult in the capital.
The king himself was alternately the prisoner of both par¬
ties, and transferred the power from the one to the other
as he happened to fall into their hands.
Henry V. of England judged this a favourable opportu¬
nity to recover from France those possessions that had been
formerly surrendered by treaty. But, in order to give his
intended expedition the appearance of justice, he sent am¬
bassadors to Paris, offering perpetual peace and alliance,
on condition of being put in possession of all those pro¬
vinces which had been ravished from the English during
former reigns, and of espousing Catharine, daughter of the
French king, with a suitable dowry. Though the French
court was at this time extremely averse to war, yet these
demands were too extravagant to be complied with ; and
Henry probably made them in hopes of meeting a refusal.
He therefore assembled a fleet and army at Southampton,
and having drawn all the military men of the kingdom to
his standard, he put to sea, and landed at Harfleur at the
head of an army of six thousand men-at-arms, and twenty-
four thousand foot, mostly archers. His first operations
were directed against Harfleur, which being hard pressed,
promised to surrender by a certain day, unless relieved be¬
fore that time. When the day arrived, and the garrison,
unmindful of their engagement, resolved to defend the
place, Henry ordered an assault, took the town by storm,
and put the garrison to the sword. The victor then advan¬
ced further into the country, which had been already ren¬
dered desolate by factions, and which he now laid totally
waste. But although the enemy made a feeble resistance,
the climate seemed to fight against the English ; and a con¬
tagious dysentery carried off three fourths of Henry’s army.
In this situation he had recourse to an expedient common
enough in that age, in order to inspire his troops with con¬
fidence in their general. He challenged to single combat
the dauphin, who commanded the French army, offering to
stake his pretensions on the event. But this challenge, as
might have been expected, was refused; and the French,
notwithstanding their internal dissensions, at last seemed to
unite at the appearance of a common danger. A numerous
army of fourteen thousand men-at-arms and forty thousand
foot had by this time assembled under the command of Count
Albert, and been placed so as to intercept Henry’s weakened
forces on their return. The English monarch, when it was
too late, began to repent of his rash inroad into a country
where disease and a powerful army everywhere threatened
destruction, and he therefore determined to retire on Ca¬
lais. In this retreat, which was at once painful and dan¬
gerous, Henry took every precaution to inspire his troops
with patience and perseverance, and showed them in his
own person the brightest example of fortitude and resigna¬
tion. He was continually harassed on his march by flying
parties of the enemy ; and when he attempted to cross the
river Somme, he observed troops on the other side ready to
oppose his passage. He was, however, fortunate enough to
seize by surprise, near St Quintin, a passage which had not
been sufficiently guarded, and thus carried over his army
in safety. But the enemy being still resolved to intercept
N C E.
his retreat, after he had passed the river Tertrois, at Blangi, History,
he was surprised to observe from the heights the whole '
French army drawn up in the plains of Agincourt, and so l^15-3420.
posted that it was impossible for him to proceed on his
march without coming to an engagement. A battle ac¬
cordingly took place, in which the English gained a victory,
the most remarkable perhaps of any recorded in history
(see Agincourt), and which deserves to be classed with
the triumphs achieved at Crescy and Poitiers. This vic¬
tory, gained on the 25th of October 1415, was however
attended with no immediate effects. Henry still continu¬
ed to retreat after the battle of Agincourt, and carried his
prisoners first to Calais and thence to England.
In 1417, the king of England once more landed an army
of twenty-five thousand men in Normandy, and prepared
to strike a decisive blow for the crown of France, to which
the English monarchs had long made pretensions. That
wretched country was now reduced to a most deplorable
condition. The whole kingdom appeared one vast theatre
of murder, injustice, and devastation. The Duke of Or¬
leans had been assassinated by the Duke of Burgundy ; and
the Duke of Burgundy, in his turn, fell by the treachery
of the dauphin. At the same time the son of the duke, de¬
sirous of revenging his father’s death, entered into secret
negotiations with the English; and a league was imme¬
diately concluded at Arras, between Henry and the young
Duke of Burgundy, in which the king promised to revenge
the murder of the late duke, and the son appeared to in¬
sist on no further stipulations. Henry therefore proceeded
in his conquests without much opposition from any quar¬
ter. Several towns and provinces submitted on his ap¬
proach ; the city of Rouen was besieged and taken; and
he soon became master of Pontoise and Gisors. He even
threatened Paris, and obliged the court to remove to Troyes,
where the Duke of Burgundy, who had taken upon him
the protection of the French king, met Henry in order to
ratify the treaty by which the crown of France was to be
transferred to a stranger. The imbecility into which Charles
had fallen made him passive in regard to this treaty, and
Flenry dictated the terms throughout the whole negotiation.
The principal articles of the treaty were, that Henry should
espouse the Princess Catharine ; that King Charles should
enjoy the title and dignity of king for life, but that Henry
should be declared heir to the crown, and intrusted with
the present administration of the government; that France
and England should be for ever united under one king, but
should still retain their respective laws and privileges; and
that Henry should unite his arms with those of King Charles
and the Duke of Burgundy, to depress and subdue the dau¬
phin and his partisans. Not long after this treaty had been
concluded, Henry married the Princess Catharine; upon
which he carried his father-in-law to Paris, and took formal
possession of the capital. He next obtained from the estates
of the kingdom a ratification of the late compact, and then
turned his arms with success against the adherents of the
dauphin, who now wandered about a stranger in his own
country, and to the success obtained by his enemies op¬
posed only fruitless expostulations.
But Henry’s supplies were not provided in such abun¬
dance as to enable him to carry on the war without return¬
ing in person to prevail with his parliament to grant fresh
aid; and on his arrival in England, although he found his
subjects highly pleased with the splendour of his conquests,
they seemed somewhat doubtful as to the advantage to be
derived from them. A treaty, which in its consequences
was likely to transfer the seat of empire from England, was
not much relished by the parliament, which, therefore, on
various pretences, refused his majesty a supply equal to his
exigencies. But he was bent on pursuing his schemes of
ambition ; and, having joined the supplies granted at home
to the contributions levied on the conquered provinces, he
FRANCE.
23
Charles
VII.
History, was able once more to assemble an army of twenty-eight
thousand men, with which he landed safely at Calais.
14-0-1428. jn £]ie mean while, the dauphin omitted no opportunity
of repairing his ruined fortunes. Taking advantage of
Henry’s absence from France, he prevailed upon the re¬
gent of Scotland to send him a body of eight thousand
men ; and with these, and some few forces of his own, he
attacked the Duke of Clarence, who commanded the Eng¬
lish troops in the king’s absence, and gained a complete
victory. This was the first action which turned the tide
of success against the English. But it was of short dura¬
tion ; for Henry having soon afterwards appeared with a
considerable army, the dauphin fled at his approach ; and
many of the places which held out for the latter in the
neighbourhood of Paris surrendered to the conqueror.
Henry, everywhere victorious, now fixed his residence
at Paris ; and whilst Charles had only a small court, he
was attended with one of great magnificence. In the mean
while the dauphin, driven beyond the Loire, and almost to¬
tally dispossessed of the northern provinces, was pursued
into the south by the united arms of the English and Bur¬
gundians, and threatened with total destruction. In this
exigency, he found it necessary to protract the war, and to
evade all hazardous actions with a rival who had long been
accustomed to victory. His prudence was everywhere re¬
markable ; and, after a train of persecutions from fortune,
he found her at length willing to declare in his favour by
the death of the king of England. Charles VI. died a
short time afterwards; and Charles VII. succeeded his
father on a nominal throne.
Nothing could be more deplorable than the situation of
France when this monarch assumed his title to the crown.
The English were masters of almost all France ; and Henrv
VI. though yet an infant, was solemnly invested with regal
power by legates from Paris. The Duke of Bedford was
at the head of a numerous army in the heart of the king¬
dom, ready to oppose every insurrection ; whilst the Duke of
Burgundy, who had entered into a firm confederacy with the
English commander, still remained stedfast, and seconded
his claims. Yet notwithstanding these unfavourable appear¬
ances, Charles found means to break the leagues formed
against him, and to bring back his subjects to their natural
interest and duty. His first attempts, however, were
totally destitute of success. Wherever he endeavoured to
face the enemy he was overthrown, and he could scarcely
rely even on the friends next his person. His authority
was insulted by his own servants; advantage after advan¬
tage was gained over him; and a battle fought near Ver-
neuil, in which he was totally defeated by the Duke of
Bedford, seemed to render his affairs altogether desperate.
But, from the impossibility of the English keeping the field
without new supplies, Bedford was obliged to retire into
England ; and in the absence of this commander his vigi¬
lant enemy began to recover from his late consternation.
Dunois, one of his generals, at the head of a thousand
men, compelled the Earl of Warwick to raise the siege of
Montargis; and this advantage, slight as it was, served to
convince the French that the English were not invincible.
But they had soon still greater reason to triumph in
their change of fortune, and a new revolution was pro¬
duced, by means apparently the most unlikely to bring about
such a result. In the village of Domremi, near Vaucou-
leurs, on the borders of Lorraine, there lived a country girl,
about twenty-seven years of age, called Joan d’Arc. This
girl had been a servant in a cabaret or small inn, and in
that humble station had submitted to those hardy employ¬
ments which fit the body for the fatigues of war.* She was
of an irreproachable life, and had hitherto exhibited none
of those enterprising qualities which she soon afterwards
displayed. She contentedly fulfilled the duties of her sta¬
tion, and was remarkable only for her modesty and love
Joan
d’Arc.
of religion. But the miseries of her country seemed to History,
have occupied the thoughts of this lowly maiden; and her
mind, inflamed by the subject, and brooding with melan- 1428.
choly stedfastness thereon, began to feel impulses, which
she was willing to mistake for inspirations of heaven. Con¬
vinced of the reality of her own visions, she had recourse to
one Baudricourt, governor of Vaucouleurs, whom she in¬
formed of her destination by heaven to free her native
country from its fierce invaders. Baudricourt treated her
at first with neglect; but her importunities at length pre¬
vailed, and, willing to make trial of her pretensions, he gave
her some attendants, who conducted her to the court, which
at that time resided at Chinon. The French courtiers were
probably sensible of the weakness of her pretensions, but
they were willing to make use of every artifice to support
their declining fortunes. It was therefore given out that
Joan was actually inspired ; that she had been able to disco¬
ver the king amongst the number of his courtiers, although
he had laid aside all the distinctions of his authority; that
she had told him some secrets, which were only known to
himself; and that she had demanded, and minutely described,
a sword in the church of St Catharine de Fierbois, which
she had never seen. The minds of the vulgar being thus
prepared, she appeared armed cap-d-pied, and was shown
in that martial dress to the people. She was then brought
before the doctors of the university, who, tinctured with
the credulity of the times, or willing to second the impos¬
ture, declared that she had actually received her commis¬
sion from above. When the preparations for her mission
had been completely blazoned,, the next object was to send
her against the enemy. The English w'ere at this time
besieging the city of Orleans, the last resource of Charles,
and every thing promised them a speedy conquest. Joan
undertook to raise the siege ; and, in order to render her¬
self still more remarkable, girded herself with the miracu¬
lous sword, of which she had before had such extraordinary
notices. Thus equipped, she ordered all the soldiers to
confess themselves before they set out, displayed in her
hand a consecrated banner, and assured the troops of
certain success. Such confidence on her side soon raised
the spirits of the French army ; and even the English, who
pretended to despise her efforts, felt themselves secretly
influenced with the terrors of her mission. A supply of
provisions was to be conveyed into the town; Joan, at
the head of some French troops, covered the embarkation,
and entered Orleans at the head of the convoy which she
had safely protected. Whilst she was leading her troops
along, silence and astonishment reigned amongst the Eng¬
lish ; and they regarded with religious awe that temerity,
which they thought nothing but supernatural assistance
could inspire. But they were soon roused from their state
of amazement by a sally from the town; Joan led on the
besieged, bearing the sacred standard in her hand, encou¬
raging them with- her words and actions, bringing them to
the trenches, and overpowering the besiegers in their own
redoubts. In the attack of one of the forts, she was wound¬
ed in the neck with an arrow; but instantly pulling out
the weapon with her own hands, and getting the wound
promptly dressed, she hastened back to head the troops, and
to plant her victorious banner on the hostile ramparts. As
these successes continued, the English found it impossible
to resist troops who were animated by such superior energy ;
and Suffolk, who conducted the attack, thinking that it
might prove extremely dangerous to remain any longer in
the presence of such an enemy, raised the siege, and re¬
treated with all imaginable precaution. From being at¬
tacked, the French now became in turn the aggressors.
Charles formed a body of six thousand men, and sent them
to besiege Jergeau, whither the English, commanded by
the Earl of Suffolk, had retired. The city was taken ;
Suffolk yielded himself a prisoner; and Joan inarched into
24
FRANCE,
History, the place in triumph at the head of the army. A battle
was soon after fought near Patay, where the English were
1428-1430. agajn worsted an(j Generals Scales and Talbot were taken
prisoners.
The raising of the siege of Orleans formed one part
of the promise which the maid had made to the king of
France, the crowning him at Rheims was the other; and
as she now declared that it was time to complete that
ceremony, Charles, in pursuance of her advice, set out
for Rheims at the head of twelve thousand men. The
towns through which he passed opened their gates to re¬
ceive him; and Rheims sent him a deputation, with its
keys, upon his approach. The ceremony of his corona¬
tion was there performed with the utmost solemnity; and
the Maid of Orleans, as she was now called, seeing the
completion of her mission, desired leave to retire, alleging
that she had now accomplished the end of her calling. But
her services had been so great that the king could not think
of parting with her; he pressed her earnestly to remain,
and she at length complied with his request. A train of
success followed the performance of this solemnity; Laon,
Soissons, Chateau-Thierri, Provins, and many other for¬
tresses in that neighbourhood, submitted to him on the first
summons.
On the other hand, the English, discomfited and dispi¬
rited, fled in every direction, not knowing whether to as¬
cribe their misfortunes to the power of sorcery or to a ce¬
lestial influence, but equally terrified at both. They now
found themselves deprived of the conquests they had gained,
in the same manner as the French had formerly submitted
to their power. Their own divisions, both abroad and at
home, unfitted them entirely for carrying on the war; and
the Duke of Bedford, notwithstanding all his prudence, saw
himself divested of his strongholds in the country, without
being able to arrest the enemy’s progress. In order, there¬
fore, to revive the declining state of his affairs, he resolved
to have Henry crowned king at Paris, knowing that the
natives would be allured to obedience by the splendour of
the ceremony. In 1430 Henry was accordingly crowned,
all the vassals who still continued under the English power
swearing fealty and homage. But it was now too late to
give a turn to the affairs of the English by the ceremonies
of a coronation ; the generality of the kingdom had declared
against them, and the remainder only waited a convenient
opportunity to follow the example. An accident which
soon afterwards occurred, though it promised to advance
the English cause in France, served in the end to render
it odious, and conduced to the total evacuation of that
country. The Duke of Burgundy, at the head of a power ¬
ful army, had laid siege to Compeigne; and the Maid of
Orleans had thrown herself into the place, contrary to
the wishes of the governor, who desired not the com¬
pany of one whose authority would be greater than his
own. The garrison, however, were rejoiced at her appear¬
ance, and believed themselves invincible under her protec¬
tion. But their joy was of short duration ; for Joan having
the day after her arrival headed a sally, and twice driven
the enemy from their intrenchments, was at last obliged
to retire, placing herself in the rear, to cover the retreat of
her forces. But in the end, attempting to follow the troops
into the city, she found the gates shut, and the bridge
raised, by order of the governor, who is said to have long
wished for an opportunity of delivering her up to the ene¬
my. Nothing could exceed the joy of the besiegers, in
having taken a person who had been so long a terror to
their arms. The service of Te Deum was publicly cele¬
brated on the occasion ; and it was hoped that the capture
of this extraordinary person would restore to the English
their former victories and successes. The Duke of Bed¬
ford was no sooner informed of her being taken, than he
purchased the heroine of the Count Vendome, who had
made her his prisoner, and ordered her to be committed History,
to close confinement.
The credulity of both nations was at this time so great,1430-1443.
that any thing which coincided with their passions was not
too absurd to gain belief. As Joan had a little before,
when successful, been regarded as a saint, she was now, on
her captivity, considered as a sorceress, forsaken by the
demon who had given her a temporary and fallacious as¬
sistance. It was accordingly resolved in council to send
her to Rouen to be tried for witchcraft; and the Bishop of
Beauvais, a man wholly devoted to the English interest,
having presented a petition against her, the university of
Paris was mean enough to join in the request. Several pre¬
lates, amongst whom the Cardinal of Winchester was the
only Englishman, were appointed her judges, and held their
court at Rouen, where Henry then resided; whilst the
maid, clothed in her military apparel, but loaded with irons,
was produced before the tribunal. Her behaviour on this
occasion in no way disgraced her former gallantry; she
betrayed neither weakness nor womanish submission, but
appealed to God and the pope for the truth of her former
revelations. Nevertheless she was found guilty of heresy
and witchcraft, and sentenced to be burned alive, the com¬
mon punishment for such offences. But previously to the
execution of this sentence, they resolved to make her ab¬
jure her former errors; and at length, by terror and rigo¬
rous treatment, so far prevailed, that her spirits were en¬
tirely broken by the hardships she was forced to endure.
Her former visionary dreams began to vanish, and a gloomy
distrust took place of her late inspirations; she publicly
declared herself willing to recant, and promised never more
to give way to the vain delusions which had hitherto mis¬
led her, and imposed upon the people. This was what her
oppressors desired; and, willing to show some appearance
of mercy, they changed her sentence into that of perpetual
imprisonment, and to be fed for life on bread and water.
But the rage of her enemies was not yet satiated. Sus¬
pecting that the female dress, which she had consented to
wear, was disagreeable to her, they purposely placed in her
apartment a suit of men’s apparel, and watched the effect of
this temptation. The despicable artifice succeeded. Joan,
struck with the sight of a dress in which she had gained
so much glory, immediately threw off her penitent robes,
and put on the forbidden garment. Her enemies caught
her equipped in this fashion ; and her imprudence was
considered as a relapse into her former transgressions. No
recantation would now suffice, no pardon could now be
granted. She was condemned to be burned alive in the
market-place of Rouen ; and this disgraceful sentence was
executed with most rigorous severity.
One of the first misfortunes which befel the English
after this sacrifice was the defection of the Duke of Bur¬
gundy, who had for some time seen the error of his con¬
duct, and wished to break an unnatural connection, which
only served to involve his country in ruin. A treaty was
therefore concluded between him and Charles, in which
the former agreed to assist him in driving the English out
of France. This proved a mortal blow to the cause of the
latter; and such were its effects upon the populace of Lon<
don when informed of it, that they killed several of the
Duke of Burgundy’s subjects who happened at the time to be
living amongst them. It might perhaps also have hastened
the Duke of Bedford’s death, who died at Rouen a few days
after the treaty had been concluded; and the Earl of Cam¬
bridge was appointed his successor to the regency of France.
From this period the English affairs were irretrievably
ruined. The city of Paris returned once more to a sense
of its duty, and Lord Willoughby, who commanded it, was
contented to stipulate for the safe retreat of his troops to
Normandy. Thus ground was continually, though slowly,
gained by the French ; and notwithstanding that their fields
F R A
Tistorv. were laid waste, and their towns depopulated, they yet found
protection in the weakness and divisions of the English.
143- length both parties began to grow weary of a war,
which, though carried on feebly, was still a burden greater
than either could support. But the terms of peace insisted
upon by both were so exorbitant that little hopes of an
accommodation could reasonably be entertained. In 1443,
therefore, a truce for twenty-two months was concluded,
which left every thing between the parties on the footing
upon which it actually stood. And no sooner had this
been agreed upon, than Charles applied himself with great
industry and judgment to repair the numberless evils to
which, from the continuance of wars both foreign and do¬
mestic, his kingdom had so long been exposed. He esta¬
blished discipline amongst his troops, and justice amongst
his governors; he revived agriculture, and repressed fac¬
tion. Having prepared once more for taking the field, he
seized the first favourable opportunity to break the truce.
Normandy was at the same time invaded by four powerful
armies; one commanded by Charles himself, a second by
the Duke of Bretagne, a third by the Count of Alen^on,
and a fourth by the Count Dunois. Every place opened
its gates almost as soon as the French appeared before
them. Rouen was the only city which threatened to hold
out; but the inhabitants clamoured so loudly for a surren¬
der, that the Duke of Somerset, who commanded the gar¬
rison, was obliged to capitulate. The battle, or rather skir¬
mish, of Fourmingi, was the last stand which the English
made in defence of their French dominions ; but here they
were put to the rout, and above a thousand slain. Nor¬
mandy and Guienne, which had so long acknowledged
subjection to England, were lost in the space of a year;
and the English saw themselves entirely dispossessed of a
country which for above three centuries they had consi¬
dered as annexed to their native dominions. Of all their
conquests Calais alone remained to them ; but this was a
small compensation for the blood and treasure which had
been lavished in France.
In the year 1450, accordingly, the power of the English
in France was entirely destroyed; and Charles obtained the
surname of Victorious, on account of the vigour which he
had shown in expelling the invaders of his country. But
his satisfaction was greatly diminished by domestic misfor¬
tunes. The dauphin, forgetting the allegiance and filial duty
which he owed to his father, had already impeded his con¬
quests by his seditious intrigues. He had used every ef¬
fort to thwart the designs of the king’s ministers, and it
was even supposed that he had destroyed by poison Agnes
Soreille, his father’s favourite mistress. He had also mar¬
ried Charlotte, daughter of the Duke of Savoy, which
Charles had resented by a declaration of war against the
duke; but he had been persuaded to recall this denuncia¬
tion, in order to prosecute the war against Guienne. At
length, weary of the disobedience of his son, he command¬
ed him to be arrested; but Louis, informed of his design,
withdrew to Franche Comte, and afterwards to Brabant,
where the Duke of Burgundy, then sovereign of the coun¬
try, ordered him to be supplied with every necessary, and
treated with all imaginable respect. The duke, however,
refused to see him until he had obtained the approbation
of his father ; upon which Louis employed himself in sow¬
ing dissension between his benefactor and the Count of
Charolois, his son, at the very time that he himself was re¬
ceiving a pension of twelve thousand crowns annually from
the father. He thus destroyed the domestic peace of his
benefactor, whilst his unnatural conduct created continual
suspicions in the mind of his father. Being repeatedly in¬
formed that his own domestics, along with his undutiful
son, were in a conspiracy against his life, the miserable
monarch lived in continual fear of being poisoned, and,
having none in whom he could repose confidence, obsti-
vol. x.
N C E. 25
nately refused for some days to receive any sustenance ; and History,
when at last prevailed upon by the importunities of his at-
tendants to take some food, his stomach had become inca-*461-1465.
pable of receiving it, and he died of inanition, in the year
1461. His body, neglected by his unnatural son, was in¬
terred at the expense of Tannegui de Chastel, who had ever
been his faithful companion.
On the death of Charles, his son Louis succeeded to the Louis XI.
throne to which he had so long aspired. He was reckoned
one of the greatest politicians that ever existed, though his
character was not upon that account the more amiable ; on
the contrary, there are few princes whose character appears
in a more detestable light. So destitute was he of natural
affection, that he did not even attempt to conceal his joy
at his father’s death. He pretended much friendship for
the Count of Charolois, son to the Duke of Burgundy, on
account of the protection which he had received at his
father’s court, and even conferred upon him a pension of
twelve thousand crowns annually. But all this show of af¬
fection soon degenerated into a mortal aversion upon both
sides. Some differences which took place between the
courts of France and Castille produced an interview be¬
tween the two monarchs, Louis, and Henry surnamed the
Impotent. They met at Mauleon, on the confines of Na¬
varre ; but their negotiations came to nothing, and they
parted with a feeling of mutual contempt; Henry despis¬
ing the mean and sordid appearance of Louis, and the latter
in his turn deriding the gaudy magnificence of Henry. In
his negotiations with the Duke of Burgundy, Louis proved
more successful, having persuaded him to restore some
towns situated on the river Somme which had been ceded
by Charles VII., and by the possession of which the duke
was in effect master of Picardy. This cession was op¬
posed by the Count of Charolois; but Louis, by corrupt¬
ing John de Croy, the duke’s minister, succeeded in his
object, and for the sum of four hundred thousand crowns
the cities were delivered to him. In this transaction, by
which he effectually ensured the hatred of Charolois, the
duplicity of Louis was eminently displayed ; for though he
had agreed to retain in those towns the officers appointed
by the duke, he had no sooner obtained possession than
he displaced all of them, and appointed others in their
stead.
The duchy of Bretagne was at this time governed by
Francis, a weak but generous prince, whose defect of capa¬
city was supplied by the abilities of his ministers. This
prince Louis had insulted in the grossest manner ; and as
Francis found himself unable alone to oppose such a power¬
ful adversary, he formed a close alliance with the Duke of
Burgundy and the Count of Charolois, who had also been
grievously offended by Louis. The confederacy was joined
by several of the principal French nobility, who had been
oppressed by the king; and though the secret was confid¬
ed to upwards of five hundred persons, not one of them
ever divulged it. Finding matters becoming very critical,
Louis marched with an army towards the capital, which
the Count of Charolois had already threatened ; and a battle
ensued, in which both princes exerted themselves to the
utmost, though their valour was but ill seconded by the bra¬
very of their troops. A bout fifteen hundred men perished
on each side, but the Count of Charolois remained master
of the field. Louis, however, after this engagement enter¬
ed the capital, where he endeavoured, by every kind con¬
cession, to conciliate the affection of his subjects ; and in
this he succeeded so well, that though the army of the insur¬
gents was soon augmented to a hundred thousand men, they
were unable to make themselves masters of the city. At
last a treaty was concluded between Louis and the Count
of Charolois, by which the latter obtained the towns which
had been formerly ceded, with the districts of Boulogne,
Guisne, Peronne, Mondidior, and Roye, as a perpetual in-
j)
26
FRANCE.
History, heritance for himself; and by granting favours to the other ly subsided, and he entered into a treaty with the king, History.
confederates, the league was completely broken. But as upon much the same terms as those which had been agreed
1465-1468. g00n as Louis found himself freed from danger, he protest- to before. He insisted, however, that Louis should be
ed against the whole treaty, as contrary to the interest of present at the punishment he inflicted upon the inhabitants
his crown; and therefore waited the first favourable op- of Liege for the massacre they had committed; and this
portunity to crush one by one those who by their united being acceded to, these princes in conjunction formed the
efforts had been ready to destroy him. The Duke of siege of the city, which, notwithstanding the obstinate de-
Bourbon, one of the most able of the confederates, was fence of the people, was at length taken by storm, and de-
gained over, by bestowing upon him in marriage, Jane, livered over to a general massacre.
a natural daughter of the king, with the dowry of Usson in But, as might have been foreseen, the new alliance was
Auvergne, together with Moras, Beaurepaire, and Cormil- soon dissolved. A confederacy against Louis, whom neither
Ion in Dauphine ; and, by the discontents between the promises nor treaties could bind, was formed between his
Dukes of Bretagne and Normandy, he was enabled to own brother the Duke of Normandy and the Duke of Bur-
secure the neutrality of the former, and to recover from gundy ; but before their measures were ripe for execution,
the latter some territories which had been unwillingly Louis had already commenced hostilities. The Duke of
ceded to him. Burgundy, as a peer of France, was summoned to parlia-
In 1467, Philip duke of Burgundy, surnamed from his ment, and on his refusal the Constable St Pol made him-
amiable qualities the Good, died, and left his dominions to self master of St Quintin. Several other cities were also
his son Charles, count of Charolois. That fiery and im- reduced; and Baldwin, the natural brother of Charles,
petuous prince, jealous of the growing power of France, having, at the instigation of Louis, deserted his cause, the
and an implacable enemy of Louis, had entered into a se- duke, notwithstanding his haughty spirit, was at last ob-
cret treaty with Francis ; but Louis had driven the Bre- liged to solicit a peace. This, however, was not of long
tons from the posts which they had occupied in Normandy duration. Charles, encouraged by the success of Edward
before the Duke of Burgundy could pass the Somme. The IV. of England, his brother-in-law, began once more to
king, however, alarmed at the power of the confederates, league against Louis, with the Dukes of Bretagne and G.ui-
concluded a peace with Bretagne ; and, confiding in hrs enne, the king’s brother, and formerly Duke of Normandy,
talents for negotiation, determined to risk a personal confe- but who had exchanged that duchy for the territory of
rence with the Duke of Burgundy. This memorable inter- Guienne. But whilst the affairs of the confederates seem-
view took place in the year 1468; and Peronne, a fortified ed likely to prosper, their prospects were suddenly over¬
town of Picardy, belonging to the Duke of Burgundy, was cast by the death of the Duke of Guienne, who was univer-
appointed as the place of rendezvous. Thither the politic sally supposed to have been poisoned by order of Louis.
Louis repaired with a slender train, being attended only by The abbot of St Jean d’Angeli was fixed upon as the im-
Cardinal Balue, the Duke of Bourbon, and the Count de mediate perpetrator of the deed; but upon the day ap-
St Pol, constable of France ; apparently without reflecting pointed for his trial he was found strangled in his cell; and
that he was entering a hostile city, where he might be con- as the dead tell no tales, Louis escaped the ignominy which
fined for any length of time, or treated at the pleasure of the trial would probably have fixed on him, and was en-
the duke, who was his mortal enemy. Nor had he been abled to seize upon the territory of Guienne, which he an-
long in the place when he began to perceive the extent nexed to the dominions of France.
of his error; and, by the daily concourse of Burgundian By this unexampled villany Charles was so much ex¬
lords and other persons of rank, his avowed enemies, he asperated that he vowed the most dreadful vengeance
became alarmed for his personal safety. His fears even against the people of France, and threatened to sacrifice
suggested to him more serious apprehensions; and he to the memory of the Duke of Guienne every one who fell
requested apartments in the castle, where it was in the into his hands. The citizens of Nesle were massacred
power of his rival in a moment to make him a close pri- without distinction of sex or age; but Beauvis resisted
soner. This event accordingly took place, through the his attacks, after which Charles wreaked his fury on other
machinations of Louis himself. From the first his po- places. Having entered the country of Caux, he reduced
licy had been to keep the Duke of Burgundy constantly the cities of Eu and St Valery, burned Longueville, and
employed in domestic wars ; and with this view he had, wasted the whole country as far as Rouen. Louis, on the
immediately before his interview with Charles, excited the other hand, steady and constant in his designs, determin-
inhabitants of Liege, who were subject to the Duke of Bur- ed to dissolve the league between the Duke of Bretagne
gundy, to revolt against their sovereign. It is probable, and Edward IV. of England, encamped with his army on
indeed, that he did not anticipate that the effects of this the frontiers of Bretagne ; whilst the duke, not meeting
treachery would so soon begin to manifest themselves. But with the assistance promised by Edward, was obliged to
at the very time when Louis was in the castle of Peronne, consent to a truce for a year. In a little time, however,
the people of Liege revolted, seized the bishop and gover- he began again to conspire with the king of England
nor, and having massacred many of the adherents of against Louis, and a powerful invasion was determined
Charles, retired with their prisoners to the capital. Charles upon. Edward was to cross the sea with an army often
was soon informed of this massacre, with the additional thousand men, whilst Charles assembled all his forces to
circumstance that the emissaries of Louis were seen ani- join in the attack. The former was also to set up a claim
mating the insurgents to their work of destruction. Trans- to the crown of France, and at all events to obtain the
ported with rage, he commanded the gates of the castle to provinces of Normandy and Guienne; whilst the duke
be shut and strictly guarded, and denounced the severest was to have Champagne, with some adjacent districts, and
vengeance on the perfidious monarch who had so often de- to free his dominions from homage; and neither party
ceived him. Louis, however, though justly alarmed for was to make peace without the consent of the other. It
the consequences of this premature explosion, did not ne- was supposed that the Duke of Bretagne would naturally
gleet to take the proper methods for securing himself. He accede to the confederacy ; and the Count de St Pol, con-
distributed large sums of money amongst those officers to stable of France, had engaged to deliver up the town of
whom he imagined the duke was most inclined to pay any St Quintin and others which he occupied on the river
regard, and by splendid promises and presents endeavour- Somme. Louis, however, had still the good fortune to
ed to allay the resentment of his other enemies. The re- avoid the storm. Charles, instead of advancing to the as-
sentment of Charles, as short-lived as it was violent, quick- sistance of Edward, who had entered France at the head
History, of fifteen thousand archers and fifteen hundred men-at-
arms, laid siege to the city of Nuiz on the Rhine ; whilst
■ 1468-1477" j.]ie Constable St Pol, instead of delivering up the towns
as he had promised, deceived his allies, and enabled Louis
to dissolve a confederacy, which, had it been vigorously
maintained, might have involved him in the greatest dif¬
ficulties. To procure the departure of Edward, however,
he was obliged to consent to a tribute of seventy-five
thousand crowns, as well as to settle on the king himself
fifty thousand crowns for life, and also to betrothe the
dauphin to the eldest daughter of the king of England.
The Duke of Burgundy exclaimed loudly against this
treaty ; but Edward presisting in his resolution, it was exe¬
cuted, at a place called Pecquigny, near Amiens, though
in such a manner as showed the little confidence which
the two sovereigns reposed in each other. A power was
reserved by Edward for the Duke of Burgundy to accede
to the treaty ; but the latter haughtily replied, that he
was able to support himself without the assistance of Eng¬
land, and that he would make no peace with Louis until
three months after the return of Edward to his own coun¬
try. To this resolution he adhered ; but no sooner had
the term expired than he concluded a truce with Louis
for nine years. The Constable St Pol having rendered
himself obnoxious to all parties by his complicated treach¬
ery, fled to Mons in Hainault; but the Duke of Bur¬
gundy had already consented to deliver him up, upon
condition of receiving his estates and moveables as the
price of his treachery.
Thus had Louis, without any other remarkable qualifi¬
cation than the mere arts of dissimulation and falsehood,
got rid of all his enemies excepting the Duke of Burgun¬
dy, whose growing power rendered him a constant object
of jealousy and terror. The imprudence and temerity of
the latter, however, soon proved his ruin. Having rash¬
ly engaged in a war with the Swiss, he was defeated in
the first encounter, with the loss of his military chest and
baggage, and of his plate and jewels, supposed to be the
richest in Europe. His disappointment on this occasion
was so great that he was seized with a severe sickness ;
but he had hardly recovered when he resumed his insane
scheme of conquering the Swiss. Another battle ensued,
in which, after an obstinate struggle, Charles was defeat¬
ed with the loss of eighteen thousand men; a disaster which
was followed by the defection of most of his allies. The
Duke of Lorraine recovered the city of Nancy, and the
greater part of his dominions, which Charles had seized ;
whilst the latter, overwhelmed with shame and disap¬
pointment, spent his time in solitude and inactivity. But
from this state he w'as at length roused by the misfortunes
which fell upon him in rapid succession. He now invest¬
ed the city of Nancy, acting in this, as in every other in¬
stance, against the advice of his best officers. The Duke
of Lorraine advanced with a strong body of Germans to
the relief of the city, whilst Charles had scarcely four
thousand men to oppose him. His troops were therefore
defeated, and he himself, notwithstanding the most he¬
roic efforts of valour, was hurried away in the crowd. The
Count de Campobasso, an Italian nobleman, in whom he
put great confidence, but who was in reality a traitor, had
deserted with about eighty men at the commencement of
the action ; but he left twelve or fifteen fellows about the
duke’s person, with strict orders to assassinate him in the
tumult; and this order they punctually obej^ed. The body
of Charles was found two days after the battle, pierced with
three wounds. This occurred in the vear 1477.
The news of Charles’s death was received with the
most unfeigned joy by Louis, whose sole object it now
was to unite the territories of the Duke of Burgundy to
those of his own. This might be done in two ways ; ei¬
ther by a match between the dauphin and Mary, the heir¬
ess of Burgundy, or by marrying this lady to the Duke History,
of Angouleme, a prince of the blood royal of France. The
king, however, to whom duplicity and falsehood seem to
have been absolutely necessary, chose a third method,
which was more agreeable to his character. The match
with the dauphin, for various reasons, might be considered
as impracticable. The disparity of age was great, the dau¬
phin being only eight years old, and the princess twenty ;
the Flemings were besides averse to submit to a prince
whose powerful resources would enable him to oppress
their liberties. But, notwithstanding these difficulties,
Louis chose to insist upon the match, at the same time
that he endeavoured to make himself master of her domi¬
nions by force of arms. He addressed circular letters to
the principal cities of Burgundy, representing that the
duchy had been given by King John to the heirs male of
his son Philip, and that now, when these were extinct by
the death of Charles, the territory reverted of course to
the crown ; and, to render this argument more effectual,
he corrupted the governors of some towns, and seduced
the inhabitants of others, whilst he himself at the head
of an army prepared to enforce obedience from those who
could not be worked upon by other methods. And by
these means the province of Burgundy was entirely re¬
duced. But Flanders could not be brought under subjec¬
tion either by fraud or force. In this, as on almost all
other occasions, Louis displayed the most detestable false¬
hood, and the meanest treachery. In order to render
Mary odious to her subjects, he negotiated with her mi¬
nisters, and having prevailed on them to disclose the most
important state secrets, he communicated their letters to
the states of Flanders. This double treachery, however,
did not answer his purpose. The two ministers he had
betrayed were indeed put to death in the presence of
their sovereign ; but Mary was induced to bestow her
hand upon the emperor Maximilian, and Louis had the
mortification to find that all his arts had contributed only
to aggrandise a rival power, whom he had already suffi¬
cient cause to dread. To repair this oversight, he entered
into an alliance with Edward IV. of England, whom he
had inspired with a jealousy of his brother Clarence ; and
thus a peace was concluded between the two monarchs,
intended to continue during the life of each, and a year
thereafter. Meanwhile the marriage of Mary with Maxi¬
milian secured the independence of Flanders; whilst the
return of the prince of Orange to the party of that princess
once more extended the war to the cities of Burgundj',
and the French were on the point of being expelled from
that country. But Maximilian unexpectedly made pro¬
posals of peace, and a truce was concluded, but without
any term fixed for its duration, or without stipulations in
favour of the Burgundians; so that the whole country was
soon afterwards reduced by Louis.
The king being now freed from the apprehensions of
foreign enemies, turned his vindictive disposition against
his own subjects, and, under pretence of former rebellions,
exercised the most insupportable tyranny. The princi¬
pal victim of his sanguinary disposition was James d’Ar-
magnac, duke of Nemours, one of the first noblemen in
the kingdom, who had formerly been a zealous confede¬
rate in the league with Edward and Charles. This un¬
fortunate nobleman, knowing that vengeance was deter¬
mined on, fled to the fortress of Carlat, in the mountains
of Auvergne, where he was besieged by the Seigneur de
Beaujeu, who had married Anne the daughter of Louis.
The place, however, being almost impregnable, his ene¬
mies were obliged to make the most solemn promises of
safety in order to induce him to surrender, and he was at
last persuaded to trust himself in the hands of the faithless
tyrant. But no sooner had the latter got the unfortunate
nobleman in his power than he shut him up in an iron cage
28
FRANCE.
History, in the Bastille, and reprimanded the judges for having re-
leased him from this close confinement during his exami-
1477-1483. nat;0m He was condemned to be beheaded; but the
king’s cruelty extended beyond the sentence, for he or¬
dered the two sons of the duke, though yet in childhood,
to be placed directly under the scaffold, that they might
be covered with the blood of their father. Four thou¬
sand persons are supposed to have perished upon this oc¬
casion without any form or trial; and were it not for the
concurring testimony of the historians of that age, the
inhuman barbarities of this monster would scarcely be cre¬
dited. By these means he broke the spirit of the French
nobility, and gradually extended the power of the crown,
until at last it was limited only by the pleasure of the
sovereign.
In 1479, the emperor Maximilian, who had lightly aban¬
doned the duchy of Burgundy when he might have re¬
duced it, now renewed his claims when it was no longer
in his power to enforce them. After a variety of actions
of little note, and the destruction of cities on both sides,
a battle was fought at Guinegate, where the Flemings
were routed; but as the French pursued with too great
ardour, the infantry of the enemy rallied, and the battle
was renewed with great slaughter on both sides. A more
decisive advantage was afterwards gained by the capture
of eighty Flemish vessels, which induced that commercial'
people to think of peace.
In the mean time, Louis, after a life spent in continual
deceit, hypocrisy, and cruelty, received warning of his ap¬
proaching end by a fit of apoplexy, with which he was
seized in the year 1480. He lay speechless and motion¬
less for two days; after which he in some degree recover¬
ed, but never completely regained his health and strength.
His illness, however, neither prevented him pursuing the
schemes of his ambition, nor using the same methods as
formerly to attain them. He seized, without any pre¬
tence, the estates of the Duke of Bourbon, the only no¬
bleman in the kingdom whose power gave him any cause
of suspicion ; and, notwithstanding his assiduity for the
interest of the dauphin, kept him a kind of prisoner in the
castle of Amboise. He banished his own consort, the
mother of the dauphin, to Savoy, and endeavoured to in¬
spire the prince with aversion for her. By the death of
Charles, titular king of Naples, and the last of the second
house of Anjou, he became master of the county of Pro¬
vence ; but his satisfaction on this occasion was marred
by a second stroke of apoplexy. Still, however, he re¬
vived, and again began to pursue his ambitious intrigues.
The death of Mary of Burgundy, who perished by a fall
from her horse, inspired him with new views; and he be¬
trothed his son to the infant daughter of the emperor, by
which means he deeply offended Edward IV. whose eldest
daughter had previously been contracted to the dauphin,
and a war would in consequence have ensued, had it not
been for the death of the king of England. This event
was ere long followed by that of Louis himself, who had
in vain exhausted the skill of his physician, and wearied
the clergy with prayers and processions to avert the im¬
pending stroke. He expired in the year 1483, after a
reign of twenty-three years, during which he was detest¬
ed by his subjects, whom he had continually oppressed,
and equally dreaded and hated by his neighbours, whom
he had constantly deceived. But, in spite of all this, he
obtained from his holiness the title of Most Christian King,
which his successors retained until the year 1830, when
a sudden revolution placed a new and more popular dy¬
nasty on the throne. Notwithstanding the dark character
of this prince, it must be allowed that he laid the founda¬
tions of the future greatness of the French monarchy. By
his arts he deprived the common people of their liberty,
depressed the power of the nobility, established a stand¬
ing army, and even induced the states to render many History,
taxes perpetual which formerly were only temporary.
From this time the people became accustomed to submit 1483*
entirely to the voice of their sovereign as their only legis¬
lator ; and being always obedient in matters of the great¬
est consequence, they cheerfully contributed whatever
sums were required to fulfil the king’s pleasure.
Charles VIII. who succeeded his father Louis XL in Charles
1483, was only fourteen years of age at the time of his
father’s death. But though he might, even at that age,
have ascended the throne without any material violation
of the laws of France, yet it was judged necessary to ap¬
point a regent, on account of the king’s delicacy of con¬
stitution and want of education. Three competitors ap¬
peared as candidates for this important trust: John duke
of Bourbon, a prince of the blood, and who had, till the
age of sixty, maintained the most unblemished character;
Louis duke of Orleans, presumptive heir to the crown,
but who from his youth seemed incapable of undertaking
so important an office ; and Anne, the eldest daughter of
Louis, to whom he had in the last moments of his life
committed the charge of the kingdom. The claim of this
lady was supported by the assembly of the states-general
at Tours; and though she had only entered the twenty-
second year of her age, the office, it appears, could not
have been more properly bestowed. Being married to
Peter of Bourbon, seigneur of Beaujeu, she was styled the
Lady of Beaujeu ; but she seems to have acted indepen¬
dently of her husband, who was a man but of moderate
capacity.
Her first step was to ingratiate herself with the people
by some popular acts, and particularly by punishing the
instruments of her father’s cruelties. One of these, Oli¬
ver le Dian, who, from the humble station of barber, had
raised himself to the confidence and favour of the king,
and had distinguished himself by the invention of new
modes of torture, was publicly hanged. Another, named
Jean Doyac, who by continual acts of violence and rapacity
had oppressed the people, after being whipped in all the
public places and squares of Paris, was condemned to have
one of his ears cut off, and his tongue pierced through
with a hot iron; upon which he was conveyed to his na¬
tive city of Montferrand, where he was again whipped,
and had his other ear cut off. Jacques Coitier, the phy¬
sician of Louis, who had availed himself of the terror of
death, with which the king was strongly influenced, to ex¬
tort large sums of money from him, was ordered to account
for the immense wealth he had acquired ; but he prudent¬
ly averted the danger by paying a fine of fifty thousand
crowns. Thus the Lady of Beaujeu secured the affection
of the people at large, and was equally successful in gain¬
ing those who had at first been averse to her government.
The Duke of Bourbon was made constable, an office which
he had long desired ; the Duke of Orleans having behaved
in such a manner as to exclude all hopes of favour. Incens¬
ed at the determination against him of a trilling dispute
at tennis by the Lady of Beaujeu, he furiously had ex¬
claimed, that whoever had decided in that manner was a
liar if a man, or a strumpet if a woman. After this inso¬
lent declaration he fled to the castle of Beaujency, where,
however, he was soon forced to surrender. He then ap¬
plied to Henry VII. who had newly ascended the throne
of England ; but that prince, naturally cautious and deli¬
berate, paid little attention to his application. On this he
next made application to the court of Bretagne, where
he was received with great marks of esteem, and began
to entertain hopes of marrying the daughter of the duke ;
but he was looked upon with a jealous eye by the nobility,
who entered into secret negotiations with Anne, and even
solicited her to invade the country, stipulating that only a
certain number of troops should enter the province, and
I
FRANCE.
29
History, that no fortified place should remain in the hands of the
-y''—' French; conditions which were indeed agreed to by the
1483-1491. regent, though she determined to keep them no longer
than it suited her purpose so to do. Bretagne was there¬
fore invaded by four armies, each superior to the stipu¬
lated number, who quickly made themselves masters of
the most important places in the country ; whilst the troops
of the duke retired in disgust, leaving the invaders to pur¬
sue their conquests as they pleased. Finding, however,
that the entire subjection of their country was determin¬
ed upon, the nobility at last began to exert themselves
in its defence, and, inflamed by the enthusiasm of liberty,
they raised an army of sixty thousand men, by which the
French were compelled to abandon the siege of Nantes.
But this proved only a transient gleam of success. Anne
persevered in her design of completing the conquest of
the country, and the state of Europe was at that time
favourable to the design. Of all the European nations,
England alone w7as then capable of affording effectual as¬
sistance ; but the slow caution of Flenry prevented him
from giving the aid which in this case he ought to have
afforded. The Bretons were thus left to defend them¬
selves as they best could; and having ventured a battle,
they were entirely defeated, most of their leaders being
taken prisoners, whilst a small body of English who assist¬
ed them were entirely cut to pieces. The duke soon af¬
terwards died by a fall from his horse, leaving his domi¬
nions to his daughter Anne, at that time only thirteen
years of age. A marriage was now negotiated between
this princess and Maximilian king of the Romans, who
had previously been married to Mary of Burgundy; but,
by reason of the poverty of that prince, it was never com¬
pleted. The Lady of Beaujeu then determined to con¬
clude a marriage between the young king of France and
the duchess, though the former had already been married
to Margaret of Austria, the daughter of Maximilian. But
this marriage was not consummated, by reason of the ten¬
der age of the princess, who had been sent to Paris for
her education, and for several years treated as queen of
France ; and in 1491 Margaret was returned, like rejected
goods, to her father. Anne of Bretagne, however, long
refused to violate the engagement into which she had
entered; but at last, finding herself pressed on all sides,
and incapable of resisting the numerous forces of France,
she reluctantly consented to the match. Maximilian,
whose proverty had prevented him from giving any as¬
sistance to his bride, or even from coming to see her,
enraged at the double disgrace which he had suffered, be¬
gan, when too late, to bethink himself of revenge. France
was now threatened with an invasion by the united for¬
ces of Austria, Spain, and England. But this formidable
confederacy was soon dissipated. Henry, whose natural
avarice had induced him to withhold the necessary assist¬
ance, was bought off with the immediate payment of
745,000 crowns, and the promise of 25,000 annually ever
afterwards; Ferdinand king of Spain had the counties of
Roussillon and Cerdagne restored to him ; whilst Maxi¬
milian was gratified by the cession of that part of Artois
which had been acquired by Louis XL
The young king of France agreed to these terms the
more readily, that he was impatient to undertake an ex¬
pedition into Italy, in order to conquer the kingdom of
Naples, to which he laid claim. Most of his counsellors
were opposed to this expedition ; but the king was inflexi¬
ble, even though Ferdinand king of Naples offered to do
homage for his kingdom, and to pay him a tribute of
fifty thousand crowns a year. He appointed the Duke
of Bourbon regent in his absence, and then set out for
Italy, with few troops, and but little money. On the
march he fell ill of the small-pox, but in a short time re¬
covered, and having entered Italy with a force of twelve
thousand foot and six thousand horse, the greater part History,
of which consisted of regular troops, he obtained the most
surprising success, traversing the whole country in six
weeks, and rendering himself master of the kingdom of
Naples in less than a fortnight. To vulgar observers, his ex¬
traordinary good fortune seemed miraculous; and he was
reckoned an instrument raised up by God to destroy the
execrable tyrants by which Italy was at that time afflict¬
ed ; and had Charles availed himself of this prepossession
in his favour, and acted up to the character generally as¬
cribed to him, he might have raised his name as high as
that of any hero of antiquity. But his conduct was of a
very different description. Instead of following up his
successes, he amused himself with feasts and shows, leav¬
ing his power in the hands of favourites, who abandoned
it to such as chose to purchase titles, places, or authority,
at the rates imposed ; and the whole force he proposed to
leave in his newly conquered dominions amounted to no
more than four thousand men. But whilst Charles was
thus idly losing precious time, a league was forming
against him at Venice, to which the pope, the emperor
Maximilian, the archduke Philip, Ludovico Sforza, and
the Venetians, were all parties. The confederates assem¬
bled an army of forty thousand men, commanded by Fran¬
cis marquis of Mantua, and waited for the king in the val¬
ley of Fornova, in the duchy of Parma, into which he had
descended with nine thousand men. On the 6th of July
1495 he attacked the allies, and, notwithstanding their
great superiority of numbers, defeated them, with but lit¬
tle loss on his part. By this victory he got safe to France ;
but his Italian dominions were lost almost as soon as he
departed. Some schemes were proposed for recovering
these conquests, but they were never put in execution;
and the king died of an apoplexy in 1498.
By the death of Charles VIII. the crown of France Louis XII.
passed from the direct line of the house of Valois, and
Louis duke of Orleans succeeded to the throne. At the
time of his accession he was in his thirty-sixth year, and
had long been taught prudence in the school of adver¬
sity. During the administration of the Lady of Beaujeu
he had been constantly in disgrace, and, after his connec¬
tions with the Duke of Bretagne, had spent a consider¬
able time in prison; and though afterwards set at liber¬
ty by Charles, he had never possessed any share of that
monarch’s confidence or favour, lowards the close of the
preceding reign he fell under the displeasure of the queen ;
and afterwards continued at his castle of Blois till he was
called thence to take possession of the throne. He had
been married in early life, against his will, to Jane, the
youngest daughter of Louis XI. a princess of an amiable
disposition, but deformed in person, and supposed to be
incapable of bearing children. He afterwards entertain¬
ed thoughts of having his marriage dissolved, and was
supposed to possess the affections of the Duchess of Bre¬
tagne before she became queen of France. After the death
of her husband, that princess retired to Bretagne, where
she pretended to assume independent sovereignty; but
Louis having got his marriage with Jane dissolved by
Pope Alexander VI. made proposals to the queen dowa¬
ger, which were accepted without hesitation, though it was
stipulated that, if she had two sons, the younger should
inherit the duchy of Bretagne.
As Louis, while Duke of Orleans, had some pretensions
to the crown of Naples, he now set about realizing them
by conquest, and found circumstances favourable to his de¬
sign. The pope, Alexander VI. was devoted to his interests,
in the hope of getting his son Caesar Borgia provided for.
Louis had conciliated the friendship of the Venetians by
promising them a part of the Milanese ; he had also con¬
cluded a truce with the archduke Philip, and renewed his
alliances with the crowns of England, Scotland, and Den-
30 FRA
History, mark. He then entered Italy with an army of twenty
thousand men ; and, being assisted by tbe Venetians, con-
1498-1524. quered one part of the duchy, whilst they conquered the
other, the archduke himself being obliged to fly with his
family to Inspruck. He then attacked Ferdinand of Spain
with three armies simultaneously; but as none of these
performed any thing remarkable, he was obliged to eva¬
cuate the kingdom of Naples in 1504<. But in 1506 the
people of Genoa revolted, drove out the nobility, chose
eight tribunes, and declared Paul Nuova, a silk dyer, their
duke ; after which they expelled the French governor, and
reduced a great part of the Riviera. This induced Louis
to return into Italy, where, in 1507, he obliged the Ge¬
noese to surrender at discretion, and in 1508 entered into
a league with the other princes who at that time desired
to reduce the overgrown power of the Venetians. But
Pope Julius II. who had been the first contriver of this
league, soon repented of his contrivance, and declared
that if the Venetians would restore the cities of Faenza
and Rimini, which had been unjustly taken from him, he
would be contented. This was refused, and in 1509 the
forces of the republic received an entire defeat from Louis,
in consequence of which they agreed to restore not only
the two cities demanded by Pope Julius, but whatever
else the allies required. The pope, instead of executing
his treaties with his allies, made war on the king of
France. Upon this Louis convoked an assembly of his
clergy, at which it was determined that in some cases it
was lawful to make war upon the pope. The king there¬
fore declared war against his holiness, and committed the
command of his army to the Marshal de Trivulce, who soon
obliged the pope to retire to Ravenna. In 1511, Gaston
de Foix, duke of Nemours, gained a great victory at Ra¬
venna, but was himself killed in the engagement. After
his death the army was disbanded for want of pay; and
the French affairs in Italy, and indeed everywhere else,
fell into great confusion. The duchy of Milan was reco¬
vered and lost again in a few weeks. Henry VIII. of Eng¬
land invaded France, and took Terruenne and Tournay ;
whilst the Swiss invaded Burgundy with an army of twen¬
ty-five thousand men. In this desperate situation of affairs
the queen died, and Louis put an end to the opposition of
his most dangerous enemies by negotiating marriages. To
Ferdinand of Spain he offered his second daughter for
either of his grandsons, Charles or Ferdinand, and pro¬
mised to renounce, in favour of that marriage, his claims
on Milan and Genoa. This proposal was accepted ; and
Louis himself married the princess Mary, sister of Henry
VIII. of England. But he did not long survive this mar¬
riage ; and having died on the 2d of January 1514, he was
succeeded by Francis I. count of Angouleme and duke
of Bretagne and Valois.
Francis I. The new king had no sooner been seated on the throne
than he resolved to undertake an expedition into Italy. In
this he was at first successful, having defeated the Swiss
at Marignon, and reduced the duchy of Milan. In 1518
the emperor Maximilian having died, Francis showed him¬
self ambitious of becoming his successor, and thereby re¬
storing to France a splendid title which had been so long
lost. But Maximilian, before his death, had exerted him¬
self so much in favour of Charles V. of Spain, that Francis
found it impossible to succeed ; and from that time an
irreconcilable hatred took place between these two mo-
narchs. In 1521 this bad feeling produced a war, which,
however, might perhaps have been terminated, if Francis
could have been prevailed upon to restore the town of Font-
arabia, which had been taken by his admiral Bonivet. But
this being refused, hostilities were renewed with greater
vigour than ever ; nor were they concluded till France had
been brought to the very brink of destruction. The war
was continued with various success until the year 1524,
N C E.
when Francis having invaded Italy, and laid siege to History.
Pavia, was utterly defeated before that city, and taken
prisoner, on the 24th of February. This disaster threw
the whole kingdom into the utmost confusion. The Fle¬
mish troops made continual inroads ; many thousand boors
assembled in Alsace, in order to invade the country from
that quarter; Henry VIII.had assembled an army, and also
threatened France on the side of the Channel; and a party
was formed in the kingdom to dispossess the duchess of the
regency, and confer it upon the Duke de Vendome. This
prince, however, who after the constable was the head of
the house of Bourbon, proceeded to Lyons, where he as¬
sured the regent that he had no view but for her service
and that of his country; and he then formed a council of
the ablest men of the kingdom, of which the queen appoint¬
ed him president. Henry VIII. acting under the influence
of Cardinal Wolsey, resolved not to oppress the oppressed,
and therefore assured the regent that she had nothing to
fear from him ; at the same time that he advised her not to
consent to any treaty by which France was to be dismem¬
bered. To the emperor, however, he is said to have held
different language, telling him that the time had now
arrived when this puissant monarchy lay at their mercy,
and that therefore an opportunity so favourable should
not be lost; that, for his part, he would be content with
Normandy, Guienne, and Gascony; that he trusted the
empire would make no scruple of owning him as king of
France ; and that he expected the emperor would make
a right use of his victory, by entering Guienne in person,
in which case he was ready to bear half the expenses of
the war. Alarmed at these proposed conditions, and not
caring to have Henry as a neighbour, the emperor agreed
to a truce with the regent for six months. In Picardy
the Flemings were repulsed; whilst the Count de Guise
and the Duke of Lorraine, with a handful of troops, de¬
feated and cut to pieces the German peasants.
In the mean time Francis was detained a captive in
Italy ; but being wearied of his confinement in that coun¬
try, and the princes of Italy having begun to cabal for
his deliverance, he was carried to Madrid, where, on the
14th of January 1525, he signed a treaty, the principal
articles of which were, that he should resign to the em¬
peror the duchy of Burgundy in full sovereignty ; desist
from the homage which the emperor owed him for Artois
and Flanders ; renounce all claim to Naples, Milan, Asti,
Tournay, Lisle, and Hesdin, and certain other places ;
persuade Henry d’Albert to resign the kingdom of Na¬
varre to the emperor, or at least to give him no assistance ;
restore within forty days the Duke of Bourbon and all his
party to their estates; pay the king of England five hun¬
dred thousand crowns which the emperor owed him ; and,
when the emperor went to Italy to receive the imperial
crown, to lend him twelve galleys, four large ships, and a
land force, or instead of it two hundred thousand crowns.
All these articles the king of France promised on the faith
and honour of a prince to execute, or, in case of non-per¬
formance, to return as a prisoner into Spain. But, notwith¬
standing these professions, Francis had already protested,
before certain notaries and witnesses in whom he could
confide, that the treaty he was about to sign was compulsory,
and therefore null and void. On the 21st of February
the emperor released him from his prison, in which he had
been closely confined ever since his arrival in Spain ; and,
after receiving from his own lips the strongest assurances
that he would literally fulfil the terms of the treaty, sent
him under a strong guard to the frontiers, where lie was
exchanged for his two eldest sons, who were to remain as
hostages for his fidelity.
But when the king returned to his dominions, his first
care was to get himself absolved by the pope from the oaths
which he had taken; and when this had been accomplished.
F R A
History, he entered into a league with the pontiff, the Venetians,
the Duke of Milan, and the king of England, for preserv-
1525-152o jng tjie peace 0f Italy. In the month of June he received
publicly remonstrances from the states of Burgundy, in
which they told him without ceremony, that by the treaty
of Madrid he had done what he had no right to do, in
breach of the laws and his coronation oath ; and that if he
persisted in his resolution of placing them under a foreign
yoke, they must appeal to the general states of the king¬
dom. The viceroy of Naples and the Spanish ministers
were present at these remonstrances, and, perceiving
the end at which the king aimed, expostulated with him
in pretty warm terms. The viceroy, in fact, told him
that he had now nothing left but to keep his royal word
in returning to the castle of Madrid, as his predeces¬
sor John had done in a similar case. To this Francis
replied, that John acted rightly, because he returned to a
king who had treated him like a king ; but that at Madrid
he had received such usage as would have been unbe¬
coming to a gentleman, and he had often declared to the
emperor’s ministers that the terms they extorted from
him were unjust and impracticable. However, he was
still willing to do all that was fit and reasonable, and to
ransom his sons at the rate of two millions of gold in lieu
of the duchy of Burgundy.
Hitherto the treaty for tranquillizing Italy had been
kept secret, in hopes that some mitigation of the treaty of
Madrid would have been obtained ; but now it was judged
expedient to publish it, though the viceroy of Naples and
the Spanish lords still remained at the French court. The
emperor was to be admitted as a party to this treaty, pro¬
vided he accepted the king’s offer of two millions for the re¬
lease of his children, and left the Duke of Milan and other
Italian princes in quiet possession of their dominions. But it
is the common misfortune of all leagues, that the powers
which enter into them keep only their own particular inte¬
rests in view, and thus defeat the general intention of the
confederacy. In the present instance, the king’s great
aim was to obtain his children upon the terms he had pro¬
posed ; and he was desirous of knowing what hopes there
were of accomplishing that object, before he acted against
the monarch who had them in his power. Thus the Duke
of Milan and the pope were both sacrificed. The former
wras obliged to surrender to the Duke of Bourbon, and
the latter was surprised by the Colonnas; disasters which
would have been prevented if the French succours had
entered Italy in time. See Italy.
According to an agreement which had been entered into
between Francis and Henry, their ambassadors entered
Spain, attended each of them by a herald, to summon the
emperor to accept the terms which had been offered him,
or in case of refusal to declare war. But as the emperor’s
answer was foreseen in the court of France, the king had
previously called together an assembly of the Notables, to
whom he proposed the question, whether he was bound
to perform the treaty of Madrid ? or whether, if he did
not perform it, he was obliged in honour to return to
Spain ? To both these questions the assembly answered
in the negative, declaring that Burgundy was united to
the crown of France, and could not be separated by the
king’s own authority ; that his person also was the pro¬
perty of the public, of which therefore he could not dis¬
pose ; but as to the two millions, which they looked upon
as a just equivalent, they undertook to raise it for his ser¬
vice. When the ambassadors delivered their propositions,
Charles treated the English herald with respect, and the
French herald with contempt; a circumstance which in¬
duced Francis to challenge the emperor. But all differ¬
ences were at length adjusted, and a treaty concluded at
Cambray on the 5th of August 1528. By this treaty, in¬
stead of actual possession, the emperor contented himself
N C E. 31
with reserving his right to the duchy of Burgundy, and the History,
payment of the two millions of crowns already mentioned.
Of these, he was to receive one million two hundred thou- J*' “ 0
sand in ready money ; the lands in Flanders belonging to
the house of Bourbon, valued at four hundred thousand,
were to be delivered up ; and the remaining four hundred
thousand were to be paid by France in discharge of the
emperor’s debt to England. Francis was likewise to pay
the penalty of five hundred thousand crowns which the
emperor had incurred by not marrying his niece the Prin¬
cess Mary of England, and further to release a rich jewel
which many years before had been pawned by the house
of Burgundy for fifty thousand crowns. The town and
castle of Hesdin were also surrendered, together with the
sovereignty of Flanders and Artois, and all the king’s pre¬
tensions in Italy. As for the allies of France, they were,
as usually happens, abandoned to the emperor’s mercy,
without the least stipulation in their favour; but Francis
consoled himself for this disgraceful dereliction by pro¬
testing against the validity of the treaty before he ratified
it, as did also his attorney-general before he registered it
in parliament, though in both instances with the greatest
secrecy imaginable. The remainder of this reign was not
distinguished by any events of consequence. The war
was renewed by Charles, who invaded France, though with¬
out success ; nor was peace fully established until the death
of the French king, wdiich happened on the 3d of March
1547.
Francis was succeeded by his son Henry II. who ascend- Henry II.
ed the throne at the age of twenty-nine. In the beginning
of his reign an insurrection broke out in Guienne, owing
to the oppressive conduct of the officers who levied the
salt-tax, and was not put down without considerable dif¬
ficulty. In 1548 the king began to enforce the edicts
issued against the Protestants with the utmost severity;
and, thinking even the clergy too mild in the prosecution of
heresy, he for that purpose erected a chamber composed
of members of the parliament of Paris. At the queen’s
coronation, which happened this year, he caused a num¬
ber of Protestants to be burned, and was himself present
at the horrid spectacle, which, however, shocked him so
much that he never forgot it. In 1549 a peace was con¬
cluded with England, and Henry purchased from the lat¬
ter Boulogne, for the sum of four hundred thousand crowns,
one half to be paid on the day of restitution, and the other
half a few months afterwards. Scotland was included in
the treaty, and the English restored some places which
they had taken in that country. This was the most advan¬
tageous peace which France had hitherto concluded with
England ; the vast arrears due to that crown being in ef¬
fect remitted, and the pension, which looked so like tribute,
being tacitly extinguished. The Earl of Warwick himself,
who had concludeu the peace, was in fact so sensible of
the disgrace suffered by this nation on this occasion, that
he pretended to be sick, in order to avoid setting his hand
to so scandalous a compact. This year, also, an edict was
made to restrain the extravagant remittances which the
clergy had been in use to make to Rome, and for correct¬
ing other abuses committed by the papal notaries. With
this edict Pope Julius III. was highly displeased ; and the
following year, 1550, war was declared by the king of
France against the pope and the emperor, on the ground
that Henry protected Octavio Farnese, duke of Parma,
whom the pope was desirous of depriving of his dominions.
In this war the king was threatened with the censures of
the church ; but as the emperor soon found himself in
such danger from these new enemies, that he could not
support the pope as he intended, the latter was obliged to
sue for peace. Henry continued the war against the em¬
peror with success ; and having reduced the cities of Toul,
Verdun, and Metz, entered the country of Alsace, and
32
FRANCE.
History, reduced all the fortresses between Hagenau and Wissen-
burg. jje fai]^ however, in his attempt on Strasburg;
o50-1571. an(j wag soon afterwards obliged by the German princes
and the Swiss to desist from all further conquests on that
side. This war continued with little interruption, and but
small success upon the part of the French, till the year
1557, when a peace was concluded ; and soon afterwards
the king was killed at a tournament by the Count de Mont¬
gomery, one of the strongest knights in France, who had
done all he could to avoid this encounter.
The reign of his successor Francis II. was remarkable
only for the persecution of the Protestants, which became
so grievous that they were obliged to take up arms in their
Charles own defence. This occasioned several civil wars, the first
IX. of which commenced in the reign of Charles IX. who suc¬
ceeded to the throne in 1560. This contest continued
until the year 1562, when a peace was concluded, by which
the Protestants were to have a complete amnesty, and
enjoy entire liberty of conscience. But in 1565 the war
broke out afresh, and was continued with little interrup¬
tion until 1569, when peace was again concluded, upon
terms advantageous to the Protestants.
After this, Charles, who had now taken the government
into his hands, caressed and flattered the Protestants in
an extraordinary manner. Their destruction had been re¬
solved on, but as they were too powerful to be openly at¬
tacked, it was judged necessary to lull them into security
by means of systematic dissimulation, and to fall upon them
wrhen off their guard. With this view the king invited to
court Admiral de Coligni, the head of the Huguenot
party, and so effectually cajoled him, that the gallant ve¬
teran was lulled into a fatal security, notwithstanding the
warnings given by his friends that the king’s fair speeches
were by no means to be trusted. And he had soon reason
to repent his confidence. On the 22d of August 1571, as
he was returning from court to his lodgings, he received
a shot from a window, which carried away the second
finger of his right hand, and wounded him grievously in
the left arm. This he himself ascribed to the malice of
the Duke of Guise, the head of the Catholic party. After
dinner, the king went to pay him a visit, and amongst
other things observed, “ you have received the wound,
but it is I who sufferat the same time desiring that he
would order his friends to establish themselves around his
residence, and promising to prohibit the Catholics from
entering that quarter after dark. This satisfied the admi¬
ral of the king’s sincerity, and prevented him from com¬
plying with the wishes of his friends, who desired to car¬
ry him away, and were strong enough to have forced a
passage out of Paris if they had attempted it.
In the evening of the same day, the queen -mother, Ca¬
tharine de’ Medicis, held a cabinet council to fix the exe¬
cution of the massacre of the Protestants, which had long
been meditated. The persons of whom this council was
composed, were Henry duke of Anjou, the king’s brother;
Gonzagua duke of Nevers; Henry of Angouleme, grand
prior of France, the bastard brother of the king ; Marshal
de Tavannes; and Albert de Gondi, count de Retz: and
the direction of the whole was intrusted to the Duke of
Guise, to whom the administration had during the for¬
mer reign been entirely confided. The guards were ap¬
pointed to be in arms, and the city officers were ordered
to predispose the militia to execute the king’s orders, of
which the signal was to be the ringing of a bell near the
Louvre. It is said, indeed, that when the fatal hour,
which was that of midnight, approached, the king grew
undetermined, and expressed great horror at the idea of
shedding so much blood, especially considering that the
people about to be destroyed were his subjects, who had
come to the capital at his command, and in dependence
on his word, and particularly the admiral, whom he had
so lately detained by his caresses. The queen-mother, History,
however, reproached him with cowardice, and represent-
ing to him the danger which he incurred from the Protes- 15H.
tants, at last induced him to consent. According to others,
the king himself urged on the massacre, and, when it
w^as proposed to him only to take off a few of the leaders,
exclaimed, “ If any are to die, let there not be one left to
reproach me with breach of faith.”
As soon as the signal had been given, a body of Swiss
troops, headed by the Duke of Guise and the Chevalier
d’Angouleme, accompanied by many persons of quality,
attacked the admiral’s house; and having forced open the
doors, the foremost of the assassins rushed into the apart¬
ment. One of them asked if he was Coligni; to which he
answered that he was, adding, “ Young man, respect these
gray hairs.” The assassin replied by running him through
the body with a sword. The Duke of Guise and the cheva¬
lier growing impatient below' stairs, loudly demanded if the
business was done ; and being answered in the affirmative,
commanded the body to be thrown out at the window. As
soon as it fell on the ground, the chevalier, or, as some say,
the Duke of Guise, wiped the blood from the face, and
kicked it with his foot. The body was then abandoned to
the fury of the populace, who, after a series of indignities,
dragged it to the common gallows, to which they chained
it by the foot, whilst the head, being cut off, was carried to
the queen-mother, who, it is said, caused it to be embalmed
and transmitted to Rome. The king himself went to see
the body hanging upon the gibbet, where a fire being kin¬
dled under it, part was burned, and the rest scorched. In
the Louvre, the gentlemen belonging to the king of Navarre
and the prince of Conde were murdered under the king's
own eye. Two of them, wounded and pursued by the as¬
sassins, fled into the bedchamber of the queen of Navarre,
and jumped upon her bed, beseeching her to save their
lives; and as she proceeded to solicit this favour of the
queen-mother, two more, under the same circumstances,
rushed into the room, and threw themselves at her feet.
The queen-mother repaired to the window to enjoy these
dreadful scenes ; and the king, seeing the Protestants
who lodged on the other side of the river flying for their
lives, called for his long gun, and fired upon them. In
the space of three or four days many thousands were de¬
stroyed in the city of Paris alone. Peter Ramus, professor
of philosophy and mathematics, after being robbed of all
he had, was cruelly mutilated in the abdomen, and thrown
from a window. During the first two days, the king de¬
nied that the massacre was done by his orders, and threw
the whole blame upon the house of Guise; but on the
28th of August he went to the parliament, avowed the in¬
comparable atrocity, was complimented on it, and directed
a process against the admiral, by which he was stigmatiz¬
ed as a traitor. Two innocent gentlemen suffered as his ac¬
complices in a pretended plot against the life of the king, in
order, as was alleged, to place the crown on the head of the
prince of Conde. They were executed by torch light; and
the king and the queen-mother, together with the king of
Navarre and the prince of Conde, who were forced to be
present, were spectators of the horrid deed. Nor was the
massacre confined to the city of Paris alone. On the eve
of St Bartholomew, orders had been sent to the gover¬
nors of provinces, either to fall upon the Protestants them¬
selves, or to let loose the people on them ; and though an
edict was published before the end of the week, assuring
them of the king’s protection, and protesting that he by
no means designed to exterminate them on account of
their religion, yet private orders were issued of a directly
contrary nature, in consequence of which the Matins of
Paris were repeated in Meaux, Orleans, Troyes, Angers,
Toulouse, Rouen, and Lyons; so that in the space of
about two months thirty thousand Protestants were but-
FRANCE.
33
Henry
III.
History, chered in cold blood1 The next year Rochelle, the only
fortress which the Protestants occupied in France, was
1571-1588. besieged and taken, but not until twenty-four thousand
of the besiegers had fallen before its walls. After this a
pacification ensued, on terms nominally favourable to the
Protestants ; but as a body they had been destroyed ; St
Bartholomew had completely broken their power; and
those who survived the massacre had no alternative but
to accept whatever terms were offered them.
This year the Duke of Anjou was elected king of Po¬
land, and soon afterwards set out to take possession of his
new kingdom. Charles accompanied him to the frontiers ;
but during the journey he was seized with a slow fever,
which from the commencement portended death. He
lingered for some time under the most terrible agonies
both of mind and body; and at last expired on the 30th
of May 1572. It is said that ever after the massacre of St
Bartholomew, this prince had a fierceness in his looks, and
a deadly paleness in his cheeks ; he slept little, but never
soundly, and waked frequently in agonies, which the soft
music employed to lull him into repose often failed to allay.
The sting of remorse was deeply infixed in his soul, and
in a little time its poison drank up his spirit.
During the first years of the reign of Henry III. who
succeeded his brother Charles IX. the war with the Pro¬
testants was carried on with indifferent success upon the
part of the Catholics. In 1575 a peace was concluded,
which byway of eminence was called the Edict of Pacifi¬
cation. The treaty consisted of no fewer than sixty-three
articles, the substance of which was, that liberty of con¬
science, and the public exercise of religion, were granted
to the reformed, without any restriction except that they
were not to preach within two leagues of Paris, nor in any
other part where the court might be. The judgments
against the admiral, and others who had either fallen in
the war or been executed, were also reversed ; and eight
cautionary towns were given up to the Protestants.
This edict induced the Guises to form an association in
defence (as was pretended) of the Catholic religion, which
afterwards became known by the name of the Catholic
League. This confederacy, though the king was men¬
tioned with respect, struck at the very root of his autho¬
rity; for, as the Protestants had their leaders, so the Ca¬
tholics were in future to be entirely dependent on the
chief of the league, and to execute whatever he com¬
manded, for the good of the cause, without exception of
persons. In order to neutralize the bad effects of this as¬
sociation, the king, by the advice of his council, declared
himself the head of the league ; and in this character he
recommenced the war against the Protestants, which was
not extinguished as long as he lived. In the mean time
the faction of the Duke of Guise resolved to support
Charles cardinal of Bourbon, a weak old man, as presump¬
tive heir of the crown; and having entered into a league
with Spain, they in 1584 took up arms against the king; and
though peace was concluded the same year, yet in 1587
they again proceeded to such extremities that the king
was forced to fly from Paris. Another reconciliation was
soon afterwards effected ; but it is generally believed that
the king from this time resolved on the destruction of the
Duke of Guise. Accordingly, finding that this nobleman
still behaved with his usual haughtiness, the king caused
him to be stabbed by his guards on the 23d of December
1587. But Henry himself did not long survive this deed,
being stabbed by one Jacques Clement, a Jacobin monk,
on the first of August 1588. His wound was not at first
thought mortal; but his frequent swooning quickly dis- History,
covered his danger, and he died the following morning, v'-*'y'w/
in the thirty-ninth year of his age and sixteenth of his 1588-1608.
reign.
Before the king’s death he had nominated Henry Bour- Henry IV.
bon, king of Navarre, as his successor on the throne of
France; but as the latter was a Protestant, or at least
one who greatly favoured their cause, he was at first
owned by very few except those of the Protestant party.
He met with the most violent opposition from the mem¬
bers of the Catholic League, and was often reduced to
such extremities that he went to people’s houses under
colour of visits, when in reality he had not a dinner in his
own. By his activity and perseverance, however, he was
at last acknowledged by the whole kingdom, a consum¬
mation to which his abjuration of the Protestant religion
not a little contributed. As the king of Spain had laid
claim to the crown of France, Henry no sooner found him¬
self in a fair way of being firmly seated on the throne, than
he formally declared war against that kingdom ; and hav¬
ing proved successful, he, in 1597, entered upon the quiet
possession of his kingdom.
The king’s first care was to put an end to the religious
disputes winch had so long distracted the kingdom. For
this purpose he passed the famous edict, dated at Nantes,
13th April 1598, which re-established in a solid and effec¬
tual manner all the favours which had been granted to
the reformed, and added some which had not been thought
of before, particularly that of allowing them a free admis¬
sion to all employments of trust, profit, and honour, esta¬
blishing chambers in which the members of the two re¬
ligions were equal, and the permitting their children to
be educated without restraint in any of the universities.
Soon afterwards he concluded peace with Spain upon ad¬
vantageous terms ; an event which afforded him an op¬
portunity of restoring order and justice throughout his do¬
minions, repairing the ravages occasioned by the civil war,
and abolishing all those innovations which had been made,
either to the prejudice of the prerogatives of the crown or
the welfare of the people. His schemes of reformation,
indeed, he intended to have carried much beyond the boun¬
daries of France. If we may believe the Duke of Sully, he
had in view no less a design than the new-modelling of all .
Europe. He imagined that the European powers might
be formed into a kind of Christian republic, by rendering
them as nearly as possible of equal strength ; and that this
republic might be maintained in perpetual peace, by bring¬
ing all their differences to be decided before a senate of
wise, disinterested, and able judges. The number of these
powers was to be fifteen, the Papacy, the empire of Ger¬
many, France, Spain, Hungary, Great Britain, Bohemia,
Lombardy, Poland, Sweden, Denmark, the republic of
Venice, the States General, the Swiss Cantons, and the
Italian commonwealth, comprehending the states of Flo¬
rence, Genoa, Lucca, Modena, Parma, Mantua, and Mo¬
naco. In order to render the states equal, the empire
was to be given to the Duke of Bavaria; the kingdom of
Naples to the pope ; that of Sicily to the Venetians ; Milan
to the Duke of Savoy, who, by this acquisition, was to
become king of Lombardy ; the Austrian Low Countries
were to be added to the Dutch republic; and Franche
Comte, Alsace, and the country of Trent, were to be
given to the Swiss. With the view, it is now thought, of
executing this grand project, but under pretence of redu¬
cing the exorbitant power of the house of Austria, Henry
made immense preparations both by sea and land ; but
Dr Lingard has in vain attempted to extenuate the guilt and dispute the leading facts of this atrocious massacre. All his learn¬
ing and ingenuity have been foiled in the attempt; and the result of his controversy with Mr Allen has only been to confirm and
settle general belief on the subject. The “ Vindication” of the able writer last mentioned is a masterpiece of historical research and
strong reasoning.
VOL. X.
34
FRANCE.
Louis
XIII.
History, if he really entertained such a design, he was prevented
v,—by death from attempting its execution. He was stabbed
1G08-1G43. jn jjjg coach by Ravaillac, on the 12th of May 1608.
On the death of Henry IV. the queen-mother assumed
the regency. Ravaillac was executed, after suffering the
most exquisite tortures. It is said that he made a con¬
fession, which was so written by the person who took it,
that not a word of it could be read, and thus his instiga¬
tors and accomplices were never discovered. The regen¬
cy, during the minority of Louis XIII. was only remark¬
able for the cabals and intrigues of the courtiers. In 1617
the king assumed the government, banished the queen-
mother to Blois, caused Marshal d’Ancre, her favourite, to
he put to death, and chose as his minister the celebrated
Cardinal Richelieu. In 1620 a new war broke out be¬
tween the Catholics and Protestants, which was carried
on with the greatest fury on both sides. Of this we have
an instance in what took place at Negreplisse, a town in
Quercy. This place was besieged by the king’s troops,
and it was resolved to make an example of the inhabitants,
who had absolutely refused to surrender upon any terms.
They defended themselves with desperate valour; and
when at last the city was taken by storm, they were all
massacred, without distinction of rank, sex, or age. But
both parties soon became weary of so destructive a war;
and a peace was concluded in 1621, by which the edict
of Nantes was confirmed. This treaty, however, was not
of long duration. A new war broke out, which lasted till
the year 1628, when the edict of Nantes was again con¬
firmed ; but the Protestants were deprived of their cau¬
tionary towns, and consequently of the power of defend¬
ing themselves in time to come. This put an end to the
civil wars on account of religion, in which a million of men
lost their lives, 150,000,000 livres were expended, and
nine cities, four hundred villages, two thousand churches,
two thousand monasteries, and ten thousand houses, were
burned or otherwise destroyed. The next year the king
was attacked with a slow fever, extreme depression of
spirits, and swelling in the stomach and abdomen. But
the year following he recovered, to the great disappoint¬
ment of his mother, who had hopes of regaining her power.
Meanwhile Richelieu, by a masterly system of policy,
supported the Protestants of Germany and Gustavus Adol¬
phus against the house of Austria; and, after suppressing
all the rebellions and conspiracies which had been formed
against him in France, died some months before Louis
XIII. in 1643.
Louis XIV. surnamed the Great, succeeded to the
throne of France when he was only five years of age. Du¬
ring his minority, the kingdom, under the administration of
his mother, Anne of Austria, was thrown into confusion by
the factions of the great, and the divisions between the
court and parliament. The prince of Conde blazed like an
erratic star; sometimes a patriot, sometimes a courtier,
sometimes a rebel. He was opposed by Turenne, who
from being a Protestant had become Catholic. The king¬
dom of France was involved both in civil and domestic
w'ars; but the queen-mother having made choice of Cardi¬
nal Mazarin as her first minister, the latter found means
to turn the arms even of Cromwell against the Spaniards,
and so effectually divided the domestic enemies of the
court, that when Louis assumed the reins of government
he found himself the most absolute monarch who had ever
sat upon the throne of France. On the death of Maza¬
rin he had the good fortune to put the administration of
affairs into the hands of Colbert, a minister who formed
new systems for improving the commerce and manufac¬
tures of France, which he carried to a surprising height
of prosperity. The king himself, vain and selfish, was
blind to every patriotic duty, promoting the interests of
his subjects only that they might the better answer the
Louis
XIV.
purposes of his greatness ; and, actuated by an overween- History,
ing ambition, embroiled himself with all his neighbours,
and wantonly rendered Germany a scene of devastation. 15.
By his impolitic and unjust revocation of the edict of
Nantes in the year 1685, with the dragonade which follow¬
ed it, he obliged the Protestants to take shelter in Eng¬
land, Holland, and different parts of Germany, where they
established the silk manufacture, to the great prejudice
of their own country. He was so blinded by flattery,
that he arrogated to himself the heathen honours paid to
the emperors of Rome ; he made and violated treaties for
his convenience ; and in the end raised up against himself
a confederacy of almost all the princes of Europe, at the
head of which was King William III. of England. He
was so well served, however, that for some years he made
head against this alliance ; and France seemed to have
attained the highest pitch of military glory. But having
provoked the English by his repeated perfidy, their arms
under the Duke of Marlborough, and those of the Aus-.
trians under Prince Eugene, rendered the latter part of
his life as miserable as the beginning of it had been splen¬
did. From 1702 to 1711 his reign was one continued se¬
ries of defeats and disasters ; and he had the mortification
of seeing those places reduced, which in the former part
of his reign were acquired at an enormous expense of
blood and treasure. But when Marlborough and Eugene
were preparing to invade France at the head of their vic¬
torious troops, and to march directly to the capital, Louis,
now tottering on the verge of destruction, was saved from
ruin by the English Tory ministry deserting the cause,
withdrawing from their allies, and concluding the inglo¬
rious peace of Utrecht in 1713. (See article Britain.)
The last years of Louis were also embittered by domestic
misfortunes, which, added to those of a public nature
which had befallen him, impressed him with a deep me¬
lancholy. He had been for some time afflicted with a
fistula, which, though successfully cut, ever afterwards
affected his health. The year before the peace was con¬
cluded, his only son, the Duke of Burgundy, died ; a blow
which was the more severely felt because it admitted of
no alleviation. The king himself survived till the month
of September 1715, when he expired, leaving the kingdom
to his grandson Louis, then a minor. The reign of Louis
XIV. is considered as the Augustan age of French litera¬
ture.
By the last will of Louis XIV. the regency during the Louis XV.
minority of the young king devolved upon a council, at
the head of which was the Duke of Orleans. That no¬
bleman, however, disgusted with an arrangement which
gave him only a casting vote, appealed to the parliament
of Paris, who set aside the will of the late king, and de¬
clared him sole regent. His first acts were extremely
popular, and gave a favourable impression of his govern¬
ment and character. He restored to the parliament the
right which had been taken from them of remonstrating
against the edicts of the crown, and compelled those who
had enriched themselves during the former reign to re¬
store their ill-gotten wealth. He also took every method
to efface the calamities occasioned by the unsuccessful
wars in which his predecessor had engaged; promoted
commerce and agriculture; and, by a close alliance with
Great Britain and the United Provinces, seemed anxious
to lay the foundation of lasting tranquillity. But this hap¬
py prospect was soon overcast by the intrigues of Albe-
roni the Spanish minister, who had formed a design of
recovering Sardinia from the emperor, and Sicily from
the Duke of Savoy, and also of establishing the Pretender
on the throne of Britain. To accomplish these objects
he negotiated with the Ottoman Porte, Peter the Great
of Russia, and Charles XII. of Sweden; the Turks were
to resume the war against the emperor, and the two latter
FRANCE. 35
History, powers to invade Great Britain. But, as long as the Duke
of Orleans retained the administration of France, he found
1715-1/23. jt impossible to bring his schemes into play. To remove
this obstacle, therefore, he fomented divisions in the king¬
dom. An insurrection having taken place in Bretagne,
Alberoni sent small parties into the country in disguise
to support the insurgents, and even laid plots to seize the
regent himself. But the intrigues of the Spanish minister
misgave in every direction. His partisans in France were
put to death ; the king of Sweden was killed at Frede-
riekshall in Norway ; the Czar, intent on improving his
own institutions, could not be persuaded to make war upon
Britain ; and the Turks refused to engage in a war with
a power from which they had recently suffered so deeply.
The cardinal, however, persevered in his intrigues, which
soon produced a war between Spain on the one hand, and
France and Britain on the other. But the Spaniards,
unable to resist the union of two such formidable powers,
were soon reduced to the necessity of suing for peace ;
and the terms were dictated by the regent of France, one
of which was the dismission of Alberoni.
The spirit of conquest having now in a great measure
subsided, that of commerce came in its stead, and France
became the scene of as remarkable a project as ever was
known in any country. John Law, a Scotchman, who
had found it convenient to leave his own country, formed
the plan of a company which by its notes was to pay off
the debt of the nation, and reimburse itself by the profits.
Law had wandered throughout various parts of Europe,
and had successively endeavoured to engage the attention
of various courts. The same proposal had been made to
Victor Amadeus, king of Sicily; but the latter dismissed
Law with the reply, that he was not rich enough to ruin
himself. In France, however, it was looked upon in a more
favourable light; and as the nation was at this time in¬
volved in a debt of two hundred millions, the regent and
the people in general were ready to embark in almost any
new scheme which might be proposed. The bank thus
established proceeded at first with some degree of cau¬
tion ; but having gradually extended its credit to more
than eighty times its real stock, it soon became unable to
answer the demands made upon it, and the company was
dissolved the very same year in which it had been insti¬
tuted. The confusion into which the kingdom was thrown
by this fatal scheme required the utmost exertions of the
regent to put a stop to it; and scarcely had this been ac¬
complished when the king, in the year 1723, took the go¬
vernment into his own hands. The duke then became mi¬
nister, but did not long enjoy this office. His irregulari¬
ties had broken his constitution, and brought on a num¬
ber of maladies, under which he in a short time sunk,
and was succeeded in the administration by the Duke of
Bourbon. The king, as we have already remarked, had
been married when young to the infanta of Spain, though
by reason of his tender years the marriage had never been
completed. This princess, however, had been brought to
Paris, and for some time treated as queen of France ; but
as Louis grew up, it was easy to perceive that he had con¬
tracted an inveterate hatred against the intended partner
of his bed. The minister, therefore, at last consented
that the princess should be sent back ; an affront so much
resented by the queen her mother, that it had almost pro¬
duced a war between the two nations. The dissolution
of the marriage of Louis was the last act of Conde’s ad¬
ministration, and the negotiating a new match was the
first act of his successor Cardinal Fleury. The princess
pitched upon was the daughter of Stanislaus Leczinski,
king of Poland, who had been deposed by Charles XII. of
Sweden. This princess was destitute of personal charms,
but of an amiable disposition; and though it is probable
that she never possessed the affections of her husband,
her excellent qualities could not but extort his esteem; History,
whilst the birth of a prince soon after their marriage re-
moved all the fears of the people, if they had any, con-1?23-1748.
cerning the succession.
Cardinal Fleury continued the pacific policy pursued
by his predecessors, though it was somewhat interrupted
by the war which took place in the year 1733. But not¬
withstanding the connection between the sovereign of
Poland and the French nation, Fleury was so parsimo¬
nious of his assistance, that only fifteen hundred soldiers
were sent to relieve Dantzick, where Stanislaus was at
that time besieged by the Russians. This pitiful rein¬
forcement was soon overpowered by the Russians ; and
Stanislaus was at last obliged to renounce all thoughts of
the crown of Poland, though he was permitted to retain
the title of king. Fleury so steadily pursued his pacific
plans, that the disputes between Spain and England in
1737 but little affected the peace of France ; and it should
be remembered to his praise, that instead of fomenting
quarrels between the neighbouring potentates, he laboured
incessantly to maintain peace and concord. He recon¬
ciled the Genoese and Corsicans, who we1 e at war; and
his mediation wras accepted by the Ottoman Porte, which,
through his intercession, concluded a treaty with the em¬
peror. But all his endeavours to preserve the general
peace proved at last ineffectual. The death of the em¬
peror Charles VI. in 1740, the last prince of the house of
Austria, set all Europe in a flame. His eldest daughter,
Maria Theresa, claimed the Austrian succession, compre¬
hending the kingdoms of Flungary and Bohemia, the
duchy of Silesia, Austrian Suabia, Upper and Lower Aus¬
tria, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola, the four forest towms,
Burgau, Brisgau, the Low Countries, Friuli, Tyrol, the
duchy of Milan, and the duchies of Parma and Placen¬
tia. Amongst the many competitors who pretended a
right to share, or wholly to inherit, these extensive do¬
minions, the king of France was one. But as he cared
not to awaken the jealousy of the European princes by
preferring directly his own pretensions, he chose rather
to support those of Frederick III., who laid claim to the
duchy of Silesia. This brought on the war of 1740 (see
articles Britain and Prussia), which was terminated in
1748 by the treaty of Aix-la- Chapelle. But Louis, who
had secretly meditated a severe vengeance against Britain,
only consented to give his aid, that he might have time
to repair his fleet, and put himself somewhat more upon
an equality with so formidable a power. Meanwhile the
internal tranquillity of the kingdom was disturbed by
violent disputes between the clergy and parliaments of
France. In the reign of Louis XIV. there had been vehe¬
ment contests between the Jansenists and Jesuits, con¬
cerning free will, and other obscure points of theology;
and the opinions of the Jansenists had been declared he¬
retical by the celebrated bull Unigenitus, the reception of
which was enforced by the king, in opposition to the par¬
liaments, the Archbishop of Paris, and the great body of
the people. The archbishop, with fifteen other prelates,
protested against it as an infringement of the rights of
the Gallican church and the laws of the realm, and also
as an infringement of the rights of the people themselves.
The Duke of Orleans favoured the bull by inducing the
bishops to submit to it, but at the same time he stopped
a persecution which had been commenced against its op¬
ponents. Matters continued in this state until the con¬
clusion of the peace. But a short time afterwards the
jealousy of the clergy was awakened by an attempt of the
minister to inquire into the wealth of individuals of their
order. To prevent this they revived the contest about
the bull Unigenitus, and it was resolved that confessional
notes should be obtained of dying persons; that these
notes should be signed by priests who maintained the au-
36
FRANCE.
History, thority of the bull; and that, without such notes, no per-
son could obtain the viaticum, or extreme unction. On this
748~175fi-occasion the new Archbishop of Paris and the parliament
of that city having taken opposite sides, the latter imprison¬
ed such of the clergy as refused to administer the sacra¬
ments. Other parliaments followed the example of that
of Paris ; and a contest was instantly kindled up between
the civil and ecclesiastical departments of the state. But
the king having interfered in the dispute, forbade the par¬
liaments to take cognizance of ecclesiastical proceedings,
and commanded them to suspend all prosecutions relative
to the refusal of the sacraments. Instead of acquiescing,
however, the parliaments presented new remonstrances,5
refused to attend to any other business, and resolved that
they could not obey this injunction without violatin0* their
duty as well as their oath. They cited the BishopV Or¬
leans before their tribunal, and ordered all writings in
which its jurisdiction was disputed to be burned by the
executionei. With the assistance of the military they
enforced the administration of the sacraments to the sick,
and ceased to distribute that justice to the subject for
which they had been originally instituted. Enraged at
their obstinacy, the king arrested and imprisoned four of
the members who had been most obstinate, and banished
the remainder to Bourges, Poitiers, and Auvergne;
whilst, to prevent any impediment to the administration
of justice in their absence, he issued letters patent, by
which a royal chamber for the prosecution of civil and
criminal suits was instituted. But the counsellors refused
to plead before these new courts; and the king, finding
that the whole nation was about to fall into a state of an¬
archy, thought proper to recall the parliament. The ba¬
nished members entered Paris amidst the acclamations
of the inhabitants ; and the archbishop, who still conti¬
nued to encourage the priests in refusing the sacraments,
was banished to his seat at Conflans, as were also the Bi¬
shops of Orleans and Troyes ; and for the present tranquil¬
lity was restored to the kingdom.
But the tranquillity thus established was not of long
duration. In the year 1756, the parliaments again fell
under the displeasure of the king, by their imprudent per¬
secution of those who adhered to the bull Unigenitus, and
even proceeded so far in this opposition as to refuse to
register certain taxes absolutely necessary for carrying
on the war. Louis was so provoked at this, that he sup¬
pressed the fourth and fifth chambers of inquests, the
members of which had distinguished themselves by their
opposition to his will. He commanded the bull Unigeni¬
tus to be respected, and prohibited the secular judges
from ordering the administration of the sacraments. On
this, fifteen counsellors of the great chamber resigned
their offices, and a hundred and twenty-four members of
the different parliaments followed their example ; and the
most grievous discontent pervaded the kingdom. Mean¬
while an attempt was made by a fanatic, named Damien,
to assassinate the king; and he was actually wounded,
though slightly, in the midst of his guards. The assassin
was put to the most exquisite tortures, under which he
persisted in declaring that he had no intention to kill the
king, but that his design was only to wound him, that
God might touch his heart, and incline him to restore
peace to his dominions. But these expressions, which
undoubtedly indicated insanity, had no effect on his
judges, who consigned him to one of the most horrid deaths
which the ingenuity of man ever invented. This attempt,
owever, seems to have produced some effect upon the
king; for he soon afterwards banished the Archbishop of
ans, who had been recalled, and once more accommodated
matters with his parliament.
The unfortunate issue of the war of 1755 had brought
t ie nation to the brink of ruin, when Louis implored the
assistance of Spain ; and upon this occasion was signed the History,
celebrated Family Compact, by which, with the single
exception of the American trade, the subjects of France 1756-1763.
and Spain were naturalized in both kingdoms, and the
enemy of the one sovereign was to be invariably looked
upon as the enemy of the other. At this time, however,
the assistance of Spain availed but little, for both powers
were reduced to the lowest ebb, and the arms of Britain
were triumphant in every quarter of the globe. See the
article Britain.
The peace which was concluded at Paris in the year
1763, though it freed the nation from a most destructive
and bloody war, did not restore internal tranquillity. The
parliament, eager to pursue the victory which they had
formerly gained over their religious enemies, now directed
their efforts against the Jesuits, who had obtained and en¬
forced the bull Unigenitus. But that once powerful order
was now on the brink of destruction. A detestation of
its principles, and even of its members, had for some time
prevailed ; and a conspiracy, formed, or said to have been
formed, by this order against the king of Portugal, and
from which he narrowly escaped, roused the indignation of
Europe, which was still further inflamed by some fraudulent
practices of which they had been guilty in France. La
Valette, the chief of their missionaries in Martinico, had,
ever since the peace at Aix-la-Chapelle, carried on an ex¬
tensive commerce, insomuch that when the war with Great
Britain commenced in 1755, he even aspired to monopolize
the whole West India trade. Leonay and Gouffre, mer¬
chants at Marseilles, in expectation of receiving from
him merchandise to the value of two millions, had ac¬
cepted bills drawn by the Jesuits to the amount of a mil¬
lion and a half. But unhappily, owing to the vast num¬
ber of captures made by the British, the returns were not
made; in consequence of which the missionaries were
obliged to apply to the society of Jesuits at large. But
the latter, either ignorant of their true interest, or too
tardy in giving assistance, suffered the merchants to stop
payment, and thus not only to bring ruin upon themselves,
but to involve a great many others in the same calamity.
Their creditors demanded indemnification from the society
at large, and, upon the refusal of the latter to satisfy them,
brought the cause before the parliament of Paris. And
that body, again, being eager to avenge itself on such pow¬
erful adversaries, carried on the most violent persecutions
against them, in the course of which the volume contain¬
ing the constitution and government of the order itself
was appealed to, and produced in court. It then appeared
that the order of Jesuits formed a distinct body in the
state, submitting implicitly to their chief, who alone was
absolute over their lives and fortunes ; and it was like¬
wise discovered that, after a former expulsion, they had
been admitted into the kingdom upon conditions which
they had never fulfilled, and to which their chief had ob¬
stinately refused to subscribe; and consequently, that their
actual existence in the nation was merely the effect of
sufferance. The result was, that the writings of the Je¬
suits were found to contain doctrines subversive of all
civil government, and injurious to the security of the sa¬
cred persons of sovereigns ; the attempt of Damien against
the king was attributed to this body; and every thing
seemed to prognosticate their speedy dissolution. At this
critical moment, however, the king interfered, and by his
royal mandate suspended all proceedings against them for
a year. A plan of accommodation was then drawn up, and
submitted to the pope and the general of the order; but
the latter, by his ill-timed haughtiness, entirely destroyed
all hope of reconciliation. The king withdrew his protec¬
tion, and the parliament redoubled its efforts against them.
The bulls, briefs, constitutions, and other regulations of
the society, were declared to be encroachments on the
FRANCE.
37
History, public authority, and abuses of government; the society
itself was finally dissolved, and its members were declared
1763-1771* incapable of holding any clerical or municipal offices ; their
colleges were seized, their effects confiscated, and the or¬
der itself in fact annihilated.
The parliament, having gained this victory, next made
an attempt to set bounds to the power of the king him¬
self. They now refused to enregister an edict which
Louis had issued for the continuation of some taxes which
should have ended with the war, and likewise to conform
to another by which the king was enabled to redeem his
debts at an inadequate rate. The court attempted to get
the edicts enregistered by force, but the parliaments
everywhere showed a disposition to resist to the uttermost.
In 1766, the parliament of Bretagne having refused the
crown a gift of seven hundred thousand livres, were in
consequence singled out for royal vengeance; but whilst
matters were on the point of coming to extremities, the
king thought proper to drop the process altogether, and to
publish a general amnesty. The parliaments, however,
now affected to despise the royal clemency; a circum¬
stance which exasperated the king so much that he or¬
dered the counsellors of the parliament of Bretagne who
had refused to resume the functions of which he deprived
them, to be included in the list of those who were to be
drafted for militia, which was accordingly done. The par¬
liament of Paris remonstrated so freely against this pro¬
ceeding that they also fell under the royal censure; but
Louis in the most explicit manner declared that he would
suffer no earthly power to interfere with his will.
The interval of domestic tranquillity which now ensued
was employed by the king in humbling the pride of the
pope. The French monarch reclaimed the territories of
Avignon and Venaissin ; and whilst the pontiff denounced
his unavailing censures, the Marquis de Rochecouart, with
a single regiment of soldiers, drove out the troops of his
holiness, and took possession of these territories. But a
much more formidable opposition was made by the natives
of the small island of Corsica, the sovereignty of which
had been transferred to France by the Genoese, its former
masters, on condition of Louis reinstating them in posses¬
sion of the island of Caprala, which the Corsicans had late¬
ly reduced. These islanders defended themselves with
desperate intrepidity; and it was only after two campaigns,
in which several thousands of the bravest troops of France
were killed, that they could be brought under subjection.
The satisfaction which this unimportant conquest af¬
forded to Louis was clouded by the distress of the nation.
The East India Company had totally failed, and most of
the principal commercial houses in the kingdom were in¬
volved in the same calamity. The minister, the Due de
Choiseul, by one desperate stroke, reduced the interest
of the funds one half, and at the same time took away the
benefit of survivorship in the tontines, by which means
the national credit was greatly affected; the altercation
between the king and his parliaments also revived, and
the dissensions became worse than ever. The Due de
Choiseul attempted in vain to conciliate these differences ;
but his efforts tended only to bring misfortunes upon him¬
self, and in 1771 he was banished by the king, who sus¬
pected him of favouring the popular party. This was
soon afterwards followed by the banishment of the parlia¬
ment of Paris, and by that of a number of others ; new par¬
liaments being chosen in the room of those which had been
expelled. But the people were by no means disposed to
pay the same regard to these new parliaments as they
had done to the old ones, though every appearance of
opposition was at last silenced by the absolute authority
of the king. In the midst of this plenitude of power,
however, his majesty’s health daily declined, and the end
of his days was evidently at no great distance. As he had
all along indulged himself to excess in sensual pleasures, History,
so now these proved the immediate means of his destruc- -yO
tion. His favourite mistress, Madame de Pompadour, 1771-1774.
who for a considerable time governed him with an abso¬
lute sway, had been long dead, and the king had become
equally enslaved by the charms of Madame du Barry.
But even her beauty at length proved insufficient to ex¬
cite desire ; and a succession of mistresses became neces¬
sary to rouse the languid appetites of the king. One of
these, who happened to be infected with the small-pox,
communicated the disease to the king, who in a short time
died of it, notwithstanding all the assistance which could
be afforded him by the physicians.
The new king, Louis XVL, grandson to the former, as- Louis
cended the throne in the year 1774, in the twentieth year
of his age ; and, to secure himself against the disease which
had proved fatal to his predecessor, submitted to inocula¬
tion, together with several other members of the royal fa¬
mily. Their quick and easy recovery contributed much to
extend the practice throughout the kingdom, and to re¬
move the prejudices which had been entertained against it.
The king had no sooner regained his health than he ap¬
plied himself diligently to extinguish the differences which
had arisen between his predecessor and the people. He
removed from their employments those persons who had
given just cause of complaint by their arbitrary and op¬
pressive conduct; and he conciliated the affection of his
subjects by discharging the new and recalling the old par¬
liaments. But though the prudence of Louis had suggest¬
ed to him these compliances, he still endeavoured to pre¬
serve entire the royal authority. He explained his inten¬
tions in a speech delivered in the great chamber of par¬
liament. The step which he had taken to ensure the tran¬
quillity and happiness of his subjects ought not, he ob¬
served, to invalidate his own authority; and he hoped,
from the zeal and attachment of the assembly, an example
of submission to the rest of his subjects. Their repeated
resistance to the commands of his grandfather had com¬
pelled that monarch to maintain his prerogative by their
banishment; but they were now recalled in the expec¬
tation that they would quietly exercise their functions,
and display their gratitude by their obedience. He de¬
clared that it was his desire to bury in oblivion all past
grievances ; that he should ever behold with extreme dis¬
approbation whatever might tend to create divisions and
disturb the general tranquillity; and that the chancellor
would read an ordonnance to the assembly, from which they
might be assured he would not suffer the smallest devia¬
tion to be made. This ordonnance was conceived in the
most explicit terms, and immediately registered. It li¬
mited within narrow bounds the pretensions of the parlia¬
ment of Paris. The members were forbidden to look upon
themselves as one body with the other parliaments of the
kingdom, or to take any step or assume any title which
might tend towards or imply such an union. They were
enjoined never to relinquish the administration of public
justice, excepting in cases of absolute necessity, for which
the first president was to be responsible to the king ; and
it was provided, that in the event of disobedience, the
grand council might replace the parliament without any
new edict for the purpose. They were still, however, per¬
mitted to exercise the right of remonstrating before the re¬
gistering of edicts or letters-patent which they might con¬
ceive injurious to the welfare of the people, provided they
preserved in their representations the respect due to the
throne. But these remonstrances were not to be repeated,
and if they proved ineffectual, the parliament were to en¬
register the edict objected to within a month at furthest
from the day of its publication. They were forbidden to
issue any arrets which might tend to excite trouble, or in
any manner retard the execution of the king’s ordonnances;
33
FRANCE.
History, and they were assured that, as long as they adhered to
the bounds prescribed, they might depend upon the coun-
1774-1776-(-gpaHcg an[j protection of the sovereign. In short, the
terms on which Louis consented to re-establish the par¬
liaments were such that they were reduced to mere ci¬
phers, and the will of the king still continued to be the
only law in the kingdom. The Archbishop of Paris, who
had likewise presumed to raise some commotions regard¬
ing the bull Unigenitus, was obliged to submit, and se¬
verely threatened if he should afterwards interfere in such
a matter.
The final conquest of the Corsicans, who had once more
attempted to regain their former liberty, was the first
event of importance which took place after the restora¬
tion of tranquillity. But, from various causes, the kingdom
was still filled with disorder. A scarcity of corn having taken
place at the time when some regulations had been made
by M. Turgot, the new minister of finance, the populace
rose in great numbers, and committed such outrages that
a military force became necessary to quell them ; and it
was not until upwards of five hundred of these starving
creatures were destroyed that they could be reduced. The
king, however, by his prudent and vigorous conduct on
this occasion, put a stop to all riots, and displayed his cle¬
mency as well as prudence in the methods which he adopt¬
ed for the restoration of the public tranquillity. He also
seized the first moments of peace to fulfil those promises
of economy which on his accession he had given to the
people. Particular attention was likewise paid to the state
of the marine. TheappointmentofM.de Sartine in 1776
to the naval department did honour to the penetration of
the sovereign. That minister, fruitful in resources, and
unwearied in application, was incessantly engaged in aug¬
menting the naval strength of his country ; and the vari¬
ous preparations which filled the ports and docks created
no small uneasiness on the other side of the Channel. The
next appointment made by the king was equally fortunate,
and in one respect singular and unprecedented. M. Tur¬
got, though possessed of integrity and industry, had not
been able to command the public confidence. On his
retreat, M. Clugny, intendant-general of Bordeaux, had
been elevated to the vacant office ; but the latter having
soon afterwards died, M. Taboureau des Reaux was ap¬
pointed his successor; and the king associated with him
in the management of the finances M. Neckar, who was
a Swiss and a Protestant. In the preceding reign that
gentleman had been chosen to adjust some differences
between the East India Company and the crown, and had
discharged his trust in a manner which gained him the
approbation of both parties. Possessed of distinguished
abilities, his appointment would have excited no surprise,
had it not been contrary to the constant policy of France,
which had carefully excluded the aliens from exercising
any control in matters of revenue.
Conduct of Although the French monarch was of a pacific disposi-
France In tion, and not destitute of generosity of sentiment, yet his
America0 °Wn anC^ ^1e Pu^*c exultation had been openly and con-
1 1C ' stantly proportioned to the success of the Americans in
their contest with Britain. The princes of the blood and
the chief nobility were eager to embark in support of the
cause of freedom ; and the prudence of the king and his
most confidential ministers alone restrained their ardour.
The fatal events of the former war were still impressed
on the mind of Louis ; and he could not readily consent
to expose his rising marine in a contest with a nation
which had so frequently asserted the dominion of the
seas, and had so lately broken the united strength of the
house of Bourbon. At the same time he was sensible
that the opportunity of humbling England should not be
entirely neglected, and that some advantage should be
taken of the present commotions in America. Two agents
from the United States, Silas Deane and Dr Benjamin
Franklin, had successively arrived at Paris; and though History,
all audience was denied them in a public capacity, still
they were privately encouraged to hope that France only 1776-17BO.
waited for a favourable opportunity to assist in conquering
the independence of America. In the mean while, the
American cruisers were hospitably received in the French
ports ; artillery and all kinds of warlike stores were freely
sold or liberally granted to the colonists; and, with the
connivance of government, French officers and engineers
entered their service.
Some changes were about this time introduced into the
different departments of state. The conduct of M. Nec¬
kar in the finances had given general satisfaction ; and
M. Taboureau des Iteaux, his colleague, had resigned his
situation, but still retained the dignity of counsellor of
state. To afford full scope to the genius of M. Neckar,
Louis determined that he should no longer be clogged with
an associate, and, with the title of director-general of the
finances, submitted to him the entire management of the
revenue of France. In the ensuing year the Count de St
Germains, secretary at war, died ; and the Prince de
Montbarey, who had already filled an inferior situation
in that department, was now appointed to succeed him.
In the mean time negotiations with foreign courts were
not neglected. Louis concluded a new treaty of alliance
with Switzerland ; and, on the death of the elector of
Bavaria, vigilantly observed the motions of the different
princes of Germany. When closely questioned by the
English ambassador, Lord Stormont, respecting the war¬
like preparations which were diligently continued through¬
out the kingdom, he replied, that at a time when the seas
were covered with English'fleets and American cruisers,
and when such armies were sent to the New World as
had never before appeared there, it became prudent for
him also to arm for the security of his colonies and the
protection of the commerce of France. The king was not
ignorant that the remonstrances of Great Britain, and the
importunities of the agents of the United States, would
soon compel him to adopt some decisive line of conduct;
and this was accelerated by an event most disastrous to
Britain, namely, the failure of General Burgoyne’s expe¬
dition, and the capture of his army. The news of that
calamity was received at Paris with unbounded exultation.
M. Sartine, the minister of marine, was eager to measure
the naval strength of France with that of Great Britain ;
the queen, who had long seconded the applications of the
American agents, now espoused their cause with fresh
ardour; and the pacific inclinations of Louis being over¬
borne by the suggestions of his ministers and the influ¬
ence of his queen, it was at length determined openly to
acknowledge the independence of the United States. Ac¬
cordingly Dr Franklin and Silas Deane, who had hitherto
acted as private agents, were now acknowledged as public
ambassadors from those states to the court of Versailles;
and a treaty of amity and commerce was signed between
the insurgent colonists and France in the month of Feb¬
ruary 1778. The Duke of Noailles, ambassador to the
court of London, was in the month of March instructed
to acquaint that court with the above treaty, and at the
same time to declare that the contracting parties had not
stipulated any exclusive advantages in favour of France,
and that the United States had reserved the liberty of
treating with every nation whatsoever upon the footing of
equality and reciprocity. But this declaration was treat¬
ed with contempt by the British ; and the recall of Lord
‘Stormont became the signal for the commencement of
hostilities.
In the year 1780 new changes took place in the French Removal
ministry. M. Bertin had resigned the office of secretary of M. de
of state; and the Prince de Montbarey had retired from^artine*
the office of secretary at war, in which he was succeeded
by the Marquis de Segur. But the most important rc-
FRANCE.
39
History, moval was that of M. Sartine, who had for several years
presided over the marine department, and whose ability
1780-1783. an(} unwearied application had raised the naval power of
France to a height which astonished Europe. His col¬
leagues in the cabinet, however, had loudly arraigned a
profusion which would have diverted into one channel the
whole resources of the kingdom ; and his retreat open¬
ed a road to the ambition of the Marquis de Castries,
who was appointed in his stead. This year the king abo¬
lished the inhuman custom of putting the question by tor¬
ture ; a custom which had been so established by long
practice that it seemed an inseparable part of the consti¬
tution of courts of justice in France. At the same time,
in order to defray the charges of war, he diminished his
own expenditure; and sacrificing splendour to popularity,
dismissed at once above four hundred officers belonging
to his court.
Dismission But unhappily the popular discontents were next year
ol'Neckar. excited by the dismission of M. Neckar. He had con¬
ceived the arduous but popular project of supporting a
war by means of loans without taxes ; and the rigid eco¬
nomy which he had introduced into all the departments
of the royal household, together with the various resources
which were thus rendered available, had supported him
amidst the difficulties that attended this system. But his
austerity of temper had not rendered him equally accept¬
able to the sovereign and his subjects ; and the repeated
reforms which he had recommended were represented as
inconsistent with the dignity of the crown. He was there¬
fore, in 1781, dismissed from his office of comptroller-ge¬
neral; andM.Joli de Fleury, counsellor of state, was ap¬
pointed to that important department. But the defeat of
the Count de Grasse, which happened the following year,
produced general grief and consternation. The victory
of Rodney was indeed the most severe blow which the navy
of France had ever yet sustained, and its effects were felt
in every part of the kingdom. Immense preparations
were, however, made for the operations of 1783; and, in
conjunction with the courts of Madrid and the Hague,
Louis determined this year to make the most powerful
efforts to bring the war to a conclusion. But in the midst
of these preparations the voice of peace was again heard ;
and Louis was induced to listen to the proffered media¬
tion of the emperor of Germany and of the empress of
Russia. The Count de Vergennes, who still held the
portfolio of foreign affairs, was appointed to treat with Mr
Fitzherbert, the British minister at Brussels, who had late¬
ly proceeded to Paris to conduct this important negotia¬
tion. The way was already smoothed by provisional ar¬
ticles, which had been signed at the close of the preced¬
ing year between Great Britain and the states of Ame¬
rica, and which were now to constitute the basis of a treaty
of peace between Great Britain and France. Prelimi¬
naries were accordingly agreed upon and signed at Ver¬
sailles ; and these were soon afterwards succeeded by a de¬
finitive treaty, so that France, throughout her extensive
dominions, beheld peace once more established. Though
the war had been attended by the most brilliant success,
and the independence of America seemed to strike deep
at the sources of British power, yet France herself had not
by any means been free from difficulties. The retreat,
of Neckar had diminished the public confidence, and the
failure of the celebrated caisse d'escornple completed the
consternation of the people.
Caisse d’es- The bank of this name had been established in the year
compte. 1776. The plan of it was formed by a company of private
adventurers, and its capital was fixed at L.500,000 ster¬
ling. The professed design of the company was to dis¬
count bills at short dates, at the rate of four percent, per
annum ; but as this interest was not an equivalent for the
capital sunk by the proprietors, they were intrusted with
the additional power of issuing notes to the amount of History,
their capital, which, as these were made convertible into
specie, might often be voluntarily taken instead of cash. 1783.
The reputation acquired by the bank soon caused its
stock to rise above par ; and its credit still continued un¬
impaired, when, to the astonishment of the nation, it sud¬
denly stopped payment on the 2d of October 1783. The
cause assigned was an uncommon scarcity of specie. But
the public suspected that the failure arose from a loan
secretly made to government; and what confirmed the
suspicion was, that government about the same time stop¬
ped payment of the bills drawn upon them by their army
in America. But, whatever was the cause of this catas¬
trophe, the king was prevailed on to extend his protec¬
tion to the company. By four successive edicts the banks
in Paris were ordered to receive the notes of the caisse
descompte as currency ; and a lottery with a capital of one
million sterling, redeemable in eight years, was establish¬
ed, the tickets of which were made purchasable in notes
of the caissc d'escompte. By these expedients the pub¬
lic confidence in the bank was in some measure revived,
while its business increased, and its stock rose to above
double the original subscription ; the bills from America
were at the same time put in a train of payment, and
public credit was in a great degree restored throughout
the kingdom. Some compensation also for the expenses
which had been incurred during the war was derived from
a treaty concluded with the United States of America.
The latter engaged to reimburse France in the sum of
eighteen millions of livres, which had been advanced in
the hour of their need ; and Louis, for the convenience of
the States, consented to receive the money, in the space
of twelve years, by twelve equal annual payments.
The general peace was soon afterwards followed by a Treaty
particular treaty between France and Holland, which was between
effected by the Count de Vergennes. It included all the France and
principles which can serve to cement nations in the closest Ho an *
union, and by which, in peace or in war, they may mutually
participate in good or evil, and in all cases administer to
each other the most perfect aid, counsel, and succour. If
their united good offices for the preservation of peace should
prove ineffectual, it also fixed the assistance which they
were to afford each other by sea and land. France was to
furnish Holland with ten thousand effective infantry and
two thousand cavalry, and with twelve ships of the line and
six frigates. Their high mightinesses, on the other hand,
in case of a naval war, or of France being attacked by sea.
were to contribute to her defence six ships of the line ana
three frigates; and in the event of an attack on the terri¬
tory of France, the States General were to have the option
of furnishing their land contingent either in money or
troops, at the rate of five thousand infantry and one thou¬
sand cavalry. And further, if the stipulated succours should
prove insufficient for the defence of the party attacked, or
for procuring a proper peace, they engaged to assist each
other with all their forces if necessary ; but it was never¬
theless provided, that the contingent of troops to be fur¬
nished by the States General should not exceed twenty
thousand infantry and four thousand cavalry. Finally, it
was agreed that neither of the contracting parties should
disarm, or make or receive proposals of peace or even truce,
without the consent of the other, nor directly or indirectly
contract any future alliance or engagement whatsoever,
contrary to the present treaty ; and if any treaties or nego¬
tiations which might prove detrimental to their joint inte¬
rest were proposed, they pledged their faith to give notice
to each other of such proposals as soon as made. Thus
Holland was converted into the firm ally of that power
against the encroaching spirit of which she had formerly
armed the most powerful kingdoms of Europe; whilst
France having asserted the independence of America
40 FRANCE.
History, against Great Britain, and converted an ancient and for-
midable foe into an useful friend, seemed to have attained
1783-1785. an influence over the nations of Europe which she had
never before been possessed of.
But, however exalted her present situation might appear,
the seeds of future commotion had already been extensive¬
ly sown. The applause which had attended the parliament
of Paris in their protracted struggles with the late king
might be considered as the first dawn of freedom; the
language of that assembly had boldly indicated to their
countrymen their natural rights, and taught them to look
with a less enraptured eye upon the splendour which en¬
compassed the throne. The war in America had contri¬
buted to enlarge the political ideas of the French; they
had on that occasion stood forth as the champions of liberty,
in opposition to regal power ; and the officers who had
served in the struggle for independence, accustomed to
think and speak without restraint, and familiarized with re¬
publican institutions, on their return imparted to the pro¬
vinces of France a portion of the spirit which had been
kindled in the wilds of America. From that moment the
French, instead of silently acquiescing in the edicts of their
sovereign, canvassed each action with bold inquisition;
whilst the attachment of the army, which has ever been
considered as the sole foundation of despotism, gave way to
the noble enthusiasm of liberty.
We have already noticed the public dissatisfaction which
had attended the dismission of Neckar. His successor, M.
de Fleury, had retired from the management of the finances
in 1783, and the still more short-lived administration of M,
d’Ormesson had expired in the same year which gave it
birth. Upon the retreat of the latter, M. de Calonne, who
had successively filled with acknowledged reputation the
office of intendant of Mentz, and afterwards of the pro¬
vinces of Flanders and Artois, was nominated to the office
of comptroller-general. This person, who was flexible and
insinuating, eloquent in conversation and polished in his
manners, fertile in resources and liberal in the disposal of
the public money, soon rendered himself acceptable to the
sovereign. But he did not enter upon his new and ardu¬
ous station favoured by the breath of popularity; he was,
in fact, reported to be more able than consistent, and not
to have tempered the ardour of his spirit by the severity of
deep research ; and the people, amidst repeated loans, re¬
gretted that severe simplicity which had characterized the
administration of Neckar. It was, however, by the bold
and judicious measures of Calonne that credit was restored
to the caisse d'escompte, which had stopped payment a few
weeks before his accession. His next measure, in 1784,
the establishment of the caisse d'amortissement, or sinking
fund, was entitled to a still higher degree of applause.
1 he plan of that fund was simple and moderate. It was,
that government should pay annually into the hands of a
board set apart for that purpose, the entire interest of the
national debt, whether in stock or annuities, together with
an additional sum of L. 120,000. The annuities which
would thus be extinguished every year were estimated at
L.50,000, and in that proportion the sum set apart for the
redemption of the national debt would annually increase.
The operation of this new fund was limited to the term of
twenty-five years; and during that period the annual re¬
ceipt of the caisse d'amortissement was declared unalter¬
able, and incapable of being diverted to any other object.
I he principal measure of the following year was the esta¬
blishment of a new East India Company, a measure which
did not fail to excite violent complaints. The time, how¬
ever, was now approaching, when the necessities of the state
compelled the king to adopt measures still more unpopu¬
lar, and destined to undergo a severer scrutiny. Although
peace had for three years been re-established throughout
Europe, yet the finances of France seemed scarcely affect¬
ed by this interval of tranquillity, and it was found requi¬
site to close every year with a loan. The public expendi* History,
ture of 1785, indeed, seemed to sanction this measure ; for
it had been thought proper to fortify Cherbourg upon a1?85?1?^.
grand scale ; the claim of the emperor to the navigation of
the Scheldt had obliged the French to increase their land
forces ; and thp Marquis de Castries, fond of war, and pro¬
fuse in his designs, had not suffered the navy which M.
Sartine had surrendered into his hands to decline during
the interval of peace. The treaty of commerce concluded
with Great Britain in the year 1786 was also a new source
of discontent. Though regarded by the English manufac¬
turers as far from advantageous, it excited in France still
louder murmurs, and was represented as likely to extin¬
guish those infant establishments, which were yet unable to
compete with the manufactures of England, that had attained
to maturity. The market which it held out for the wines
and oils of France was passed over in silence, whilst the
distress of the artisan was painted in the most striking co¬
lours. But when the edict for registering the loan of the
preceding year, amounting to three millions three hundred
and thirty thousand pounds, was presented to the parlia¬
ment of Paris, the murmurs of the people, through the re¬
monstrances of that assembly, assumed a more legal and
formidable aspect. The king, however, signified to the
select deputation commissioned to convey to him their re¬
monstrances, that he expected to be obeyed without further
delay. The ceremony of the registration accordingly took
place on the following day; but it was accompanied with a
resolution, importing, that public economy was the only ge¬
nuine source of abundant revenue, the only means of pro¬
viding for the necessities of the state, and of restoring that
credit which borrowing had reduced to the brink of ruin.
The king was no sooner informed of this step than he com¬
manded the attendance of the grand deputation of parlia¬
ment, when he erazed from their records the resolution
which had been adopted; and observed, that though it was
his pleasure that the parliament should communicate, by
its respectful representations, whatever might concern the
good of the public, yet he never would permit them so far
to abuse his clemency as to erect themselves into the cen¬
sors of his government. At the same time, in order the
more strongly to mark his displeasure at their expostula¬
tions, he superseded one of their officers, who had appeared
most active in forwarding the obnoxious resolution.
M. de Calonne, however, though gratified by the appro¬
bation of his sovereign, could not but feel himself deeply
mortified by the opposition of the parliament. His at¬
tempts to conciliate that assembly had proved ineffectual;
and he experienced their inflexible aversion at the critical
juncture when their acquiescence might have proved of the
most essential service. An anxious inquiry into the state
of the public finances had convinced him that the expen¬
diture far exceeded the revenue. In this situation, to im¬
pose new taxes was impracticable, to continue the method
of borrowing was ruinous, to have recourse to economical
reforms would be found wholly inadequate; and he hesi¬
tated not to declare, that it would be impossible to place the
finances upon a solid basis, except by the reformation of
whatever was vicious in the constitution of the state. But,
to give weight to this reform, M. de Calonne was sensible that
something more was necessary than even the royal autho¬
rity ; he perceived that the parliament was neither a fit
instrument for introducing a new order into public affairs,
nor would submit to be a passive machine for sanctioning
the plans of a minister, even if those plans were the ema¬
nations of perfect wisdom. Though originally a body of
lawyers, indebted for their appointment to the king, there
was not an attribute of a legislative assembly which they
did not seem desirous to engross to themselves; and they
had been supported in their pretensions by the approbation
of the people, who were sensible that there was no other
body in the nation which could plead their cause against
FRANCE.
41
I History, either royal or ministerial oppression. To suppress, there-
'-'■“n fore, the only power of control that remained, and to render
786,i7ti7> the government more arbitrary, was deemed too perilous a
measure; yet to leave the parliament in the full possession
of an influence which the minister was convinced would be
exerted against him, was at once to render his whole sys¬
tem abortive. In this dilemma, the only expedient which
suggested itself was to have recourse to some other assem¬
bly, more dignified and solemn in its character, and which
should in a greater degree consist of members selected
from the various orders of the state and the different pro¬
vinces of the kingdom. This promised to be a popular mea¬
sure ; it implied a deference to the people at large, and
might be expected to prove highly acceptable.
Assembly But the true and legitimate assembly of the nation, the
f the N°t-States General, had not met since the year 1614, nor could
I l) es- the minister flatter himself with the hope of obtaining the
royal assent to a meeting which a despotic sovereign could
not but regard with secret jealousy. Another assembly had
occasionally been substituted in the room of the States Ge¬
neral. This was distinguished by the title of the Notables,
and consisted of a number of persons from all parts of the
kingdom, chiefly selected from the higher orders of the
state, and nominated by the king himself. This assembly,
which had been convened by Henry IV. and also by Louis
XIII. was now once more summoned by the authority of
Louis XVI. The writs for calling them together were
dated the 29th of December J 786, and addressed to seven
princes of the blood, nine dukes and peers of France, eight
field-marshals, twenty-two nobles, eight counsellors of state,
four masters of requests, eleven archbishops and bishops,
thirty-seven of the heads of the law, twelve deputies of the
pays d’etats, the civil lieutenant, and twenty-five magistrates
of the different towns of the kingdom. The number of
members was thus a hundred and forty-four; and the 29th
of January 1787 was the period appointed for their meeting.
Upon the arrival of the Notables at Paris, however, the
minister found himself as yet unprepared to submit his
system for their consideration, and therefore postponed
the opening of the assembly until the 7th of February.
A second delay until the 14th of the same month was oc¬
casioned by the indisposition of M. de Calonne, and that
of the Count de Vergennes, president of the council of
finance and first secretary of state; and a third procras¬
tination necessarily resulted from the death of the count
on the day previous to that which had been fixed for the
opening of the assembly. M. de Vergennes was succeed¬
ed in the department of foreign affairs by the Count de
Montmorin, a nobleman of unblemished character; but
his loss at this critical juncture was severely felt by M. de
Calonne, as he alone, of all the ministers, had entered
with warmth and sincerity into the plans of the comp¬
troller-general. The Chevalier de Miromesnil, keeper of
the seals, was avowedly the rival and enemy of Calonne;
the Marshal de Castries, secretary for the department of
marine, was personally attached to M. Neckar; and the
Baron de Breteuil, secretary for the household, was the
creature of the queen, and deeply engaged in what was
called the Austrian system,
It was under these difficulties that M. de Calonne, on
the 22d of February, first met the Assembly of the Nota¬
bles, and unfolded his long-expected plan. He began by
stating, that the public expenditure had for centuries past
exceeded the revenue, and that a very considerable defi¬
ciency had of course existed ; that the Mississippi scheme
of 1720 had not, as might have been expected, restored
the balance ; that under the economical administration of
Cardinal Fleury the deficit still existed ; that the progress
of this derangement under the last reign had been extreme,
the deficiency amounting to three millions sterling at the
appointment of the Abbe Terray, who, however, reduced
VOL. x.
1787-
it to one million six hundred and seventy-five thousand History,
pounds ; that it decreased a little under the short adminis*
trations which followed, but rose again, in consequence of
the war, under the administration of M. Neckar; and that
upon his own accession to office it amounted to three mil¬
lions three hundred and thirty thousand pounds. In or¬
der to remedy this growing evil, M. Calonne recommend¬
ed a territorial impost, of the nature of the English land-
tax, from which no rank or order of men was to be ex¬
empted ; and an inquiry into the possessions of the clergy,
who hitherto had been exempted from bearing their
proportion of the public burdens. It was also proposed
that the various branches of internal taxation should un¬
dergo a strict examination; and a considerable resource
was anticipated in mortgaging the demesne lands of the
crown.
The necessity for these reforms, however, was combated
with a degree of boldness and force of reasoning which
could not fail to make a deep impression on the assembly ;
and, instead of meeting with a ready acquiescence, the
comptroller-general found that he had launched into the
boundless ocean of political controversy. M. Neckar,
previously to his retirement, had published his compte,
rendu au roi> in which France was represented as possess¬
ing a clear surplus of above four hundred thousand pounds
sterling. This performance had been read with avidity,
and probably contributed to deprive the author of the
royal favour; but the credit of the work was ably vindi¬
cated by M. de Brienne, archbishop of Toulouse. M. de
Calonne met with a still more formidable adversary in the
Count de Mirabeau. This extraordinary man, restless in
disposition, licentious in morals, but bold, penetrating, and
enterprising, had occasionally visited every court in Eu¬
rope. He had been admitted at one time to the confidence
of the minister, and had been directed, though not in an
ostensible character, to observe at Berlin the disposition
of the successor of the great Frederick; but whilst em¬
ployed in this capacity he was frequently exposed to ne¬
glect and disappointment, and his letters were often left
unanswered. Disgust succeeded to admiration; and he
who had entered the Prussian court the intimate friend,
returned to Paris the declared enemy, of M. de Calonne.
Accordingly, whilst the archbishop arraigned the under¬
standing, Mirabeau impeached the integrity, of the comp¬
troller-general.
The eloquence of M. de Calonne, however, might have
successfully vindicated his system and reputation against
the calculations of Brienne and the invectives of Mira¬
beau ; but he could not support himself against the influ¬
ence of the three great bodies of the nation. The ancient
nobility and the clergy had ever been free from all public
assessments; and had the evil gone no further, it might
still perhaps have been borne with patience ; but, through
the shameful custom of selling patents of nobility, such
crowds of new noblesse started up, that every province in
the kingdom was filled with them. The first object with
those who had rapidly acquired fortunes, was to purchase
a patent, which, besides gratifying their vanity, afforded
an exemption to them and their posterity from contribut¬
ing to the exigencies of the state. The magistracies like¬
wise throughout the kingdom enjoyed their share of these
exemptions ; so that the whole weight of taxation fell upon
those classes who were least able to bear it. Hence the
minister’s design of equalizing the public burdens, and
diminishing the load borne by the lower and most useful
classes of the people, by rendering the taxes general,
though undoubtedly great and patriotic, at once united
against him the nobility, the clergy, and the magistracy.
And the result was such as might have been expected.
The intrigues of these three bodies raised against him so
loud a clamour, that finding it impossible to stem the tor-
F
42
FRANCE.
History, rent, he not only resigned his office on the 12th of April,
but soon afterwards withdrew to England from the storm
of persecution which now impended over him.
Disturb- In the midst of these domestic transactions, the atten-
ances m jjon 0f Louis was calle[i to the state of affairs in Holland.
0 an ‘ The prince of Orange having been stripped of all autho¬
rity by the aristocratic party, had retired from the Hague,
and now maintained the shadow of a court at Nimeguen.
But his brother-in-law, the new king of Prussia, exerted
himself to promote the interests of the stadtholder, and
offered, in concert with France, to undertake the arduous
task of composing the differences which distracted the re¬
public. The proposal was received with much apparent
cordiality by the court of Versailles. At the same time it
was scarcely to be expected that France would become the
instrument of restoring the prince of Orange to that share
of power which he had previously enjoyed, and thus aban¬
don a favourite object of policy, namely, establishing a su¬
preme and permanent control in the councils of Holland.
In fact, the conditions framed as the basis of reconciliation
by the Louvestein faction, were such as plainly indicated
their design of reducing within very narrow limits the in¬
fluence and authority of the stadtholder. On his renoun¬
cing the right of filling up occasional vacancies in the town
senates, he was to be restored to the nominal office of cap¬
tain-general ; but he was to be restrained from marching
troops into any province, or out of it, without leave from
the respective provinces concerned ; and he was also to
subscribe a resolution passed some time previously by the
senate of Amsterdam, that the command should at all
times be revocable at the pleasure of the states. Had
the prince acquiesced in these preliminaries, France would
have completely attained the object of her lengthened
negotiations, and by means of the Louvestein faction ac¬
quired the ascendency which she had repeatedly sought
to obtain in the councils of Holland. But, under the dif¬
ficulties which surrounded him, the prince of Orange was
admirably supported and assisted by the genius, spirit,
and abilities of his consort, who firmly rejected every
measure tending to abridge the rights attached to the
office of stadtholder; and M. de Rayneval, the French
negotiator, having in vain endeavoured to overcome her
resolution, broke off the correspondence between the
Hague and Nimeguen, and returned to Paris about the
middle of January 1787.
But the republican party were totally disappointed in
the hopes which they had formed of assistance from France.
The court of Versailles had indeed long trusted to the
natural strength of this party, and had been assiduous
during the summer in endeavouring to second them by
every species of succour which could be privately afforded.
Crowds of French officers arrived daily in Holland, and
either received commissions in the service of the states,
or acted as volunteers in their troops; several hundreds
of tried and experienced soldiers were selected from dif¬
ferent regiments, furnished with money for their journey,
and dispatched in small parties to join the troops, and
assist in disciplining the burghers and volunteers; and a
considerable corps of engineers were also directed to pro¬
ceed in disguise towards Amsterdam, in order to assist in
strengthening the works of that city. But these aids,
which might have proved effectual had the contest been
confined to the states of Holland and the stadtholder,
were rendered unavailing by the rapid invasion of the Prus¬
sians; the court of Berlin had taken its measures writh so
much celerity, and the situation of the republicans had al¬
ready become so desperate, that it was doubtful whether
their affairs could be restored by any assistance which
I' ranee was capable of immediately affording. Neverthe¬
less, on Great Britain fitting out a strong squadron of men
of war at Portsmouth, to give confidence to the operations
1787.
of the king of Prussia, the court of Versailles sent orders History,
to equip sixteen sail of the line at Brest, and recalled a 1
small squadron which had been commissioned to cruise
on the coast of Portugal. But in these preparations Louis
seemed rather to regard his own dignity, than to be ac¬
tuated by any purpose of effectually relieving his allies.
All opposition in Holland might already be considered as
extinguished. The states assembled at the Hague had
officially notified to the court of Versailles, that the dis¬
putes between them and the stadtholder were now happily
terminated; and as the circumstances which gave occa¬
sion to their application to that court no longer existed,
they intimated that the succours which they had former¬
ly requested would not now be necessary. Under these
circumstances, as the chief concern of France was to ex¬
tricate herself with honour from her present difficulty, she
readily listened to a memorial from the British minister at
Paris, in which it was proposed that, in order to preserve
a good understanding between the two crowns, all warlike
preparations should be discontinued, and that the navies
of both kingdoms should again be reduced to the footing
of a peace establishment; a proposition which was gladly
acceded to by the court of Versailles, and the harmony
which had been transiently interrupted was thus restored.
But though the French king could not but sensibly feel Assembly
the mortification of thus relinquishing the ascendency ^N°tr
which he had obtained in the councils of Holland, the in-a^es
ternal situation of his kingdom furnished matter for moresolved’
serious reflection. The dismission of M, de Calonne had
left France without a minister, and almost without a sys¬
tem of government; and though the king bore the oppo¬
sition of the Notables with temper, yet the disappoint¬
ment he had experienced sunk deep in his mind. With¬
out obtaining any relief for his most urgent necessities, he
perceived when too late that he had opened a way for the
restoration of the ancient constitution of France, which
had been undermined by the craft of Louis XL and near¬
ly extinguished by the daring councils of Richelieu under
Louis XIII. The Notables had indeed conducted them¬
selves with respect and moderation, but at the same time
they had not been deficient in firmness. The appointment
of the Archbishop of Toulouse, the avowed adversary of M.
de Calonne, to the office of comptroller-general, probably
contributed to preserve the appearance of good humour
in that assembly; but notwithstanding this, the proposed
territorial impost or general land-tax, an object so ardent¬
ly desired by the court, was rejected. Deprived of all
hope of rendering the convention subservient to the relief
of his embarrassments, and also dreading the spirit which
it had on several occasions evinced, Louis determined to
dissolve the assembly, which he did accordingly, in a mo¬
derate and conciliatory speech addressed to the members
on their dismission.
Being thus disappointed of the advantage which he had
hoped to derive from the acquiescence of the Notables,
the king was now obliged to revert to the usual mode of
raising money by royal edicts; and amongst the measures
proposed for this purpose were the doubling of the poll-
tax, the re-establishment of the third-twentieth, and a
stamp duty. But, as might have been expected, this sum¬
mary method was strongly disapproved by the parliament
of Paris ; and that assembly refused, in the most positive
terms, to register the edict. In the last resort, therefore,
Louis was obliged to have recourse to his absolute autho¬
rity ; and, by holding what is called a bed of justice, he
compelled the parliament to register the impost. But
the latter, though defeated, were not subdued ; and on
the day after the king had held his bed of justice they
entered a formal protest against the edict, declaring that
it had been registered against their approbation and con¬
sent, by the express command of the king ; that it neither
FRA
History, should nor ought, to have any force; and that the first
person who presumed to carry it into execution would be
1787- adjudged a traitor, and condemned to the galleys. I his
spirited declaration left the king no alternative, but either
to proceed to extremities in support of his authority, or to
relinquish for ever afterwards the power of raising money
upon any occasion without the consent of the parliament.
But though naturally of a mild disposition, and averse to
violent measures, Louis determined not to surrender, with¬
out a struggle, that authority which had so long been ex¬
ercised by his predecessors. Ever since the commence¬
ment of the discontents, considerable bodies of troops had
been gradually marched into the capital; and, about a
week after the parliament entered their protest, an officer
of the guards, with a party of soldiers, proceeded at day¬
break to the house of each member, to signify to him the
king’s command, that he should immediately get into his
carriage, and withdraw to Troyes, a city of Champagne,
about seventy miles from Paris, wdthout writing or speak¬
ing to any person out of his own house previously to his
departure. These orders were all served at the same in¬
stant; and before the citizens of Paris became acquainted
with the transaction, their magistrates were already on the
road to their place of banishment. Previously to their re¬
legation, however, they had presented a remonstrance on
the recent measures of government, and the alarming state
of public affairs. In stating their opinions on taxes, they
declared that neither the parliaments nor any other au¬
thority, excepting that of the three estates of the kingdom
collectively, could warrant the imposition of any perma¬
nent tax on the people; and they strongly urged the re¬
newal of those national assemblies which had rendered
the reign of Charlemagne at once so illustrious and bene¬
ficent.
This demand for the convocation of the national coun¬
cil or States General was the more honourable to the par¬
liament, as the latter assemblies had uniformly sunk under
the influence of the former, and returned to their original
condition of mere courts of registration and law. The
confidence and attachment of the people therefore rose in
proportion to this disinterestedness; their murmurs were
openly expressed in the streets of the capital, and the ge¬
neral dissatisfaction was augmented in consequence of the
stop put to public business by the exile of the parliament.
Meanwhile the cabinet appeared weak, disunited, and
fluctuating; and continual changes took place in every
department of the state. Averse to rigorous counsels,
Louis wished to allay the growing discontent by every con¬
cession consistent, with his dignity ; but the queen, it was
believed, strongly dissuaded him from taking any step
which might tend to diminish the royal authority. The in¬
fluence of this princess in the cabinet was undoubtedly
great; but the popularity which she had once enjoyed
was no more, and some imputations of private levity,
which had been scattered through the capital, were far
from rendering her acceptable to the majority of the
people. The Count d’Artois, the king’s brother, who had
expressed himself in the most unguarded terms against
the conduct of the parliament, also stood exposed to all
the consequences of popular hatred. Nor was it in the
capital alone that the flame of liberty burst forth ; it blaz¬
ed with equal strength in the provincial parliaments.
Amongst various instances of this, the parliament of Gre¬
noble passed a decree against lettres de cachets declaring
the execution of these odious instruments of arbitrary
power, within their jurisdiction, by any person, and under
any authority whatsoever, to be a capital crime.
The king had endeavoured to soothe the Parisians by new
regulations of economy, and by continual retrenchments in
his household; but these proofs of a desire to lessen the
public burdens, though they would at one time have been
N C E. 43
received with the loudest acclamations, were now disre- History,
garded, and the absence of the parliament was considered
as an evil for which nothing could atone. In order there- 1787.
fore to regain the affections of his subjects, his majesty
consented to restore that assembly, and at the same time
to abandon the stamp duty and the territorial- impost*
which had been the chief subjects of dispute. But these
measures were insufficient to establish harmony between
the court and the parliament. The necessities of the
state still remained unprovided for; nor could the defi¬
ciency of the revenue be supplied, except by extraordi¬
nary resources or a long course of rigid frugality. About
the middle of November 1787, in a full meeting of the
parliament, attended by all the princes of the blood and
the peers of France, the king entered the assembly, and
proposed for their approbation two edicts; one for a new
loan of four hundred and fifty millions of francs, or about
nineteen millions sterling, and the other for the re-esta¬
blishment of the Protestants in all their ancient civil rights,
a measure which had long been warmly recommended by
the parliament, and which was now brought forward to
procure a better reception for the loan. On this occasion
the king delivered a speech of unusual length, filled with
professions of regard for the people, but at the same time
dwelling strongly upon the obedience he expected to his
edicts. An animated debate ensued, and was continued
for nine hours, when the king, wearied by opposition, and
chagrined at some freedoms used in the course of the dis¬
cussion, suddenly rose and commanded the edict to be re¬
gistered without further delay. But this order was most
unexpectedly opposed by the Duke of Orleans, first prince
of the blood, who protested against the whole proceedings
of the day, as an infringement on the rights of parliament,
and therefore null and void. The king, though he could
not conceal his astonishment and displeasure at this deci¬
sive step, contented himself with repeating his commands,
and immediately afterwards left the assembly. On his
departure, the parliament confirmed the protest of the
Duke of Orleans, and declared, that as their deliberations
had been interrupted, they considered the whole business
of that day as of no effect.
But as it could not be supposed that Louis would suffer
so bold an attack on his power to pass with impunity, a
letter was next day delivered to the Duke of Orleans, com¬
manding him to retire to Villars-Cotterel, one of his seats,
about fifteen leagues from Paris, and to receive no company
there except his own family; and at the same time the
Abbe Sabbatiere and M. Freteau, both members of the
parliament, who had distinguished themselves in the de¬
bate, were seized under the authority of lettres de cachet,
and conveyed, the former to the castle of Mont St Michel
in Normandy, and the latter to a prison in Picardy. This
act of despotism immediately roused the indignation of
the parliament, which on the following day waited on the
king, and expressed their astonishment and concern that
a prince of the blood-royal should have been exiled, and
two of their members imprisoned, for having declared in
his presence what their duty and consciences dictated, and
at a time when his majesty had announced that he came
to take the sense of the assembly by a plurality of voices.
The answer of the king was reserved, forbidding, and un-i
satisfactory. But this did not prevent the parliament from
attending to the exigencies of the state; and, convinced
of the emergency, they consented to register the loan for
four hundred and fifty millions of livres, which had been,
the principal cause of this unfortunate difference. This,
concession contributed to soften the mind of the king;
and the sentence of the two magistrates was in conse¬
quence changed from imprisonment; to exile; M. Freteau
being sent to one of his country seats, and the Abbe Sab¬
batiere to a convent of Benedictines.
44
FRANCE.
History. The parliament, however, was not so far propitiated by
v—this measure as to give up the points against which they
1788. }iacl originally remonstrated. In a petition, conceived with
great freedom, and couched in the most animated language,
they boldly reprobated the late acts of arbitrary violence,
and demanded the entire liberation of the persons against
whom these had been exercised. At the court of Versailles
there was nothing but uncertainty and fluctuation; now
vigour and now weakness ; violence one day and attempts
at conciliation the next; a king without energy or deci¬
sion of character, and counsellors destitute alike of wisdom,
prudence, and moderation. In the beginning of the year
1788, Louis recalled the Duke of Orleans, who soon after¬
wards obtained permission to retire to England; whilst
the Abbe Sabbatiere and M. Freteau were about the same
time allowed to return to the capital.
But the parliament had not confined their demands to
the liberation of these gentlemen ; they had also echoed
the remonstrances of the parliament of Grenoble, and had
loudly inveighed against the execution oUettres de cachet.
These repeated remonstrances, mingled as they were with
personal reflections, seconded the suggestions of the queen;
and Louis was once more instigated to adopt measures of
severity. MM. d’Espremenil and Monsambert, whose bold
and pointed harangues had given the greatest offence, were
doomed to experience the immediate resentment of the
court.. A body of armed troops having surrounded the
hotel in which the parliament were convened, Colonel
Degout entered the assembly and secured the persons of
the obnoxious members, who were instantly conducted to
different prisons. This new instance of arbitrary violence
drew forth a remonstrance from parliament, which in bold¬
ness far exceeded all the former representations made by
that body. They declared they were now more firmly
convinced than ever, that the entire subversion of the
constitution was aimed at; but they added, that the
French nation would never sanction the despotic measures
which the king had been advised to adopt; that the fun¬
damental laws of the kingdom must not be trampled on ;
and that the royal authority could only be esteemed as
long as it was tempered with justice.
Assembly Language so pointed and decisive, asserting the con-
otthe Not-trolling power of the laws above the regal authority, could
tmin con- n0t . t0 a^arm ^le king; and, with a view to diminish
vened. tke influence of the parliament, it was determined again to
convene the Notables. Accordingly, about the beginning
of May, Louis appeared in that assembly, and after com¬
plaining of the excesses in which the parliament of Paris
had indulged, and which had drawn down his reluctant
indignation on a few of the members, he declared his re¬
solution, instead of annihilating them as a body, to recall
them to their duty and obedience by a salutary reform.
M. de la Moignon, as keeper of the seals, then explained
his majesty’s intention to establish a plenary court, or su¬
preme assembly, composed of princes of the blood, peers
of the realm, great officers of the crown, the clergy, mar¬
shals of Lrance, governors of provinces, knights of differ¬
ent orders, a deputation of one member from every par¬
liament, and two members from the chambers of council,
which should be summoned as often as any public emer¬
gency should, in the royal opinion, render it necessary to
do so.
But if the Assembly of the Notables listened in silent de¬
ference to the project of their sovereign, the parliament of
Paris received it with undisguised aversion. That body
protested in the strongest manner against the establish¬
ment of any other tribunal, and declared their unalterable
resolution not to assist at any deliberations in the supreme
assembly which his majesty proposed to institute. A
more unexpected mortification occurred to the king in
the opposition of several peers of the realm, who expressed
their regret at beholding the fundamental principles of History,
the constitution violated ; and, though lavish in professions 's—'-y-w'
of attachment to the person of the sovereign, concluded D88.
with apologizing for not entering on the functions assigned
them in the plenary court, which, in their opinion, was in¬
consistent with the true interests of his majesty, no less
than with those of the nation at large. Nor was this op¬
position confined to the parliament. The flame quickly
spread throughout the more distant provinces. At Rennes
in Bretagne, and at Grenoble in Dauphine, the populace
broke out into acts of the most daring outrage. In
the latter city several hundred of the inhabitants perished
in a conflict with the military; but they nevertheless
maintained their ground against the regulars, and the com¬
manding officer, on the entreaty of the first president,
withdrew his troops from a contest into which he had en¬
tered with reluctance. The different parliaments of the
kingdom at the same time expressed their feelings in the
most animated language, strongly urging the necessity of
calling together the States General, the lawful council of
the kingdom, as the only means of restoring public tran¬
quillity and promoting needful reforms.
It now became evident to the king, that a compliance
with the public wishes for the convocation of the States
General was absolutely necessary, to avoid the calamities
of a civil war, which a refusal would render inevitable. In
such event he must have expected to encounter the ma¬
jority of the people, animated by the exhortations and ex¬
ample of their magistrates ; the peers of the realm had also
expressed the strongest disapprobation of his measures;
nor could he even depend on the support of the princes
of the blood. But what afforded the most serious ground
of alarm, was the spirit recently displayed by the military,
who, during the disturbances in the provinces, had with
difficulty been brought to act against their countrymen;
whilst many of their officers, who had been engaged in as¬
sisting to establish the independence of America, publicly
declared their abhorrence of despotism. It was not. how¬
ever, until after many a painful struggle that Louis could
bring himself to restore an assembly, the influence of which
would naturally overshadow that of the crown, whilst its
jurisdiction would confine within narrow limits the uncon¬
trolled power which he had inherited from his predeces¬
sors. In the two preceding reigns the States General had
been wholly discontinued ; and though the queen-regent,
during the troubles attending the minority of Louis XIV.
had frequently expressed her intention of calling them toge¬
ther, she was constantly dissuaded by the representations
of Mazarin. It is probable, however, that Louis XVL still
flattered himself with the hope of alluring the members
of that assembly to the side of the court, and* having em¬
ployed them to establish some degree of regularity in the
finances, and to curb the spirit of the parliament, of again
dismissing them to obscurity.
But be this as it may, an arret was issued in August, Convoca-
fixing the meeting of the States General for the first day of Aon of the
May in the ensuing year; and, during the interval, every ^t,ates
step was taken to secure the favourable opinion of thenera*‘
public. New arrangements took place in the administra¬
tion ; Neckar, who had long enjoyed the confidence of
the people, was again called to the management of the
finances; the torture, which by a former edict had been
in part restricted, was now entirely abolished ; every
person accused was allowed the assistance of counsel, and
permitted to avail himself of any point of law necessary to
his defence; and it was decreed, that in future sentence
of death should not be passed on any person, unless the
accused had been pronounced guilty by a majority of at
least three judges.
As the time appointed for the convention of the States
General approached, the means of assembling them form-
FRANCE.
45
History, ed a matter of very grave deliberation in the cabinet.
Tlie last meeting, in 1614, had been convened by appli-
1788. cation to the bailiwicks. But this mode was liable to
strong objections, as the bailiwicks bad been increased in
number and jurisdiction, several provinces having since
that period been united to France ; and as the numbers
and quality of the members were no less an object of se¬
rious attention, it was not till the close of the year that
the proposal of Neckar, which fixed the number of de¬
puties at a thousand and upwards, and ordained that the
representatives of the third estate or commons should
equal in number those of the nobility and clergy united,
wras adopted. Meanwhile the eyes of all Europe were
turned towards the States General; but the moment of
their meeting was far from being auspicious. The minds
of the French had long been agitated by various rumours ;
the unanimity which had been expected from the differ¬
ent orders of the states was destroyed by the jarring pre¬
tensions of each; and their mutual jealousies were attri¬
buted by the suspicions of the people to the intrigues of
the court, wdiich, it was supposed, already repented of the
hasty assent which had been extorted from it. A scar¬
city which pervaded the kingdom increased the general
discontent; and the people, pressed by hunger, and in¬
flamed by resentment, were ripe for revolt. The sove¬
reign also, impatient of the obstacles which he continual¬
ly encountered, could not conceal his chagrin ; whilst the
influence of the queen in the cabinet manifested itself by
the immediate removal of Neckar. The dismission of
this minister, who had so long been the favourite of the
public, was the signal of open insurrection. The Parisians
assembled in great numbers; the guards refused to stain
their arms w ith the blood of their fellow-citizens; the
Count d’Artois and the most obnoxious of the nobility
thought themselves happy in eluding by flight the fury of
the insurgents; and in a moment a revolution was accom¬
plished, which, in all its circumstances, is the most re¬
markable of any recorded in history.
Causes of The moral history of man is always more important than
the Revo- the mere recital of such physical occurrences as diversify
lution. his existence. It is not the fall of a mighty monarch and
the overthrow of his dynasty, it is not the convulsion of
empires, and the rivers of human blood which have been
shed, that render the French Revolution peculiarly inte¬
resting. Such events, however deplorable, are far from
being without example in the history of mankind. In the
populous regions of the East, where superstition and sla¬
very have always prevailed, these are regarded as forming
part of the ordinary course of human affairs, because an
intrepid and skilful usurper always finds it easy to intimi¬
date millions of ignorant and credulous men. But in Eu¬
rope the case is very different indeed. No adventurer can
advance far without encountering thousands as artful and
as daring as himself. Events are not the result either of
blind hazard or of individual skill. Conspiracies or plots
produce but little effect. Like other arts, that of govern¬
ment has been much improved ; and an established con¬
stitution can only be shaken by a strong convulsion pro¬
duced by national passions and national efforts. The won¬
derful spectacle which we are now to contemplate, is that
of an enlightened and polished people becoming in an in¬
stant fierce and sanguinary; a long established government,
fortified by the recollections of ages, and forming as it
were part of the national character, overturned almost
without a struggle ; a whole nation apparently uniting to
destroy every institution which time had hallowed or edu¬
cation had taught them to revere; a superstitious people
treating the religion of their forefathers with contempt;
a long-enslaved race, whose very chains had become dear
to them, occupied in the discussion of refined and even
visionary schemes of freedom ; in short, twenty-five mil¬
lions of men suddenly treading under foot every sent!- History,
ment and every prejudice which they themselves had once
regarded as sacred and venerable. 1788.
Like the other nations of Europe, France was anciently
governed by a rude and fierce aristocracy, the different
members of which were feebly united by the authority of
a succession of kings destitute of power or influence. The
nobles, within their own territories, enjoyed privileges
almost royal. They made peace and war; they coined
money; they were judges in the last resort; their vassals
were their slaves, whom they bought and sold along with
the lands; and the inhabitants of cities, although freemen,
were poor, depressed, and dependent on the protection of
some baron in their neighbourhood. But, by the progress
of the arts, the cities at length rose into importance, and
their inhabitants, along with such freemen of low rank as
resided in the country, were considered as entitled to a
representation in the States General of the kingdom, under
the appellation of tiers etat, or third estate. When in pro¬
cess of time, however, the power of the crown had crushed
that of the barons, and the sovereign became despotic, the
meetings of the States General were discontinued. But
absolute authority on the part of the crown was not ac¬
quired, as it was in England under the house of Tudor, by»
abolishing the pernicious privileges of the nobles, and ele¬
vating the commons: it was obtained by skilful encroach¬
ments, by daring exertions of prerogative, and by the em¬
ployment of a regular military force. In France, there¬
fore, the monarch was absolute, whilst the nobles retained
their feudal privileges, and the ecclesiastical hierarchy also
enjoyed its peculiar rights and immunities.
But the kingdom of France, previously to the Revolu¬
tion, had never been reduced to one homogeneous mass.
It consisted of a variety of separate provinces acquired
by different means; some by marriage, others by legacy,
and others again by conquest. Each province retained
its ancient laws and privileges, whether political or civil,
as expressed in the capitularies or conditions by which
it was originally acquired. In one part of his dominions
the French monarch was a count, in another he was a duke,
in a third he was a king; whilst the only bond which unit¬
ed his vast empire was the strong military force by which
it was overawed. Each province had its barriers ; and the
intercourse between one province and another was often
more restricted by local usages than the intercourse of
either with a foreign country. Some of the provinces, as
Bretagne and Dauphine, even retained the right of as¬
sembling periodically their provincial states; but these
constituted no barrier against the power of the court.
The clergy formed the first estate of the kingdom in
point of precedence. In number they amounted to about
a hundred and thirty thousand. The higher orders en¬
joyed immense revenues ; but the cures or great body of
the working clergy seldom possessed more than about L.28
sterling a year, whilst their vicaires had only about half
that sum. A few of the dignified clergy were men of
great piety, who resided constantly in their dioceses, and
attended to the duties of their office ; but by far the greater
number passed their lives at Paris and Versailles, immers¬
ed in all the intrigues and dissipation of a corrupt court
and a profligate capital. They were almost exclusively
selected from amongst the younger branches of the fami¬
lies of the high nobility ; and it had even come to be ac¬
counted a species of dishonour for any persons of low rank
to be admitted into the episcopal order. The lower clergy,
on the contrary, were for the most part persons of mean
birth, who had little chance of preferment, but who, by
living constantly among the people, naturally participated
in their feelings and opinions. As a body, the clergy
possessed, independently of the tithes, a revenue arising
from their property in land, which amounted to four or
FRANCE.
History, five millions sterling annually, and they were at the same
time exempt from taxation. The crown had latterly at-
' • tempted to break down this privilege; but, to avoid the
clanger, the clergy had presented to the court, as a free
gift, a sum of money somewhat short of a million sterling
every five years.
The nobility was nominally the second order of the
state, but it was in reality the first. The nobles amounted
to no less than two hundred thousand in number. The
title and rank descended to all the children of the family,
but the property went to the eldest alone; and hence
vast multitudes of penniless nobles were entirely depen¬
dent upon the bounty of the court. They regarded the
useful and commercial arts as dishonourable, and even
the liberal professions of the law and physic they consi¬
dered as in a great measure beneath their dignity, dis¬
daining to intermarry with the families of their profes¬
sors. The feudal system in its purity was favourable to
the production of respectable qualities in the minds of
those who belonged to the order of the nobles; but the
introduction of commerce had rendered its decline equally
unfavourable to that class of persons. Instead of the an¬
cient patriarchal attachment between the feudal chieftain
and his vassals, the nobility had become greedy landlords
in the provinces, that they might appear in splendour at
court and in the capital, where, plunged in intrigue and
sensuality, their characters became frivolous and con¬
temptible. Such of the French nobility, however, as re¬
mained in the provinces, regarded with indignation this
degradation of their order, and still retained a proud sense
of honour and of courage, which has always rendered
them respectable. The order of the nobles was exempted
from the payment of taxes, although the property of some
of them was immense. The estates of the prince of Conde,
for example, were worth L.200,000 a year, and those of
the Duke of Orleans nearly twice as much. The crown
had indeed imposed some trifling taxes upon the nobility,
but these they contrived, in a great measure, to elude.
Next to the nobles, and as a privileged order possessing
a secondary kind of nobility of their own, may be men¬
tioned the parliaments. These consisted of large bodies
of men, in different provinces, and served as courts of law
for the administration of justice. In consequence of the
corruption of the officers of state, the members purchased
their places, which they held for life; but the son was
usually preferred when he offered to purchase his father’s
place. Practising lawyers had but little chance of ever
becoming judges. In courts thus constituted, consisting
of a motley mixture of old and young, learned and igno¬
rant, justice was of course indifferently administered.
I he judges allowed their votes in depending causes to be
openly solicited by the parties or their friends. No wise
man ever entered into a litigation against a member of
one of these parliaments, and no lawyer would undertake
to plead his cause; such a suit never came to a success¬
ful issue, and usually came to no issue at all. But after
the States General had fallen into disuse, the parliaments
{inquired a certain degree of political consequence, and
formed the only check upon the absolute power of the
crown. The laws, or royal edicts, before being put in
force, were always sent to be registered in the books of
the parliaments. Taking advantage of this practice, in
favourable times and circumstances, the latter often delay¬
ed or refused to enregister the royal edicts, and present¬
ed remonstrances against them. And this was done un¬
der cover of a legal fiction. For they pretended that the
obnoxious edict, being injurious to the public welfare,
could not be the will of the king, but must either be a
forgery or an imposition by the ministers. Objections of
this kind were, however, got rid of, either by a positive
order from the king, or by his coming in person and or¬
dering the edict to be registered. The parliaments, tie- History,
vertheless, often carried their opposition a great length,
indeed even to the ruin of themselves and their families USS.
as individuals. This rendered them extremely popular
with the nation, and enabled them to embarrass a weak
administration. But, after all, the opposition of the par¬
liaments proved so feeble, that it was not thought worth
while to abolish them entirely till towards the end of the
reign of Louis XV. ; and they were restored as a popular
measure at the beginning of that of Louis XVI.
The tiers etat, or commons, formed the lowest order of
the state in France, and they were depressed and miser¬
able in the extreme. To form a conception of their si¬
tuation, it is necessary to observe that the whole pecuni¬
ary burdens of the state were laid on them. They alone
were liable to taxation. An expensive and ambitious
court; an army of two hundred thousand men in time of
peace, and twice that number in war; a considerable ma¬
rine establishment; public roads and works; all were sup¬
ported exclusively by taxes levied from the lowest of the
people. The revenues also were collected in a wasteful
and oppressive manner. They were farmed out at a cer¬
tain estimated sum, over and above which the farmers-
general not only acquired immense fortunes for them¬
selves, but were also enabled to advance enormous pre¬
sents to those favourites or mistresses of the king or the
minister by means of whom they procured their contracts.
In raising all this money from the people, they were guil¬
ty of the most cruel oppression; as they had it in their
power to obtain whatever revenue laws they pleased, and
to execute these in the severest manner, their exactions
were measured by their own cupidity alone. For this pur¬
pose they kept in pay an army of clerks, subalterns, scouts,
end spies, amounting, it is said, to about eighty thousand.
This class of persons were equally detested by the king,
whom they deceived and kept in poverty; by the people,
whom they oppressed ; and by the ancient nobility, whom
they eclipsed by the splendour of their establishments and
the prodigality of their expenditure. But the court of
France could never contrive to dispense with these finan¬
cial middle-men. The peasants were also liable to be call¬
ed out by the intendants of the provinces, in what were
called corvees, to work upon the high roads for a certain
number ol days in the year. I his was a source of severe
oppression, as the intendant had the choice of the time
and place of their employment, and was not bound to
accept of any commutation in money. They were more¬
over subject to the nobles in a great variety of ways.
I he latter retained all their ancient manorial or patrimo¬
nial jurisdictions. The common people being anciently
slaves, had obtained their freedom upon different condi¬
tions. In many places they and their posterity remained
bound to pay a perpetual tribute to their feudal lords;
and such tributes formed a considerable part of the re¬
venue of many of the provincial nobles. By a recent re¬
gulation, no man could be appointed an officer of the army
until he had produced proofs of nobility for four genera¬
tions. The parliaments, although originally of the tiers
etat, attempted also to introduce a rule that none but the
nobility should be admitted into their order. It will not
be accounted surprising, therefore, that the common peo¬
ple of France were extremely ignorant and superstitious.
I hey were, however, passionately devoted to their mo¬
narch, and all that concerned him. In 1754, when Louis
XV. was taken ill at Metz, the whole nation was thrown
into a kind of despair. The courier who brought the news
of his recovery to Paris was almost suffocated by the em¬
braces of the populace, who even extended their loyal en¬
dearments to the horse which had carried him.
The trench monarch was, in every sense of the word,
despotic. His power was supported by the army, and by
FRA
History, a watchful police with an infinite host of spies and other
servants in its pay. In France no man was safe. The
1788. secrets of private families were searched into. Nothing,
in fact, escaped the jealous inquisition of the police. Men
were seized by lettres de cachet when they least expected
it, and their families had no means of discovering their
fate. The sentence of a court of law against a nobleman
was usually reversed by the minister. No book could be
published without the license of a censor-general, appoint¬
ed by the court, and the minister was accountable to none
but the king. No account was given of the expenditure
of the public money. Enormous gratifications and pen¬
sions were often bestowed as the reward of the most infa¬
mous services. The supreme power of the state was com¬
monly lodged with a favourite mistress, who was sometimes
a woman taken from the stews. This was not indeed the
case under Louis XVI., but it was nevertheless one of the
misfortunes of his life that he was far from being absolute
in his own family. Still, however, with all its manifold
faults, the French court was the most splendid and po¬
lished in Europe. It was more the resort of men of ta¬
lents and literature of every kind, and there they met
with more ample protection, than anywhere else. The
court was often jealous of their productions; but they met
with the most distinguished attention from men of fortune
and rank; insomuch that for a century previous to this
the French had given the law to Europe in all questions
of taste, literature, and polite accomplishment. The gai¬
ety and elegance which prevailed at court diffused itself
throughout the nation, and, amidst much internal misery,
gave it an external appearance of happiness, or at least of
contented endurance.
But, such as it was, this government had stood for ages,
and might have continued much longer, had not a con¬
currence of causes contributed to its overthrow. The in¬
ferior orders of the clergy, excluded from all chance of
preferment, regarded their superiors with jealousy and
envy, and were ready to join the laity of their own rank
in any popular commotion. The inferior provincial nobi¬
lity beheld with contempt and indignation the vices and
the power of the courtiers, and the higher nobility desired
to diminish the power of the crown. The practising law¬
yers, being almost entirely excluded from the chance of
becoming judges, wished eagerly for a change of system,
not doubting that their talents and professional skill would
render them necessary amidst any alterations which might
occur; and accordingly they were the first instruments in
producing the Revolution, and amongst its most active
supporters. The monied interest eagerly longed for the
downfall of the ancient nobility. With respect to the
great mass of the common people, they were too ignorant,
too superstitiously attached to old establishments, and too
much depressed, to have any distinct conception of the
nature of political liberty, or any hope of obtaining it; but
their minds were nevertheless in some measure prepared
for change, by the contagious influence, as it were, of the
passions which were fermenting around them.
For forty years the principles of liberty had been dis¬
seminated with eagerness in France by men of great ta¬
lents, as Rousseau, Voltaire, Helvetius, and Raynal, to
whom the celebrated Montesquieu had led the way. Be¬
sides these, there was in France a vast multitude of what
were called men of letters, or persons who gave this ac¬
count of the manner in which they spent their time ; and
all these were deeply engaged on the side of some kind of
political reform. The men of letters in Paris alone are
said to have amounted to twenty thousand. One of the
last acts of the administration of the Archbishop of Tou¬
louse was to publish a resolution of the king in council,
dated 5th July 1780, inviting all his subjects to give him
their advice with regard to the state of affairs. This was
N C E. 47
considered as the concession of an unlimited liberty of the History,
press; and it is scarcely possible to form an idea of the
infinite variety of political publications which from that 1788*
period diffused amongst the people a dissatisfaction with
the order of things under which they had hitherto lived.
The established religion of France had for some time
past been gradually undermined. It had been solemnly
assaulted by philosophers in various elaborate perform¬
ances; and the men of wit, amongst whom Voltaire took
the lead, had attacked it with the dangerous weapon of
ridicule, which in France is so much more effective than
argument. The Roman Catholic religion is much exposed
in this respect, in consequence of the multitude of false mi¬
racles and legendary tales with which its history abounds.
But, without discriminating between the principles on which
it rests, and the superstitious follies by which these had
been defaced, the French nation learned to laugh at the
whole, and rejected instead of reforming the religion of
their fathers. Thus the first order in the state had al¬
ready begun to be regarded as useless, and the minds of
men were prepared for important changes.
Upon the whole, then, it appears that a great variety of
causes contributed, some more and others less directly,
to bring about that grand social and political movement
which, in the early part of its career, dashed in pieces
the oldest monarchy in Europe, and gave to the regene¬
rative principle an impulse which has been felt even in
distant nations, and the ultimate effects of which no one
can as yet compute. In the first place, the destruction of
the power of the great vassals of the crown, and the con¬
solidation of the monarchy into one great kingdom, during
the reigns of Louis XL, Francis L, and Henry IV., was
essential to the Revolution; for, had the central power
been weaker, and the privileges of the great feudatories
remained unimpaired, France, like Germany, would most
probably have been split into a number of independent
principalities, all unity of feeling or national energy would
have been lost in the division of interests, and a revo¬
lution would no more have happened in France than in
Silesia or Saxony. Secondly, the military spirit of the
French, and the native valour which a long series of nation¬
al triumphs had sustained, inspired them with the moral
courage to commence, and the fortitude to maintain, a
conflict, under which a people differently circumstanced
would have speedily sunk. Thirdly, the spirit of free in¬
vestigation which distinguished the eighteenth century,
and which, from expatiating in the regions of taste and
philosophy, passed, by an easy transition, into those of
politics and religion, no doubt contributed powerfully to
produce that change of opinion which sooner or later
brings about important alterations in the institutions of a
country. This freedom of inquiry and discussion, which
assumed its greatest latitude in the writings of Voltfiire,
Rousseau, Raynal, and the Encyclopedists, existed by
sufferance, it is true, and was confined to abstract ques¬
tions alone ; yet the fact of its having been tolerated is a
proof that the minds of men were prepared to re-consider
all received opinions, and that the religious and political
speculations which are commonly supposed to have creat¬
ed the revolutionary spirit, were in reality the symptoms
of a change already operated, but which they contributed
incalculably to extend and confirm. Fourthly, the church
in France experienced the fate of all attempts in an ad¬
vancing age to fetter the human mind by the shackles of
an antiquated creed, or the tyranny of an overgrown and
corrupt hierarchy ; the resistance to its authority became
general, the good and the bad parts of its doctrine were
indiscriminately rejected, and blind belief gave place to
the most uncompromising scepticism. Infidelity became
a test of mental independence ; and the progress of philo¬
sophical speculation, as evinced in the writings of Ray-
FRANCE.
48
History, nal, Voltaire, Diderot, and Rousseau, served more and
more to confirm the tendency to which we have alluded.
173a. Fifthly, the exclusive immunities enjoyed by the nobility,
the grievances which the French nation suffered in conse¬
quence, and the insolence of privileged tyranny, which is
even more keenly resented than the tyranny itself, were
mainly instrumental in bringing about the Revolution.
“ Numerous and serious as the grievances of the French
nation were,” says Rivarol, “ it was not these that occa¬
sioned the Revolution. Neither the taxes, nor the lettres
de cachet, nor the other abuses of authority, nor the vexa¬
tions of the prefects, nor the ruinous delays of justice,
irritated the nation : it was Xhe prestige of nobility which
excited all the ferment, a fact which proves that it was
the shopkeepers, the men of letters, the monied interest,
in a word, all those who were jealous of the nobility, who
roused against them the lower classes in the towns, and
the peasantry in the country. In truth, it was an extra¬
ordinary circumstance that the nation should say to a child
possessed of parchment, 1 You shall one day be either a
prelate, or a marshal, or an ambassador, as you choose,’
whilst it has nothing to offer to its other children.” And
to all these may be added, as concurring and co-operating
causes, first, the unprecedented inequality of taxation ; se¬
condly, the state of the labouring poor, who had been redu¬
ced to the most abject misery; thirdly, the non-residence of
the landed proprietors, drawing after it, as is almost in¬
variably the case, a discontented tenantry and a neglect¬
ed country; fourthly, the local burdens and feudal ser¬
vices due by the tenantry to their feudal superiors, which
were to the last degree vexatious and oppressive ; fifth¬
ly, the royal prerogative, which, by a series of successful
usurpations, had reached a height inconsistent with any
thing like real freedom ; sixthly, the corruption which
had long tainted the manners of the court, and poisoned
all the sources of influence ; seventhly, the American
war, which, whilst the minds of the people were in a fer¬
ment, lighted a spark that speedily set fire to the train;
eighthly, the state of the army, both in point of feelingand
discipline ; and, lastly, the spirit of innovation, which may
justly be considered as “ the joint effect and full result’of
all the causes we have enumerated. But so many causes
of disaffection did not come all at once into action ; many
of them had long been in operation. During the whole
reign of Louis XV. the discontents of the people were
gradually increasing, and it was already foreseen that the
reign of his successor would be one of anxiety and trou¬
ble. “ I have had great difficulty,” said Louis XV. “ in
extricating myself from the quarrels with the parliaments
during my whole reign ; let my grandson take care of
them, for it is more than probable they will endanger his
crown.” Subsequently to the peace of 1763, a growing
discontent prevailed in the nation; headed, in the first
instance, by a portion of the nobility, who were either
impelled by the force of public opinion, or ambitious of
popular applause, and augmented latterly by the number¬
less faults of the government, the corruption of the court,
and the misery of the country.
The immense population of the city of Paris rendered
it an important engine in the hands of the fomenters and
conductors of the Revolution. An overgrowm capital has
always proved dangerous to a government which is or at¬
tempts to be despotic; as appears from the history of an¬
cient Babylon and Rome, as well as that of modern Con¬
stantinople, London under Charles L, and Paris in the times
of the League and the Fronde. The general scarcity of
grain which occurred about this period also assisted not a
little in producing many of the convulsions attending the
Revolution. On Sunday the 13th of July 1788, about
nine in the morning, without any eclipse, darkness sud¬
denly overspread several parts of France; a phenomenon
which formed the prelude to a tempest unexampled in the History,
temperate region of Europe. Wind, rain, hail, and thun-
der, seemed to contend in impetuosity; but the hail proved 1788-1739.
the greatest instrument of destruction. Instead of the
rich prospects of an early autumn, the face of nature in
the space of an hour presented the dreary aspect of uni¬
versal winter. The soil was converted into a morass, and
the standing corn beaten into the quagmire; the vines
were broken to pieces, and the fruit trees demolished;
whilst unmelted hail lay in heaps like rocks of solid ice.
Even the most robust forest trees were unable to with¬
stand the fury of the tempest. The hail was composed of
large, solid, angular pieces of ice, some of them weighing
from eight to ten ounces. The country people, beaten
down in the fields on their way to church, amidst this
concussion of the elements, concluded that the last day had
arrived ; and, scarcely attempting to extricate themselves,
lay despairing and half suffocated amidst the water and
the mud, expecting the immediate dissolution of all things.
But the storm was irregular in its devastations. Whilst
several rich districts were laid entirely waste, some inter?
mediate portions of country remained comparatively little
injured. One district of sixty square leagues had not a
single ear of corn or fruit of any kind left. Of the sixty-
six parishes in the district of Pontoise, forty-three were
entirely desolated; and of the remaining twenty-three
some lost two thirds and others half their harvest. The
Isle of France, being the district in which Paris is situ¬
ated, and the Orleannois, appear to have suffered most
severely. The damage done there, upon a moderate
computation, amounted to eighty millions of livres, or
between three and four millions sterling. Such a cala¬
mity must at any period have been severely felt; but
occurring on the eve of a great political revolution, and
amidst a general scarcity throughout Europe, it was pe¬
culiarly unfortunate, and occasioned more embarrassment
to the government than perhaps any other event what¬
ever. Numbers of families found it necessary to contract
their mode of living for a time, and to dismiss their ser¬
vants, who were thus left destitute of bread. Added to
the public discontent and political dissensions, this cala¬
mity produced such an effect upon the people in general,
that the nation seemed to have changed its character ; and
instead of that levity by which it had ever been distin¬
guished, a deep gloom seemed now to settle down on
every countenance.
The spring of the year 1789 was a period of much po-Attempt
litical anxiety in France. The superior orders wished to to reduce
reduce the power of the crown, but were jealous of their P°wer
own privileges, and determined to retain them; whilst crown<
the popular philosophers and others were endeavouring
to render them odious, and to rouse the people to a love
of freedom. Still, however, the great body of the com¬
mon people remained careless spectators of the struggle,
and unconscious of the approaching convulsion. Such was
their indifference, indeed, that few of them took the trou¬
ble even to attend and vote at the elections of the depu¬
ties to the Stafes General. In many places where a thou¬
sand voters were expected, scarcely fifty came forward ;
but such of them as did appear showed that a seed had
been sown which might one day produce important fruits.
In the instructions which they gave to their deputies, the
British constitution formed in general the model upon
which they wished their government to be reconstructed.
They demanded equal taxation, the abolition of lettres de
cachet or arbitrary imprisonment, the responsibility of mi¬
nisters, and the extinction of the feudal privileges of the
nobles; but they wished that the whole three orders of
the state should sit and vote in one house, well knowing
that their nobility were not prepared to act the moderate
part of the British House of Lords. The nobles, on the
FRANCE.
49
1789.
History, other hand, though willing to renounce some of their pe¬
cuniary immunities, and to sacrifice the power of the
crown, were most decidedly resolved neither to surrender
their feudal prerogatives, nor to give up the right of sit¬
ting in three separate assemblies; by means of which
each of the orders could easily resist the encroachments
of the two others. M. Neckar has been severely censur¬
ed for not deciding this last and important question pre¬
viously to the meeting of the States General; but it must
be observed, that the very purpose of calling that assem¬
bly together was to overturn, through its medium, and
without any direct interposition on the part of the mini¬
sters, the unjust privileges of the higher orders. Had
the king positively decided in favour of three chambers,
the nobles and the clergy would have retained all those
ancient privileges established in their favour, of which it
was his wish to deprive them, and the crown and its pre¬
rogatives would have been the only objects of sacrifice.
It was therefore thought safer to leave the tiers etat to
fight its own battle; nor was it yet imagined that the
commons of France, depressed, and poor, and dispersed
over a multitude of provinces, could ever unite in enter¬
prises dangerous to the power of the sovereign,
leeting of The States had been summoned to meet at Versailles
ie States. on t]ie 27th of April, and most of the deputies arrived at
that time; but as the elections for the city of Paris were
not concluded, the king deferred the commencement of
their sessions until the 4th of May, During this period
the members, left in idleness, began to find out and form
acquaintance with one another. In particular, a few from
Bretagne formed themselves into a club, into which they
gradually admitted such other deputies as were found to
be zealous in the popular cause, and also many persons
who were not deputies. This society, which took the
name of the Comite Breton, was originally established at
Versailles, and was destined, under the appellation of the
Jacobin Club, to give laws to France, and to diffuse ter¬
ror and alarm throughout Europe. On the other hand,
the aristocratic party established conferences at the house
of Madame de Polignac, for the purpose, as was alleged,
of uniting the nobles and the clergy. An event occur¬
red at this time which all parties ascribed to some mali¬
cious motive. In the populous suburb of St Antoine,
where a person named Reveillon carried on a great paper
manufactory, a false report was spread that this individual
intended to lower the wages of his workmen, and that he
had declared that bread was too good for them, and that
they might subsist W'ell enough on patato-flour. A com¬
motion was raised, Reveillon was burned in effigy, and his
house thereafter burned and pillaged by the mob, who
were not dispersed till the military had been called in,
and many lives lost. The popular party asserted that
this commotion had been artfully excited by the party of
the queen and the Count d’Artois, to afford a pretence
for bringing great bodies of the military to the neigh¬
bourhood, in order to overawe the States General, or in¬
duce the king to resolve on assembling that body at Ver¬
sailles in preference to Paris, where they and the popu¬
lar minister Neckar wished the assemblage to take place.
On the 4th of May the States General assembled at
Versailles, and commenced business by going to church in
solemn procession, preceded by the clergy, and followed
by the king, according to ancient custom, to perform an
act of devotion. The nobles were arrayed in splendid
robes, and, like the higher clergy, glittered in gold and
jewels. The commons appeared in black, the dress be-
longing to the law. The assembly was thereafter opened
by a short speech from the throne, in which the king con¬
gratulated himself on thus meeting his people assembled ;
alluded to the national debt, and the taxes, which were se¬
verely felt because unequally levied; and noticed the ge-
vol. x.
neral discontent and spirit of innovation which prevailed, History,
but declared his confidence in the wisdom of the assem-
bly for remedying every evil. M. Barretin, the keeper of 1789.
the seals, next addressed the assembly in a congratulatory
speech, and was followed by Neckar. The latter spoke
for three hours; but though much applauded on account
of the clear financial details which his speech contained, he
encountered a certain degree of censure from all parties,
on account of the cautious ambiguity which he observed
regarding the future proceedings of the States General.
The following day the three orders assembled separate¬
ly. The deputies of the tiers etat amounted to six hun¬
dred in number, and those of the nobles and clergy to three
hundred each. During the earlier sittings much time
was spent in unimportant debates about trifling points of
form ; and the first important question which came under
discussion was the verification of their powers, or produc¬
tion of the commissions of the members, and the investi¬
gation of their authenticity. The commons laid hold of
this as a pretext for opening the grand controversy, whether
the States General should sit in one or in three separate
chambers; and they sent a deputation inviting the nobles
and the clergy to meet along with them in the common-
hall, for the purpose of verifying their powers in one com¬
mon assembly. In the chamber of the clergy a hundred
and fourteen members voted for the performance of this
ceremony in the general assembly, and a hundred and thirty-
three against it; but in the order of the nobles the reso¬
lution for the verification in their own assembly was carried
by a majority of a hundred and eighty-eight to forty-seven.
The commons, however, paid no regard to this. Conduct¬
ed by bold and skilful leaders, who discerned the import¬
ance of the point in contest, they resolved not to abandon
it. Hence the latter, though fully cognisant of the exigen¬
cies of the state, and aware that, owing to the deficiency in
the revenue, a short delay might lead to the absolute disso¬
lution of the government, suffered five weeks to pass away
in total inactivity. During this period proposals were made
on the part of the ministry for a pacification between the
three orders, and conferences were opened by commission¬
ers from each ; but no art could induce the commons to
abandon their original purpose, or prevail witn them to
enter upon the business of the state.
The nation having expected much from the assembling Popularity
of the States General, received the intelligence of their in- of the tiers
action with no small degree of concern. But as the tiersttaU
etat was naturally popular, public censure could not readi¬
ly fall upon that favourite order. Besides, from the period
of their assembling, the commons had made every effort to
augment their own popularity. They admitted all persons
promiscuously into the galleries, and even into the body of
their hall; no restraint was attempted to be laid upon the
most vehement marks of popular applause or censure; lists
of the names of the voters were publicly taken and sent to
Paris upon every remarkable occasion ; and thus the mem¬
bers suddenly found that, according to their political senti¬
ments, they became objects of general execration or ap¬
plause. The new and bold notions of liberty which were
daily advanced by the leaders of the tiers etat were re¬
ceived with acclamation by their hearers ; the capital be¬
came interested in the issue of every debate ; and the po¬
litical fervour thus generated thrilled along every nerve and
sinew of society. The commons accused the nobles of ob¬
stinately impeding the business of the state, by refusing to
verify their powers in one common assembly ; and the ac¬
cusation was greedily swallowed by the multitude. The
nobles accordingly became every day more unpopular.
Their persons were insulted; and new publications daily
appeared, in which their order was reviled, and repre¬
sented as an useless or pernicious incumbrance, not to be
tolerated in a free state. Whoever adhered to them was
50 FRA
History, branded with the odious appellation of aristocrat. The
clergy, from the influence of the parish cures or parsons,
1789- seemed ready to desert their cause; and they were even
opposed by a minority of their own body, which derived
lustre from having at its head the Duke of Orleans. Still,
however, the majority of the nobles remained firm ; well
aware, that if they once consented to sit in the same as¬
sembly, and to vote promiscuously, with the more numer¬
ous body of the commons, their whole order, with all its
exclusive privileges, must speedily be overthrown.
Meanwhile the leaders of the commons saw that a change
was taking place in the minds of men ; and regarding the
period as at length arrived when they might emerge from
their inactivity, and seize the whole legislative authority,
they declared that the representatives of the nobles and the
clergy were only the deputies of particular incorporations,
who might sit and vote along with them, but who had no
title in a collective capacity to act as the legislators of
France. For conducting business with more facility, twenty
committees were named. On the suggestion of the Abbe
Sieyes, a final message was sent to the privileged orders,
requiring their attendance as individuals, and intimating
that the commons, as the deputies of ninety-six out of
every hundred of their countrymen, were about to assume
the exclusive power of legislation. None of the nobles
obeyed the summons ; but three cures, named Cesve, Bal¬
lard, and Jallot, presented their commissions, and were re¬
ceived with loud acclamations ; and the following day these
were followed by five more, amongst whom were Gregoire,
Dillon, and Bodineau. After some debate concerning the
appellation which they ought to assume, the commons, with
such of the clergy as had joined them, solemnly voted them¬
selves the sovereign legislators of their country, under the
name of the National Assembly. When the result of the
vote was declared, the hall resounded with shouts, from an
immense concourse of spectators, of Vive le Roi et vive
l'Assemblee Nationale. M. Badly was chosen president
for four days only, MM. Camus and Pison de Galand were
appointed secretaries, and the assembly proceeded to busi¬
ness.
The first acts of the National Assembly were decisively
expressive of its own sovereignty. All taxes imposed with¬
out the consent of the representatives of the people were
declared to be null and void; but a temporary sanction
was given to the existing taxes, though illegal, till the dis¬
solution of the assembly, and no longer ; and it was added,
that as soon as the assembly should be able to fix, in con¬
cert with his majesty, the principles of national regenera¬
tion, it would take into consideration the national debt,
and place the creditors of the state under the safeguard of
the national honour.
Union of The popular cause now gained ground so fast, that on
the clergy the 19th of June a majority of the clergy voted for the ve-
with the rification of their powers in common with the National As-
commons. gembiy^ and resolved to unite with them on the following
day. Affairs had thus come to a crisis, and the nobles per¬
ceived that they must instantly make a decisive stand, or
yield up their cause as utterly lost. So great indeed was their
alarm, that M. d’Espremenil proposed, at one of the sit¬
tings of their order, to address the king, entreating him to
dissolve the States General. Hitherto that prince had gone
along with Neckar in favouring the popular cause in oppo¬
sition to the aristocracy. But every art was now used to
alarm his mind regarding the late assumptions of power on
the part of the commons; and these arts were at length
successful. Repeated councils were held ; and as Neckar
was absent attending a dying sister, the king was prevail¬
ed upon to enter into the views of the aristocratical leaders.
But the first measure which they adopted was so ill con¬
ducted as to afford little prospect of final success to their
cause. On the 20th of June, when the president and mem-
N C E.
bers were about to enter as usual into their own hall, they History,
found it unexpectedly surrounded by a detachment of the
guards, who refused them admission, whilst the herald at DSO.
the same time proclaimed a royal session. Alarmed at this
unforeseen event, the meaning of which they knew not, but
apprehending that an immediate dissolution of the assem¬
bly was intended, they instantly retired to a neighbouring
tennis-court, where, in the heat of their enthusiasm, they
took a solemn oath never to separate until the constitution
they had promised the country should be completed. On
the 22d a new proclamation intimated that the royal ses¬
sion was deferred till the following day. It was now alleg¬
ed that the assembly had been excluded from their hall
merely because the workmen were occupied in preparing
it for the intended solemnity. But this information was
not calculated to excite favourable expectations of the
measures about to be adopted at a royal session, ushered
in by such circumstances of disrespect to the representa¬
tives of the people. The assembly, after wandering about
in quest of a place of meeting, at length entered the church
of St Louis, and were immediately joined by the majority
of the clergy, with their president the Archbishop of Vi¬
enne at their head. Two nobles of Dauphine, the Mar¬
quis de Blazon and the Count d’Agoult, at the same time
presented their commissions. Encouraged by these events,
and by the applause of the multitude, the assembly now
waited with firmness the measures about to be adopted.
The royal session was held in the most splendid form, Discourse
but altogether in the style of the ancient despotism. Sol-of the king,
diers surrounded the hall. The two superior orders were
seated, whilst the representatives of the people, who had
been left standing a full hour in the rain, were in no hu¬
mour, when at last admitted, to receive with much com¬
placency the commands of their sovereign. The king
read a discourse, in which he declared null and void the
resolutions of the 17th, but at the same time presented
the programme of a constitution for France. This scheme
contained many good and patriotic principles, but pre¬
served the distinction of orders, and the exercise of lettres
de cachet; it said nothing about any active share in the
legislative power to be possessed by the States General,
and was silent respecting the responsibility of ministers and
the liberty of the press. The king concluded by command¬
ing the deputies immediately to retire, and to assemble
again on the following day ; after which he then withdrew,
and was followed by all the nobles and a part of the clergy.
The commons remained on their seats in gloomy silence;
but this was at length interrupted by the grand master of
the ceremonies, who reminded the president of the inten¬
tions of the king. The words were scarcely uttered when
Mirabeau, starting from his seat, exclaimed, “ The com¬
mons of France have determined to debate. We have
heard the intentions which have been suggested to the king;
and you, who cannot be his agent with the States Gene¬
ral, you, who have here neither seat nor voice, nor a right
to speak, are not the person to remind us of his speech.
Go tell your master, that we are here by the power of the
people, and that nothing shall expel us but the bayonet.”
The applause of the assembly seconded the enthusiasm of
the orator, and the master of the ceremonies withdrew in
silence. M. Camus then rose, and having in a vehement
speech stigmatized the royal session by the obnoxious ap¬
pellation of a bed of justice, he concluded by moving that
the assembly should declare their unqualified adherence to
their former decrees. This motion was followed by ano¬
ther, declaring the persons of the deputies inviolable ; and
both were unanimously decreed. The assembly according¬
ly continued their sittings in the usual form. On the fol¬
lowing day the majority of the clergy attended as members;
and on the 25th the Duke of Orleans, along with forty-nine
of the deputies belonging to the order of nobility, also joined
FRANCE.
51
listory. them. The remaining nobles, as well as the small minority
of the clergy, now found themselves awkwardly situated ;
1789. wiletiier on this account, or because their leaders had
by this time formed a plan for carrying their point by the
aid of a military force, the king, by a pressing letter, in¬
vited both orders to join the commons ; and this request
was immediately complied with, though many of the nobi¬
lity highly disapproved of the measure,
tuation The situation of France had now become truly alarming,
ranee- When the king retired from the assembly after the royal
session, he was followed by more than six thousand citi¬
zens, with loud clamours and every mark of disapprobation.
At Versailles all was speedily in an uproar. Neckar bad
repeatedly solicited his dismission, the report of which in¬
creased the popular clamour. The court was in consterna¬
tion. The king now discovered that his minister was more
popular than himself. At six o’clock in the evening the
queen sent for M. Neckar ; and when he returned from the
palace, he assured the crowd who waited for him that he
would not abandon them, upon which they retired satisfied.
At the same time the news of the royal session had thrown
the city of Paris into violent agitation. The peace of that
capital was at this time endangered by a variety of causes.
A dreadful famine raged throughout the land, and, as is
usual in such cases, was most severely felt in the capital.
This prepared the minds of men for receiving unfavourable
impressions as to the political state of the country; and,
besides, every effort was made to disorganize the govern¬
ment, and produce a dislike of the ancient order of things.
The press poured forth innumerable publications, filled with
new and seducing, though generally impracticable, theories
of liberty; and these were not only distributed gratis
amongst the people of Paris, but dispersed in the same man¬
ner throughout the provinces. Philip duke of Orleans,
presumptive heir to the crown after the children and bro¬
thers of the king, is with good reason believed to have sup¬
plied out of his more than princely revenues the expense of
these publications. In the gardens of the Palais Royal,
which belonged to him, an immense multitude was daily
assembled, listening from morning till night to orators
who descanted upon the most exciting topics of popular
politics, and many of whom were suspected to be in his
pay. It was even believed, we wish we could say with¬
out reason, that his money found its way into the pockets
of some of the most distinguished leaders in the National
Assembly.
duction But the government was, if possible, still more endan-
the mi- gered by the methods which were now employed to seduce
ar^' the military from their duty. Every officer of the French
army belonged to the order of nobility ; and hence it might
have been imagined that but little danger was to be appre¬
hended from a body so commanded. But this very circum¬
stance became tne means of disorganizing that great engine
of despotism. As uie soldiers could not avoid imbibing
the new opinions, their officers became the first objects of
their jealousy, especially in consequence of the impolitic
edict of Louis XVI. which required every officer to produce
proofs of four degrees of nobility, and thus insulted, by
avowedly excluding, the plebeians from promotion. With
a view to what might eventually occur, the instructions to
the deputies of the tiers etat had recommended an increase
of the pay of the soldiers ; and now every art was employed
to gain them to the popular cause. They were conducted
to the Palais Royal, and there caressed and flattered by
the populace, whilst they listened to the popular harangues.
Nor were the arts of corruption unsuccessful. On the 23d
of June the military refused to fire on the mob in a tumult;
and when some of their number were on the 30th repor ted
to be in confinement for this offence, a crowd instantly col¬
lected and rescued them, the dragoons who were brought to
suppress the tumult grounding their arms. A deputation
of the citizens solicited the assembly to obtain the pardon History,
of the prisoners ; and the assembly applied to the king, who
pardoned them accordingly. 1789.
All these events, together with the tumultuous state of
the capital, which was daily increasing, rendered it neces¬
sary for the king to call out the military force, in order, if
possible, to restore the public peace. That his intentions
were to re-establish order, the actual state of affairs will not
permit us to doubt; but the aristocracy, with the Count
d’Artois at their head, were engaged in bringing forward
other measures, which ultimately contributed to ruin the
king and the monarchy. Crowds of soldiers were collected,
from all parts of the kingdom, around Paris and Versailles;
and it was observed, that these consisted principally of fo¬
reign troops. Camps were traced out, and Marshal Broglio,
an officer of exaggerated reputation, was placed at the head
of the army. The king was supposed to have entirely
yielded to new counsels, and every thing betokened a des¬
perate effort to restore the energy of the ancient govern¬
ment. This was indeed the most interesting and important
period of the French revolution ; it formed as it were the
pivot on which the whole movement turned; yet the spe¬
cific designs of the leading actors have never been clearly
understood, though their general tendency has always been
perfectly intelligible. It was rumoured at the time, that
Paris was to be subdued by a bombardment, and that the
assembly was to be dissolved, and its leaders put to death.
But although such reports were entitled to small credit,
the crisis of French liberty was at hand, and the existence
of the National Assembly as an independent body, at least
upon any other footing than that proposed by the king on
the 23d of June, was also involved. An able and eloquent
address to the king against the assemblage of foreign troops
in their neighbourhood was in the mean time brought for¬
ward by Mirabeau, and voted by the assembly. The king
replied that the state of the capital was the cause of as¬
sembling the troops, and offered to transfer the States Ge¬
neral to Noyons or Soissons. “ We will remove neither to
Noyons nor to Soissons,” exclaimed Mirabeau ; “ we will
not place ourselves between two hostile armies, that which
is besieging Paris, and that which may fall upon us through
Flanders or Alsace: we have not asked permission to run
away from the troops; we have desired that the troops should
be removed from the capital.”
Thirty-five thousand men were now stationed in the
neighboux-hood of Paris and of Versailles. The posts which
commanded the city were occupied, and camps were mark¬
ed out for a greater force. The Count d’Artois and his
party regarded their plans as ripe for execution ; and Nec¬
kar received an order from the king, ordaining him to quit
the kingdom in twenty-four hours. That popular minister
dined with his family after receiving the commands of his
sovereign, and the same evening set out for Brussels. In
his dismission the democratic party perceived that a reso¬
lution had been adopted to accomplish their ruin. The as¬
sembly therefore again addressed the throne, and requested
anew the removal of the troops, offering to become respon¬
sible for the public peace, and to proceed in a body to Paris
to encounter personally every danger which might occur.
But they were coolly told that the king was the best judge
of the mode of employing the troops, and that the presence
of the assembly was necessary at Versailles. On receiving
this reply, it was instantly decreed, on the motion of the
Marquis de Lafayette, that the late ministry had carried
with them the confidence of the assembly ; that the troops
ought to be removed ; that the ministry should be held re¬
sponsible to the people for their conduct; that the assem¬
bly persisted in all its former decrees; and that as it had
taken the public debt under the protection of the nation,
no power in France was entitled to pronounce the de¬
grading word bankruptcy.
52 FRA
History. The city of Paris was thrown into great consternation
by the news of Neckar’s retreat. His bust and that of the
Con stern a Orleans were dressed in mourning, and carried
tion in Pa" through the streets. But the royal Allemand, a German
ris. regiment, having broken in pieces the busts, dispersed
the populace; and the Prince de Lambesc, grand-ecuyer
of France, was ordered to advance with his regiment of
cavalry, and take post at the Tuilleries. Being a man of a
violent temper, and enraged at the appearances of disappro¬
bation which were visible around him, the latter furiously
cut down with his sword an old man who was walking
peaceably in the gardens. The consequences of this inhu¬
man act were such as might have been expected. A shout
of execration instantly arose ; the cry to arms was heard ;
the military was assaulted on all sides ; the French guards
joined their countrymen, and compelled the Germans, over¬
powered by numbers, and unsupported by the rest of the
army, to retire. All order was now at an end, and as night
approached universal terror diffused itself throughout the
city. Bands of robbers were collecting; and from them, or
from the foreign soldiery, a general pillage was expected.
The night passed away in consternation and tumult; and it
was found in the morning that the hospital of St Lazare had
already been plundered. The alarm bells were rung, and
the citizens having assembled at the Hotel de Ville, adopt¬
ed a proposal which was there made for enrolling them¬
selves as a militia, under the appellation of the National
Guard. This day and the succeeding night were spent
in tolerable quietness, without any attempt being made on
the part of the army. But on the morning of the 14th of
July it was discovered that the troops encamped in the
Champs Elisees had moved off, and an immediate assault
was therefore expected. The national guard now amount¬
ed to a hundred and fifty thousand men ; but they were in
general destitute of arms. They assumed a green cockade ;
but on recollecting that this was the livery of the Count
d’Artois, they adopted one of red, blue, and white ; and this
was the origin of the tricolor cockade. M. de la Salle was
named commander in chief; officers were chosen ; and de¬
tachments were sent round in quest of arms. In the Hotel
des Invalides were found upwards of thirty thousand stand
of arms, together with twenty pieces of cannon. Avariety of
weapons were also procured from the garde-meuble de la cou-
ronne, and from the shops of armourers, cutlers, and others.
Capture of The too famous fortress of the Bastille was an object of
the Bas- natural hatred to the Parisians. Within its walls, courage,
nlle. genius, and innocence, had long wept unseen, and its dole¬
ful echoes had often responded to the stifled cries of de¬
spair. At eleven o’clock in the morning, M. de la Rosiere,
at the head of a numerous deputation, waited upon M. De¬
launay, the governor, who promised, along with the officers
of his garrison, that they would not fire upon the city unless
they were attacked. But a report was soon spread through¬
out Paris that M. Delaunay had a short time thereafter
admitted into the fortress a multitude of persons, and then
treacherously massacred them. The origin of this rumour
has never been discovered. The fact itself has been denied ;
but it was attested at the time by the Duke of Dorset, then
British ambassador at the court of France. The effect of
it was the adoption of a resolution to assault the Bastille;
in consequence of which an immense and furious multitude
rushed into its outer, and soon forced their way into its
inner, courts, where they received and returned a severe
fire for the space of an hour. The French guards, who
were now embodied into the national guard, conducted the
attack with equal skill and coolness. They dragged three
waggons loaded with straw to the foot of the walls, and
there set them on fire, by which means the garrison were
prevented from taking aim, whilst the smoke proved no
hindrance to the assailants. The besieging multitude
pressed the attack with incredible obstinacy for the space
N C E-
of four hours ; the garrison was thrown in confusion ; the History,
officers served the cannon in person, and fired muskets in
the ranks; whilst the governor in despair thrice attempt- H89.
ed to blow up the fortress. A capitulation was at length
sought, but refused to the garrison, and an unconditional
surrender demanded. This at length took place, and the
governor, with M. de Losme Salbrai, his major, became
victims of the popular fury, in spite of every effort which
could be made for their protection ; but the French guards
succeeded in saving the lives of the garrison. Only seven
prisoners were found in the Bastille. A guard was placed
in it, and the keys were sent to the celebrated M. Brissot,
who a few years before had inhabited one of its dungeons.
The remaining part of this eventful day was spent at Paris
in a mixture of wild triumph and excessive alarm. In the
pocket of the governor of the Bastille there had been found
a letter written by M. de Flesselles, the prevot des mar-
chands, or chief city magistrate, who had pretended to be
a most zealous patriot, encouraging him to resistance by
the promise of speedy support. This piece of treachery
was punished by instant death ; and the bloody head of
Flesselles was carried through the city on a pole, along
with that of M. Delaunay. On the approach of night a
body of troops advanced towards the city by the Barriere
d’Enfer ; but the national guard hurried thither, preceded
by a train of artillery, and the troops withdrew upon the
first fire. Barricades were everywhere formed, the alarm-
bells were rung, and a general illumination continued
throughout the night.
In the mean time it was obvious that the new ministry A new mi-
were entering upon a difficult scene of action, where one false nistry ap.
step might lead to ruin, and where their own plans of con- P0inte(l-
duct required to be maturely digested. Marshal Broglio was
appointed minister of war; the Baron de Breteuil, president
of finance ; M. de la Galeziere, comptroller-general; M. de
Laporte, intendant of the war department; and M. Foulon,
intendant of the navy : but they were only destined to act as
official men under the Count d’Artois, and the other leaders
of the aristocracy. To the latter there scarcely remained
even a choice of difficulties; in fact no resource was left
but that of overawing by military force the National As¬
sembly and the capital, and risking the desperate measure
of a national bankruptcy, to avoid which the court had con¬
voked the States General. But no trace exists of any at¬
tempt to employ this last and desperate resource. The
evening after the departure of M. Neckar was spent by the
court of Versailles in festivity, as if a victory had been
gained; and the courtiers of both sexes went round among
the soldiery, striving to secure their fidelity by caresses,
and every species of flattering attention. The ministry,
however, not only failed to support the Prince de Lambesc
in the post which he had been sent to occupy, but suffered
the whole of the 13th to pass in indecision, whilst the c»i-
pital was in a state of rebellion, an army formally mustering
within its walls, and the names of the principal nobility pub¬
licly exposed in lists of proscription. They accordingly re¬
ceived with confusion and dismay the news of the capture
of the Bastille ; and these feelings were increased by infor¬
mation received from Marshal Broglio that the troops re¬
fused to act against the Parisians or the National Assem¬
bly. In this perplexity they adopted the miserable de¬
vice of concealing from the king the real state of public
affairs; and that unfortunate prince was thus perhaps the
only person who remained ignorant of the convulsions in
which his country was involved. At length, about mid¬
night, the Duke of Liancourt forced his way into the king’s
apartment, and informed him of the revolt of the capital
and the army, and of the surrender of the fortress of the
Bastdle. The Count d’Artois, who was present, still at¬
tempted to retain the monarch under the fatal delusion
which it had been the object of this communication to de-
FRANCE.
53
1789.
The king
visits the
assembly
and the
capital.
History, stroy ; but the Duke of Liancourt, turning round, exclaim¬
ed, “ As for you, Sir, your life can only be saved by instant
flight; I have seen with horror your name in the bloody list
of the proscribed.” The count, with the members of his
short-lived administration and their adherents, accordingly
fled to the frontiers ; and thus commenced an emigration
which, depriving the throne of its natural supporters, left
the field open to the declared enemies of the monarchy.
This ministry had, no doubt, many difficulties to contend
with ; but an accurate examination of their conduct excites
a suspicion which, whilst it exculpates them from much
that has been laid to their charge, does little honour either
to their talents or their character, namely, that they had
come into office without having formed any regular plan of
conduct, and that, acting without decision, they became
the sport of events which they wanted skill and vigour to
direct or control.
But in spite of all that had occurred, the monarch was
still personally beloved. Early the following morning the
king went to the assembly, though with none of the usual
solemnities. He regretted the commotions of the capital,
disavowed any knowledge of an intention against the per¬
sons of the deputies, and intimated that he had command¬
ed the removal of the troops. A deep silence prevailed for
some moments, but this was succeeded by vehement and
universal shouts of applause. When the king rose to depart,
the whole assembly instantly crowded around him, and at¬
tended him to his palace. The queen appeared at a balco¬
ny with the dauphin in her arms ; and the music played the
pathetic air Ou pent on etre mieux qu'au sein de sa famille.
The enthusiasm of loyalty communicated itself to the sur¬
rounding multitudes, and nothing was heard but acclama¬
tions of joy. On the following day the king declared his reso¬
lution to visit in person the city of Paris ; and accordingly he
set out, attended by some members of the assembly, and by
the militia of Versailles. He was met by Lafayette at the
head of a body of the national guard, of which he had been
chosen commander in chief; and M. Bailly, in whose per¬
son the ancient office of mayor of Paris had been revived,
received the king at the gates, and delivered to him the
keys. During all this time no shout was heard from the
innumerable crowd of spectators but that of Vive la Nation.
The king advanced to the Hotel de Ville, where the tri¬
color cockade was presented to him, which he put on, and
with this badge on his breast presented himself at the win¬
dow. At the sight of the patriotic emblem an universal
shout of Vive le Roi burst forth from every quarter, and
Louis returned to Versailles amidst loud demonstrations of
apparent loyalty and attachment. But much confusion
still prevailed in the capital, notwithstanding there was
more appearance of order than might have been expected
at such a crisis. This arose from a casual concurrence of
circumstances. In order to conduct the elections with fa¬
cility, Paris had been divided into sixty districts, each of
which had a separate place of meeting. The people did
not elect the members of the States General, but they chose
delegates, who, under the name of electors, voted for the
members. At the commencement of the disturbances, the
electors, at the request of their fellow-citizens, assumed a
temporary authority; but of this they speedily became weary,
and as soon as possible procured the public election of a
hundred and twenty persons, as municipal officers, for the
government of the city. The citizens, having acquired
the habit of meeting in their districts, grew fond of doing
so; and assembling frequently, they made rules for their
own government, and sent commissioners to communicate
with other districts. The tumultuous nature of these meet¬
ings, and the vehemence of debate which prevailed in them,
were incredible; but they gradually ripened into clubs,
which ere long assumed the whole power of the state.
The banishment of Neckar was of short duration. He
returned to France in consequence of an invitation by the History,
king, and was received with equal joy by the assembly and
the capital. But on this occasion he committed what has H89t-
been considered as a great political error. In deploring s
the late excesses and murders, and in noticing the arrest of
M. Bezenval, an officer of the Swiss guards, he recommend¬
ed to the electors at the Hotel de Ville, in a solemn ha¬
rangue, that the past should be forgotten, that proscriptions
should cease, and that a general amnesty should be proclaim¬
ed. In a moment of enthusiasm, this was agreed to, and the
electors decreed what unquestionably exceeded their powers.
The districts of Paris were instantly in commotion. The
electors, alarmed, declared that they only meant that hence¬
forth the people would punish no man except according to
law; and to prove that they themselves were free from am¬
bition, they formally renounced all their own powers. The
assembly now took up the question, upon which Lally-To-
lendal, Mounier, Clermont-Tonnerre, Garat, and others,
declared that no person ought to be arrested without a for¬
mal accusation ; whilst Mirabeau, Robespierre, Barnave,
and Gleizen, alleged, on the contrary, that the people were
entitled to lay hold of any man who had publicly appeared
at the head of their enemies. The debate ended by ad¬
mitting the explanation of the electors, and by a declara¬
tion that it was the duty of the assembly to see justice exe¬
cuted in all cases.
The commotions and enthusiasm which distracted the State of
capital were speedily communicated to the provinces. In the coun.
every quarter the people seized upon all the arms which could try*
be found, and the military uniformly refused to act against
them. Many acts of outrage were committed in Bretagne,
at Strasbourg, in the Lyonnois, and elsewhere, in which the
nobility were the sufferers. The mischiefs which occurred
were usually magnified at a distance; but that very cir¬
cumstance constituted an additional evil. It was stated in
the National Assembly that M. de Mesmay, lord of Quin-
cey, had invited to his house a number of patriots, amongst
whom were the officers of a neighbouring garrison, to a
splendid entertainment, in celebration of the happy union
of the three orders ; and that in the midst of the feast the
master of the house contrived to withdraw unnoticed, and
to set fire to a train previously laid, which communicated
with a quantity of gunpowder in the cellars, by the explo¬
sion of which the whole company were blown into the air.
On inquiry, however, it was found that the story was ut¬
terly destitute of truth. But before the fact could be as¬
certained, all France had resounded with accounts of the
bloody tragedy; and the whole nobility of the kingdom
suffered in a greater or less degree from the prejudices ex¬
cited by this unhappy report, the origin of which has never
been well explained. It would be vain to state all the idle
rumours to which at this time the blind credulity of the
multitude gave currency. At one time the aristocrats
were cutting down the green corn ; at another they were
burying flour in the common sewers, or casting loaves into
the river Seine. One report had no sooner been proved
to be false than another was invented, and the whole na¬
tion was agitated by suspicion and alarm. The National
Assembly were engaged in framing the declaration of the
Rights of Man, which was to form the basis of the new
constitution, when the alarming accounts, received from
all quarters, of the state of anarchy into which the king¬
dom wras falling, obliged them suddenly to turn their at¬
tention to questions of practical necessity. The privileged
orders finding themselves objects of universal jealousy
and hatred, became convinced that something must in¬
stantly be done to save their families and property, which
were menaced on every side with persecution and pillage ;
and regarding the popular torrent as irresistible, they re¬
solved to sacrifice a part in order to save something cut
of the general wreck.
54
FRANCE.
1789.
Night of
sacrifices.
History. On the afternoon sitting of the 4th of August the Vis-
J count de Noailles, seconded by the Duke d’Aguillon,
opened one of the most important scenes in the French
Revolution, or in the history of any country. These no¬
blemen stated, that the true cause of all the commotions
which had convulsed the kingdom was to be found in the
misery of the people, who groaned under the double op¬
pression of public contributions and of feudal services.
“ For three months,” said M. de Noailles, “ the people
have beheld us engaged in verbal disputes, whilst their
own attention and their wishes are directed only to things.
What is the consequence? They have armed to reclaim
their rights, and they see no prospect of obtaining them
except by force.” He therefore proposed to do justice,
as the shortest way of restoring tranquillity, and for this
purpose to decree that henceforth every tax should be
imposed in proportion to the wealth of the contributors,
and that no order of the state should be exempted from
the payment of public burdens ; that feudal claims should
be redeemed at a fair valuation, but that such claims as
consisted of personal services on the part of the vassal
should be abolished without compensation, as contrary to
the imprescriptible rights of man. The extensive posses¬
sions of the noblemen with whom these proposals originat¬
ed, added lustre to the disinterested sacrifice which they
had made; the speeches delivered on the occasion were
received with the most enthusiastic applauses by the as¬
sembly and the galleries, and their proposals were decreed
by acclamation. In fact, no nation is so powerfully influ¬
enced by sudden emotions as the French. On this occa¬
sion the patriotic contagion spread with inconceivable ra¬
pidity, and a contest of generosity ensued. The hereditary
jurisdictions possessed by the nobles within their own ter¬
ritories were unconditionally sacrificed. All places and
pensions granted by the court were suppressed, unless given
as the reward of merit or of actual services. The game
laws, which condemned the husbandman, under severe pe¬
nalties, to leave his property a prey to infinite multitudes of
animals preserved for pastime, having always been num¬
bered amongst the most severe grievances of the French
peasantry, were renounced, along with the exclusive rights
of rabbit-warrens, fisheries, and dove-cots. The sale of
offices was abolished, and the fees exacted from the poor,
together with the privilege of holding a plurality of liv¬
ings, were relinquished by the clergy. The deputies of
the Pais d’Etat, or privileged provinces, with the deputies
of Dauphine at their head, next came forward, and offered
to surrender their ancient privileges, requesting that the
kingdom might no longer remain parcelled out amongst
Dauphinois, Bretons, Proven^aux, and others, but that they
should all form one great mass of French citizens. They
were followed by the representatives of Paris, Marseilles,
Lyons, Bordeaux, Strasbourg, and other places, who re¬
quested leave to renounce all their separate privileges as in¬
corporations, for the sake of placing every man and every vil¬
lage in the nation upon a footing of equality. And thus the
assembly proceeded, until every member had exhausted
his imagination upon the subject of reform. To close the
whole, the Duke of Liancourt proposed that a solemn Te
Deum should be performed, and a medal struck in comme¬
moration of the events of that night of sacrifices ; and that
the title of Restorer of Gallic Liberty should be bestowed
upon the reigning monarch. Several days were neces¬
sary to form into laws the decrees of the 4th August, and
committees were appointed to make out reports for the
purpose. But as one of these included the tithes and
revenues of the clergy amongst the abuses which were to
be done away with, and proposed in lieu of these to grant
to the different ministers of religion a certain stipend pay¬
able by the nation, the clergy now attempted to make a
stand in defence of their property; and violent debates
ensued, in which they were ably supported by the Abbe History.
Sieyes. As the clergy, however, had formerly deserted
the nobles, so they were now in their turn abandoned to *789.
their fate by the hereditary aristocracy; and the popular
party had long regarded the wealth of the church as an
easy resource for supplying the wants of the state. Ne¬
ver, indeed, was there a more complete proof of the in¬
fluence of opinion over the affairs of men. The Catholic
clergy of France, though possessed of more property than
at the time when princes took up arms or laid them down
at their command, now found so few defenders, that they
were terrified into a voluntary surrender of all which they
and their predecessors had enjoyed for ages. In their
overthrow they had not even the barren honour of falling
the last of those privileged orders which had so long
ruled over this ancient kingdom. They, as well as the
nobles and the king, still possessed their former titles and
nominal dignity ; but all of them were now subdued, and
completely at the mercy of the commons of France, who
could now dismiss them at pleasure.
As a short season of tranquillity in the country and inNewmi-
the National Assembly succeeded these great popular sacri- nistry.
fices, the king thought it a fit opportunity for the appoint¬
ment of a new ministry, consisting of the Archbishop of
Vienne, the Archbishop of Bordeaux, M. Neckar, the
Count de St Priest, Count de Montmorin, the Count de
la Luzerne, and the Count de la Tour du Pin Paulin.
M. Neckar, as minister of finance, stated the distressed
situation of the revenue, and presented the plan of a loan
of thirty millions of livres. But Mirabeau prevailed with
the assembly to alter and narrow the conditions to such
a degree that very few subscribers were found, and the
loan could not be filled up. This failure involved the as¬
sembly in considerable unpopularity, and they allowed
M. Neckar to prescribe his own terms for the purpose
ot obtaining a loan of eighty millions. But the moment
of public confidence had been allowed to pass away,
and the loan was never more than half filled up. Re¬
course was next had to patriotic contributions; and great
numbers of gold rings, silver buckles, and pieces of plate,
were presented to the assembly. The royal family them¬
selves sent their plate to the mint, either to give counte¬
nance to these donations, or, as Neckar has since assert¬
ed, through absolute necessity, for the purpose of sup¬
porting themselves and their family. The confusion into
which the nation had been thrown by recent events had
produced a suspension in the payment of all taxes. There
existed, in fact, no efficient government; and if society
escaped dissolution, it was only in consequence of those
habits of order which are produced by a state of long-
continued civilization. The business of government could
not be transacted without money, and many vain efforts
were made by the ministry to procure it. At length M.
Neckar was driven to the desperate resource of proposing
a compulsory loan, by which every individual possessed
of property was to advance to the state a sum equal te
one fourth of his annual income. This bold but unwise
proposition was supported by Mirabeau, and adopted by
the assembly; but it does not appear to have ever been
effectually executed.
In the mean time the assembly was busily occupied in Rights of
framing the celebrated declaration of the Rights of Man, Man, and
which was afterwards prefixed to the new constitution j**16 king's
and this was followed by the discussion of a point of much veto*
delicacy and difficulty, namely, what share of legislative
authority the king ought to possess under the new con¬
stitution, whether an absolute veto or negative, a sus¬
pensive veto, or no veto at all. This question operated
like a touchstone for trying the sentiments of every per¬
son ; and the assembly, consisting of twelve hundred men,
was now seen to arrange itself into two factions, which
FRA
History, goon came into violent conflict. The debates, which
were vehement and tumultuous, continued for several
1789. flays. But as the assembly sat in public, and as multi¬
tudes of people of all descriptions were admitted into the
galleries, and even into the body of the hall among the
members, the public at large became speedily interest¬
ed in tbe discussion ; the city of Paris took a side in op¬
position to the veto ; and the whole empire was thrown
into agitation by new and speculative questions. In fact,
rumours of plots were spread throughout the country, and
a new storm was obviously gathering, when the question
was got rid of by a sort of compromise, which, however,
involved an abridgment of the royal authority. Mounier
observed, that the executive power could possess no ne¬
gative against the decrees of the present assembly, which
had been nominated by the nation with supreme powers
for the express purpose of framing a constitution, to re¬
main binding on all orders of men in the state; and with
regard to future legislatures, the king by a message de¬
clared that all he desired to possess was a suspensive ve¬
to. It is not a little remarkable that Mirabeau concluded
a speech in favour of the absolute veto of the crown, by
declaring that it would be better to live in Constanti¬
nople than in France, if laws could be made without the
royal sanction. He is, however, accused of having caus¬
ed a report to be circulated in Paris that he had opposed
the veto with all his influence ; and, to give credit to the
story, he is said to have quitted the assembly immedi¬
ately before the division, that his vote might not appear
on record against him.
Constitu- The month of August was spent in the debates about
tion of the the veto; but in the beginning of September a new con-
body atlVe stltuti°nal question was presented to the assembly by one
of its numerous committees. This was, whether the le¬
gislative body should consist of one or of two chambers.
Mounier, Lally-Tollendal, Clermont-Tonnerre, and others,
who were zealous lovers of freedom upon moderate prin¬
ciples, supported eagerly the idea of establishing two in¬
dependent chambers, in imitation of the British constitu¬
tion ; but they were deserted both by the democratic and
the aristocratic parties. Hie former regarded an upper
house or senate as a refuge for the old aristocracy, or
at least as the cradle of a new one ; whilst the nobility
and clergy were afraid lest such an arrangement might
prevent the future re-establishment of the ancient division
into three orders. Accordingly, of a thousand members
who voted, only eighty-nine supported the proposal for
dividing the legislature into two chambers. Soon after
this the king gave his sanction to the important decrees
of the 4th of August, though not without hesitation, and
expressing doubts of the wisdom of some of them in a
letter to the assembly. At the same time were decreed
the inviolability of the person of the monarch, the indi¬
visibility of the throne, and its hereditary descent from
male to male in the reigning family.
State of In consequence of the debates on the subject of the
parties. veto anti tjlat 0f the two chambers, the minds of parties
had become much excited. Paris wore the same threat¬
ening aspect as it had done in the months of June and of
July preceding; and everything seemed tending towards
a crisis. I he aristocratic party accused their antagonists
of a design to excite new insurrections; and the charge
was retorted by circulating a report that a plot for con-
veying the king to Metz was already ripe for execution.
From the period of the defection of" the French guards,
who were now in the pay of the capital, the protection of
the royal family had been intrusted to the militia or na¬
tional guard of Versailles, together with the regiment of
the gardes du corps, which was composed entirely of gen¬
tlemen. But when the report of the intended flight of the
king was circulated, the French guards desired to be re-
N C E. 55
stored to their ancient employment of attending his per- History,
son, in order to prevent any attempt of the kind. This
idea was eagerly caught hold of in the capital; and, not- 1789.
withstanding every effort which M. de Lafayette could use,
the approach of disturbances became every day more ob¬
vious. The popular party perceived the advantage which
they would derive from placing the assembly and tbe king
in the midst of that turbulent metropolis, which had given
birth to the Revolution, and upon the attachment of which
they could most securely depend; and every encourage¬
ment was therefore given by the most active leaders of
what was now called the democratic party to the project
of establishing the court at Paris. The ministry were
under no small degree of apprehension ; and the Count
d’Estaing, who commanded the national guard of Ver¬
sailles, requested the aid of an additional regiment. The
regiment of Flanders was accordingly sent for, and its ar¬
rival caused no small degree of anxiety ; but every artifice
was instantly employed in order to gain over both officers
and soldiers to the popular cause.
On the first of October the gardes du corps, probably for
the purpose of ingratiating themselves with the newly-
arrived corps, and perhaps to attach them more steadi¬
ly to the royal cause, invited the officers of the regiment
of Flanders to a public entertainment; and several offi¬
cers of the national guard, and others of the military,
were also invited. The entertainment was given in the
opera-house adjoining to the palace, and several loyal toasts
were drunk; but it is asserted, that when the favourite
popular toast, The Nation, was given, the gardes du corps
refused to drink it. In ordinary cases, so trifling a circum¬
stance as this would be regarded as unworthy of notice ;
but such was now the position of affairs, that the most
trivial occurrences became instrumental in producing im¬
portant consequences. The queen, having seen from a
window of the palace the gaiety which prevailed amongst
the military, prevailed on the king, who had just return¬
ed from hunting, to visit them, in company with herself
and the dauphin. The sudden appearance of their ma¬
jesties in the saloon kindled in an instant the ancient en¬
thusiasm of French loyalty. The grenadiers of the regi¬
ment of Flanders, along with the Swiss chasseurs, had
been admitted to the dessert; and they, as well as their
officers, drank the health of the king, queen, and dauphin,
with their swords drawn. The royal family then bowed
to the company and retired. As they withdrew, the mu¬
sic played the favourite air, O Ricard, O mon roi, luni-
vers £abandonne ; and, in the enthusiasm of the moment,
the national cockade was thrown aside, and white cock¬
ades mounted as fast as they could be made by the la¬
dies of the court. When these circumstances were next
day reported in Paris, with the usual amount of exagge¬
ration, they gave rise to the most violent alarm. The ca¬
pital was at that time suffering all the horrors of famine ;
and in such a situation, the news of a feast enjoyed by
others seldom gives much pleasure to hungry men. A ru¬
mour of an intended flight on the part of the royal fami¬
ly was also got up: it was also asserted that a counter
revolution was speedily to be attempted by force of arms ;
and the people were told that the present scarcity had
been artificially created by the court for the purpose of
reducing them to submission.
For several days no notice was taken in the assembly
of what had passed at the entertainment given by the
gardes du corps ; but on the 5th of October Petion men¬
tioned it for the first time, and a violent debate ensued,
during which Mirabeau rose and exclaimed, “ Declare
that the king’s person alone is sacred, and I myself will
bring forward an impeachment;” thereby alluding to the
conduct of the queen. During this debate at Versailles,
Paris was in the most violent commotion. A vast multitude
56 FRA
History, of women of the lowest rank, with some men in women’s
clothes, having assembled at the Hotel de Ville, they
1789. resolved to proceed instantly to Versailles, to demand
bread from the king and from the National Assembly. La¬
fayette in vain opposed them ; for his soldiers refused to
turn their bayonets against the women. Upon this Sta¬
nislaus Maillard, who had distinguished himself at the
taking of the Bastille, having offered himself as leader of
the insurgents, had the address to prevail on them to
lay aside the arms which they had procured; and about
noon he set out for Versailles, having established as much
order amongst his followers as could well be expected in
such a motley assemblage. The mayor and municipality
of Paris also gave orders to Lafayette instantly to set out
for that place at the head of the national guard.
In the mean time Maillard approached Versailles with
his tumultuous band, which he had arranged in three divi¬
sions, and persuaded to behave with tolerable decency.
The king was hunting in the woods of Mendon when he
was informed of the arrival of a formidable band of wo¬
men calling aloud for bread. “ Alas,” replied he, “ if
I had it, I should not wait to be asked.” Maillard enter¬
ed the assembly, accompanied by a deputation of his fol¬
lowers, to state the object of their journey ; and, in order
to pacify them, that body sent a deputation of their own
number along with them to lay their complaints before
the king. His majesty received them with great polite¬
ness, and readily agreed to go into any measures which
could be suggested for the supply of the capital. The
report of this gracious conduct produced a great effect
upon the multitude collected around the palace, and they
began to disperse; but they were speedily succeeded by
another crowd not less numerous. A sudden resolution
to fly seems now to have been proposed by the court,
as the king’s carriages were brought to the gate of the
palace which communicates with the orangery ; but the
national guard of Versailles refused to allow them to pass,
and the king himself declined to remove, or to permit any
blood to be shed in his cause.
At length Lafayette, with his army, arrived, about ten
o’clock at night, and found the assembly in a very unplea¬
sant predicament, their hall and galleries being crowded
by the Parisian fishwomen and others of the mob, who at
every instant interrupted the debates. Lafayette waited
upon the king, and informed him of the proceedings of
the day; planted guards in every direction; and, after a
scanty banquet had been procured for the multitude, pre¬
vailed with the assembly to close their sitting for the
night. For this last part of his conduct Lafayette has been
much censured,and not withoutreason ; for it could scarce¬
ly be expected that such an immense assemblage of turbu¬
lent characters as were now brought together would pass
the night without disorder. All remained tranquil, however,
until about six in the morning of the 6th, when a great num¬
ber of women and desperate persons rushed towards the
palace, and attempted to force their way into it. Two of
the gardes du corps were killed, and the crowd ascended
the staircase leading to the queen’s apartment, but were
bravely resisted by a sentinel named Miemandre, who gave
the alarm, and dei'ended his post until he fell covered with
wounds, from which, however, he afterwards recovered.
I he ruffians, reeking with blood, rushed into the chamber
of the queen, and pierced with bayonets and poniards the
bed whence she had scarcely had time to fly almost wholly
undressed, and, through passages unknown to the mur¬
derers, escaped to seek refuge at the feet of the king,
who, already alarmed, had gone to seek her. The tumult
became every moment more violent, and sudden death
seemed to threaten the royal family ; but Lafayette was
by this time at the head of his troops, whom he earnestly
beseeched to save the gardes du corps from massacre ; and
N C E.
in this he was happily successful. Some who had been History
taken prisoners were surrounded by the grenadiers of the
French guards, who protected them, and the retreat of the 1789.
whole corps was secured. The crowd was speedily driven
from the different parts of the palace, which they had al¬
ready begun to pillage ; and the royal family at length
ventured to show themselves at a balcony. A few voices
now exclaimed Le roi d Paris, the king to Paris ; the shout
became general, and the king, after consulting with La¬
fayette, declared that he had no objection to take up his
residence at Paris, provided he was accompanied by the
queen and his children. When this proposal was re¬
ported to the assembly, the popular leaders expressed
much satisfaction ; they ordered a deputation of a hun¬
dred members to attend the king thither, and voted the
National Assembly inseparable from the king. At two
o’clock his majesty set out a prisoner in the custody of a
turbulent mob ; and thus humbled, the royal captives were
conducted so slowly that a short journey of twelve miles
was protracted during six hours. The king, the queen, and
their children, were lodged in the old palace of the Louvre,
whilst Monsieur went to reside at the Luxembourg; the
city was illuminated, and the evening spent in triumph by
the Parisians. The removal of the king to Paris was justly
regarded as a triumph by the popular party. The higher
order of nobility considered it as completely ruinous to their
hopes ; and many men of talents, such as Mounier, Lally-
1 ollendal, and others, now regarded every prospect of at¬
taining constitutional freedom as at an end, seeing the na¬
tional representatives would now be exposed to the insults,
and overawed by the influence, of a turbulent capital.
Several members of the assembly accordingly took refuge
in foreign countries, and used every effort to excite other
nations against France. As the Duke of Orleans had
been regarded as the chief promoter of the late disturb¬
ances, Lafayette waited on him, and insisted on his leav¬
ing the kingdom for a time. The duke, not less timid than
intriguing, felt overawed, and, on pretence of public busi¬
ness, proceeded to England, where he remained during
several months.
On the 19th of October the National Assembly held its First ses-
first session in Paris. The king was closely guarded in sion of the
his own palace ; and no apparent obstacle now remained fssenihlv
to prevent the popular party giving to their country suchin Jian8‘
a constitution as they might judge expedient. Much,
however, was still to be done, and many difficulties, arising
from the habits of men educated under a different order
of things, yet remained to be overcome. Two days after the
assembly had gone to Paris, a baker was publicly murder¬
ed by the mob, upon a charge of having concealed a quan¬
tity of bread. Whilst the assembly was at a distance,
events of this nature had been little attended to, as the lead¬
ing party did not attempt to check those ebullitions of po¬
pular fury, from which they had derived so much advan¬
tage ; but that party had now become all-powerful, and so
flagrant an offence committed against the law was regarded
as an insult to the sovereignty of the National Assembly,
iwo leaders of the mob were therefore tried and publicly
executed ; and a severe law was passed, of the nature of our
riot act, authorizing the magistrates to act by military force
against any assemblage of persons who should refuse to
disperse when legally required to do so. The peace of the
capital was thus secured for several months ; but in the
country no small degree of anxiety and excitement still
existed. The same suspicious temper which had prevailed
at Paris agitated the provinces with the apprehension of
plots and monopolies ol grain. Besides, the nobility in the
country were by no means satisfied with the liberality
which their representatives had evinced upon the 4th of
August, in voting away their privileges and their pro¬
perty ; a circumstance which produced violent jealousies
FRANCE.
57
History, between the peasantry and their landlords, and gradual-
ly conveyed to every corner of the kingdom the political
1789. ferment which had commenced at Paris.
The king- The National Assembly being now in tolerable security,
Idomdivid- proceeded with the arduous task of framing a free consti-
L'd ’nt0 e' tution for the kingdom of France. The Abbe Sieyes pre-
‘ ’ sented a plan for dividing the kingdom into eighty-three
departments, of about three hundred and twenty-four
square leagues each, the department into several arron-
dissemens or districts, and the district into communes or
cantons, of about four square leagues in extent* Thus
all the ancient divisions of the kingdom into govern¬
ments, generalities, and bailiwicks, was in an instant over¬
turned. An attempt was also made to simplify in an equal
degree the relative situation of individuals in civil life,
by a decree which put an end to all distinction of or¬
ders and immunities, as far as privileges were concern¬
ed. A bold and important measure was at the same
time adopted, namely, the confiscation of the whole lands
belonging to the church, for the purpose of supplying
the exigencies of the state. In this transaction all regard
to justice was of course thrown aside. The lands of the
church were as certainly the property of those who then
possessed them, as any entailed estate amongst us is the
property of the holder. In the former the clergy had as
clear a life interest as the heir of entail could by possibi¬
lity possess in the latter. The state may have had a right
to appropriate to itself the church lands upon the death
of the incumbents ; but it might with as much justice have
seized on the enormous revenues of the Duke of Orleans,
as confiscated a single acre belonging to the most useless
abbot in the kingdom. This iniquitous measure was pro¬
posed by the Bishop of Autun, M. de Talleyrand Peri-
gord, who had been promoted to the episcopal bench in an
irregular manner, in order to accomplish this premeditated
robbery. On the property thus confiscated it was resolv¬
ed to issue assignats, which were to be received by the
state in payment of taxes, and of church lands when set
up to sale. A provision was at the same time made for
the national clergy, who were in future to be paid by
the state. On the day following that upon which this im¬
portant measure was adopted, a decree was also passed,
suspending the functions of the different parliaments of the
kingdom.
Fruitless But proceedings in which the interests of so great
^te,mpts a multitude of individuals were involved, could not be
liam«its.r" carried in t0 effect without opposition. The parliaments in
particular exerted themselves, by protests and other pub¬
lications, to invalidate the decrees of the assembly; but
these privileged bodies, who had long been accustomed
to contend against the despotic administration of their
country, and who on that account had for ages been ob¬
jects of public favour, now found themselves unable to
resist the mandate of a popular assembly; and, after a
few fruitless struggles, they were all of them under the
necessity of submitting to their fate. The assembly then
proceeded to organize the kingdom by the establishment
of municipalities, and by reforming the jurisprudence of
the country. When the parliament of Paris had been
abolished, however, the second court in that city, called
the Chatelet, was retained for the purpose of trying such
persons as had become obnoxious by their attachment to
the royal cause; and this tribunal had the spirit to acquit
the Baron de Bezenval, Marshal Broglio, and the Prince
de Lambesc. But having incurred much popular odium
by this acquittal, they sought to regain credit by con¬
demning to death the Marquis de Favres, for a pretended
conspiracy to massacre Lafayette, Bailly, and Neckar, and History,
to convey the king to Peronne.
During the whole of this winter the king had been so D89,1790.
strictly watched by numerous guards placed round his
palace, that in other nations he was naturally considered as
in a state of captivity. To do away with this impression, if
possible, and to make the king appear a voluntary agent in
the measures which had lately been adopted, every effort
was employed to prevail on him to repair to the assem¬
bly, and there, as of his own voluntary motion, to declare
his adherence to the measures in question. For some time,
however, he resisted the proposal to take such a step ; but
at length, on the 4th of February, he suddenly appeared
in the National Assembly, where he complained of the at¬
tempts which had been made to shake the new constitu¬
tion, and declared his wish that it should be universally
known that the monarch and the representatives of the
nation were united, and their wishes the same; that he
would defend the constitutional liberty of the state; and
that, in conjunction with the queen, he would early form
the sentiments of his son in strict accordance with the new
order of things which the circumstances of the empire
had introduced. This declaration dispirited the aristo-
cratical party, and increased the unhappy tendency to look
for aid from foreign countries, which they had always been
too prone to indulge. On the 13th of February, monastic
establishments were suppressed, and their lands confis¬
cated ; but the inmates of these establishments were allow¬
ed pensions for their subsistence, and permitted to conti¬
nue the observance of their monastic vows if they thought
fit to do so.1
An event occurred at this time (March 15th), which
tended in no small degree to increase the odium under
which the old government already laboured. This was
the publication of the Red Book, or list of pensions and
donations granted by the crown. After many entreaties
on the one hand, and the most solemn promises of se¬
crecy on the other, it had been communicated by M.
Neckar to a committee of the assembly; but it afforded
too striking an advantage to the popular party not to be
made use of, and in a few days the minister, to his no small
surprise, found this register publicly sold by every book¬
seller in Paris. He ought not, indeed, to have been sur¬
prised ; and, in fact, the giving up of this list forms one
of the many proofs which the transactions of this period
afford of his utter unfitness for the office which he held.
With much indignation, however, he demanded why the
committee had published it without the permission of the
assembly or the king; but he was told, that as to the as¬
sembly, they were sure of its approbation, and as to the
king, they were not his representatives. To give an idea
of the effect of this publication, it is only necessary to re¬
mark, that, under the short administration of Calonne,
the two brothers of the king had received from the public
treasury, independently of their legitimate income, near¬
ly two millions sterling, and that six hundred thousand
pounds had been granted to one individual, merely be¬
cause he was the husband of Madame de Polignac. Nec-
kar’s opposition to the publication of this register tended in
no small degree to injure his popularity, and the rest of
the ministry began to lose the confidence of the public.
Indeed, fertile causes of alarm prevailed on all sides. The
clergy were attempting to revive in the provinces the an¬
cient animosities between the Catholics and the Protes¬
tants, to whom the late decrees of the assembly were
ascribed. The German princes who possessed property
in the north of France complained loudly of the viola-
the aDDeliation^f °f ^6 s,uPPression of the monasteries, the Breton Committee began about this time to assum
I P of the Jacobin Club, fiom the hall belonging to the Jacobin friars at Paris, in which their meetings were now held.
H
VOL. X.
58
FRANCE.
History, tion of their rights by the abolition of the feudal system,
s’—although the National Assembly had voted them a com-
1790. pensation ; and the most melancholy intelligence was re¬
ceived from the colonies in the West Indies. The as¬
sembly had not recognized the right of the free negroes
to enjoy the same privileges with other citizens, but still
they hesitated to go the length of denying these privi¬
leges. This uncertain conduct produced infinite mischief.
The whites contended with those commonly called people
of colour, who again occasionally stood in opposition to
the free negroes or to the slaves; and hence it sometimes
happened that at the same time, and in the same colony,
not less than three hostile assemblies were held, and
made war upon one another with the most inveterate fury ;
and each party found protectors in the National Assem¬
bly, because those who favoured or opposed the existence
of distinctions at home, in general followed out the same
principle in reference to the colonies.
Upon the 14th of May M. de Montmorency having
made known to the National Assembly the preparations
for war in which England and Spain were engaged, this
communication gave rise to the constitutional question,
Who ought to possess the power of declaring war and
making peace? Clermont-Tonnerre, Sarent, Virieu, and
Dupont, supported the royal prerogative; whilst, on the
other side, the exclusive right of the legislative body to
exercise this important prerogative was supported by
D’Aiguillon, Garat, Freteau, Jellot, Charles Lameth, Sil-
lery, Petion, Robespierre, and others. Petion proposed
that the French nation should for ever renounce all idea of
conquest, and confine itself entirely to defensive war ; and
this was decreed with universal acclamation. But Mira-
beau at length successfully proposed that the right of de¬
claring war or making peace should be vested in the king
and the legislative body conjunctly; and the decree which
was passed on the subject formed a strange farrago of con¬
tradictions and absurdities. It enjoined the king to guard
the state from all external attacks ; but it did not say how
this could be done, without repelling any attack which
might be made upon it. In fact, the king could do no¬
thing without previously informing the National Assembly;
and if that body chanced not to be sitting at the time, he
was bound to let the enemy advance without opposition,
until he had convened the deputies, dispersed over twen¬
ty thousand square leagues, and listened to their metaphy¬
sical quibbles in Paris.
Strange On the 16th of June a very singular farce was enacted
farce. jn the assembly. A Prussian refugee, called Anacharsis
Clootz, on an evening sitting, which was generally ill at¬
tended by persons of high rank, introduced to the assem¬
bly a number of persons dressed in the habits of all the
different countries that could be thought of; and in a for¬
mal harangue told them that he was come, as the orator of
the human race, at the head of the representatives of all
nations, to congratulate them upon the formation of their
new constitution. He was answered by the president
with much solemnity, upon which he retired with his
motley group. This fantastical piece of folly, which in
any other country wmuld scarcely have excited a smile,
was treated by the assembly in a serious light. Alexan¬
der Lameth proposed, that the figures of different nations
exhibited in chains at the feet of Louis XIV. should be
destroyed, as an insult to mankind. M. Lambel, a lawyer,
then proposed the abolition of all hereditary titles; and in
this he was supported by Lafayette, St Fargeau, and the
Viscount de Noailles. The decree passed, along with ano¬
ther for suppressing all armorial bearings. No part of
the proceedings of the French National Assembly was re¬
ceived with so much indignation as this. The feudal sys¬
tem had been abolished, and the property of the church
wrested from it, with comparatively little notice; but when
those nominal distinctions which antiquity had sanctioned History
and personal vanity rendered dear were attacked, the sur-
rounding nations instantly took the alarm, and beheld with U90.
terror the levelling precedent which had thus been esta¬
blished. Nor is it a little remarkable, that of all the king’s
ministers, Neckar alone, a plebeian, a republican born, and
bred in a democracy, advised his majesty to refuse his as¬
sent to the decree, as a violent but useless encroachment
upon the prejudices of a powerful order in the state.
In the mean time, the capital was entirely engrossed with
preparations for a grand festival. M. Bailly having pro¬
posed to commemorate the anniversary of the taking of the
Bastille, his plan was adopted, because it flattered the vani¬
ty of the people, by presenting them with a splendid spec¬
tacle, in commemoration of their own exertions. As the
army had been much disorganized, it was also resolved to
attempt to unite all its branches, as well as the whole de¬
partments of the state, in one common attachment to the
new order of things, by collecting into one place deputa¬
tions for the purpose of swearing fidelity to the new con¬
stitution. In the middle of the Champ de Mars an altar
was erected, at which the civic oath was to be taken ; and
around the altar an amphitheatre was erected capable of
containing four hundred thousand spectators. All ranks
of persons, the nobility, clergy, and even ladies, with that
eagerness for novelty which is so peculiar to the French
people, united their efforts ; and crowds of foreigners, as
well as natives, hurried to the capital to be present at this
solemnity, which was denominated the Confederation.
The long-expected 14th of July at length arrived. At six
o’clock in the morning the procession was arranged on the
boulevards, and consisted of the electors of the city of Pa¬
ris, the representatives of the commons, the administrators
of the municipality, a battalion of children with a standard
on which was inscribed The Hopes of the Nation; depu¬
ties from the troops of France wherever quartered, and of
every order, along with deputies from all the departments ;
to which were added immense detachments of the military
and of the national guards, with an almost infinite multi¬
tude of drums, trumpets, and musical instruments. The
procession was extremely splendid, as every district had
its peculiar decorations. The National Assembly passed
through a triumphal arch ; and the king and queen, attend¬
ed by the foreign ministers, were placed in a superb box.
After a solemn invocation to God, the king approached the
altar, and, amidst the deepest silence, took the prescribed
oath to employ the power delegated to him according to
the constitutional law of the state, to maintain the consti¬
tution, and to enforce the execution of the law. The pre¬
sident of the National Assembly then went up to the altar,
and took the civic oath, swearing to be faithful to the na¬
tion, the law, and the king, and to maintain the constitu¬
tion as decreed by the National Assembly, and accepted by
the king; and every member of the assembly standing up,
said, “ That I swear.” Lafayette then advanced and took
the oath, which the other deputies of the national guards
pronounced after him ; and the words were solemnly pro¬
nounced by every individual of this immense assembly.
Te Deum was then sung, and the solemnity concluded.
The performance was altogether sublime. Never before
perhaps was there such an orchestra, or such an audience ;
their numbers baffled the eye to reckon, and their shouts
fell on the ear like the noise of many waters. It is impos¬
sible to enumerate all the means which were employed to
add splendour to this day; it ended with a general illu¬
mination, and no accident disturbed the public tranquillity.
I he assembly now proceeded with the formation of the
constitution; but the public tranquillity was disturbed by
an unhappy event at Nancy. Most of the officers of the
army were unfriendly to the late revolution; and every
means had been employed by them to excite disgust in
F R A
History, tlie minds of the soldiers. At Nancy, in particular, ne-
-Tn'Ttqi cessaries been denied them, and their pay was kept
’ ' 'back, upon the pretence that such was the will of the
National Assembly. Driven to despair, the regiments in
garrison broke out in open mutiny ; demanded loudly the
regimental accounts ; and having seized the military chest,
sent a deputation to state their case to the National As¬
sembly. But the officers had anticipated their men, and
prepossessed the minister of war against them, and upon
his representation a decree was passed, authorizing the
commander-in-chief of the province, M. Bouille, to reduce
the mutineers by force. This was no sooner known than
the national guard of Nancy assembled, and sent a depu¬
tation to give a fair statement of facts. But Bouille,
without waiting the result of an explanation, hastened to
Nancy at the head of all the troops he could collect; and
having fallen upon the regiments of Chateauvieux and
Mestre de Camp, put a number to the sword, and took
four hundred prisoners. The news of these events filled
Paris with indignation, and the assembly afterwards re¬
versed its own decrees against the mutineers at Nancy ;
but Bouille could not be punished, because he had only
acted in obedience to authority.
As Neckar was unwilling to go all lengths with the rul¬
ing party, his popularity had for some time been gradu¬
ally declining. He therefore tendered his resignation on
the 4th of September, and immediately thereafter left the
kingdom. He was regretted by no party. Regarded, on
the one hand, as having ruined the kingdom, by the con¬
cessions which he had advised the king to make in favour
of the tiers etat, he was despised, on the other, as a politi¬
cian of lukewarm principles, narrow views, and limited un¬
derstanding. He retired, however, with an unblemished
reputation for integrity. This minister does not seem to
have been capable of penetrating deeply into the charac¬
ters of men, or forming any adequate conception of the
effects of that energy which is called forth in a nation
that attempts to make important changes in its ancient
manners and government; and having formed no just esti¬
mate of the important era about to open on the country
of which he was the minister, he was far from being quali¬
fied to direct or control its affairs amidst the violent con¬
vulsions through which it was destined to pass. Unable
to brook the loss of his popularity, he retired to Switzer¬
land, and there published a work, which, whatever it fails
to estaolish, clearly shows the honest intentions of the
French king, and the boundless ambition of the popular
leaders, whom he himself had armed with power.
The assembly commenced the year 1791 with a decree
announcing the termination of its session, which was to
take place as soon as it should have finished the discus¬
sion of a list of constitutional articles. In the mean time,
hostile appearances began to be exhibited on the side of
Germany, Spain, Italy, and Savoy, and bodies of troops
advanced towards the French frontiers. The Emperor
Leopold was, however, too cautious to announce his inten¬
tions ; and the king soon communicated a letter which he
had received from that potentate, containing protestations
of amicable dispositions, but adding, that the innovations
occasioned by the decrees of the 4th of August ought to
be done away. The king treated this merely as an official
measure on the part of the emperor, in order that he might
not appear to compensate the claims of certain German
princes on Alsace and Lorraine. But the assembly ex¬
pressed some alarm, and voted an augmentation of the na¬
tional force. On the 20th of February public attention
was roused by a circumstance, which in any other state
of affairs would have been accounted unimportant. The
king announced to the assembly, that his aunts, the
daughters of Louis XV., had that morning left Paris; but
as he did not apprehend that the existing laws laid them
NCR 59
under any restraint in this respect, he had not opposed History
their departure. After some debate, the assembly agreed
that the king had judged well; and these princesses were 1791-
left to pursue their journey to Rome. The kingdom had
thus been gradually deserted by every branch of the royal
family, excepting the king and his eldest brother; the
panic which had seized the nobility, and induced them to
desert the country and the throne at the moment when they
ought to have stuck firm to both, communicated itself to
those most nearly connected with the latter, who also
abandoned their posts. The assembly, however, continued
its labours with unremitting perseverance and amidst tole¬
rable tranquillity.
lowards the end of the month of March, the National Heath of
Assembly was deprived by death of its most gifted mem- Mirabeau.
ber, and, in one sense, greatest ornament, Mirabeau. The
death of this extraordinary man had in it something su¬
blime. 1 hough sensible of his approaching dissolution, he
was so far from being intimidated by the prospect, that
he gloried in the name which he was to bequeath to pos¬
terity. I owards the close of his illness his sufferings were
acute ; and at one moment, when deprived of the power
of speech, he wrote on a slip of paper the words of Ham¬
let, “ To die, to sleep; no more.” But a few hours be¬
fore his death the commencement of mortification reliev¬
ed his sufferings, without overclouding the brightness of
his faculties. “ Remove from the bed,” said he, “ all that
sad apparatus. Instead of these useless precautions, sur¬
round me with the perfumes and flowers of spring; dress
my hair with care; let me fall asleep amidst the sounds
of harmonious music.” Aware that recovery was hopeless,
he earnestly implored his attendants to give him lauda¬
num, to put a period to his sufferings. “ When a sick
man is given over,” said he, “ and he suffers frightful pains,
can a friendly physician refuse to give him opium ?” His
extremities were already cold, and death was fast doing
its work; but his countenance still retained its animation,
his eye its wonted fire, his mind its energies unimpaired.
Feigning to comply with his request, his attendants gave
him a cup containing what they assured him was opium.
He drank it off calmly, fell back on his pillow, and almost
instantly expired. Endowed with a constitution naturally
robust, his physical powers sunk under the combined waste
of boundless ambition, continual excitement, and exces¬
sive indulgence. At his death he received from his coun¬
trymen marks of respect unparalleled in modern history.
During his short illness his door was besieged by anxious
citizens. A mourning of eight days was decreed by the
assembly, and also a grand procession, which was attend¬
ed by all the public functionaries. He was likewise the
first interred in the new Pantheon, consecrated to receive
the remains of illustrious men; but his ashes were after¬
wards removed, in consequence of pretty conclusive proofs
that he had not been incorruptible.
Such was the end of the first commanding spirit which His cha-
arose amidst the troubles of the Revolution. Mirabeau ratter,
was upwards of forty years of age when he entered pub¬
lic life ; but even at the opening of the States General his
reputation was already great; and notwithstanding the
disfavour produced by his vices, he was regarded as the
tribune who alone could support the cause of the people
against the designs of the court. Nor were these expec¬
tations disappointed, notwithstanding all the defects inhe¬
rent in his character. He was endowed with splendid ta¬
lents, but impelled by insatiable ambition ; gifted with a
penetrating intellect, but the prey of inordinate passions;
sagacious in the perception of truth, but indifferent as to
the means by which distinction was to be acquired; without
great information derived from study, but unrivalled in
the power of converting that which he possessed to the
best possible account ; of matchless tact and promptitude,
60 FRA
History, dauntless intrepidity, and unconquerable energy, but of sus-
pected integrity, and destitute of either moral or religious
1791- principles. His temperament was too ardent and impetuous
to permit him to master any subject; he studied nothing
profoundly, and owed almost all the writings to which his
name was attached, and many of the most effective speeches
he delivered, to Dumont, Duroverai, and Claviere, who
each assisted him in his labours. His strength lay in a vivid
imagination, a nervous elocution, and an unrivalled power
of seizing hold on the spirit of the assembly which he
addressed, and applying the whole force of his mind to
the point whence the resistance proceeded. It was in
moments of the greatest difficulty that his faculties shone
forth in the greatest splendour; it was when apparently
on the verge of annihilation that he shot forth those thun*
derbolts by which his ascendency was confirmed. But great
as was his influence in the National Assembly, it fell far
short ofwhat it might have been but for the consequences
of his irregular life ; and the general impression of his total
want of principle, combined with his habitual profusion and
extravagance, made the league which he formed with the
court towards the close of his career be ascribed to venal
and corrupt motives. But in undertaking to heal the
wounds of the Revolution, which he believed himself to
hold as it were in the hollow of his hand, he miscalcu¬
lated his own power, great as it undoubtedly was. The
work of destruction had proceeded too far to be suddenly
stopped ; a spirit had been unchained which no magic of
genius or talents could allay, until it had spent its force
in levelling with the dust all old and time-honoured dis¬
tinctions. In the character of a mediator, which he pro¬
posed to assume, he would have most probably sunk into
insignificance; and, with the loss of his influence as a po¬
pular tribune, his power to re-establish the monarchy,
even upon the basis of constitutional freedom, would also
have vanished. Besides, the instruments with which he
proposed to work were not adapted to his handling; and,
after a short trial, he would have found himself obliged
to throw them aside.1
During the whole of this spring great fear was enter¬
tained that attempts were to be made to bring about a
counter revolution. The emigrant army under the prince
of Conde had assembled on the borders of Alsace. The
king also was surrounded by crowds of nonjuring priests,
and other disaffected persons. The popular jealousy, which
in every period of the Revolution strikingly marked the
French character, was thus kept on the alarm, and soon
vented itself in an aggression on the royal family. On
the 18th of April, when the latter were preparing to re¬
move to St Cloud, there to pass some days, a report was
instantly spread that the king was about to fly from the
country. The carriages were immediately surrounded by
people. Lafayette called out the national guard, but
they refused to act. “ We know,” said they, “ that we
are violating the laws, but the safety of our country is the
first law.” The king instantly went to the assembly, and
with much spirit complained of the insult. He was an¬
swered respectfully by the president, and permitted to
continue his journey. As the royal family had enjoyed
for some time a considerable degree of freedom, the pre¬
sent opportunity was embraced to intimate to foreign
N C E.
courts his acceptance of the constitution ; and all obnoxi- History.
ous persons were dismissed from about his person. But
the breach of discipline on the part of the national guard 179f.
was so much resented by Lafayette, that he resigned
his command, and Paris was thrown into consternation ;
nor was it until after universal solicitation that he could
be prevailed upon to resume his functions.
About this time M. de Bouille, to whom the protection Flight of
of the frontiers had been intrusted, was reported to be em- the king,
ploying every means in his power in order to render the
country defenceless. The garrisons were left unprovided ;
disunion spread amongst the national troops, who were
removed from the frontiers, and their place occupied by
foreigners; the emigrants abroad, and their friends at
home, were lying in wait for an opportunity to revolt;
such were the rumours in circulation, when suddenly, on
the 21st of June, it was announced from the Tuilleries,
that the king, the queen, the dauphin, with monsieur and
madame, had quitted the palace and the capital, without
leaving any information of their intention or their route.
The feeling excited by this intelligence among the multi¬
tude was a mixture of rage and consternation. The Na¬
tional Assembly, however, acted with much coolness and
promptitude. They instantly took upon themselves the
government, and decreed their sittings permanent; and
they at the same time sent messengers in all directions,
to attempt to lay hold of the fugitives. The latter, how¬
ever, had taken different routes; and monsieur and madame
arrived safely at Brussels on the 23d. The king, queen,
and their children, when they reached a considerable dis¬
tance from the capital, were furnished by M- de Bouille
with a guard of dragoons, under pretence of protecting
treasure for the pay of the troops. But, at the distance
of 156 miles from the capital, and when only a few leagues
from the frontier, they were arrested at St Menehould by
the postmaster, M. Drouet, formerly a dragoon in the re¬
giment of Conde. At half past seven o’clock in the even¬
ing, the carriages having stopped at his house to change
horses, Drouet thought that he recognized the queen, and
imagined that the king’s face resembled the impressions
stamped upon the assignats. The escort of dragoons in¬
creased the suspicion. He suffered them to depart at
eleven o’clock without notice; but taking a companion, he
proceeded by a shorter road to Varennes, and with the as¬
sistance of the postmaster of that place, he gave the alarm ;
overturned a carriage on the bridge, which detained the
royal travellers till the national guard of the place had as¬
sembled ; and succeeded, without bloodshed, in effecting
the arrest of the whole party, who were brought back to
Paris by a deputation from the assembly. At his departure,
the king had imprudently left behind him a memorial, in
which he declared that he never had thought any sacri¬
fice too great for the restoration of order; but that the
destruction of the kingdom and the triumph of anarchy
being the only reward of all his efforts, he had thought it
necessary to leave it. He then took a review of the faults
of the new constitution, with the grievances he had suffer¬
ed, and protested against every thing which he had been
compelled to do during his captivity.
Different parties were variously affected by this ill-con¬
ducted and unfortunate flight of the king. A republican
1 Dumont, 276, 277 ; Lacretelle, viii. 133 ; Thiers, i. 281, 282 ; Mad. de Stael, i. 408 : Alison, i. 240, 241, 242. On his death-bed
Mirabeau foresaw, in the clearest manner, the consequences which were certain to flow from the direction given to the Revolution,
and the boundless scope thus afforded to popular ambition. “ When I am no more,” said he, “ my worth will become known. The
misfortunes which I have arrested will then pour in on all sides on France ; the criminal faction which now trembles before me
will be unbridled. I have before my eyes unbounded presentiments of disaster. ATe now see how much we erred in not preventing
the commons from assuming the name of the National Assembly. Since they gained that victory they have never ceased to show
themselves unworthy of it. They have chosen to govern the king, instead of governing by him; but soon neither he nor they will
rule the country, but a vile faction which will overspread it with horrors.” (Dumont, 267, 268.) The sagacity and foresight dis¬
played in these remarkable words make us cease to wonder that the death of Mirabeau, at this crisis, should have been regarded as a
public calamity.
FRA
History, party had already begun to appear; and during the king’s
absence attempts were made to induce the public at large
to consider the royal authority as no necessary part of a
free constitution. But the minds of men were not yet
altogether prepared for the reception of this doctrine. The
idea, however, having been thus publicly proposed, left
impressions which in time contributed to give rise to im¬
portant events. By far the greater number of the leading
men were at this time convinced that it was impossible
to govern a great empire like France without the assist¬
ance of an hereditary chief; and hence they determined
to pass over the journey to Varennes as quietly as possible,
and to hasten the period when the new constitution should
be completed. But their intentions, as will be seen in
the sequel, were rendered abortive ; and there is reason
to believe that this unfortunate journey was, in its conse¬
quences, instrumental in bringing about the tragedy which
consummated the overthrow of the monarchy. The flight
of the king seemed the signal for a general emigration.
Many of the aristocratic party sent in resignations of their
seats in the National Assembly; and troops were levied
on the frontiers in the name of the king, though he took
care to disavow any connection with such proceedings.
The assembly, in sanctioning the detention of the king
at Varennes, and sending commissioners to bring him back
to Paris, yielded to popular clamour, in opposition proba¬
bly to their better judgment; at all events they commit¬
ted a great political error. The leaders of the democra¬
tic party had every reason to rejoice at the near prospect
of a republic which his flight opened up; the constitu¬
tionalists must have desired to see him established at
Montmedy, and emancipated from the state of thral¬
dom in which he had been so long held by the rabble of
Paris ; many of the royalists were not probably displeased
at the retreat of a king whose concessions had brought
the monarchy to the brink of ruin ; and all the better part
of society must have been gratified at his escape from the
iron despotism of the Parisian mob. But all these con¬
siderations went for nothing in opposition to the clamours
of the multitude; and, either from cowardice or a base
love of popularity, the assembly adopted a course which
their own minds must have disapproved, and which men
of all parties have united to condemn. “ The National
Assembly,” says Napoleon, “ never committed so great
an error as in bringing back the king from Yarennes. A
fugitive and powerless, he was hastening to the frontier,
and in a few hours would have been out of the French
territory. What should they have done in these circum¬
stances ? Clearly facilitated his escape, and declared the
throne vacant by his desertion: they would thus have
avoided the infamy of a regicide government, and attain-
N C E. G1
ed their great object of republican institutions. Instead History,
of this, by bringing him back, they embarrassed them-
selves with a sovereign whom they had no just reason for 1791.
destroying, and lost the inestimable advantage of getting
rid of the royal family without an act of cruelty.”1 In
the truth and justice of these observations history must
acquiesce.
A considerable calm followed the events just related, and Treaty of
France might almost be regarded as in a state of tranquilli- Pilnitz.
ty. It contained, indeed, parties who entertained much ani¬
mosity against each other, and man}' citizens had withdrawn
to foreign countries ; but the general peace was not disturb¬
ed, and moderate men hoped that prosperity would succeed
to the late agitations. But this calm was delusive; and in
the midst of it projects were formed which were destined
afterwards to prove fatal to the peace of France and Eu¬
rope. Towards the close of summer the famous meeting
at Pilnitz in Saxony took place between the emperor and
the king of Prussia, and led to the celebrated declaration,
which was conceived in the following terms: “ Their
majesties, the emperor, and king of Prussia, having con¬
sidered the representations of monsieur, brother of the
king, and of his excellency the Count d’Artois, declare
conjointly that they consider the situation of the king of
France as a matter of common interest to all the Euro¬
pean sovereigns. They hope that the reality of that in¬
terest will be duly appreciated by the other powers, whose
assistance they will invoke, and that in consequence they
will not decline to employ their forces conjointly with
their majesties, in order to put the king of France in a
situation to lay the foundation of a monarchical govern¬
ment, conformable alike to the rights of sovereigns and
the wellbeing of the French nation. In that case the
emperor and king are resolved to act promptly with the
forces necessary to attain their common end. In the
mean time they will give the requisite orders for the troops
to hold themselves in immediate readiness for active ser¬
vice.” Such was the celebrated declaration of Pilnitz;
but, either from a cooling of zeal upon the part of the
allied sovereigns, or a sense of the danger which the king
of France would have run, after he had, in consequence
of the flight to Yarennes, become a prisoner in the hands
of the assembly, it remained without effect. It was alleged
by the French, however, that there was a treaty as well
as a declaration of Pilnitz, or, in other words, that several
secret articles, stipulating the partition of some of the fair¬
est provinces of France, were at the same time agreed to
by the allied sovereigns; but no sufficient evidence has
ever been produced to substantiate the allegation, and it
is now indeed generally agreed that there was no such
thing as a treaty of Pilnitz.2
1 Napoleon’s Mtmoires, vol. i. p. 1.
2 The following paper, which has been repeatedly published as the copy of a treaty concluded and signed at Pavia, is generally un¬
derstood to have been identical with, and is therefore known by the name of, the treaty of Pilnitz. We have already stated that its
authenticity is more than questionable. It may have been fabricated by the National Assembly, to unite all parties against the foreign
powers which threatened France with invasion. But, in relating the events of this revolution, it is as necessary, for the purpose of
rendering the actions of men comprehensible, to give an account of what was at the time believed to have occurred, as it is to ascer¬
tain what was actually true. The treaty in question bears, “ That his majesty the emperor will take all that Louis XIV. conquered
in the Austrian Netherlands, will give it to his serene highness the elector palatine; that he will preserve for ever the property and
possession of Bavaria, to form in future an indivisible mass with the domains and hereditary possessions of the house of Austria ; that
the Archduchess Maria Christina shall be, conjointly with her nephew the Archduke Charles, put into hereditary possession of the
duchy of Lorraine; that Alsace shall be restored to the empire; that if the Swiss Cantons consent to accede to the coalition, it may
be proposed to them to annex to the Helvetic league the bishopric of Porentrui, the defiles of Franche Comtd, and even those of Tyrol,
with the neighbouring bailiwicks, as well as the territory of Versoy, which intersects the Pays de Vaud ; that should his majesty the
king of Sardinia subscribe to the coalition, La Bresse, Le Bugey, and the Pays de Gex, usurped by F’rance from Savoy, shall be
restored to him; that in case his Sardinian majesty can make a grand diversion, he shall be suffered to take Dauphine, to belong to
him for ever, as the nearest descendant of the ancient dauphins ; that the king of Spain shall have Roussillon and Bearn, with the
island of Corsica, and also the French part of the island of St Domingo ; that the empress of all the llussias shall take upon herself
the invasion of Poland, and at the same time retain Kaminiech, with that part of Podolia which borders on Moldavia; that the em¬
peror shall oblige the porte to give up Choczim, as well as the small forts of Servia, and those on the river Lurna; that the king of
Prussia, by means of the above-mentioned invasion of Poland, shall make an acquisition of Thorn and Dantzic, and unite the pala¬
tinate on the east to the confines of Silesia; that the king of Prussia shall besides acquire Lusace, and the elector of Saxony shall in
exchange receive the rest of Poland, and occupy the throne as hereditary sovereign ; that the king of Poland shall abdicate the throne
62
FRANCE.
History. In the mean time, the National Assembly was hasten- ration. Society has a right to demand from every public
ing towards the completion of the new constitution, which agent an account of his administration. Every society in
The^n^ was ^n's^e^ on ^le ^ °f September, and immediately pre- which the guarantee of rights is not assured, nor the se-
constitu- sented to the king. It begins with a declaration of the rights paration of powers determined, has no constitution. Pro-
tion. °f man; this is followed by the provisions regarding other perty being a right inviolable and sacred, no person can
matters. According to it, all men are born, and remain, be deprived of it, except when the public necessity, le-
free and equal in rights; and social distinctions can only gaily ascertained, shall evidently require it, and on con-
be founded on common utility. The end of all political as- dition of a just and previous indemnification,
sociations is the preservation of the natural and imprescrip- The constitution guarantees, as natural and civil rights,
tible rights of man ; and these rights are liberty, property, first, that all citizens are admissible to places and employ-
security, and resistance against oppression. The principle ments, without any distinction but that of ability and vir-
of sovereignty resides essentially in the nation ; and no tue ; secondly, that all contributions shall be divided equal-
body of men, no individual, can exercise an authority which ly among all the citizens, in proportion to their means;
does not emanate expressly from that source. Liberty thirdly, that the same crimes shall be subject to the same
consists in the power of doing everything except that punishments, without any distinction of persons. The con-
which is hurtful to another ; and hence the exercise of the stitution, in like manner, guarantees, as natural and civil
natural rights of every man has no other bounds than rights, liberty to all men, of going, staying, or departing,
those which are necessary to ensure to the other mem- without being arrested or detained, except according to the
bers of society the enjoyment of the same rights ; bounds forms prescribed by the constitution ; liberty to all men, of
which can only be determined by law. The law has a speaking, writing, printing, and publishing their thoughts,
right to forbid those actions alone which are hurtful to without having their writings subjected to any examina-
society. Whatever is not forbidden by the law cannot be tion or inspection before publication, and of exercising the
hindered ; and no person can be constrained to do that religious worship to which they are attached; liberty to
which the law does not ordain. The law is the expression all citizens, of assembling peaceably, and without arms,
of the general will; and all the citizens have a right to con- complying with the laws of police ; liberty of addressing
cur personally, or by their representatives, in the formation to all constitutional authorities petitions individually sign-
of the law ; it ought therefore to be the same for all, whe- ed ; and the inviolability of property, or a just and previous
ther it protect or whether it punish. All citizens being indemnity for that of which public necessity, legally prov-
equal in the eye ofthe law, are equally admissible to dignities, ed, shall require the sacrifice. A system of public instruc-
places, and public offices, according to their capacity, and tion shall be created and organized, common to all citi-
without any other distinction than that of their virtue and zens, gratuitous with regard to those parts of tuition in-
their talents. No man can be accused, arrested, or detained, dispensable for all men, and of which the establishment
except in cases determined by the law, and according to shall be gradually distributed, in a proportion combined
the forms which the law has prescribed. Those who so- with the division of the kingdom.
licit, dispatch, execute, or cause to be executed, arbitrary The kingdom is one and indivisible; its territory for
orders, ought to be punished; but every citizen who is administration is distributed into eighty-three depart-
summoned or seized in virtue of the law ought to obey ments, each department into districts, each district into
instantly, otherwise he becomes culpable by resistance, cantons. Those are French citizens who are born in France
The law ought to establish such punishments only as are of a French father; who, having been born in France of a
strictly and evidently necessary; and no person can be foreign father, have fixed their residence in the kingdom ;
punished except in virtue of a law established and pro- who, having been born in a foreign country, of a French
mulgated prior to the offence, and legally applied. Every father, have returned to settle in France, and have taken
man being presumed innocent till such time as he has the civic oath ; and, lastly, who, having been born in a fo-
been declared guilty, if it shall be deemed absolutely ne- reign country, being descended in whatever degree from
cessary to arrest a man, every kind of rigour employed, a Frenchman or Frenchwoman, have left their country
not necessary to secure his person, ought to be severely from religious motives, come to reside in France, and
repressed. No person shall be molested for his opinions, taken the civic oath. The right of French citizenship is
even such as are religious, provided the manifestation of lost, first, by naturalization in a foreign country: secondly,
those opinions does not disturb the public order establish- by being condemned to penalties which involve the civic
ed by the law. The free communication of thought and of degradation, provided the person condemned be not rein¬
opinion is one of the most precious rights of man. Every stated ; thirdly, by a sentence of contumacy, provided the
citizen, therefore, may freely speak, write, and publish his sentence be not annulled ; fourthly, by initiation into any
sentiments; subject, however, to answer for the abuse of foreign order or body which supposes either proofs of no-
this liberty in the cases determined by the law. The gua- bility or distinctions of birth, or requires religious vows,
rantee of the rights of men and citizens involves a neces- The law considers marriage as only a civil contract,
sity of public force ; but this force is then instituted for The sovereignty is one, indivisible, unalienable, and im-
all, and not for the particular utility of those to whom it prescriptible, and it belongs to the nation ; no section of
is confided. For the maintenance of the public force, and the people, and no individual, can arrogate the exercise of
for the expenses of the administration, a common contribu- it. The nation, from which alone flow all powers, cannot
tion is indispensably necessary; but this contribution exercise them but by delegation. The French constitu-
should be equally divided amongst all the citizens in pro- tion is representative, and the representatives are the
portion to their abilities. Every citizen has a right, by legislative body and the king. The National Assembly,
lumselr or by his representatives, to decide concerning forming the legislative body, is permanent, and consists of
the necessity of the public contribution ; to consent to it one chamber only. It shall be formed hv new elerfinns
freely; to look after the employment of it; and to deter- every two years. 7 The legislative bTdy cannot be dTssolv!
mine the quantity, the distribution, the collection, and du- ed by the king. The number of representatives to the
History
1791.
on receiving a suitable annuity ; and that the elector of Saxony shall give his daughter in marriage to the youngest son ofthe grand
duke of all the Russias, who will be the father of the race of the hereditary kings of Poland and Lithuania.” And this is signed
ay Leopold, Irince Nassau, Count Florida Blanca, and Bischoffswerder. °
FRA
History. legislative body shall be seven hundred and forty-five, on
account of the eighty-three departments of which the
1791 • kingdom is composed, and independently of those who
may be granted to the colonies. The representatives shall
he distributed among the departments, according to the
three proportions of land, of population, and of the direct
contributions or taxes. Of the seven hundred and forty-
five representatives, two hundred and forty-seven are at¬
tached to the land. Of these, each department shall no¬
minate three, excepting the department of Paris, which
shall nominate only one. Two hundred and forty-nine
representatives are attached to the population. The total
mass of the active population of the kingdom is divided
into two hundred and forty-nine parts, and each depart¬
ment nominates as many of the deputies as it contains
parts of the population. Two hundred and forty-nine re¬
presentatives are attached to the direct contributions.
The sum total of the direct contributions of the kingdom
is likewise divided into two hundred and forty-nine parts,
and each department nominates as many deputies as it
pays parts of the contribution.
In order to form a Legislative National Assembly, the
active citizens shall convene, in primary assemblies, every
two years in the cities and cantons. The primary assem¬
blies shall meet of full right on the first Sunday of March,
if not convoked sooner by the public officers appointed to
do so by the law. To he an active citizen, it is necessary
to be a Frenchman, or to have become a Frenchman; to
have attained twenty-five years complete ; to have resided
in the city or the canton during the time determined by the
law; to pay in any part of the kingdom a direct contribution
or tax, at least equal to the value of three days’ labour, and
to produce the acquittance ; not to be in a menial capacity,
namely, that of a servant receiving wages ; to be inscribed
in the municipality of the place of his residence in the
list of the national guards; to have taken the civic oath.
The primary assemblies shall name electors in the pro¬
portion of the number of active citizens residing in the
city or canton. There shall be named one elector to the
assembly or not, according as there shall happen to be
present a hundred active citizens. There shall be named
two when there are present from a hundred and fifty-one
to two hundred and fifty, and so on in this proportion. The
electors named in each department shall convene in order
to choose the number of representatives whose nomination
shall belong to their department, and a number of substi¬
tutes equal to the third of the representatives. The as¬
semblies shall be held of full right on the last Sunday of
March, if they have not been before convoked by the
public officers appointed to do so by law. All active citi¬
zens, whatever be their state, profession, or contribution,
may be chosen representatives of the nation; excepting,
nevertheless, the ministers and other agents of the exe¬
cutive power, and other persons named. The members
of the legislative body may be re-elected to a subsequent
legislature, but not till after an interval of one legislature.
No active citizen can enter or vote in an assembly if he be
armed. The representatives shall meet on the first Mon¬
day of May, in the place of the sittings of the last legisla¬
ture.
The royalty is indivisible, and delegated hereditarily to
the race on the throne from male to male, by order of pri¬
mogeniture, to the perpetual exclusion of women and their
descendants. Nothing is prejudged as to the effect of re¬
nunciations in the race on the throne. The person of the
king is inviolable and sacred ; bis only title is King of the
French. If the king put himself at the head of an army,
and direct the forces of it against the nation, or if he do not
oppose, by a formal act, any such enterprise undertaken in
his name, he shall be held to have abdicated. If the king,
having gone out of the kingdom, do not return to it, after
N C E. 63
an invitation by the legislative body, within the space History,
which shall be fixed by the proclamation, and which can-
not be less than two months, he shall be held to have ab- 179L
dicated the royalty. After abdication, express or legal,
the king shall be in the class of citizens, and may be ac¬
cused and tried like them for acts posterior to his abdica¬
tion. The nation makes provision for the splendour of
the throne by a civil list, of which the legislative body shall
fix the amount at the commencement of each reign, for
the whole duration of that reign. The king is a minor till
the age of eighteen complete ; and during his minority
there shall be a regent of the kingdom. The regency
belongs to the relation of the king next in degree accord¬
ing to the order of succession to the throne, who has at¬
tained the age of twenty-five, provided he be a French¬
man resident in the kingdom, and not presumptive heir
to any other crown, and have previously taken the civic
oath. Ihe presumptive heir shall bear the name of Prince
Royal. rIhe members of the king’s family called to the
eventual succession of the throne shall add the denomi¬
nation of French Prince to the name which shall be given
them in the civil act proving their birth ; and this name can
neither be patronymic nor formed of any of the qualifica¬
tions abolished by the present constitution. The denomi¬
nation of prince cannot be given to any individual, and shall
not carry with it any privilege or exception to the com¬
mon right of all French citizens. To the king alone be¬
long the choice and dismission of ministers.
The members of the present National Assembly, and of
the subsequent legislatures, the members of the tribunal
of appeal, and those who shall be of the high jury, can¬
not be advanced to the ministr}', nor receive any place,
gift, pension, allowance, or commission of the executive
power, or its agents, during the continuance of their func¬
tions, or during two years after ceasing to exercise them ;
and the same shall be observed respecting those who shall
only be inscribed on the list of high jurors as long as their
inscription shall continue. No order of the king can be
executed if it be not signed by him, and countersigned
by the minister or comptroller of the department. In no
case can the written or verbal order of the king shelter a
minister from responsibility.
The constitution delegates exclusively to the legislative
body the powers and functions following: To propose
and decree laws, as the king can only invite the legisla¬
tive body to take a subject into consideration ; to fix the
public expenses; to establish the public contributions; to
determine the nature of them, the amount of each sort,
the duration, mode of collection, and so forth. War
cannot be resolved on except by a decree of the Na¬
tional Assembly, passed on the formal and necessary pro¬
position of the king, and sanctioned by him. During the
whole course of war the legislative body may require the
king to negotiate peace ; and the king is bound to yield
to this requisition. It belongs to the legislative body to
ratify treaties of peace, alliance, and commerce ; and no
treaty shall have effect but by this ratification.
The deliberations of the legislative body shall be pub¬
lic, and the minutes of the sittings shall be printed. The
legislative body may, however, upon any occasion form
itself into a general committee. The project of a decree or
law shall be read thrice, at three intervals, the shortest of
which cannot be less than eight days. The decrees of the
legislative body are presented to the king, who may re¬
fuse them his consent. In case of a refusal of the royal
consent, that refusal is only suspensive. When the two
following legislatures shall successively present the same
decree in the same terms in which it was originally con¬
ceived, the king shall be deemed to have given his sanc¬
tion. I he king is bound to express his consent or refu¬
sal to each decree within two months after its presenta-
64 FRA
History, tion. No decree to which the king has refused his con-
sent can be again presented to him by the same legisla-
ture.
The supreme executive power resides exclusively in the
hands of the king. The king is the supreme head of the
land and sea forces. He names ambassadors, and the
other agents of political negotiations. He bestows the
command of armies and fleets, and the ranks of marshal
of France and admiral: he names two thirds of the rear-
admirals, one half of the lieutenant-generals, major-gene¬
rals, captains of ships, and colonels of the national gen¬
darmerie : he names a third of the colonels and lieute¬
nant-colonels, and a sixth of the lieutenants of ships: he
appoints, in the civil administration of the marine, the di¬
rectors, the comptrollers, the treasurers of the arsenals,
the masters of the works, the under-masters of civil build¬
ings, half of the masters of administration, and the under¬
masters of construction. He appoints the commissaries
of the tribunals ; as also the superintendents in chief of
the management of indirect contributions, and the ad¬
ministration of national domains. He superintends the
coinage of money, and appoints officers intrusted with
this superintendence in the general commission and the
mints. The effigy of the king is struck upon all the coinage
of the kingdom. “ There is in each department a superior
administration, and in each district a subordinate admini¬
stration. The administrators are specially charged with
distributing the direct contributions, and with superin¬
tending the money arising from the contributions, and the
public revenues in their territory. The king has the right
of annulling such acts of the administrators of department
as are contrary to the law or the orders transmitted to
them; and he may, in case of obstinate disobedience, or
of their endangering, by their acts, the safety or peace of
the public, suspend them from their functions. The king
alone can interfere in foreign political connections. Every
declaration of war shall be made in these terms : “ By the
king of the French, in the name of the nation. The judi¬
cial power can in no case be exercised either by the le¬
gislative body or the king. Justice shall be gratuitously
administered by judges chosen from time to time by the
people, and instituted by letters-patent of the king, who
cannot refuse them. The public accuser shall be nomi¬
nated by the people. The right of citizens to determine
disputes definitively by arbitration, cannot receive any in¬
fringement from the acts of the legislative power. In cri¬
minal matters, no citizens can be judged except on an ac¬
cusation received by jurors, or decreed by the legislative
body in the case in which it belongs to it to prosecute the
accusation. After the accusation shall be admitted, the
facts shall be examined and declared by the jurors. The
person accused shall have the privilege of challenging
twenty jurors, without assigning any reason. The jurors
who declare the fact shall not be fewer than twelve. The
application of the law shall be made by the judges. I he
process shall be public; and the person accused cannot
be denied the aid of counsel. No man acquitted by a
legal jury can be apprehended or accused on account of
the same fact.
For the whole kingdom there shall be one tribunal of
appeal, established near the legislative body. A high na¬
tional court, composed of members of the tribunal of ap¬
peal and high jurors, shall take cognizance of the crimes
of ministers, and the principal agents of the executive
power; and of crimes which attack the general safety of
the state, when the legislative body shall pass a decree of
accusation. It shall not assemble except on the proclama¬
tion of the legislative body, and at the distance of thirty
thousand toises at least from the place of meeting of the
legislative body.
The national guards do not form a military body, or an
N C E.
institution in the state ; they are the citizens themselves History,
called to assist the public force. Officers are chosen for
a time, and cannot again be chosen till aftei a certain in¬
terval of service as privates. None shall command the
national guard of more than one district. All the parts of
the public force employed for the safety of the state from
foreign enemies are under the command of the king.
Public contributions shall be debated and fixed every
year by the legislative body, and cannot continue in force
longer than the last day of the following session, if they
are not expressly renewed. Detailed accounts of the ex¬
pense of the ministerial departments, signed and certified
by the ministers or comptrollers-general, shall be printed
and published at the commencement of the sessions of
each legislature ; and the same shall be done with the
statements of the receipt of the different taxes, and all
the public revenues.
The French nation renounces the undertaking of any
war with the view of making conquests, and will never
employ its forces against the liberty of any people. And
it is also declared, that the nation has the imprescriptible
right of changing its constitution ; but considering that it
is more conformable to the national interest to employ
only, by means provided in the constitution itself, the right
of reforming those articles of it of which experience shall
have shown the inconveniences, it is further decreed, that
the proceeding by an assembly of revision shall be regu¬
lated in the form following: When three successive legis¬
latures shall have expressed an uniform wish for the change
of any constitutional article, the revision demanded shall
take place. The next legislature, and the following, can¬
not propose the reform of any constitutional article. The
fourth legislature, augmented by two hundred and forty-
nine members, chosen in each department, by doubling
the ordinary number which it furnishes in proportion to
its population, shall form the assembly ot revision.
The French colonies and possessions in Asia, Africa,
and America, though they form part of the hrench em¬
pire, are not included in this constitution.
With respect to the laws made by the National As¬
sembly which are not included in the act of constitution,
and those anterior laws which it has not altered, they shall
be observed as long as they are not revoked or modified
by the legislative power.
On the 13th of September the king announced, by a Constitu-
letter to the president of the assembly, his acceptance of tion ac-
this constitution, which, however defective in some points, cepted by
is based upon solid principles of liberty; and the eventthe kinS-
was ordered to be notified to all the foreign courts, whilst
the assembly decreed a general amnesty with respect to
the events of the Revolution. On the following day the
king repaired in person to the National Assembly ; and
being conducted to a chair of state prepared for him by
the side of the president, he signed the constitutional act,
and took an oath to maintain it. He then withdrew, and
was attended back to the Tuilleries by the whole assem¬
bly, with the president at their head. On the 30th ot
September, the National, which has since been known by
the name of the Constituent Assembly, dissolved itself,
and gave place to the Legislative National Assembly,
which had been elected according to the rules prescribed
in the new constitution.
Of the character and labours of the Constituent Assembly, Character
which contained many men of distinguished talents, and and labours
not a few of eminent virtue, it is by no means easy, even at oHhe Con-
this distance of time, to form an accurate and altogether
dispassionate estimate. Called together at a period of un- 1 '
exampled difficulty and distress; intrusted with the perfor¬
mance of duties altogether new to its members; required
at once to regenerate a superannuated monarchy and to
lay the foundations of constitutional liberty ; and placed m
FRANCE.
65
History, the midst of a famishing people, resolved to cast off their
chains, but not yet prepared for the enjoyment of freedom ;
1791- it was expected to reform every abuse which time and mis-
government had engendered, to renovate an empire gray
with feudal corruption, and to direct into safe channels the
recently-excited energy of the people. The convocation
of the States General formed the last resource of the mo¬
narchy overburdened by its own vices, and the first hope
of the nation groaning under the pressure of accumulated
evils ; and to this body, therefore, the court looked for help
in overcoming the difficulties with which it was beset, at
the expense of some concessions in favour of general li¬
berty, and the people for an entire re-organization of the
system of government on a footing adapted to their opi¬
nions and their wants. How it accomplished the task thus
imposed on it, is now matter of experience. That much still
remains in dispute cannot be denied ; but time, the great
expositor of truth, has nevertheless unfolded its errors and
illustrated its virtues.
The principal evils which afflicted France were removed
by this assembly. Liberty of religious worship, which had
been but imperfectly provided for in 1787, was secured in
its fullest extent; torture and the punishment of the wheel
were abolished ; trial by jury, publicity of criminal proceed¬
ings, the examination of witnesses in presence of the accus¬
ed, and counsel for his defence, were fixed by law; the an¬
cient parliaments, the fastnesses of prejudice and partiality,
were suppressed, and one uniform system of criminal juris¬
prudence established ; lettres de cachet were abolished for
ever ; the exemption from taxation of the nobility and the
clergy was extinguished, and an equal system of contribu¬
tion established throughout the kingdom ; the most oppres¬
sive imposts, as those on salt and tobacco, together with the
taille and the tithes, were abrogated ; and the privileges of
nobility, with the feudal burdens, were abolished. To the
Constituent Assembly France has also been indebted for
the institution of national guards ; the opening of the army
to the courage and ability of every class of society; and
the division of landed property amongst the middle ranks,
one of the greatest benefits which can be conferred upon
a nation. I he same body also had the merit of authorita¬
tively recognising and proclaiming the natural, social, and
civil rights of man ; of establishing that equality in the eye
of the law without which there can be no true liberty ; and
of rendering the whole genius, talent, and virtue of the na¬
tion available to the public service in all its departments.
These were no doubt mighty changes, and their beneficial
effects were demonstrated even amidst all the calamities and
convulsions which ensued. They enabled the nation to
bear up and prosper under a vast accumulation of evils, any
one of which would have exhausted the national strength
under the monarchy ; under public bankruptcy, enormously-
depreciated assignats, civil divisions, political anarchy, the
reign of terror, the wars of Napoleon, foreign invasion, and
subjugation by Europe. In a word, by means of these re¬
forms, France has at length, in spite of every obstacle, be¬
come great, glorious, and free; the terror of the despots
of continental Europe, and one of the greatest bulwarks of
modern civilization.
The errors of the Constituent Assembly, though scarce¬
ly of less magnitude, have happily not produced conse¬
quences equally lasting. By destroying in a few months
the constitution of a thousand years, they set afloat the
ideas of men, and spread the fever of innovation through¬
out the empire ; by confiscating the property of the church,
they established a precedent for injustice, which was but
too closely followed in subsequent years ; by establishing
the right of universal suffrage, and conferring on the na¬
tion the nomination to all offices of trust, they conceded
the exercise of powers incompatible with the monarchical
form of government they themselves had established, and
vol. x.
which the people were as yet incapable of exercising with
advantage. They diminished the influence of the crown
to such a degree as to render it incapable of controlling the
people ; they limited the royal negative in such a man¬
ner as to render it nearly inoperative ; and they thus left
the kingdom a prey to the factions to which the recent
changes had unavoidably given birth. Lastly, by exclud
ing themselves from the Legislative Assembly (and this
w'as their greatest error), they deprived France of the be¬
nefit of their experience, and permitted their successors
to commence the same circle of experimental innovation, to
the extreme hazards of which they had latterly been fully
awakened. But all these were either reparable or termi¬
nable evils, which, though severely felt for a season, have,
in the natural course of events, been either cured or end¬
ed ; and, fortunately for France, the good seed sown by
this body is still producing its fruits, whilst the tares scat¬
tered amongst it have at length withered and died
The new assembly was opened by the king in person onTheLegis-
the 7th of October, in a speech recommending unanimity lative As-
and confidence between the legislative and the executive sembly.
powrers, which speech was received wdth unbounded applause.
The character of the men who composed the new National
Assembly was inauspicious to the court. At the commence¬
ment of the Revolution, the great body of the people at a
distance from the capital felt little interested in those pro¬
jects of freedom which occupied the more enlightened but
more turbulent inhabitants of Paris. But they had gra¬
dually been roused from their lethargy. The variety of
powers conferred upon the people at large by the new con¬
stitution, and the multiplicity of offices of which it gave
them the patronage, had kindled in the minds of men a
sense of their own importance, and a desire to intermeddle
in public affairs. This attached them to the new order of
things. The love of power, which is perhaps the least dis¬
guised passion in the human heart, and equally strong in the
breast of the meanest and most elevated of mankind, had
thus, under the name of liberty, become a leading passion
throughout the empire ; and they who flattered it most,
and w ere loudest in praise of the rights of the people, be¬
came speedily the favourites of the public. The new Na¬
tional Assembly was chiefly composed of country gentle¬
men of principles highly democratic, or of men of letters
who had published popular books or conducted periodical
publications ; and as the members of the Constituent As¬
sembly had by their owm act excluded themselves from
holding seats in the Legislative Assembly, the members of
the latter entertained but little regard for a constitution
which they themselves had not framed, and which was not
protected by the sanction of antiquity.
When this assembly first met, it showed much attention
to formalities, and an extreme jealousy of the ministers of
the crown ; and as the treaty of Pilnitz now began to be ru¬
moured abroad, France was thrown into a state of great
anxiety for the safety of its newly-acquired liberties. Al¬
though the Prussians and Germans still continued to tem¬
porize, Sweden and Russia had entered into strict engage¬
ments to restore the old despotism of France. Accordingly,
on the 9th of November a decree was passed, by which it
was provided that the emigrants who, after the first of Janu¬
ary 1792, should be found assembled in a hostile manner be¬
yond the frontiers, should be Considered as guilty of a con¬
spiracy, and suffer death ; and that the French princes and
public functionaries who should not return before that pe¬
riod, should be punishable in the same manner, and their
property forfeited during their lives. On the 18th a num¬
ber of severe decrees were also passed against such of the
ejected clergy as still refused to take the civic oath. But to
all these the king opposed his veto or negative. The mode¬
rate party, who were attached to the constitution, rejoiced
at this, as a proof of the freedom of the sovereign ; but,
l
66
FRANCE.
History, on the other hand, it raised a violent clamour, and became
V'“'~Y~W the means of exciting new suspicions against the court.
1791, 1792. About this time ansWers from the different foreign courts
to the notification sent them of the king having accept¬
ed the new constitution were received. These were gene¬
rally conceived in a style of great caution, and avoided
employing language calculated to produce irritation. "1 he
emperor even prohibited all assemblages of emigrants
within his states; and Louis intimated to the assembly
that he had declared to the elector of Treves, that unless
the emigrants ceased before the 15th of January to make
hostile preparations within his territories, he would be con¬
sidered as the enemy of France. All this, however, did
not serve to allay suspicion ; for although the different fo¬
reign courts had openly declared pacific intentions, yet the
French emigrants boldly asserted that all Europe was ac¬
tually arming in their favour, and accordingly ceased not
to solicit such of their friends as still remained within the
country to leave it and join them in what they called the
royal cause. Placed between a republican party which was
gradually gathering strength, and an aristocratical party
which was rousing Europe to arms against a nation of which
he was' the constitutional chief, with a combination of princes
suspected of wishing to seize upon part of his dominions,
the unhappy king stood in a situation which would have
perplexed the most skilful statesman ; and it is no proof
of incapacity that he fell a sacrifice to circumstances which
might have overwhelmed any ordinary measure of human
sagacity. Addresses were crowding into the assembly dis¬
approving the conduct of the court. M. Montmorin re¬
signed ; M. Delessart succeeded him; and M. Cahier de
Gerville became minister of the interior. M. Duportail
resigned also, and was succeeded as minister of war by M.
de Narbonne. In the month of November M. Bailly’s may¬
oralty terminated; and the once popular Lafayette ap¬
peared as a candidate for the office. But he was success¬
fully opposed by M. Petion, a declared republican, who
was elected mayor by a great majority.
The Feuil- At this period the moderate men, friends of the consti-
lants. tution, attempted to counteract the influence of the Jaco¬
bin Club by the establishment of a similar one. This new
club derived its name from the vacant convent of the Feuil-
lants, in which it assembled ; and the most active members
of the Constituent Assembly belonged to it, such as MM.
d’Andre, Barnave, the two Lameths, Duport, llabaud,
Sieyes, Chapelier, Thouret, Labord, Talleyrand, Montes¬
quieu, Beaumetz, and others. But the Jacobins contrived
to excite a riot at the place of their meeting, which was in
the vicinity of the hall of the National Assembly ; and this
afforded a pretext for applying to the assembly for the re¬
moval of the new club. The assembly complied with the
request, and thereby evinced its favourable disposition to¬
wards the Jacobins.
State of At the close of the year 1791 the kingdom of France
France. was by no means in a prosperous state. The public re¬
venue had fallen far short of the expenditure; the emi¬
grant nobility had carried out of the kingdom the greater
part of the current coin ; and a variety of manufacturers,
who depended upon their ostentatious luxury, were redu¬
ced to much distress. The dispositions of foreign courts
appeared at best doubtful. The year 1792, however, open¬
ed with a delusive prospect of tranquillity. The German
princes seemed to be satisfied with the mode of compensa¬
tion which the French had offered for the loss of their pos¬
sessions in Alsace and Lorraine ; the Prince of Lowenstein
accepted of an indemnification ; the Princes of Hohenlohe
and Salm-Salm declared themselves ready to treat upon
the same terms; whilst Prince Maximilian, and the Dukes
of Wirtemberg and Deux-Ponts, also negotiated an ar¬
rangement. It is unnecessary to state in detail the subter¬
fuges employed by Leopold for amusing the French with
the appearances of peace. To these, and probably also to
the undecided character of Louis, M. Delessart, minister
of foreign affairs, fell a sacrifice. He was accused by Bris-
sot of not having given timely notice to the National As¬
sembly of the dispositions of foreign powers, and of not
pressing proper measures for securing the honour and safety
of the nation ; a decree of accusation waS passed against
him in his absence; and having been apprehended, tried
bv the high court at Orleans, and convicted, he was exe¬
cuted in virtue of its sentence.
The unexpected death of Leopold on the first of March
gave rise to a transient hope that peace might still be pre¬
served. On the 16th of the same month the king of Swe¬
den was wounded by a nobleman of the name of Anker-
strom, and died on the 29th. This enterprising prince,
having overturned the constitution of his own country, had
formed the project of conducting in person his troops to
the frontiers of France, and of commanding or accom-
History.
1792.
panying the combined armies of Europe in their attempt
to avenge the cause of insulted royalty; and it was in a
great measure to counteract this scheme that he was assas¬
sinated.
The sudden fall of these two enemies, however, rather
accelerated than retarded the meditated hostilities. The
young king of Hungary, who succeeded to the empire,
made no secret either of his own intentions or of the ex¬
istence of a concert of princes against France. Dumou-
riez was now at the head of the war office, Roland held
the portfolio of the interior, and Claviere was minister of
finance. The Jacobins were all-powerful, and the court
gave way to the torrent. The property of the emigrants
was confiscated, reserving only the rights of creditors.
Meanwhile the imperial minister, Prince Kaunitz, demand¬
ed three things of France : first, the restitution of all their
feudal rights to the German princes; secondly, the resto¬
ration of Avignon to the pope, the inhabitants of which
had some time previously thrown off their allegiance, and
prevailed with the Constituent Assembly to receive their
country as part of France; and, lastly, a guarantee that
the neighbouring powers should have no reason for appre¬
hension from the present weakness of the internal govern¬
ment of France. On receiving these demands, the king
proposed a declaration of war, which, on the 20th of April,
was accordingly decreed by the National Assembly against
the king of Hungary and Bohemia.
The French immediately began the contest, by attack-The Aris¬
ing in three different columns the Austrian Netherlands.
Dillon advanced from Lisle to Tournay, where he found
strong body of Austrians ready to receive him. But the
national force, unaccustomed to sustain the fire of regular
troops, were instantly thrown into confusion, and fled even
to the gates of Lisle. The cry of treason resounded on all
sides ; and their commander, an experienced and faithful
officer, was murdered by his own soldiers and the mob. A
second division of ten thousand men, under General Biron,
took possession of Quivcrain on the 29th, and marched to¬
wards Mons, at which place he was attacked by the Aus¬
trians, whom he repulsed; but hearing of the defeat of
Dillon, he retreated. A third division advanced to Furnes,
but afterwards withdrew; and Lafayette, who had simul¬
taneously advanced towards Bouvines, half way to Namur,
was also obliged to retire. All these expeditions were ill
contrived, inasmuch as they divided the French undisci¬
plined troops, and exposed them in small bodies to the at¬
tack of veteran forces. Some time elapsed before the Aus¬
trians attempted to retaliate. At length, however, on the
11th of June they attacked Gouvion, who commanded the
advanced guard of Lafayette’s army, near Maubeuge ; but
Lafayette having come to his assistance, the Austrians
abandoned the field.
In the mean time, matters were hastening towards a
FRA
History, violent crisis in Paris. Two parties, both equally hostile
to the present constitution, had been gradually formed, one
1792. 0f which wished to give more effectual support to the royal
Indies- authority, by establishing a senate, to prevent the king’s
approach-1 vo^e ^rom being the sole check upon popular enthusiasm;
big crisis. wbilst the other desired to set aside royalty altogether, and
to hazard the perilous experiment of converting France
into a republic. These last were supported by the Jacobin
Club, which had now contrived to concentrate within itself
an immense mass of influence. In every town and village
of the provinces innumerable popular societies were esta¬
blished ; and with these a regular correspondence was kept
up, both by letters and by emissaries. Every scheme was
thus instantaneously propagated throughout the empire,
and all the violent spirits which it contained were enabled
to act in concert. But the more immediate engine of the
republican party consisted of the immense population of
the metropolis, whom they now endeavoured to keep in a
state of continual alarm. For this purpose, it was alleged
that an Austrian committee, or a conspiracy in favour of
the enemies of the country, existed amongst the friends of
the court; and both Gensonne and Brissot offered in the
assembly to prove the existence of this pretended commit¬
tee. A report was next circulated that the king intended
to abscond from the capital on the 23d of May ; and though
his majesty publicly contradicted the rumour, which he
treated as a calumny, it made no small impression upon the
minds of the public. New decrees were now passed against
the refractory clergy, but these his majesty refused to sanc¬
tion. A proposal was also made and adopted in the assem¬
bly to form a camp of twenty thousand men under the walls
of Paris, and for this purpose to levy from every canton in
the kingdom one horse and four infantry soldiers. But the
national guard of Paris disliked the proposal, and the king
gave it his negative. At this time the king seems to have
come to a resolution of making a stand against the Jacobin
party, to which he had for some time yielded. With the
exception of Dumouriez, therefore, the ministry were dis¬
missed, and others appointed in their stead. Dumouriez
lost the confidence of the Jacobin Club in consequence of
the exception in his favour; but he saw his error, resign¬
ed his office, and immediately joined the army. In the mean
time a decree had been passed, authorizing the manufactory
of pikes for the purpose of arming cheaply the lower class of
citizens. Attempts were also made, by means of inflamma¬
tory writings and harangues, to render the king odious ; and
in both ways Marat, who afterwards acquired such infamous
notoriety, appears to have taken the lead.
On the 20th of June, Roederer, the procureur-general,
informed the assembly that, contrary to law, formidable
bodies of armed men were preparing to present petitions to
the king and to the assembly; and part of them speedily
made their appearance, with St Huruge, and Santerre, a
brewer, at their head. They marched through the hall in
a procession which lasted two hours, and to the number of
about forty thousand. They then surrounded the Tuille-
ries, the gates of which were thrown open ; and on an at¬
tempt to break open the door of the apartment where the
king was, he ordered them to be admitted. During the
four or five hours that he was surrounded by the multitude,
and compelled to listen to every indignity, his sister the
Princess Elizabeth never departed from his side. All this
time Petion, the mayor of Paris, was most unaccountably
absent; but at length he arrived at the palace, as did also a
deputation from the assembly. The queen, with her chil¬
dren and the Princess de Lamballe, were in the mean while
in the council-chamber, where, though protected from vio¬
lence, they were nevertheless exposed to insult. At last,
on the approach of evening, the multitude, yielding to the
entreaties of Petion, gradually dispersed. The indignities
suffered by the royal family on this occasion were in" some
N C E. 67
respects not unfavourable to their cause. The respectable Historv.
inhabitants of the capital, ashamed of such proceedings,
complained of them in a petition which they presented to 1792.
the assembly ; and addresses to the same purpose were re¬
ceived from several departments. The directory of the de¬
partment of Paris, at the head of which were M. Roche-
foucault and M. Talleyrand, published a declaration, dis¬
approving of the conduct of the mayor, and of Manuel the
procureur of the commune, whom they afterwards suspend¬
ed fi om their offices, to which however the delinquents
were speedily restored by a decree of the assembly. About
the same time Lafayette having suddenly quitted the army,
appeared at the bar of the assembly, where he declared that
he came to express the indignation with which the whole
army regarded the events of the 20th, and called upon the
assembly to punish the promoters of these excesses, and to
dissolve the factious clubs. The sudden appearance of La¬
fayette threw the Jacobins into consternation, and from
that period they never ceased to calumniate him.
On the 1st of July the assembly, on the motion of Jean
de Brie, ordered a proclamation to be issued that the coun¬
try was in danger ; and on the 6th, Louis intimated that the
king of Prussia was marching with fifty-two thousand men
to operate against France. The French armies had about
this time obtained some successes in the Austrian Nether¬
lands ; but the cabinet thought it necessary to order them
to retreat, a measure which was afterwards publicly cen¬
sured by Marshal Luckner. On the 7th an extraordinary
scene took place in the National Assembly. At the moment
when Brissot was about to commence an oration, M. Lam-
mourette, bishop of Lyons, requested to be heard for a few
minutes, and after expatiating on the necessity of union
amongst the members of the assembly, and of sacrificing
their passions and prejudices on the altar of their country,
concluded an animated address by proposing that all who
held in equal detestation a republic and two chambers, and
who wished to maintain the constitution as it stood, should
immediately rise up. The words were scarcely pronoun¬
ced when the whole assembly started from their seats ;
men of all parties solemnly embraced each other, protest¬
ing their adherence to the constitution ; and a deputation
announced the happy event to the king, who came to the
assembly, and congratulated them on what had occurred.
But the only good effect produced by this temporary agree¬
ment was, that the festival of the 14th of July, which
was celebrated with the usual magnificence, passed in tran¬
quillity.
On the 25th of July, the Duke of Brunswick issued at Duke of
Coblentz his celebrated manifesto. It declared that the pur- Bruns-
pose of the intended invasion of France was to restore the wjck’s ma,
French king to full authority; held the national guard re- nd’esio.
sponsible for the preservation of tranquillity ; and threatened
with the punishment of death, as rebels to their king, all those
who should appear in arms against the aliied powers. The
same language was employed towards all persons holding
offices, civil as well as military ; whilst the city of Paris and
the National Assembly were declared responsible for every
insult which might be offered to the royal family. It was
added, that if the latter were not immediately placed in
safety, the allies were resolved to inflict upon those who
should deserve it the most exemplary and ever-memo-
rable punishment, by giving up the city of Paris to mili¬
tary execution, and exposing it to total destruction ; and
the same vengeance was denounced against all those who
should be guilty of what was called illegal resistance. This
sanguinary and imprudent manifesto operated almost as a
warrant for the destruction of the unfortunate Louis XVI.
It left no middle party in the nation. All who wished to
preserve freedom in any form, and all who loved the in¬
dependence of their country, were instantly united. The
reproaches cast upon the king by the Jacobins now gained
08
FRANCE.
History, universal credit. The sovereigns of Prussia and of Hungary
announced to the French nation that their monarch was
1792. secretly hostile to the constitution ; and the restoration of
the king and his family to despotic power was made the
sole pretence for a most unjustifiable aggression. The re¬
publican party saw at once the advantage which they had
gained, and resolved on the deposition of the king. The
chief engine which they meant to employ in this service
consisted of about fifteen hundred men, who had come to
Paris at the period of the confederation on the 14th of
July, hence called Federes, and who were also sometimes
denominated Marseillais, from the place which had sent
the greater number ; and next to these, dependence was
placed upon the populace of the suburbs of the capital.
The designs of the republicans were not unknown to the
court, and both parties now formed their plans of operation.
The royal party intended, it is said, that the king and his
family should suddenly leave the capital, and proceed to as
great a distance as the constitution permitted ; whilst the
republicans, on the other hand, are alleged to have medi¬
tated seizing the person of the king, and confining him in
the castle of Vincennes until a national convention should
decide upon his fate. Both assertions are probably true.
Every motive which can influence the mind of man must
have induced Louis to wish to be at a distance from the
factious and sanguinary capital; and the subsequent con¬
duct of the republicans warrants us in believing that they
already contemplated the destruction of the king and the
monarchy.
Lafayette Various charges had at different times been brought for-
accused ward in the assembly against Lafayette, and the 8th of
and acquit- August was appointed for their discussion. In the mean
time, on the 3d of August, Petion the mayor, at the head
of a deputation from the sections of Paris, appeared at the
bar, and formally demanded the deposition of the king.
The discussion of the accusation against Lafayette was con¬
sidered as a trial of strength between the parties; but he
was acquitted by a majority of nearly two hundred; and
the republican party, despairing of carrying their point by
a vote of the assembly, resolved to have recourse to the
bolder experiment of insurrection.
On the evening of the 9th, about fifteen hundred gen¬
tlemen, officers of the army, and others, repaired to the
palace, resolved to protect the royal family, or to die in
their defence ; and besides these, there were within its
w^alls seven hundred Swiss guards, with a body of cavalry
amounting to about a thousand. Mandat, the commander
of the national guards, a man firmly attached to the consti¬
tution, had also procured two thousand four hundred of
that body, with twelve pieces of cannon. There can be
no doubt that, with such a force vigorously directed, the
palace, which is a kind of castle, might have been success¬
fully defended ; and that which is now termed a revolution
might have received the name of a rebellion. But. un¬
happily for the cause of monarchy in France, its support¬
ers, military as well as civil, were paralysed by the uncer¬
tainty and vacillation which characterized the royal coun¬
sels, and, through indecision, all was lost. Meanwhile the
assembly declared its sittings permanent. Petion was at
the palace late in the evening of the 9th ; and as some
apprehensions were entertained, or pretended to be enter¬
tained, for his safety, a deputation from the assembly
brought him away. At midnight the tocsin was sounded,
and the drums beat to arms throughout the city, when a
number of the most active leaders of the republican party
assembled, and elected a new common council. The per¬
sons thus irregularly chosen instantly took possession of the
common-hall, and drove out the lawful members, who, in¬
fected with that weakness which shrinks from stations of
responsibility in perilous times, readily gave place to the
usurpers. The new council then sent repeated messages
1792.
to Mandat, requiring his attendance upon important busi- History,
ness. He was occupied in arranging the troops around the v ’
palace ; but suspecting nothing, he went to the common-
hall, and was there astonished to find a different assembly
from that which he expected to meet there. He was ab¬
ruptly accused of a plot to massacre the people, and order¬
ed to prison ; but as he descended the stairs he was shot
through the head with a pistol, and Santerre appointed in
his stead to command the national guard. In the palace all
was anxiety and alarm.
About six o’clock in the morning of the 10th the king Tenth of
descended into the gardens to review the troops. He was August,
received with shouts of Vive le roi, excepting from the
artillery, who shouted Vive la nation. The king return¬
ed to the palace, and the multitude continued to assemble.
The national guard seemed undecided what to do, as
they assembled in divisions near the palace; and had a
steady resistance been made from within, it is probable
they would have joined the royal party. But towards eight
o’clock M. Roederer procured admission into the palace,
and told the king that armed multitudes were assembling
in hostile array around the Tuilleries ; that the national
guard was not to be depended upon ; and that, in the
event of resistance, the whole royal family would certainly
be massacred. Fie therefore advised the king to seek pro¬
tection in the hall of the National Assembly ; and with this
advice the king, with his usual facility of temper, prepared
to comply ; but the queen vehemently opposed the humi-
liatingproposal. Having, however, become gradually alarm¬
ed for the safety of her children, she at length gave her
consent; and the king, queen, and Princess Elizabeth,
together with the prince and princess royal, went on foot
to the hall of the assembly. “ I am come hither,” said his
majesty, “ to prevent a great crime. Among you, gentle¬
men, I believe myself in safety.” But by an article of the
constitution the assembly could not deliberate in presence
of the king. The royal family were, therefore, placed in a
narrow box separated from the hall by a railing, where they
remained during fourteen hours, without having any place to
which they could retire for refreshment, excepting a small
closet adjoining ; and here they sat listening to debates in
which the royal character and office were treated with every
species of contumely and insult.
When the king left the palace of the Tuilleries, he un¬
fortunately forgot to order it to be immediately surren¬
dered. This he recollected as soon as he reached the
assembly, and sent orders accordingly ; but unhappily it
was now too late. The insurgents, amounting to about
twenty thousand in number, were drawn up in tolerable
order by Westermann, a Prussian by birth, and had with
them thirty pieces of cannon. The gentlemen within the
palace, who had assembled to protect the king’s person,
now became dispirited, and knew not what to do. Afry,
the commander of the Swiss, was absent, and the cap¬
tains were left without orders, whilst, in consequence of
the death of Mandat, the national guard had no leader.
About nine o’clock the outer gates were forced, and the
insurgents formed their line in front of the palace. A
bloody combat now commenced, chiefly between the Mar-
seiliois and the Swiss. But after a brave resistance of
about an hour, the latter were overpowered by numbers,
and gave way. All those found in the palace were mas¬
sacred, some even whilst imploring quarter on their knees;
but others escaped into the city, and were protected by
individuals. Of this brave regiment only two hundred
survived; but every human being, including even the
lowest domestics, found within the palace, was put to
death. Those of the Swiss who had been made prisoners
in various quarters were conducted to the door of the as¬
sembly, and, by a decree, taken under the protection of
the state ; but the sanguinary multitude insisted upon put-
FRANCE.
69
1792.
The royal
authority
History, ting them to instant death ; and the assembly would, in
all probability, have been unable to protect them, had not
the Marseillois generously interfered in their favour.
The suspension of the royal authority was now decreed,
and the nation invited to elect a convention to determine
suspended. tjie nature 0f {(-g future government. On this occasion
all Frenchmen of twenty-one years of age were declared
capable of electing, and of being elected, deputies to the
new National Convention. The same evening commis¬
sioners were dispatched to give to the armies a favour¬
able account of the transactions which had just taken
place. The royal family were sent to the old palace of
the Temple, there to remain under a strict guard ; and
all persons of rank who had been attached to them were
seized and committed to different prisons.
As an instance of the temper by which the people of
Paris were at this time actuated, it is proper to mention,
that at the very moment when the multitude were mas¬
sacring the menial servants in the palace, and could
scarcely be restrained from offering violence to the Swiss
who had been made prisoners, they would not suffer an
act of pillage to pass unpunished ; and several attempts
of the kind were instantly followed by the death of the
offenders. The plate, jewels, and money found in the
Tuilleries were brought to the National Assembly, and
thrown down in the hall; and one man, whose dress and
appearance bespoke extreme poverty, cast upon the table
a hat full of gold. But the minds of those men were e.le-
vated by enthusiasm; and they conceived themselves at
the moment the champions of freedom, and objects of
terror to the kings of the earth.
In the mean time, the situation of France had become
extremely critical, and it appeared doubtful if the new
Convention would ever be suffered to assemble. Lafay¬
ette having accidentally got early notice of the events of
the tenth of August, advised the magistrates of the town
of Sedan to imprison the commissioners of the National
Assembly as soon as they should arrive there ; and this
was accordingly done. He at the same time published
an address to the army, calling upon them to support the
king and the constitution ; but finding that they were not
to be depended upon, he left the camp in the night of the
19th August, accompanied only by his staff and a few
servants. The party took the route of Rochefort in Liege,
which was a neutral country ; but having been met by a
small body of the enemy, they were made prisoners, and
Lafayette was detained for several years in close confine¬
ment. The severe treatment of this weak but well-mean¬
ing man was a great error in policy upon the part of
the allies. His fidelity to the king and the constitution
is now generally admitted; and though some have enter¬
tained strong suspicions of his conduct towards that un¬
fortunate monarch, and in the British House of Commons
he was even stigmatized as an abandoned ruffian, it is cer¬
tain that he was actuated by the purest motives, and
would have saved the king if it had been in his power to
do so. His errors, in fact, were those of the head ra¬
ther than of the heart; he still fancied that he could
guide a revolution which he had had a share in originat¬
ing, and seemed altogether unconscious that the direction
of the movement had passed into other hands. But, how¬
ever this may be, he should have been protected by the
allies, if for no other reason, at least to encourage deser¬
tion amongst the officers of the republican army. The
commissioners arrested at Sedan wTere soon afterwards set History,
at liberty, and received with applause by the army of La-
fayette. General Arthur Dillon at first entered into the 1?92.
sentiments of Lafayette ; but Dumouriez diverted him
from his purpose, and thus regained his credit with the
Jacobins, by whose influence he was appointed comman¬
der-in-chief. The other generals, Biron, Montesquieu,
Kellerman, and Custines, offered no opposition to the will
of the National Assembly.
Meanwhile the combined armies of Austria and of Prus- Entry of
sia had entered France. The Duke of Brunswick’s army the allies
was above fifty thousand strong; and General Clairfayt1”10
had joined him with fifteen thousand Austrians and a*rance*
considerable body of Hessians, besides twenty thousand
French emigrants, amounting in all to near ninety thou¬
sand men. To oppose these, Dumouriez had only seven¬
teen thousand men collected near the point from which
the enemy were approaching in Luxembourg. The French
emigrants had given the Duke of Brunswick such an ac¬
count of the distracted state of the country, and of the
alleged disaffection of all orders of men towards the ruling
faction in Paris, that no resistance of any importance was
expected by him ; and, in fact, when the combined forces,
consisting either of steady Austrian or Hungarian batta¬
lions, or of well-trained Prussians, whom Frederick had
inured to the best discipline, wrere reviewed in Germany
before setting out on their march, the spectators, amongst
whom the French cause was not unpopular, beheld them
with anxiety and regret, pitying the unhappy country
against which this irresistible force was to be directed.
The officers and soldiers considered themselves as depart¬
ing for a hunting match, or an excursion of pleasure ; and
many of the usual accommodations of an army were in con¬
sequence but ill attended to. The commencement of their
invasion of France justified these expectations. Longwy
surrendered after a siege of fifteen hours, although well
fortified, possessed of a garrison of near four thousand
men, and defended by seventy one pieces of cannon.1 Ver¬
dun was next summoned, and the governor, M. Beaure-
paire, compelled by the municipality to surrender.2 The
news of this second capture, and of the approach of the
Prussians, spread consternation throughout Paris; and it
was proposed to raise a volunteer army, which should set
out immediately to meet the enemy. The municipality,
which was now led by Robespierre, Danton, Marat, and
others of the most sanguinary character, ordered the alarm
guns to be fired, and enjoined the populace to meet in the
Champ de Mars to enroll themselves to march against the
enemy. The people assembled, and, either in consequence
of a premeditated plan, or, which is not very probable, of
an instantaneous movement, a number of voices exclaim¬
ed, that the domestic foes of the nation should be de¬
stroyed before its foreign enemies were attacked.
Parties of armed men proceeded without delay to the Massacres
prisons where the nonjuring clergy, the Swiss officers, °f Septvin-
and those confined since the tenth of August on account ^er‘
of alleged practices against the state, were detained in cus¬
tody. They took out the prisoners one by one, gave them
a kind of mock trial before a jury of their own number, ac¬
quitted some few, and murdered the remainder. Amongst
these was the Princess de Lamballe, who was taken from
bed, dragged before this bloody tribunal, and massacred ;
after which her head, stuck on a pike, was carried by the
populace to the Temple, that it might be seen by her ,
1 The news of this event greatly irritated the assembly, who decreed, that when the town was retaken, the houses of the citizens
should be razed to the ground ; and, mistrustful of the officers of the army, they also ordained that the municipal officers of a town
should hereafter have power to control the deliberations of the council of war.
2 This officer, disappointed and enraged, shot himself dead with a pistol in presence of the council; and on the 2d of September
the Prussian troops entered the town.
70
FRANCE.
History, friend the queen. These massacres continued two days,
'~*^s~***1 and upwards of a thousand persons were put to death. In
1792‘ all history, indeed, there is scarcely any thing to parallel
them ; they were committed, it is believed, by less than
three hundred men, in the midst of an immense city,
which heard of them with horror, and in the vicinity of
the National Assembly, which, by going in a body, could
have put an end to them. But such was the confusion
and dismay which prevailed during these two disgraceful
days, that"no man dared to stir from his house; every
one believed that the whole city, excepting his own street,
was involved in massacre and bloodshed. The national
guards were all ready at their respective posts, but no
man directed them to act; and there is good reason to
suspect that Santerre and the chiefs of the commune con¬
nived at, if indeed they were not actually implicated in,
this atrocious butchery.
In the mean time, General Dumouriez was occupied in
taking measures to protract the march of the enemy till
the army of Kellerman, consisting of about twenty thou¬
sand men, could arrive from Lorraine, and that of Bour-
nonville, amounting to thirteen thousand, from Flanders ;
together with whatever new levies Luckner might be able
to send from Chalons. The forest of Argonne, extending
from north to south upwards of forty miles, lay directly
in the line of march of the Duke of Brunswick, who had
either to force his way through it, or to make a circuit of
forty miles by the pass of Grandpre on the north, or by
Barleduc on the south. The pass which lay most directly
in his line of march was that of Biesme. But after exa¬
mining Dillon’s position at this point, the duke left a force
of twenty thousand men to observe it, and with the main
body of his army took the circuitous route by Grandpre on
the north. Here Dumouriez waited to receive him, and
was attacked on the 12th and 13th without success ; but on
the 14th the attack of the Prussians was irresistible, and
Dumouriez abandoned his position. On his retreat he
was so closely pressed by the cavalry of the Prussian ad¬
vanced guard, that his army was seized with a panic, and
fled before fifteen hundred horse, who, if they had pushed
their advantage, might have entirely dispersed it. On the
15th, however, Dumouriez having encamped at St Mene-
hould, began to fortify his position, and Bournonville’s
army joined him on the 17th. The Duke of Brunswick
now resolved to attack Kellerman before he could effect
his junction with Dumouriez; and, accordingly, on the
19th, when that officer had arrived within a mile of the
French camp, the projected attack took place. The
Prussians manoeuvred with their usual coolness and ad¬
dress ; but in an attempt to surround Kellerman’s army
they were completely foiled, and, in the face of the ene¬
my, Kellerman joined Dumouriez at the close of the ac¬
tion. At the same time that the army of Kellerman was
attacked, an attempt was also made to force Dillon’s camp
at Biesme, by the twenty thousand men who had been left
in its vicinity; but the attempt failed, and this large de¬
tachment was thus prevented from penetrating the forest
of Argonne and joining the Duke of Brunswick. In these
engagements the French owed the advantage they obtain¬
ed chiefly to the superiority of their artillery; a circum¬
stance which served to convince their enemies that they
had to contend with regular military bodies, and not, as
they expected, with undisciplined multitudes.
The Duke of Brunswick now encamped his army at La
Lun, near the position of Dumouriez ; and here the Prus¬
sians began to suffer extreme distress, both from sickness
and from famine. No temptation could induce the inha¬
bitants of the country to carry provisions to the hostile
camp, whilst at the same time the French army was abun¬
dantly supplied; whilst Bournonville, with a body of four
thousand men, had intercepted several herds of cattle and
other convoys of provisions destined for the Prussians.
The rain fell in torrents, and the roads were uncommonly
deep. F,xposed to cold and damp, and suffering from
want of provisions, the Prussians ate freely of the grapes
of Champagne ; in consequence of which an epidemical
distemper appeared, and spread through the army with
such rapidity, that ten thousand men were at one time
unfit for duty. The Duke of Brunswick, however, was still
at the head of a force more numerous than that of Dumou¬
riez ; and he has therefore been much censured for not
attacking his opponent, and forcing him to receive battle.
It has been said that the numerous and veteran force
which he commanded would have marched to certain vic¬
tory against the raw troops who opposed them ; and that,
having defeated Dumouriez’s army, there was nothing to
oppose his march towards Paris. But the Duke of Bruns¬
wick having entered France upon the supposition that in
its present distracted state no regular army could be
brought into the field against him, and that the people at
large were hostile to the ruling faction, felt disconcerted
by discovering that he had been deceived, and that all
his expectations were disappointed. Instead of a friendly
he found himself in the midst of a hostile people ; where
he had expected to meet with nothing but confusion, dis¬
order, and weakness, he observed all enthusiastically unit¬
ed in defence of their country ; and, so far from encoun¬
tering little or no resistance, he saw before him armies,
imperfectly disciplined, it is true, but hourly increasing in
numbers and improving in training, and at the same time
conducted by skilful military chiefs. In such a situation a
defeat would have brought certain ruin on his army; and
even a victory might in its consequences have proved
equally fatal. Accordingly, after proposing a truce for eight
days, which was agreed to, he commenced his retreat to¬
wards Grandpre, and continued it without molestation.
Verdun was retaken by the French on the 12th of Octo¬
ber, and Longwy on the 18th; and the siege of Thion-
viile, a small but strong fortress under the command of
General Wimpfen, was at the same time raised.
Whilst the Prussians were advancing from the north¬
east, the Austrians under the Duke of Saxe-Teschen laid
siege to Lisle. To the summons of the besiegers the
council-general of the commune answered that they had
just renewed their oath to be faithful to the nation,
and to maintain liberty and equality, or to die at their
post; and that they would not perjure themselves. The
Austrian batteries opened on the 29th, and were chiefly
directed against that quarter of the town which was inha¬
bited by the lower class of citizens, in the hope, no doubt,
of exciting disturbance within. But this proceeding was
exceedingly ill judged. The lower classes of mankind are
always accustomed to hardships, and hence they are pre¬
pared to go much further in support of any principle which
they may have enthusiastically adopted, than those who
have been accustomed to enjoy all the comforts and luxu¬
ries of life. Accordingly, though a great part of the city
was reduced to a heap of ruins, the citizens of Lisle became
daily more obstinate ; every vault and cellar was occupied ;
and although upwards of thirty thousand red-hot balls and
six thousand bombs were thrown into the city, not to men¬
tion the effect produced by an immense battering train,
yet the loss sustained by the garrison and people did not
exceed five hundred persons, most of whom were women
and children. After a fortnight of fruitless labour, the
Austrians were therefore obliged to raise the siege. Mean¬
while war had been declared against the king of Sardinia,
whose conduct towards France had for some time assum¬
ed a threatening character. On the 20th of September
General Montesquieu entered the territories of Savoy, and
was received at Chambery, and throughout the whole coun¬
try, with marks of unbounded welcome; and on the 29th
History.
1792.
History.
1792.
The Na¬
tional Con¬
vention as¬
sembled.
Two fac¬
tions in
the Con¬
vention.
Decree of
fraternisa¬
tion.
FRANCE.
71
General Anselm, with another body of troops, took posses¬
sion of Nice and the surrounding country. On the 30th
General Custines advanced to Spires, where, finding the
Austrians drawn up in order of battle, he attacked and
drove them out of the city, taking three thousand prison¬
ers. The capture of Worms succeeded that of Spires;
Mentz surrendered by capitulation ; and Frankfort fell into
the hands of the French on the 23d. Out of this last
place, however, they were afterwards driven on the 2d of
December.
On the 20th of September the French National Conven¬
tion assembled. This body was found to contain men of all
characters, orders, and ranks. Many distinguished mem¬
bers of the Constituent Assembly were returned as mem¬
bers, and several who had belonged to the Legislative
Assembly were also elected ; whilst even foreigners were
invited to become French legislators. Thomas Paine and
Dr Priestley were elected by certain departments ; and
Clootz, whom we formerly noticed as having appeared at
the bar of the Constituent Assembly at the head of a gro¬
tesque deputation professing to represent all the nations
of the earth, was also chosen. The general aspect of the
new Convention showed that the republican party had ac¬
quired a decided superiority. On the first day of meet¬
ing Collot-d’Herbois, who had formerly been an actor,
ascended the tribune, and proposed the eternal abolition
of royalty in France. This proposition was carried by
acclamation, after which the house adjourned. Messages
were then sent to all parts of the country intimating the
decree, and through the influence of the Jacobins these
were everywhere received with applause. Next day it
was decreed that all public acts should be dated by the
year of the French Republic; and every citizen was de¬
clared eligible to vacant offices and places. Nor was
this all. The rage of republicanism soon proceeded so far
that the ordinary titles of Monsieur and Madame were
abolished, and the appellation of Citizen substituted in
their stead, as more suitable to the principles of liberty
and equality.
It was soon discovered that the leading republicans
were divided into two opposite factions. The one of these
was called Girondists, because Yergniaud, Gensonne, Gua-
det, and some others of its leaders, were members for the
department of the Gironde. The celebrated Condorcet
also belonged to this party, which was sometimes denomi¬
nated Brissotine, from Brissot their principal leader. The
Girondists supported the ministry now in office, at the
head of which was Roland ; and the majority of the Con¬
vention was obviously attached to them. In opposition
to these was the smaller party of the Mountain, so called
from its members usually sitting on the upper seats of the
hall of the Convention. They were men possessed of less
personal respectability, and inferior literary accomplish¬
ments, but of daring and sanguinary characters. At the
head of this party were Danton and Robespierre, and sub¬
ordinate to these were Couthon, Bazire, Thuriot, Merlin
de Thionville, Saint-Andre, Camille Demoulins, Chabot,
Collot-d’Herbois, Sergent, Legendre, Fabre d’Eglantine,
Panis, Marat, and others. These two parties evinced the
diversity of their characters in the manner in which they
treated the massacres of the 2d and 3d of September.
The Brissotines, with the majority of the Convention,
wished to bring the murderers to trial; but the question
was always eluded by the other party, with the assistance
of the Jacobin Club and of the populace.
On the 9th of October it was resolved that all emigrants,
when taken in arms, should suffer death ; and on the 15th
of November, in consequence of an insurrection in the
duchy of Deux Fonts, and an application for aid upon
the part of the insurgents, a decree was passed, declaring
that “ the National Convention, acting in name of the
French nation, would grant fraternity and assistance to History,
all those people who wished to procure liberty and
charging the executive power to send orders to the gene¬
rals to give assistance to such people as had suffered,
1792.
or were still suffering, in the cause of liberty. Of this
decree foreign nations loudly complained, as calculated,
if not intended, to provoke insurrection in other states;
and in the rupture which subsequently took place be¬
tween Great Britain and France, it was founded on by
the government of the former country as of itself afford¬
ing a sufficient justification of hostilities, and, in fact, as
rendering war with France a necessary measure of self-
defence.
But it is now time to return to the military affairs of the Battle of
Republic. The final retreat of the allies had left Dumou-^emmaP"
riez at liberty to carry into execution a project he hadPes’
long meditated, of invading the Low Countries, rescuing
these fine provinces from the Austrian dominion, and thus
advancing the frontier of the Republic to the Rhine. He
received unlimited powers from the government, and the
losses sustained by the allies during their invasion of
France gave him a great superiority of force. His right
wing consisted of sixteen thousand men, detached from
the Argonne Forest, whilst between it and the centre was
placed General d’Harville with fourteen thousand; Du-
mouriez himself commanded the main body, amounting
to forty thousand men ; and the left wing, under Labour-
donnaye, was about thirty thousand strong; in all a hun¬
dred thousand men, filled with enthusiasm, and anticipat¬
ing nothing but victory. To oppose this immense force,
the Austrians had only about forty thousand men, who,
according to the tactics of the time, were disseminated
along an extended line of nearly thirty miles. Their main
body, consisting of about eighteen thousand men, was en¬
trenched in a strong position, which had been deliberate¬
ly chosen by the imperialists, and extended through the
villages of Ausmes and Jemmappes to the heights of Ber-
thaimont on the one hand, and the village of Sidy on
the other, sweeping over a succession of eminences which
commanded the adjacent plain; whilst fourteen redoubts,
strengthened by all the resources of art, and armed with
a hundred pieces of cannon, seemed amply to compensate
for inferiority in point of number. But formidable as this
position undoubtedly was, Dumouriez resolved to assault
it, and to make trial of the new system of accumulating
masses upon one point, which, if thus forced, would ne¬
cessitate the abandonment of the whole.
The battle commenced at day-break on the 6th of No¬
vember, with an attack on the village of Cuesmes, led by
Bournonville; but, after sustaining a severe fire of artille¬
ry, which for some hours arrested his efforts, he at length
succeeded in turning the village of Jemmappes, and the
redoubts on the left of the Austrian position were carried
by the impetuous onset of the French columns. Dumou¬
riez now caused his centre to advance against the front
of Jemmappes, and the column moved forward rapidly to
the attack; but upon approaching the village, they were
taken in flank by some squadrons of horse, which broke
through the column, and drove back the French cavalry
which supported it. The moment was eminently critical;
for whilst the flank of the column was thus maltreated,
the leading battalions, checked by a destructive fire of
grape, were beginning to waver at the foot of the redoubts,
in this extremity, an attendant of the general-in-chief
rallied the disordered troops, and arrested the victorious
squadrons, whilst a young officer restored the front of the
attack. Rallying the disordered regiments into one mass,
which he called the column of Jemmappes, the latter
placed himself at its head, renewed the attack on the re¬
doubts, carried the village, and at length drove the Aus¬
trians from their intrenchments in the centre of the posi-
72
FRANCE.
Contests
between
the Gi¬
rondists
and the
Mountain.
The king
brought to
trial.
tion.1 But though thus victorious in the centre, Dumou-
riez had still great cause for anxiety respecting the attack
on the right. Bournonville, though at first successful on
that side, had hesitated when he observed the confusion
in the column of the centre, vacillating between a reluc¬
tance to abandon the ground he had gained, and a desire
to withdraw part of his forces to support the column in
the plain. As soon as this hesitation was perceived by
the enemy, they redoubled their fire, and kept in hand a
large body of cavalry ready to charge on the least appear¬
ance of disorder. Dumouriez flew to the spot, rode along
the front of two brigades of old soldiers from the camp at
Maulde, and succeeded in rallying the squadrons of horse,
who were beginning to fall into confusion. The imperial
horse charged immediately after, but receiving a close and
well-directed volley, they wheeled, and, being instantly
attacked by the French cavalry, were completely routed,
and driven from the field. The victorious brigades now
advanced, chanting the Marseillaise, and entering the re¬
doubts by the gorge, carried every thing before them.
Dumouriez was still uneasy about his centre; hut whilst
he was in the act of setting off to that point with a rein¬
forcement of six squadrons of cavalry, he received intel¬
ligence that the battle there was already won, and that
the Austrians were retiring at all points towards Mons.
Such was the battle of Jemmappes, the first pitched bat¬
tle which had been gained by the republican armies, and
on that account not only celebrated beyond its real merits,
but most important in its consequences. The loss on both
sides was great, that of the Austrians amounting to five
thousand men, whilst the French lost above six thousand ;
but the results of the victory upon the spirits and the mo¬
ral strength of the two parties were incalculably different,
and in fact led to the immediate conquest of the whole
Netherlands. Mons and Brussels surrendered to Dumou¬
riez ; Tournay, Malines, Ghent, and Antwerp, were taken
possession of by General Labourdonnaye ; Louvaine and
Namur submitted to General Valence ; and the whole
Austrian Netherlands, Luxembourg only excepted, fell
into the hands of the French. Liege was taken on the
28th of November, after a successful engagement, in which
the Austrians lost five or six hundred men and an im¬
mense train of artillery.
France was now in a situation not unusual in the history
of nations, successful abroad, but distracted by contending
factions at home. The two parties in the Convention
were engaged in a struggle, which daily became more and
more implacable. The party called the Mountain did not
hesitate to employ any means, however criminal, to effect
the ruin of their antagonists ; and they are even suspected
of having, through the medium of the minister of war, re¬
tarded the supplies for the armies, in order to render the
ruling party odious from want of success. But they were
for some time unfortunate in this respect, and the daily
news of victories obtained supported the credit of the
Girondists. A new subject was therefore started, namely,
how the dethroned monarch was to be disposed of. The
moderate party wished to save him, and this was a suffi¬
cient reason for their antagonists resolving on his ruin. A
committee was accordingly appointed to report upon his
conduct; and a variety of charges having in consequence
been brought against him, the Convention resolved to
constitute itself at once prosecutor and judge.
On the 11th of December the ill-fated monarch was or¬
dered to the bar of the Convention; and when the act of
accusation had been read, he was summoned by the pre¬
sident Barrere to answer the charges separately. These
consisted of an enumeration of the whole crimes of the
1792.
Revolution, from its commencement in 1789, all of which History,
were imputed to him. The following is the substance of
this extraordinary act of accusation :—
“ Louis, the French nation accuses you of having com¬
mitted a multitude of crimes to establish your tyranny, by
destroying her freedom. You, on the 20th of June 1789,
attacked the sovereignty of the people, by suspending the
assemblies of their representatives, and expelling them with
violence from the places of their sittings. This is proved
in the proces-verbal entered at the tennis court of Ver¬
sailles by the members of the Constituent Assembly. On
the 23d of June you wanted to dictate laws to the nation;
you surrounded their representatives with troops ; you pre¬
sented to them two royal declarations, subversive of all li¬
berty, and ordered them to separate. You ordered an army
to march against the citizens of Paris. Your satellites
have shed the blood of several of them, and you would not
remove this army till the taking of the Bastille and a ge¬
neral insurrection announced to you that the people were
victorious. The speeches you made on the 9th, 12th, and
14th of July, to the deputations of the Constituent Assembly,
show what were your intentions; and the massacres of the
Tuilleries rise in evidence against you. After these events,
and in spite of the promises which you made on the 15th
in the Constituent Assembly, and on the 17th in the Hotel
de Ville of Paris, you have persisted in your projects against
national liberty. You long eluded the execution of the
decrees of the 11th of August, respecting the abolition of
personal servitude, the feudal government, and the tithes;
you long refused acknowledging the rights of man; you
doubled the number of the life-guards, and called the regi¬
ment of Flanders to Versailles ; you permitted, in orgies
held before your eyes, the national cockade to be trampled
under foot, the white cockade to be hoisted, and the nation
to be slandered. At last you rendered necessary a fresh
insurrection, occasioned the death of several citizens, and
did not change your language till after your guards had
been defeated, when you renewed your perfidious promises.
You took an oath at the confederation of the 14th of July,
which you did not keep. You soon tried to corrupt the
public opinion, with the assistance of Talon, who acted in
Paris, and Mirabeau, who was to have excited counter re¬
volutionary movements in the provinces. You lavished
millions of money to effect this corruption, and you even
used your popularity as a means of enslaving the people.
These facts are the result of a memorial of Talon, on which
you have made your marginal comments in your own hand¬
writing ; and of a letter which Laporte wrote to you on the
19th of April, in which, recapitulating a conversation he had
had with Ilivarol, he told you, that the millions which you
had been prevailed upon to throw away had been produc¬
tive of nothing.
“For a long time you had meditated on a plan of escape.
A memorial was delivered to you on the 28th of Febru¬
ary, which pointed out the means for you to effect it; you
approved ot it by marginal notes. On the 28th a great
number of the nobles and military came into your apart¬
ments in the castle of the Tuilleries, to favour that escape.
You wanted to quit Paris on the 10th of April, to go to St
Cloud ; but the resistance of the citizens made you sensi¬
ble that their distrust was great. You endeavoured to dis¬
credit it, by communicating to the Constituent Assembly
a letter, which you addressed to the agents of the nation
near foreign powers, to announce to them that you had
freely accepted the constitutional articles, which had been
presented to you; and, notwithstanding, on the 21st you
took flight with a false passport. You left behind a pro¬
test against these self-same constitutional articles; you or-
1 This young officer was the Duke de Chartres, then called General Egalite, and afterwards Louis Philippe, king of the French.
FRA
History, dered the ministers to sign none of the acts issued by the
■^at‘ona^ Assembly ; and you forbade the minister of justice
75,<4* to deliver up the seals of state. The public money was
lavished to ensure the success of this treachery; and the
public force was employed to protect it, under the orders
of Bouille, who shortly before had been charged with the
massacre of Nancy, and to whom you wrote on this head,
‘ to take care of his popularity, because it would be of ser¬
vice to you.’
“ After your detention at Varennes, the exercise of the
executive power was for a moment suspended in your hands,
and you again formed a conspiracy. On the 17th of July
the blood of citizens was shed in the Champ de Mars. A
letter, in your own handwriting, written in 1790 to Lafay¬
ette, proves that a criminal coalition subsisted between you
and Lafayette, to which Mirabeau had acceded. The revi¬
sion began under these cruel auspices ; all kinds of corrup¬
tions were made use of. You have paid for libels, pamph¬
lets, and newspapers, designed to corrupt public opinion, to
discredit the assignats, and to support the cause of the emi¬
grants. You seemed to accept the constitution on the 14th
of September; your speeches announced an intention of
supporting it; and you were busy in overturning it, even
before it was completed. A convention was entered into
at Pilnitz on the 24th of July, between Leopold of Aus¬
tria and Frederic-William of Brandenburg, who pledged
themselves to re-erect in France the throne of absolute
monarchy; and you were silent upon this convention till
the moment when it was known by all Europe. Arles had
hoisted the standard of rebellion ; you favoured it by send¬
ing three civil commissaries, who made it their business not
to repress the counter revolutionists, but to justify their
proceedings. Avignon, and the county of Yenaissin, had
been united with France ; you caused the decree to be ex¬
ecuted ; but a month afterwards civil war desolated that
part of the country. The commissaries you sent thither
helped to ravage it. Nismes, Montauban, Mende, Jales,
felt great shocks during the first days of freedom. You
did nothing to stifle those germs of counter revolution,
until the moment when Saillant’s conspiracy became noto¬
rious. You sent twenty-two battalions against the Mar¬
seillais, who marched to reduce the counter revolutionists
of Arles. You gave the southern command to Wittgen¬
stein, who wrote to you on the 21st of April 1792, after
he had been recalled: ‘ A few instants more, and I shall
call around the throne of your majesty thousands of French,
who are again become worthy of the wishes you form for
their happiness.’ You paid your late life-guards at Cob-
lentz ; the registers of Septeuil attest this ; and general or¬
ders signed by you prove that you sent considerable remit¬
tances to Bouille, Rochefort, Yauguyon, Choiseul, Beau-
pre, Hamilton, and the wife of Polignac. Your brothers,
enemies to the state, caused the emigrants to rally under
their banners ; they raised regiments, contracted for loans,
and concluded alliances in your name; you did not disclaim
them. The soldiers of the line, who were to be put on the
war establishment, consisted of only a hundred thousand
men at the end of December; you therefore neglected to
provide for the safety of the state from abroad. Narbonne
required a levy of fifty thousand men ; but he stopped the
recruiting at twenty-six thousand, giving assurances that
all was ready; yet there was no truth in these assurances.
Servan proposed after him to form a camp of twenty thou¬
sand men near Paris ; it was decreed by the Legislative As¬
sembly, but you refused your sanction. A spirit of patriotism
made the citizens repair to Paris from all quarters. You
issued a proclamation, tending to stop their march; at the
same time our camps were without soldiers. Dumouriez,
the successor of Servan, declared that the nation had nei¬
ther arms, nor ammunition, nor provisions, and that the posts
were left defenceless. You waited to be urged by a re-
vol. x.
N C E. 73
quest made to the minister Lajard, when the Legislative As- History,
sembly wished to point out the means of providing for the
external safety of the state, by proposing the levy of forty- 1792.
two battalions. You gave commission to the commanders
of the troops to disband the army, to force whole regiments
to desert, to make them pass the Rhine, and to put them
at the disposal of your brothers, and of Leopold of" Austria,
with whom you had intelligence. You charged your di¬
plomatic agents to favour this coalition of foreign pow ers
and your brothers against France, and especially to cement
the peace between Turkey and Austria, and to procure
thereby a larger number of troops against France from the
latter. The Prussians advanced against our frontiers:
your minister was summoned on the 8th of July to give an
account of the state of our political relations with Prussia;
you answered, on the 10th, that fifty thousand Prussians
were marching against us, and that you gave notice to the
legislative body of the formal acts of the pending hostili¬
ties, in conformity to the constitution. You intrusted Da-
bancourt, the nephew of Calonne, with the department of
war; and such has been the success of your conspiracy,
that the posts of Longwy and Verdun were surrendered to
the enemy at the moment of their appearance. You have
destroyed our navy ; a vast number of officers belonging to
that corps had emigrated; there scarcely remained any to
do duty in the harbours : meanwhile Bertrand was grant¬
ing passports every day ; and when the legislative body re¬
presented to you his criminal conduct on the 8th of March,
you answered that you were satisfied with his services.
“ You have favoured the maintenance of absolute govern¬
ment in the colonies; your agents fomented troubles and
counter revolutions throughout them, which took place at
the same epoch when it was to have been brought about
in France, which indicates plainly that your hand laid this
plot. The interior of the state was convulsed by fanatics ;
you avowed yourself their protector, in manifesting your
evident intention of recovering by them your ancient power.
The legislative body had passed a decree on the 29th of
January, against the factious priests ; you suspended its ex¬
ecution. The troubles had increased ; the minister declared
that he knew nothing in the laws extant upon which to ar¬
raign the guilty. The legislative body enacted a fresh decree^
which you likewise suspended. The uncitizen-like conduct
of the guards whom the constitution had granted you had
rendered it necessary to disband them; the day after, you
sent them a letter expressive of your satisfaction, and con¬
tinued their pay. You kept near your person the Swiss
guards ; the constitution forbade you this, and the Legisla¬
tive Assembly had expressly ordained their departure. You
had private companies at Paris, charged to operate move¬
ments useful to your projects of a counter revolution. You
wished to suborn, with considerable sums, several members
of the Legislative and Constituent Assemblies. You suffered
the French name to be reviled in Germany, Italy, and
Spain, since you omitted to demand satisfaction for the bad
treatment which the French suffered in those countries.
You reviewed the Swiss on the tenth of August, at five
o’clock in the morning; and the Swiss w ere the first who
fired upon the citizens. You authorized Septeuil to carry
on a considerable trade in corn, sugar, and coffee, at Ham¬
burg.” It was asked, “ Why did you affix a veto on the
decree which ordained the formation of a camp of twenty
thousand men ?” To which Louis answered, “ The con¬
stitution left to me the free right of refusing my sanction
of the decrees ; and even from that period I had demanded
the assemblage of a camp at Soissons.”
Valaze, who sat near the bar, now presented and read a
memoir of Laporte and Mirabeau, and some other papers,
containing plans of a counter revolution, which the king,
however, disowned. He then presented a number of other
papers on which the act of accusation was founded, and
K
74
FRANCE.
History, having asked the king if he recognized them, the latter re-
plied that he did not. By the admission even of his enemies,
'92, the answers of Louis were brief, firm, and for the most
part judicious ; he displayed remarkable presence of mind,
and in most cases negatived the charges by the most satis¬
factory replies. The affair of Nancy, the journey to Va-
rennes, the suppression of the revolt in the Champ de Mars,
were justified by the decrees of the assembly ; and the catas¬
trophe of the tenth of March, by the power of self-defence
conferred on him by the laws. To every question, in fact,
he replied with clearness and precision; denying some,
showing that the matters referred to in others were the
work of his ministers, and justifying all that had been done
by the powers conferred on him by the constitution. In a
loud voice he repelled the charge of shedding the blood of
the people on the tenth of August, exclaiming, “ No, sir, it
was not I who did it.” But he was careful in his answers
not to implicate any members of the Constituent and Legis¬
lative Assemblies; and many who now sat as his judges
trembled lest he should compromise them with the domi¬
nant faction. The deep impression made on the Conven¬
tion by the simple statements, and temperate but firm de¬
meanour, of the sovereign, struck the Jacobins with such
dismay that the most violent of the party proposed he should
be hanged that very night. But the majority, composed of
the Girondists and the neutrals, decided that he should be
formally tried and defended by counsel. He then returned
to the Temple, where the resolution of the municipality,
that he was no longer to be permitted to see his family,
was communicated to him; or, in other words, that a con¬
solation, which is never withheld even from the most atro¬
cious criminals, was denied him. Next day, however, the
Convention, less inhuman than the commune, decreed that
the unfortunate father might enjoy the society of his chil¬
dren ; but the king thinking them more necessary to the
queen’s comfort than his own, declined to take them from
her, and, after a struggle with feelings which even demons
might have respected, he submitted to the separation with
a resignation which nothing could shake.
Louis had desired to be furnished with copies of the ac¬
cusation, and of the papers upon which it was founded ; and
also to have the choice of his own counsel. Both requests
were conceded, and he accordingly chose as his counsel M.
Tronchet and M. Target. The former accepted, and faith¬
fully discharged his duty ;x the latter basely declined, on the
pretence of age and infirmity. The venerable Malesherbes,
whose official career had been distinguished by many wise
and useful reforms, now came forward and volunteered his
services as counsel for his sovereign. “ I have been twice
honoured,” said he, in a letter to the president of the Con¬
vention, “ with a place in the counsels of my sovereign,
when it was an object of ambition to all the world; I owe
him the same service when it imposes a duty which many
consider as dangerous.”2 Malesherbes and Tronchet after¬
wards called in the assistance of M. Deseze, a celebrated
pleader, who had at first embraced the popular side, but
had withdrawn from political life since the Revolution had
assumed a sombre and threatening aspect; and, unlike Tar¬
get, who shrunk from a task which would have immorta¬
lized his name, he entered upon his arduous duties with
great earnestness, and even more than his wonted ability.
“ I have often wished,” said the king to Malesherbes, “ I
had the means of recompensing the zeal of your colleagues.
I have thought of leaving them a legacy; but would it
be respected by the Convention ? would it not endanger
them ?” “ Sire,” replied Malesherbes, “ the legacy is al¬
ready bequeathed; in choosing them for your defenders,
your majesty has immortalized their names.”
On the 26th of December the king was again conducted
to the assembly. He evinced as great serenity and self-
possession as on the former occasion ; discoursed of Seneca,
Livy, and the public hospitals ; and even addressed himself
in a vein of pleasantry to one of the municipality who sat
covered in the carriage. Whilst in the ante-chamber, Males¬
herbes, in conversing with the king, happened to make use
of the words, “ Sire, your majesty.” “ What,” exclaimed
Treilhard, a furious Jacobin, interrupting him, “ what has
rendered you so bold as to pronounce these words, which the
Convention has proscribed ?” “ Contempt of life,” replied
the intrepid old man. When admitted into the assembly,
Louis seated himself between his counsel, surveyed the
crowded benches of his adversaries with perfect composure,
and was even observed sometimes to smile as he conversed
with Malesherbes. M. Deseze then read a defence which
had been prepared by the king’s counsel, and which was
equally admired for the solidity of the argument and the
beauty of the composition. In this address, the inviolabi¬
lity of the sovereign was ably argued; and it was proved
that, if it were destroyed, the weaker party in the Conven¬
tion would have no security against the stronger; a pro¬
phetic deduction, which the Girondists soon found fatally
verified in their own persons, when conducted to the scaf¬
fold by their implacable enemies. The advocate then exa¬
mined the whole life of the king, and showed that in every
instance he had been actuated by a sincere love of his peo¬
ple. With reference to the tenth of August he observed,
“ Was the monarch under the necessity of submitting to an
armed multitude ? Was he constrained by law to yield to
force? Was not the power which he held in the constitu¬
tion a deposit, for the preservation of which he was answer-
able to the nation ? If you yourselves were surrounded by
a furious and misguided rabble, which threatened, without
respect for your sacred character, to tear you from this
sanctuary, what could you do other than what he has done ?
The magistrates themselves authorized all that he did, by
having signed the order to repel force by force. But not¬
withstanding their sanction, the king was unwilling to make
use of his authority, and retired into the bosom of the Con¬
vention, to avoid the shedding of blood. The combat which
followed was neither undertaken by him, nor continued by
his orders; he interfered only to put a stop to it, as is
proved by the fact that it was in consequence of an order
signed by him that the Swiss abandoned the defence of the
Chateau, and surrendered their lives. There is a crying in¬
justice therefore in reproaching him with the blood shed on
the tenth of August; in truth, his conduct in that particu¬
lar is above reproach.” M. Deseze concluded with these
words: “ Louis mounted the throne at the age of twenty,
and even then he set an example of an irreproachable life;
he was governed by no weak or corrupt passion; he was
One^f hfs W °W Vi a-( mire heroism: even when exfte,d in mother cause, and regarded it as the noblest title to prefermenl
= Thk ^nin l ’ « attaining to sovereign power, was to place Tronchet at the head of the supreme court of Cassation.
their humanity was W frT of, I™"-! 111 the, Convention and even the Jacobins were silent; for a momer
rab e fS ^When t!1P Inft6" ? a % P00rTkm& hf ^ deeply affected by this proof of devotion on the part of his vem
vou mv friend Vn ^“er entered the Temple, Louis clasped him in his arms, exclaiming, with tears in his eyes, “ Ah ! it :
me to remove tlm troons66- \° "a i ? StatG 1 at? re?UCed b7 the,excess of.1T'.v affection for my people, and the self-denial which le
fife to save mine • bm ift0 PTr°teCt Hf ne f'°m tl?1eventerpnses the factions. You fear not to endanger your ow
unon the defence’a^V T ln ^ ? u am wellJ?a1ware thfv bring me to the scaffold; but that is of no moment; let us ente
unsnotted^ nosteritv »W7re u be successful- ? wlU Sain 11 xn reality through your exertions, since my memory will descen
unspotted to posterity. (Lacretelle, x. 186, 193; Hue, p. 42; Mignet, i. 236 ; Thiers, iii. 336 ; Alison, i.513.)
History.
1792.
FRANCE.
75
History, economical, just, and severe. He proved himself from the
beginning the friend of his country. The people desired
the removal of a destructive tax; he removed it. They
wished the abolition of servitude; he abolished it in his
domains. They prayed for a reform in the criminal laws ; he
reformed them. They demanded that thousands of French¬
men, whom the rigour of our usages had excluded from po¬
litical rights, should enjoy them ; he conceded them. They
longed for liberty ; he gave it. He even anticipated their
wishes ; and yet it is the same people who now demand his
punishment.”
When the defence was concluded, the king rose, and
holding a paper in his hand, pronounced, in a calm manner,
and with a firm voice, what follows: “ Citizens, you have
heard my defence, I will not recapitulate it; but when now
addressing you, perhaps for the last time, I declare that my
conscience has nothing to reproach itself with, and that
my defenders have said nothing but the truth. I have no
fears for the public examination of my conduct; but my
heart bleeds at the accusation brought against me of having
caused the misfortunes of my people, and, most of all, of
having shed their blood on the tenth of August. The
multiplied proofs I have given in every period of my reign,
of my love for my people, and the manner in which I have
conducted myself towards them, might, I had hoped, have
saved me from so cruel an imputation.” Having said these
words, he withdrew along with his counsel, and in a tran¬
sport of gratitude he embraced M. Deseze, exclaiming, “ I
am now at ease; I will have an honoured memory; the
French will regret my death.”
A stormy discussion immediately ensued in the assem¬
bly, and Lanjuinais had the boldness to demand a revoca¬
tion of the decree by which the king had been brought to
the bar of the Convention. “ If you insist on being judges,”
said he, in concluding a powerful speech, “ cease to be ac¬
cusers. My blood boils at the thought of seeing in the
judgment-seat men who openly conspired against the throne
on the tenth of August, and who have in such ferocious terms
anticipated the judgment without hearing the defence.”
The delivery of these words was instantly followed by the
most violent agitation; and cries of “ To the Abbaye with
the perjured deputy; let the friends of the tyrant perish
along with him,” resounded through the hall. But the storm
was at length appeased by a proposal to discuss the ques¬
tion, whether an appeal should be made to the people; a pro¬
posal which was adopted, and the discussion that thereupon
ensued lasted twenty days. The most powerful declaimer
against the sovereign was the infamous Saint-Just; the most
vehement and direct, the sanguinary Robespierre. Ver-
gniaud replied in a strain of impassioned eloquence worthy
of his reputation as the first orator of France. But his for¬
cible, nay sublime, appeal was unavailing. At the conclu¬
sion of the debate the assembly unanimously pronounced
the ill-fated Louis guilty of the offences charged against
him, and the appeal to the people was rejected by a ma¬
jority of 423 to 281.1 This unanimous vote upon the ques¬
tion of guilt is one of the most remarkable facts in the his¬
tory of the Revolution. That among seven hundred men
great difference of opinion must have existed on this sub¬
ject, is beyond all doubt; and if any evidence were wanting
to establish the fact, it would be supplied by the division
which immediately followed on the proposal to appeal to
the people, and by the narrow majority which decreed the
punishment of death. But such was the temper of the time,
and the ascendency of democratic influence in the Conven¬
tion, that even the friends of the king were compelled to
commence their efforts for his salvation by voting him guil¬
ty of the crimes which had been charged against him.
The only question which now remained to be decided
was, what punishment should be inflicted. The debate on
this subject lasted forty hours, during which Paris was in
the most violent agitation. The Jacobin Club resounded
with cries for death; the avenues leading to the Conven¬
tion were filled with a ferocious rabble, menacing alike the
supporters of the king and the neutrals; and as the termina¬
tion of the voting drew near, the tumult increased. The
most breathless anxiety pervaded the Convention, when the
president, Vergniaud, at length rose to announce the re¬
sult, which he did in these words : “ Citizens, I announce
the result of the vote; when justice has spoken, humanity
should resume its place; there are seven hundred and
twenty-one votes; a majority of twenty-six have voted for
death. In the name of the Convention, I declare that the
punishment of Louis Capet is deat/i.” Without the defec¬
tion of the Girondists on this occasion, the king’s life would
have been saved. Forty-six of their party, including Ver¬
gniaud, voted conditionally or unconditionally for his death.
This was a fatal error, which almost all of them subsequently
expiated on the scaffold. They were really anxious to save
the king ; but, destitute of political courage, and hurried on
by the democratic fury of the times, they trusted to accom¬
plish their object by an appeal to the people. In this-, how¬
ever, they were baffled ; their weak and timid policy ruined
all. The triumph of the Jacobins was complete. They
had committed the Revolution by an act which cut off all
retreat; and they had compelled their most able and dan¬
gerous enemies to participate in the guilt of the bloody
deed.2
When the counsel of the unfortunate monarch were
called in to hear the sentence, they were greatly affected.
Malesherbes attempted to speak, but emotion choked his
utterance. Deseze then read a protest, in which the king
solemnly declared his innocence ; and Tronchet urged the
revocation of a decree which had been passed by so slen¬
der a majority. “ You have either forgotten or destroyed,”
said this celebrated advocate, “ the humane principle of the
criminal law, which requires a majority of two thirds to con¬
stitute a definitive sentence.” “ The laws,” it was answer¬
ed, “ are passed by a simple majority.” “ True,” rejoined
Deseze, “ but the laws may be repealed; and who can
recall human life ?” The Girondists, as a last resource,
then proposed a limited delay ; but in this they also failed,
and the fatal sentence was pronounced. This decisive
step produced an intense sensation in Paris. The mem¬
bers of the Cote Droit, and the royalists, secret or avowed,
wrere in equal consternation. But the Jacobins, who could
History.
1793.
1 Eight members were absent from bad health ; thirty-seven declared Louis guilty, but voted only for precautionary measures :
six hundred and eighty-three declared him guilty. (Thiers, hi. 377.)
a Of those who voted for death, there were many, such as the Duke of Orleans, influenced by base or selfish motives; and even
at that moment their characters were appreciated. When Egalite, with a faultering step, and a countenance pale as a corpse, ad¬
vanced to the place where he was to put the seal to his infamy, and read in these terms his vote, “ Exclusively governed bv mv
duty, and convinced that all those who have resisted the sovereignty of the people deserve death, my vote is for death,” exclama¬
tions of “ Oh, the monster !” and, “ How infamous !” broke forth from all sides, and he returned to his seat amidst the imprecations
even of the assassins of September, and all the wretches of every description who were there assembled. But there were other per¬
sons of a very different character; many men, both great and good, who inclined with sorrow to the side of severity, from an
honest opinion of its absolute necessity to annihilate a dangerous enemy, and establish the republic on a settled basis. Amongst this
number was Carnot, who, when called on for his vote, gave it in these words : “ Death, and never did word weigh so heavilv on
my heart.” (Alison, i. 523 ; Carnot, Memoires, p. 97 ; Histoire Pitturcsque de la Convention JVationale, tom. ii. p. 143.)
76
FRANCE.
1793.
History, hardly believe that so great a victory had been gained, re¬
doubled their activity, and put every engine in motion to
keep up an incessant agitation ; they besought their adhe¬
rents to be vigilant for the next two days, and thus secure
the fruits of so mighty a triumph. Nor were their efforts
and entreaties in vain. The greater number were over¬
awed and put to silence by the audacity of their movements ;
whilst, by the resolute few, whose minds burned with in¬
dignation at their conduct, nothing could be attempted.
Louis was fully prepared for his fate. When Malesherbes,
dissolved in tears, came to announce the sentence of death,
he found the unhappy king alone, with his elbows resting
on a table, his forehead leaning on his hands, and absorb¬
ed in profound meditation. Without inquiring concerning
his fate, Louis raised himself as his friend approached, and
observed to him, “ For two hours I have been revolving
in my memory whether during my whole reign I have vo¬
luntarily given any cause of complaint to my subjects ; and
with perfect sincerity I can declare, when about to appear
in the presence of God, that I deserve no reproach at their
hands, and that I have never formed a wish but for their
happiness.” Malesherbes encouraged him to hope that the
sentence might yet be superseded. Louis shook his head,
and only entreated his friend not to leave him in his last
moments. Malesherbes promised to return, and repeated¬
ly applied at the gate for admission, which however was re*
fused by order of the municipality. Louis often asked for
his aged friend, and was deeply afflicted at not seeing him
again. He received without emotion the official announce¬
ment of his sentence made by the minister of justice on
the 20th of January, and demanded a respite of three days
to prepare himself for death, and also to be allowed an in¬
terview with his family, and to have the assistance of a con¬
fessor whom he named. The two last requests were alone
conceded by the Convention, and the execution was fixed
for the following morning at ten o’clock. The interview
with his family presented a heart-rending scene, which
lasted nearly two hours, and may be morp easily imagined
than described. When the terrible moment of separation
arrived, Louis promised to see them again on the morrow ;
and having embraced them all in the tenderest manner,
bade them a mournful adieu ; but on entering his cham¬
ber he felt that a second trial would be too much for all
parties, and resolved to spare them the agony of a final se¬
paration. This was his last struggle ; he now only thought
of preparing for death. The remainder of the evening
was therefore spent with his confessor, the Abbe Edge-
worth, who, with heroic devotion, discharged the perilous
duty of administering the last consolations of religion to
his dying sovereign. On the night which preceded his
death, Louis slept tranquilly until five in the morning, when
he was awaked by Clery, whom he had ordered to call him
at that hour. He then gave his last instructions to his
faithful attendant, and put into his hands the little property
which he had at his disposal, a ring, a seal, and a lock of
hair. Already the drums were beating, and the heavy roll
of cannon dragged along the streets, interrupted at inter¬
vals by a confused sound of voices, was also heard.
About nine o’clock, Santerre arrived at the Temple. “You
come to seek me,” said the king ; “ allow me a minute.”
He went into his closet, and immediately returned with his
testament in his hand, which he intrusted to a municipal
officer; after which he asked for his hat, and said with a
firm voice, “ Let us set off.” He calmly seated himself in
the carriage beside his confessor, and during the passage
from the Temple to the Place de la Revolution, which
occupied two hours, he never ceased reciting the psalms
which were pointed out by his spiritual guide. The route
was lined with double files of soldiers; more than forty History,
thousand men were under arms ; and the aspect of Paris
was mournful. Amongst the citizens who were present at H93.
the execution there reigned the most profound silence, un¬
interrupted by any external manifestation either of appro¬
bation or regret. When the procession arrived at the place
of execution, he descended from the carriage, ascended
the scaffold with a firm step, and received on his knees the
sublime benediction of his confessor, “ Son of St Louis,
ascend to heaven.” He suffered his hands to be bound,
though not without repugnance, nor until after M. Edge-
worth had exclaimed, “ Submit to that outrage, as the last
resemblance to the Saviour who is about to recompense
your sufferingsand advancing quickly to the left of the
scaffold, “ I die innocent,” said he ; “I forgive my ene¬
mies, and you, unfortunate people....” At these words his
voice was drowned by the sound of drums placed at the
front of the scaffold to prevent his being heard; three
executioners seized and hurried him to the block ; and in
a few seconds he had ceased to live. One of the assist¬
ants grasped his head, and waved it in the air, whilst the
blood fell on the confessor, who was still on his knees be¬
side the mutilated body of his sovereign.
Thus perished, in the thirty-ninth year of his age, and
seventeenth of his reign, one of the best but at the same time
weakest of sovereigns. He inherited a revolution from his
ancestors, but he was better fitted than any of his prede¬
cessors to prevent or to terminate it; for he was capable of
being a reforming king before it broke out, and of becom¬
ing a constitutional sovereign under its influence. He was
perhaps the only prince who had no passion, not even that
of power, and who united the two qualities most essential
to a good king, the fear of God and the love of his people.
He perished the victim of passions which he did not parti¬
cipate ; of those of his supporters to which he was a stran¬
ger, and those of the multitude, which he had not excited.
Few kings have left so spotless a memory, and history will
say of him, that, with a little more force of mind and deci¬
sion of character, he would have bequeathed to posterity a
name unique among princes. Such, in the opinion of the
ablest of the republican writers of France,1 was Louis XVI.;
a man better qualified to adorn a private station than to
govern a great people at a period of unexampled excite¬
ment ; one whose virtues ought to have ensured him a dif¬
ferent fate, and whose misfortunes were the result of that
long-continued misrule which he had endeavoured to cor¬
rect.
In a political point of view, this tragical event proved Rupture
injurious to the republican cause throughout Europe. No with Great
man out of France ventured to justify it; and in all conn- Britain,
tries it excited the most violent indignation against the
rulers of the French republic. Accordingly new enemies
now hastened to join the general league against France.
It is unnecessary here to enter into any detail of the poli¬
tical struggles which occurred in other countries, particu¬
larly our own. It is sufficient to remark generally, that at
this time the British government thought itself endanger¬
ed by the propagation of those speculative opinions which
had overturned the French monarchy, and that almost all
the men of property in the kingdom concurred with the mi¬
nistry in thinking a war with France necessary for the pur¬
pose of securing the constitution, and checking the progress
of levelling doctrines. After the tenth of August the Bri¬
tish minister had been recalled ; but the Republic had still
suffered the ambassador of France, M. Chauvelin, to remain
in England.
The ostensible grounds of quarrel on the part of Great
Britain were two ; the decree of the 15th of November 1792,
1 Mignet, Histoire de la Revolution Franfaise, i. 334.
FRA
History, by which it was considered that encouragement to rebel-
^on been held out to the subjects of every state, and
7 • war thereby waged against every established government;
and the question relative to the opening of the Scheldt.
Of the decree the French executive council gave explana¬
tions, denying the fairness of the interpretation put upon
it, and alleging that the intention of the Convention was
only to give aid to such countries as had already acquired
their freedom, and by a declaration of the general will re¬
quested aid for its perservation. But this explanation was
not admitted, inasmuch as the decree expressly says that
the French nation will “ grant assistance to all who wish
to procure liberty and, considering the notions of liberty
then entertained in France, it was not doubted that their
real intention was to excite rebellion in foreign nations.
With regard to the opening of the Scheldt, as this river
runs from Brabant through the Dutch territory to the sea,
the Dutch had shut up its mouth, and thus prevented any
maritime commerce being carried on by the people of Bra¬
bant by means of the river. To render themselves popular
in Brabant, however, the French declared that they would
open the navigation of the Scheldt. But Great Britain
having some time previously become bound by treaty with
the Dutch to assist them in obstructing this navigation, now
intimated to the French government that the project of
opening the Scheldt must be abandoned. The French,
however, alleged that by the law of nations navigable rivers
ought to be open to all who reside upon their banks ; that
nevertheless the point was of no importance either to France
or to England, and but of little importance even to Hol¬
land ; and that if the people of Brabant themselves chose
to give it up, they would make no objection. In the mean
time the Dutch gave themselves no concern about the mat¬
ter. Ihey did not even solicit the assistance of England ;
and the merchants, when applied to individually, declared
that if the Scheldt was opened, they coidd conduct their
commerce as well at Antwerp as at Amsterdam. But in
all this there is nothing remarkable. Amongst the Dutch
there wrere many republicans, who wished for the downfall
of the stadtholder, and rejoiced at every thing which dis¬
tressed him, or had a tendency to render his office useless
in the eyes of the people; whilst others who thought dif¬
ferently were afraid to speak their sentiments, as Dumou-
riez was in their neighbourhood at the head of a victorious
army. The result of the whole was,. that the British go¬
vernment ordered M. Chauvelin to quit this country. The
French executive council accredited another minister, M.
Maret, who was also invested with powers to negotiate,
and requested that a passport might be given him ; but he
was not even suffered to land. The republicans having
thus far humbled themselves before the British govern¬
ment, were fired with indignation at the manner in which
their envoy was treated; and on the 1st of February 1793
the National Convention, on the motion of Brissot, de¬
creed that George king of England had never ceased, since
the revolution of the tenth of August 1792, to give the
French nation proofs of his attachment to the concert of
crowned heads; that he had drawn into the same combi¬
nation the stadtholder of the United Provinces ; that, con¬
trary to the treaty of 1783, the English ministry had grant¬
ed protection to the emigrants and others who had openly
appeared in arms against the French ; that they had com¬
mitted an outrage against the French republic, by order¬
ing the ambassador of France to quit Great Britain ; that
the English had stopped different boats and vessels laden
with corn for France, whilst, at the same time, contrary to
the treaty of 1786, they continued the exportation of grain
to other foreign countries ; and that, to thwart more effi¬
caciously the commercial transactions of the republic with
England, they had by an act of parliament prohibited the
circulation of assignats. The Convention therefore de-
N C E. 77
dared, that in consequence of these acts of hostility and History,
aggression, the French republic was at war with the king '—-x
of England and with the stadtholder of the United Pro- !793.
vinces. The absurdity of pretending that any treaty with
France made in 1783 could be violated by protecting the
emigrants who fled from the vengeance of the Convention,
must be sufficiently obvious. The Convention itself was a
usurpation of the government with which that treaty had
been concluded. On the other hand, the prohibition of the
assignats was certainly contrary to no law, and was sanction¬
ed by every motive of expediency, unless the Convention
could prove that all nations were bound by the law of nature
to risk their own credit upon that of the French republic.
About a fortnight after this declaration appeared, war was
likewise declared against Spain; and in the course of the
summer France was in hostility with all Europe, except¬
ing only Switzerland, Sweden, Denmark, and Turkey.
In the mean time General Dumouriez, proceeding agree- Progress of
ably to his orders, made an attack upon Holland ; but in Dumou-
doing so he disseminated his troops in such a manner as toriez-
expose himself to attack upon the side of Germany. He
commanded General Miranda to invest Maestricht, whilst
he advanced to blockade Breda and Bergen-op-Zoom. Bre¬
da, however, surrendered on the 24th of February, Klun-
dert was taken on the 26th, and Gertruydenberg yielded on
the 4th of March. But here the triumphs of Dumouriez
ended. The sieges of Williamstadt and Bergen-op-Zoom,
though vigorously pressed, proved unsuccessful. On the 1st
of March General Clairfayt, having passed the Roer, attack¬
ed the French posts, and compelled them to retreat with
the loss of about two thousand men. The following day the
archduke attacked them anew with considerable success ;
and on the 3d the French were driven from Aix-la-Cha-
pelle, with the loss of four thousand men killed and sixteen
hundred taken prisoners. The siege of Maestricht was now
raised, and the French retreated to Tongres, where they
were also attacked, and forced to retreat to St Tron. Here
Dumouriez joined them, but did not bring his army along
with him from Holland. After some skirmishes, a general
engagement took place at Neerwinden, and was contested
on the part of the French with great obstinacy ; but they
were at length overpowered by numbers, and forced to
retreat. This defeat had well nigh proved fatal to the re¬
publican arms. The French lost three thousand men in the
battle, and six thousand immediately afterwards deserted and
returned to their homes. Dumouriez continued to retreat,
and on the 22d he was again attacked near Louvain; but,
through the medium of Colonel Mack, who afterwards be¬
came so unenviably famous, he entered into an arrangement
with the imperialists that his retreat should not be seriously
interrupted. It was also fully agreed that whilst the impe¬
rialists took possession of Conde and Valenciennes, he should
march to Paris, dissolve the Convention, and place the son
of the late king upon the throne.
The rapid retreat and successive defeats of General Du¬
mouriez having rendered his conduct suspicious, commission¬
ers were sent by the executive government, for the purpose
of discovering and defeating his designs. The latter dissem¬
bled, and pretended to communicate to him a scheme of a
counter revolution. Dumouriez fell into the snare which
they had laid for him, and confessed his intention of dis¬
solving by force the Convention and the Jacobin Club, and
restoring monarchy. On the report of these commission¬
ers the Convention sent Bournonville, the minister of war,
along with Camus, Blancal, Lamarque, and Quinette, as
commissioners, to supersede and arrest Dumouriez. The
attempt on the part of these functionaries to arrest a gene¬
ral in the midst of his army was certainly hazardous ; and
in fact Dumouriez, on the first of April, sent them prison¬
ers to General Clairfayt’s head-quarters at Tournay, as host¬
ages for the safety of the royal family. He next attempt-
78 FRA
History, ed to seduce his army from their fidelity to the Convention ;
but he speedily found that he had mistaken the character of
1793. hjg troops. When the report reached them that their gene¬
ral was to be carried as a criminal to Paris, they were seized
with vehement indignation ; but as soon as they learned that
an attempt was being made to prevail on them to turn their
arms against their country, their sentiments underwent a
sudden alteration, and resentment succeeded to the gene¬
rous feeling of indignation which at first prompted them to
interpose in his behalf. On the 5th of April two procla¬
mations were issued, one by General Dumouriez, and the
other by the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg, declaring that their
only purpose was to restore the constitution of 1789, 1790,
and 1791. The latter announced that the allied powers
wished merely to co-operate with General Dumouriez in
giving to France a constitutional king and the constitution
which she had framed for herself; and he declared, upon
his word of honour, that he came not into the French ter¬
ritory for the purpose of making conquests. On the same
day Dumouriez went to the advanced guard of his own
camp at Maulde ; but he there learned that the corps of
artillery had risen upon their general, and were marching
to Valenciennes; and he also found that the whole army
were resolved to stand by their country. Seven hundred
cavalry and eight hundred infantry were all who deserted
with Dumouriez to the Austrians, and many of these after¬
wards returned.
State of By the defection of Dumouriez, however, the army of
France. the north was dissolved, and in part disbanded, in presence
of a numerous, well-disciplined, and victorious enemy. The
Prussians were at the same time advancing in immense
force, and were about to commence the siege of May-
ence. In the interior of the Republic, evils even more
serious were threatened. In the departments of La Ven¬
dee and La Loire, or the provinces of Bretagne and Poitou,
immense multitudes of emigrants and other royalists had
gradually assembled in the course of the winter, professing
to act in the name of Monsieur, as regent of France ; and
about the middle of March they auvanced against Nantes
to the number of about forty thousand. In the beginning of
April they defeated the republicans in two pitched battles,
possessed themselves of fil’ty leagues of country, and even
threatened, by their own efforts, to shake the republic to its
very foundations. On the 8th of April there assembled at
Antwerp a congress of the combined powers, which was
attended by the Prince of Orange and his two sons, with
his excellency Vander Spiegel, on the part of Holland ; by
the Duke of York and Lord Auckland on the part of
Great Britain ; and by the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg, Counts
Metternich, Staremberg, and Dargenteau, and the Prus¬
sian, Spanish, and Neapolitan envoys. In this congress
it was definitively determined to commence active opera¬
tions against France ; the Prince of Cobourg’s proclama¬
tion was recalled, and a scheme of conquest announced.
The repub- Commissioners fi'om the Convention now set up anew
lican army the standard of the republic, and the scattered battalions
again as- flocked around it. General Dampierre was appointed com-
sem e . manfler-in-chief, and on the 13th he was able to resist a
general attack upon his advanced posts. On the 14th his
advanced guard yielded to superior numbers, but on the
15th he was victorious in a long and well-fought battle.
On the 23d the Austrians were again repulsed, and on the
1st of May General Dampierre was himself defeated in an
attack upon the enemy. On the 8th another engagement
took place, in which the French general was killed by a
cannon ball. On the 23d a determined attack was made
by the allies upon the fortified camp of Famars, which co¬
vered the town of Valenciennes. The French made a very
gallant resistance, but were at length overcome, and in the
night abandoned their camp. By this victory the allies
were enabled to commence the siege of Valenciennes;
N C E.
Conde having been blockaded since the first of April. History.
About the same time General Custines on the Rhine made
a vigorous but unsuccessful attack upon the Prussians, HOa.
and in consequence they were soon enabled to lay siege to
Mayence. At this period also the Corsican general Paoli
revolted; and the Republic, assaulted from without by the
whole strength of Europe, was undermined by treachery
and faction within.
Whilst the country was in a state verging upon utter Revolu-
ruin, the parties in the Convention were gradually waxing tionary
fiercer and fiercer in their animosity; and, regardless ofAn una *
what was passing at a distance, they seemed only anxious
for the extermination of each other. In the month of
March the Revolutionary Tribunal was established, for the
purpose of trying crimes committed against the state ; and
the Girondists, the mildness of whose administration had
contributed not a little to increase the evils of their coun¬
try, began to see the necessity of adopting measures of se¬
verity. But the public calamities, which now followed in
rapid succession, were ascribed by their countrymen to the
imbecility or perfidy of that party. This gave to the party
of the Mountain a fatal advantage. On the 15th of April
the communes of the forty-eight sections of Paris present¬
ed a petition, requiring that the chiefs of the Girondists
therein named should be impeached and expelled from the
Convention ; and this was followed on the 1st of May by
another petition of the same description from the faubourg
St Antoine. In the mean time the Girondist party im¬
peached Marat, but the miscreant was acquitted by the
jury. With the assistance of the Jacobin Club, the Moun¬
tain had now acquired a complete ascendency over the
city of Paris. The Girondists therefore proposed to re¬
move the Convention from the capital; and to prevent
this, the Mountain resolved to make the same use of the
people of the capital against the Girondist party which
they had formerly done against the monarch on the tenth
of August. It is unnecessary to relate in detail all the tu¬
mults which occurred either in Paris or in the Convention
during the remaining part of the month of May. On the
31st, at four o’clock in the morning, the tocsin was sound¬
ed, the generale beat, and the alarm guns fired. All was
commotion and terror. The citizens flew to arms, and as¬
sembled round the Convention, where some deputations
demanded a decree of accusation against thirty-five of its
members. The day, however, passed without coming to a
decision. On the afternoon of the 1st of June an armed
force made the same demand, which was repeated on the
2d of June, when the tocsin again sounded, and an hun¬
dred pieces of cannon surrounded the hall of the Conven¬
tion. At length Barrere, who wras considered as a mode¬
rate man, and respected by both parties, mounted the tri¬
bune ; but he now artfully deserted the Girondists, and in¬
vited the denounced members voluntarily to resign their
character of representatives. Some of them complied, and
the president attempted to dissolve the sitting; but the
members now found themselves prisoners in their own hall.
There Henriot, commander of the armed force, compelled
them to remain ; and the obnoxious deputies, amounting
to upwards of ninety in number, were put under arrest,
and a decree of accusation passed against them. It is very
obvious that on this occasion the liberties of France w ere
trodden under foot. The minority of the national repre¬
sentatives, with the assistance of an armed force raised in
the capital, had compelled the majority to submit to their
measures, and taken the leading members prisoners. The
city of Paris thus assumed to itself the whole powers of the
French Republic ; and the nation was no longer governed
by representatives freely chosen, but by a minority of the
Convention of whose sentiments the city of Paris and the
Jacobin Club had thought proper to approve. The history
of nations, and, above all, of factions, is a mass of contra-
FRANCE.
1793.
History, dictions. The Mountain party came into power by preach¬
ing boundless liberty, and by practically violating its fun¬
damental principles. How far the plea of political neces¬
sity may serve to excuse their conduct, we shall not ven¬
ture to decide. Certain it is that they soon commenced,
both at home and abroad, a career of the most terrible energy
which is to be found in the records of nations.
The first result of their victory in the capital was cala¬
mitous to the Republic at large. Brissot and some other
deputies escaped, and endeavoured to kindle the flames
of civil war. In general, however, the influence of the
Jacobin Club, and of its various branches, wras such, that
the north of France adhered to the Convention ; but the
southern departments were speedily in a state of rebel¬
lion. The department of Lyons declared the Mountain
party outlawed. Marseilles and Toulon followed the ex¬
ample of Lyons, and entered into a confederacy, which
lias since been known by the appellation of Federalism.
The departments of La Gironde and Calvados broke out
into open insurrection. In a word, the whole of France
was in a state of violent convulsion. Still, however, the
enthusiastic garrisons of Mayence and Valenciennes pro¬
tected it against the immediate entrance of a foreign force,
and afforded leisure for one of its internal factions to gain
an ascendency, and thereafter to protect its independence.
In fact, the political enthusiasm of all orders of persons
was such, that even the female sex did not escape its con¬
tagion. In the beginning of July a young woman of the
name of Charlotte Corday came from the department of
Calvados to devote her life for what she deemed the cause
of freedom and her country. Having requested an inter-
viewr with Marat, the most obnoxious of the Mountain
party, she at length contrived to obtain it, and after con¬
versing with him for some time, suddenly plunged a dag¬
ger in his breast, and walked carelessly out of the house.
But she was immediately seized, condemned, and execut¬
ed; behaving throughout with infinite constancy, and with
her last breath shouting Vive la Republique. The party
to which Marat was attached derived advantage from the
manner of his death, as it seemed to fasten the odious
charge of assassination upon their antagonists, and to give
them the appearance of suffering in the cause of liberty;
though the real truth is, that assassination was sanction¬
ed by both parties, under pretence of defending the liber¬
ties of the Republic.
One of the first acts of the Mountain party after their
triumph was to complete the republican constitution. Pre-
bv'tlf616^ v'ous'y t0 t^e*r *'a^’ ^ie Girondists had brought forward
Mountain ^,e ^an a constitLlt*°n, which was chiefly the work of
party. Condorcet; but it wras never sanctioned by the Conven¬
tion, and much too intricate to be practically useful. The
constitution now framed, which was afterwards sanction¬
ed by the nation, but never put in practice, abolished the
former mode of electing the representatives of the people
through the medium of electoral assemblies, and appoint¬
ed them to be chosen immediately by the primary assem¬
blies, which were to consist of from two to six hundred
citizens, whilst each man was to give his suffrage by bal¬
lot or otherwise at his option. One deputy was allowed
for every forty thousand individuals, and population form¬
ed the sole basis of representation. The elections were to
take place every year on the first of May. Electoral as¬
semblies were, however, retained. Every two hundred
citizens in the primary assemblies named one elector, and
an assembly of all the electors of the department was
afterwards held, which chose candidates for the executive
council, or ministry of the Republic ; and out of this list
of candidates the legislative body selected the members
79
History.
The con.
slitution
of the executive council. One half of this council was to
be renewed by each legislature in the last month of the
session. Every law, after being passed by the legislative 1793.
body, was to be sent to the department; and if in more
than half of the departments the tenth of the primary as¬
semblies of each did not object to it, it became effectual.
Trial by jury was also established. National conventions
might be called for altering the constitution, and were to
be summoned, if required, by the tenth of the primary as¬
semblies of each department in a majority of the depart¬
ments. The publication of this constitution secured no
small degree of applause to the Convention and the Moun¬
tain party. The rapidity with which it had been framed1
seemed to cast a reflection upon the slowness of the mo¬
derate party, and was regarded as a proof that its fra¬
mers were decidedly serious in the cause of republicanism.
No regard, however, was paid to it by the Convention,
which declared itself permanent; nor indeed did it seem
possible to carry it into execution.
We have mentioned that Conde was invested ever since
the beginning of April; but it did not yield till the 10th
of July, when the garrison was so much reduced by famine
and disease, that out of four thousand men, of which it
originally consisted, only fifteen hundred were fit for ser¬
vice. The eyes of all Europe were in the mean time fix¬
ed upon the siege of Valenciennes. Colonel Moncrieff
had contended that batteries ought to be placed imme¬
diately under the walls, without approaching it by regular
parallels ; but the imperial engineer Ferraris asserted that
the work of the great Vauban must be treated with more
respect, and his opinion was adopted by the council of
war. The trenches were opened on the 14th of June.
Few sallies were attempted by the garrison, on account
of the smallness of their number. The inhabitants at first
wished to surrender; but the violence of the bombard¬
ment prevented their assembling, or giving much trouble
to General Ferrand, the governor. The principal labour
of the siege consisted of mines and countermines, some of
which having been successfully sprung by the assailants,
the town v^as surrendered by capitulation on the 27th of
July, and the Duke of York took possession of it in be¬
half of the emperor of Germany. The siege of Mayence
at the same time proceeded, and the place suffered much
from famine; but at last, after an unsuccessful attempt to
raise the siege by the French army of the Rhine, it sur¬
rendered on the 22d of July.
After the termination of the siege of Valenciennes the The allies
allied powers became much divided as to their future divided as
proceedings. The Austrian commanders are understood to their
to have presented two plans; the one to penetrate to^LltureIiro*
Paris by means of the rivers which fall into the Seine ;ceet
the other to take advantage of the consternation occasion¬
ed by the surrender of Valenciennes, and with fifty thou¬
sand light troops to penetrate suddenly to Paris, whilst a
descent should be made on the coast of Bretagne to assist
the royalists. The proposal of the British ministry, how¬
ever, to divide the grand army, and to attack West Flan¬
ders, beginning with the siege of Dunkirk, was ultimately
adopted ; but this determination proved ruinous to the
allies, as the French found means to vanquish in detail
that army which they were unable to encounter when
united.
It has been asserted that the Duke of York w^as in secret
correspondence with Omeron, the governor of Dunkirk ;
but the latter was removed before any advantage could be
taken of his treachery. On the 24th of August the Duke
of York attacked and drove into the town the French out¬
posts, after an action in which the Austrian general Dal-
1 This constitution was only the work of a fortnight; a short space, no doubt, for so important an undertaking.
80
FRANC E.
1793.
Lyons.
History, ton was killed. A naval armament was expected from
Great Britain to co-operate in the siege, but it did not ar¬
rive in time to be of any avail. Meanwhile a strong re¬
publican force menaced the covering army of the allies,
commanded by General Freytag ; and, in point of fact, he
was soon afterwards attacked and totally routed, in conse¬
quence of which the siege was raised. The British lost
their heavy cannon and baggage, with several thousand
men ; but the Convention, believing that their general,
Houchard, might have cut off the Duke of York’s retreat,
tried and executed him for this alleged neglect of duty.
In the mean time the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg and Gene¬
ral Clairfayt unsuccessfully attempted to besiege Cam-
bray and Bouchain. Quesnoy was, however, taken by
General Clairfayt on the 11th of September; and here
terminated the success of the allies in the Netherlands
during the present campaign.
A considerable part of the French army of the north
having taken a strong position near Maubeuge, were there
blockaded by Prince Cobourg ; but upon the 15th and
16th of October the latter was repeatedly attacked by the
French troops under General Jourdan, who had succeeded
Houchard in the command. The French having now re¬
covered their vigour, brought into the field a formidable
train of artillery ; and commissioners from the Convention
harangued the soldiers, threatening the timid and applaud¬
ing the brave. The attacks were repeated and furious,
and the Austrians had the disadvantage, in consequence
of which the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg retired during the
night. The French now menaced maritime Flanders, took
Furnes, and besieged Nieuport. But a detachment of Bri¬
tish troops ready to sail to the West Indies were hastily
sent to Ostend, and for the present prevented the further
progress of the French.
The multiplicity of the events which now occurred in
France was so great, that it is difficult to give an outline
of these with tolerable perspicuity. It has been already
mentioned that violent dissensions occurred throughout
the Republic, in consequence of the triumph of the Moun¬
tain party on the 31st of May. The department of Cal¬
vados was first in arms against the Convention, under the
command of General Wimpfen ; but before the end of
July the insurrection had been subdued. The federalism of
the cities of Marseilles, Lyons, and Toulon, however, still
remained. On the 8th of August Lyons was attacked by
the Conventional troops ; and several actions followed,
which were attended with great loss both on the part of
the assailants and of the besieged. The city in fact was
reduced almost to ruins; but it held out during the whole
month of September. The besieging general, Kellerman,
was removed from his command on account of his sup¬
posed inactivity; and the city surrendered on the 8th of
October to General Doppet, a man who had lately been
a physician. The walls and public buildings of Lyons
were ordered to be destroyed, and its name changed to
that of Ville Affranchie; many hundreds of its citizens
were dragged to the scaffold on account of their alleged
treasonable resistance to the Convention; and the victo¬
rious party, weary of the slow operation of the guillotine,
at last destroyed their prisoners in multitudes, by dis¬
charges of grape-shot. With the party of the Moun-
Marseilles. tain terror was now the order of the day. In the end
of July General Carteaux was sent against Marseilles.
In the beginning of August he gained some successes
over the advanced guard of the federalist troops ; and on
the 24th he took the town of Aix, upon which the Mar-
Toulon. seliois submitted. But the leading persons of the impor¬
tant town of I oulon, one of the first naval stations in France,
entered into a negotiation, which terminated in their sub¬
mitting to the British admiral Lord Hood, upon the con¬
ditions that he would preserve as a deposit the town and
shipping for Louis XVII. and assist in restoring the con¬
stitution of 1789 The sieec of Tculon was commenced
by General Carteaux in the beginning of September ; and
it continued without much vigour during that and the suc¬
ceeding month, Neapolitan, Spanish, and English troops
having been brought by sea to assist in its defence. But
in the beginning of November, General Carteaux was re¬
moved to the command of the army in Italy, and General
Dugommier succeeded him in the direction of the siege.
General O’Hara also arrived with reinforcements from
Gibraltar, and assumed the command of the town, under
a commission from his Britannic majesty. Upon the 30th
of November the garrison made a vigorous sally, in order
to destroy some batteries which were erecting upon heights
that commanded the city. The French were surprised,
and the assailants effected their object; but, elated with
this success, the troops rushed onward in pursuit of the ene¬
my, and were unexpectedly met by a strong French force
brought up by the commandant of artillery to check their
advance. General O’Hara now arrived from the city to
endeavour to bring off his troops; but he received a
wound in the arm, and was taken prisoner. The total loss
of the assailants in this affair was estimated at a thousand
men. The French now mustered in great force around
Toulon, and prepared to prosecute the attack with vigour.
It commenced on the 19th of December, and was chiefly
directed against Fort Mulgrave, occupied by the British.
This fort was protected by an intrenched camp, and thir¬
teen pieces of cannon consisting of twenty-four and thir¬
ty-six pounders, with five mortars and three thousand
troops ; but such was the fury of assault, that it was car¬
ried in an hour, and the whole garrison either killed or
taken. The British and their allies now found it impossi¬
ble to defend the place ; and in the course of the day em¬
barked their troops, after having set on fire the arsenal and
the ships. A scene of confusion now ensued, such as has
rarely been exhibited in modern warfare. Crowds of peo¬
ple of every rank, age, and sex, hurried on board the
ships, to escape the vengeance of their enraged country¬
men. Some of the inhabitants began to fire upon their
late allies; others in despair were seen plunging into the
sea, and making a vain effort to reach the ships ; and not
a few put an end at once to their own existence on the
shore. No language, indeed, can do justice to the horrors
of the scene. Mothers clasping their helpless babes, and
old men weighed down with the load of years, might be
seen stretching their hands towards the harbour, shudder¬
ing at every sound behind them, and even rushing into
the waves to escape the less merciful death which awaited
them from their countrymen. Sir Sidney Smith, with
honourable humanity, suspended the retreat until not a
single individual who claimed his assistance remained on
shore, though the total number borne away amounted to
nearly fifteen thousand. Of thirty-one ships of the line
found by the British at Toulon, thirteen were left behind,
ten were burned, and four had been previously sent to
Brest and Rochefort, with five thousand republicans who
could not be trusted; so that Great Britain finally ob¬
tained by this expedition only three ships of the line and
five frigates. The recovery of this important place by
the French was in a great measure, if not altogether, ow¬
ing to the superior genius and conduct of the command¬
ant of artillery, Napoleon Bonaparte, who here made his
first conspicuous essay in arms.
The storm which now burst on the devoted heads of
the Toulonese was indeed terrible. The infuriated sol¬
diers rushed into the town, and, in their frantic rage, mas¬
sacred two hundred Jacobins who had gone out to wel¬
come their approach. During twenty-four hours the in¬
habitants were left at the mercy of the soldiers, and the
galley slaves, who had been let loose on the city ; and a
History,
1793.
FRANCE.
81
1793.
History, stop was only put to these horrors by the citizens redeem-
— — J jng themselves for four millions of francs. Dugommier, a
brave, honourable, and humane soldier, did his utmost to
check the violence of the troops, and to mitigate the se¬
verity of the Convention ; but though he succeeded in re¬
straining the former, nothing could soften the inexorable
hearts of the latter. Several thousand citizens of every
age and both sexes perished in a few weeks, either by
the sword or the guillotine ; for a considerable time two
hundred were beheaded daily ; and twelve thousand la¬
bourers were hired from the surrounding departments to
demolish the buildings of the city. On the motion of Bar-
rere, it was decreed that the name of Toulon should be
changed to that of Port de la Montagne, that the houses
should be razed to the foundations, and nothing should be
left but the naval and military establishments; and Bar-
ras, Freron, and Robespierre the younger were chosen
to execute the vengeance of the Convention upon the fal¬
len city. Military commissions were immediately formed,
and a revolutionary tribunal was established; the prisons
were crowded with the unhappy persons destined for the
guillotine ; and the mitraillades of Lyons were imitated
with fearful effect. One of the victims, an aged mer¬
chant, named Hugues, was eighty-four years old, deaf, and
nearly blind. His only crime consisted in the possession
of a fortune of L.800,000, all of which, excepting L.20,000,
he offered, to save his life. The judge, however, deeming
the offer inadequate, sent him to the guillotine, and con¬
fiscated the whole. “ When I beheld this old man exe¬
cuted,” said Napoleon, “ I felt as if the end of the world
was at hand.” It seemed, indeed, as if a legion of evil
spirits had been let loose upon earth, to revel for a season
in crimes hitherto unheard of among the children of men.1
t On the side of Spain the war produced nothing of im¬
portance; and in the mountainous country of Piedmont
little advantage had been gained on either side. But
more terrible scenes were acting in other quarters. In La
Vendee a most fierce and sanguinary contest was main¬
tained by the royalists. In that part of the country the
language of the rest of France was but little understood.
The people were superstitious, and had acquired almost
no knowledge of the new opinions which had recently
been propagated throughout the rest of the country.
They were chiefly headed by priests, and taught to re¬
gard their cause as that of religion. Their usual mode
of warfare was to proceed in their ordinary occupations
as peaceable citizens, but suddenly to assemble in im¬
mense bands at the prescribed rendezvous, when the alarm
was given. Atone time, indeed, they were said to amount
to one hundred and fifty thousand men. They besieged
Nantes and Orleans; and even Paris itself was not consi¬
dered altogether safe from their enterprises. The war was
inconceivably bloody ; neither party gave quarter; and La
Vendee proved a dreadful drain on the population of
France. On the 28th of June the Conventional general
Biron drove the royalists from Lucon ; and Nantes was re¬
lieved by General Beysser. But after obtaining some suc¬
cess, General Westermann was surprised, and compelled to
retreat to Parthenay. In the beginning of August the
royalists were defeated by General Rossignol; but on the
10th of that month they again, under Charette their ,com¬
mander-in-chief, attacked Nantes, though without success.
Our limits do not admit of our entering into the details of
this fierce contest, rich as it is in daring actions and heroic
adventures. The royalists were often defeated and ap¬
parently dispersed, but they as often appeared again in
crowds around the astonished republicans. At last, about
the middle of October, they were completely defeated,
War in 1
Vendee.
driven from La Vendee, and forced to divide into sepa- History,
rate bodies; one of which threw itself into the island of
Noirmoutier, where they were destroyed, whilst another OSS.
took the road of Maine and Bretagne, where they strug¬
gled for some time against their enemies, and were at last
either cut to pieces or dispersed. The royalists had long
expected assistance from England ; and an armament un¬
der the Earl of Moira was actually fitted out for that ser¬
vice, but it did not arrive till too late, and returned home
without even attempting a landing. The Mountain party
invariably disgraced their successes by the most ferocious
cruelties. Humanity is shocked, and history would almost
cease to obtain credit, were we to state in detail the un¬
relenting barbarities which were exercised against the un¬
fortunate royalists, especially by Carrier, a deputy of the
Convention, who had been sent into this quarter with un¬
limited powers. Multitudes of prisoners were crowded on
board vessels in the Loire, which were afterwards scut¬
tled and sunk. No age or sex was spared; and these exe¬
cutions were performed with every circumstance of wan¬
ton barbarity and insult. The infernal republican mar¬
riages, as they were denominated by the demon who in¬
vented them, usually preceded these noyades.
On the side of the Rhine a great variety of events oc-Progress
curred during the months of August and September. Se- of the ai-
veral engagements took place, in which the French werelie®.on the
upon the whole successful. In September, however, Lan- Khine-
dau was invested by the combined powers; and it was
resolved to make every possible effort to drive the French
from their position on the Lauter. They occupied the an¬
cient and celebrated lines of Weissenberg, constructed in
former times for the protection of the Rhenish frontier,
and stretching from the town of Lauterburg on the Rhine,
through the village of Weissenberg to the Vosges Moun¬
tains ; and during four months all the resources of art
had been employed in strengthening them. Having ap¬
proached the extreme left of this position, the allies
formed the design of attacking it from left to right, and
thus forcing the French to abandon the whole line of the
intrenchments. Accordingly the Prussians, under the
Duke of Brunswick, assaulted the left of the lines by the
defiles of the Vosges Mountains, whilst the Austrians
under Prince Waldeck crossed the Rhine to turn the
right, and Wurmser, with the main body, endeavoured to
force the centre. The attack on the right by Lauterburg
obtained only a momentary success; but Wurmser having
carried several redoubts in the centre, soon got possession
of Weissenberg; and the left having been turned and
forced back, the French army retired in confusion, and
some of the fugitives even fled as far as Strasburg. Such
was the tardiness of the allies, however, that the French,
though completely routed, lost only a thousand men;
whereas, if the victory had been improved, the ruin of the
whole army would have been inevitable. The French re¬
treated to Hagenau, from which they were driven on the
18th ; and they suffered two other defeats on the 25th
and 27th. Some of the principal citizens of Strasburg
now sent a private deputation to General Wurmser, offer¬
ing to surrender the town, upon condition that it should
be restored to Louis XVII. But General Wurmser de¬
clined to accede to these terms, and insisted upon an
unconditional surrender. The delay occasioned by this
disagreement led to the discovery of the negotiation, and
those citizens of Strasburg who had been engaged in it
were seized by Saint-Just and Lebas, the commissioners of
the Convention, and brought to the scaffold.
Prodigious efforts were now made by the French in order
to recover the ground which they had lost. On the 9th of
VOL. X-
1 Alison, vol. ii. p. 201, 202 ; Lacretelle, xi. 189, 190.
h
82 FRA
History. November General Irembert was shot at the head of the
army, upon a charge, probably ill founded, of treachery
1793* in the storming of the lines of Weissenberg. But on
the 14th Fort Louis was taken by the allies, not with¬
out suspicion of treachery on the part of the governor.
With this the success of" General Wurmser may be said
to have terminated. On the 21st, the republican army
drove back the Austrians, and penetrated almost to Hage-
nau ; whilst the army of the Moselle advanced to co-ope¬
rate with the army of the Rhine. On the 17th the Prus¬
sians were defeated near Sarbruck, and next day their
camp at Bliescastel was stormed; the French then ad¬
vanced to Deux-Ponts. On the 29th and 30th, however,
the French were repulsed with great loss in two violent
attacks which they made on the Duke of Brunswick near
Lantern. It was obvious, indeed, that they had come into
the field with a determination to conquer, whatever it might
cost. Every day was a day of battle, and torrents of blood
flowed on both sides. The allies had the advantage of the
ground, which is very strong, on account of its inequalities
and morasses; but the French army was far more nume¬
rous than theirs ; and although inferior in point of discip¬
line, yet it derived great moral force from the enthusiasm
with which the troops were animated. On the 8th of De¬
cember the French under Pichegru carried the redoubts
which covered Hagenau at the point of the bayonet. In
a word, the finest troops in Europe were unable to with¬
stand the fury of the republicans, whose determination
seemed only to increase in proportion to the slaughter of
their companions in arms, and who were never more likely
to conquer than immediately after a defeat. On the 22d
the allies were driven with great loss from Hagenau, not¬
withstanding the works which they had thrown up for
their defence. The intrenchments on the heights of
Reishoffen were considered as stronger than those of Jem-
mappes ; yet they were stormed by the army of the Mo¬
selle and the Rhine, under Hoche and Pichegru. On the
23d and 24th the allies were pursued to the heights of
Wrotte; and on the 26th the intrenchments which they
had thrown up there were, after a desperate conflict, forced
at the point of the bayonet. On the 27th the republican
army arrived in triumph at Weissenberg. Wurmser re¬
treated across the Rhine, and the Duke of Brunswick
hastily fell back to cover Mayence. The blockade of Lan¬
dau, which had lasted four months, was raised ; Fort Louis
was evacuated by the allies, and Kayserslautern, Germers-
heim, and Spires, submitted to the French. During the
last month of the year 1793 the loss of men on both sides
was immense, and is said to have amounted to between
seventy and eighty thousand.
Efforts of In the mean time violent efforts were made at Paris by
the Moun-the new administration, established under the auspices of
tain party, jacobin Club and of the party called the Mountain.
The new republican constitution had been presented to the
people in the primary assemblies, and accepted; so that the
business for which the Convention had been called toge¬
ther, namely, that of forming a constitution for France, was
at an end. It was therefore proposed that they should now
dissolve themselves, and order a new legislative body to as¬
semble, according to the rules prescribed by the constitu¬
tion ; but the dominant party considered it as hazardous to
convene a new assembly, possessing only limited powers,
in the present distracted state of the country ; and in fact
it was obvious that FYance at this time required a dictator¬
ship, or a government possessed of more absolute authori¬
ty than can ever be enjoyed by one which acts, or pretends
to act, upon constitutional principles. It was therefore
determined that the Convention should remain undissolved
until the end of the war; and that a Revolutionary Go¬
vernment should be established, and invested with uncon¬
trolled powers. Committees of its own body were there-
N C E.
fore elected for the purpose of conducting every depart- History,
ment of business. The principal of these was called the
Committee of Public Safety, whose duty it was to superin- 1 in¬
tend all the others, and to give to the administration all the
secrecy and dispatch which have been accounted peculiar
to a military government, together with a combination of
skill and energy hitherto unknown among mankind. A
correspondence was maintained with all the Jacobin Clubs
throughout the kingdom; and commissioners appointed
by the Convention were sent into all parts of the coun¬
try, with unlimited authority over every description of per¬
sons. In this way a government was established, possessed
of infinite vigilance, and more absolute and uncontrolled
power than was ever enjoyed by any single despot; and
the whole transactions and resources of the country were
known to its rulers. On the 23d of August, Barrere, in
name of the Committee of Public Safety, proposed the ce¬
lebrated decree for placing the whole French nation in a
state of requisition for the public service. “ From this
moment,” says the decree, “ till that when every enemy
shall have been driven from the territory of the Republic,
all Frenchmen shall be in permanent readiness for the ser¬
vice of the army. The young men shall march to the
combat; the married men shall forge arms, and transport
the provisions; the women shall make tents and clothes,
and attend in the hospitals ; the children shall make lint of
old linen ; the old men shall cause themselves to be carried
to the public squares, to excite the courage of the warriors,
and to preach hatred against the enemies of the Republic ;
the cellars shall be washed to procure saltpetre; the sad¬
dle-horses shall be given up to complete the cavalry ; the
unmarried citizens, from the age of eighteen to twenty-
five, shall march first, and none shall send a substitute;
and every battalion shall have a banner with this inscrip¬
tion, 7Vie French nation risen against tyrants. The Re¬
public is only a great city besieged, and France must there¬
fore be converted into a vast camp.” The measures pro¬
posed by Barrere were immediately decreed. All French¬
men from the age of eighteen to twenty-five took the field ;
the armies, recruited with requisitions of men, were sup¬
ported with requisitions of provisions; and the Republic
had soon fourteen armies, and twelve hundred thousand
soldiers. France was thus transformed at once into a camp
and arsenal for the supply of the armies, and terror en¬
forced all the provisions of this celebrated decree. The
bayonets of the allies appeared less formidable than the
guillotine of the Convention ; and safety, despaired of every¬
where else, was found only in the armies on the frontier.
In the centre the dictatorial government struck down all
the parties, however elevated, with whom it had been at
war. The condemnation of the queen, Marie-Antoinette,
was directed against Europe generally ; that of the Twen¬
ty-one against the Girondists; that of the virtuous Bailly
against the old constitutionalists ; and that of the Duke of
Orleans against certain members of the Mountain, who were
supposed to have plotted his elevation to the throne. The
widow of the unfortunate Louis XVI. was sent to the guil¬
lotine on the 16th of October, after a mock trial, in which
justice and humanity were equally disregarded. Her con¬
duct, both during her trial and at the place of execution, was
distinguished for calmness and dignity, and she died, amidst
the savage shouts of the infuriated multitude, with a firm¬
ness that did honour to her race. The deputies of the
Gironde party, who had been proscribed on the 2d of June,
soon followed her to the scaffold, where they ended their ca¬
reer on the 31st of the same month. They were in num¬
ber twenty-one; Brissot, Vergniaud, Gensonne, Fonfrede,
Ducos, Valaze, Lasource, Sillery, Gardien, Carra, Duprat,
Beauvais, Duchatel, Mainvielle, Lacaze, Boileau, Lehardy,
Antiboul, Vigee, Dufriche, and Duperret. Sixty-three of
their colleagues, who had protested against their arrest,
FRA
History, were also imprisoned, but the terrorists did not venture to
send these also to the guillotine. During their sham trial
17»3. before the Revolutionary Tribunal, which lasted nine days,
they displayed the most sustained and serene courage. For
an instant Vergniaud made his eloquent voice be heard,
but in vain. The vehemence of Brissot was equally una¬
vailing. Their destruction had become necessary to the
ruling party, and they were condemned without being
heard in their own defence. When the sentence was pro¬
nounced, Valaze stabbed himself with a poniard, and ex¬
pired in presence of the court; whilst Lasource, address¬
ing his judges, exclaimed, “ I die at a moment when the
people have lost their reason ; you, you also will perish on
the day when they recover it.” Vergniaud had been pror
vided by his friends with a certain and speedy poison ; but
he refused to make use of it, that he might accompany his
friends to the scaffold. The condemned deputies marched
to punishment with all the stoicism of the time, singing as
they w ent the Marseillaise hymn, which, by a slight change,
they applied to their own situation :
Aliens, enfants de la patrie,
JLe jour de glorie est arrive;
Centre nous de la tyrannie
Te couteau sanglant est levd.
When they arrived at the place of execution they mutu¬
ally embraced, exclaiming, Vive la Republique, and died,
like Romans, protesting with their last breath their attach¬
ment to freedom arifi the Republic.1
Of the other chiefs of this party, almost all met with an
untimely end. Salles, Guadet, Barbaroux, were discover¬
ed in the caves of Saint-Emilion, near Bordeaux, and pe¬
rished on the popular scaffold, Petion and Buzat, after
having wandered about for some time, committed suicide,
and were found dead in a field, with their bodies half de¬
voured by the wolves. Rabaud Saint-Etienne was betray¬
ed by a wretch in whom he confided. Madame Roland
was also condemned, and died with the courage of a Ro¬
man matron ; her husband, on learning her death, quitted
his asylum, and stabbed himself on the high road between
Paris and Rouen, that he might not betray the generous
friends who had sheltered him in his misfortunes, Condor-
cet, who had been put beyond the protection of the law
since the 2d of June, was discovered when in the act of
concealing himself from his pursuers, and escaped punish¬
ment by taking poison. Louvet, Kervelegan, Lanjuinais,
Henri-larRiviere, Le Sage, and La Reveillere-Lepeaux,
W'ere the only Girondists who, in secure asylums, waited
for the cessation of this furious tempest. And thus perish¬
ed this celebrated party, blameable for its rashness, but esr
timable for its intentions, illustrious for its talents, and glo¬
rious in its fall; a party which, embracing all men who
were philanthropists from feeling, or republicans from prin¬
ciple, the brave, the humane, and the benevolent, fell the
victim of a base and despicable faction, composed of men
sprung from the dregs of the populace, and impelled by
coarse and vulgar ambition ; a party, in short, which,
though adorned by the most splendid talents, supported by
the most powerful eloquence, and actuated by the most ge¬
nerous indentions, was destroyed, because its members re¬
fused to countenance the sanguinary violence which alone
commands success in revolutions.
F.xpcution The Duke of Orleans was soon afterwards condemned, on
of Egalite. a charge 0f having, from the commencement of the Revolu¬
tion, aspired to the sovereignty. The execution of Egalite
gave satisfaction to all parties. His vote for the death of
the king had done him little honour, even in the opinion of
N C E. 83
the Mountainists, and had rendered him odious to the rest History,
of mankind. It was, in fact, an unparalleled outrage on
humanity. 17^3.
The Committee of Public Safety was now remodelled,
conformably to the views of the dictators. Until the 31st
of May, when the decree for the arrest of the Girondists
had passed, it consisted of neutral members of the Conven¬
tion ; now it was composed of the most furious partisans
of the Mountain. Barrere remained, but Robespierre was
elected a member, and, by means of Saint-Just, Couthon,
Collot-d’Herbois, and Billaud-Varennes, his party had a
complete ascendency. He struck off some Dantonists,
such as Herault de Sechelles and Robert Lindet, who still
remained; gained Barrere; and took under his own ma¬
nagement the departments of the police and public opinion.
His associates also cast their parts. Saint-Just undertook the
surveillance and denunciation of persons suspected ; Cou¬
thon, that of violent propositions, which required to be soft¬
ened in the form of expression: Billaud-Varennes and Col¬
lot-d’Herbois directed the proconsulates in the departments;
Carnot the war ; Cambon that of the finances department;
Prieur de la Cote d’Or, Prieur de la Marne, and others, the
administration of the interior; and Barrere was the daily ora¬
tor and ever-ready panegyrist of the dictatorial committee.
Below this was placed as an auxiliary in the details of re¬
volutionary administration and inferior measures the Com¬
mittee of General Safety, constituted in the same spirit a*s
the great committee, and, like it, consisting of twelve mem¬
bers, re-eligible every three months, and always continued
in their functions. In such hands was the whole revolu¬
tionary force now placed. “ Vous n’avez plus rien a ma¬
nager contre les ennemis du nouvel ordre des choses,” said
Saint-Just; “ et la liberte doit vaincre a tel prix que ce
soit. Dans les circonstances ou se trouve la Republique,
la constitution ne peut etre etablie; elle deviendrait la
garantie des attentats contre la liberte, parce qu’elle man-
querait de la violence necessaire pour les reprimer. Le
gouvernement present est aussi trop embarrasse. Vous etes
trop loin de tous les attentats ; il faut que le glaive des lois
se promene partout avec rapidite, et que votre bras soit
present partout.” And thus was created that terrible power
which first devoured the enemies of the Mountain, then
devoured both the Mountain and the Commune, and at
length ended by devouring itself. The committee dispos¬
ed of every thing in name of the Convention, which was
merely its tool. It was this body which appointed and dis¬
missed generals, ministers, representative commissioners,
judges, and juries ; which struck down opposing factions ;
which possessed the initiative of all measures. By means
of its commissioners the armies and the generals were kept
under its control; it exercised sovereign power in the de¬
partments ; by the law in regard to suspected persons, it
disposed of the liberty, and by the Revolutionary Tribu¬
nal, of the life, of every one ; by requisitions and the max¬
imum, it had the unlimited disposal of all fortunes ; and by
the terrified Convention, it could command decrees of ac¬
cusation against any member of that body. Every thing, in
short, was at its feet, and, supported by the multitude, its
despotism was for the time as complete as it was terrible.
When the human mind is once roused, its activity ex- Weights
tends to every object. At this time a new system of weights and Mea-
and measures, in which the decimal arithmetic alone is em- sures.
ployed, -was established by the Convention. The court of
Spain, notwithstanding the war, had the liberality to per¬
mit Mechain to proceed with his operations for measur¬
ing a degree of the meridian in that country ; and he ac-
1 Lacretelle, ii. 100 ; Thiers, v. 392 ; Mignet, ii. 294 ; Toulangeon, iv. 115. A young man, named Girey Dufoce, was brought
to the bar of the Revolutionary Tribunal. “ You have been a friend of Brissot,” said the president. “ I had that happiness.”
“ hat is your opinion of him ?” That he lived like Aristides, and died like Sidney,” was the answer. Dufoce was sent to the
scaffold, where, by his heroic firmness, he vindicated the friendship of Brissot.
84
FRANC E.
History.
1793.
New ka-
lendar.
Decay of
religion.
cordingly carried on his system of triangulation from Bar¬
celona to Perpignan, whence the mensuration was conti¬
nued to Paris. Delambre and his pupil La Francois also
measured a degree of latitude in the vicinity of the me¬
tropolis. In all, twelve degrees of the meridian were mea¬
sured, the mean of which is 57,027 toises; and by this the
universal standard of measure was calculated. MM. Bor-
da and Cassini also determined the length of a pendulum
which vibrates seconds in vacuo, and in a mean tempera¬
ture at Paris, to be three feet eight hundred and six lines ;
and MM. Lavoisier and Haiiy found that a cubic foot of
distilled water at the freezing point weighs in vacuo seventy
pounds and sixty gros French weight. From these data
the new table of weights and measures was constructed.
The astronomical circles with which MM. Borda and Cas¬
sini had made their observations were also divided ac¬
cording to the centesimal plan ; so that the quadrant con¬
tains a hundred degrees, and each degree a hundred mi¬
nutes. Hence the minute of a great circle of the sphere
is equal to a milliare or new French mile ; and if, for the
reduction of this measure, we estimate the Paris toise, ac¬
cording to the comparison made with the standard kept in
the Royal Society of London, at 6*3925 English feet, the
milliare or minute will be equal to 1093*633 yards, and the
metre to 3*280899 feet.
Separated by the war and by their own laws from all
states and forms of government, the innovators sought to
isolate themselves still more. For an unparalleled revolu¬
tion they established an entirely new era; they changed
the divisions of the year, and the names of the months and
days ; they replaced the Christian kalendar by the republi¬
can, the week by the decade, and fixed the day of rest, not
on the Sabbath, but on the tenth day. The new era dated
from the 22d September, or autumnal equinox, the epoch
of the foundation of the Republic. The year was divided
into twelve equal months of thirty days each, which com¬
menced on the 22d September, and were arranged in the
order following, viz. Vendemiaire, Brumaire, Frimaire,
for autumn; Nivose, Pluviose, Ventose, for winter; Ger¬
minal, Floreal, Prairial, for spring; and Messidor, Ther-
midor, Fructidor, for summer. Each month had three
decades, each decade ten days, and each day received its
name from its place in the decade; thus, primidi, duodi,
tridi, quartidi, qidntidi, sextidi, septidi, octidi, nonidi, deca-
di. Five complementary days were thrown to the end of
the year, or added after the 30th Fructidor, in order to
complete it; these received the name of Sans-culotides,
and were consecrated, the first to the festival of Genius,
the second to that of Labour, the third to that of Actions,
the fourth to that of Recompenses, and the fifth to that of
Opinion. The constitution of 1793 naturally led to the
republican kalendar, and the republican kalendar to the
abolition of the Christian worship. Accordingly, the Com¬
mune and the Committee of Public Safety proposed each
a new kind of religion ; the Commune the worship of Rea¬
son, and the Committee that of the Supreme Being.
The religion of France had for some time been gradual¬
ly losing ground; and on the 7th of November, Gobet,
bishop of Paris, along with a great multitude of other eccle¬
siastics, came into the hall of the Convention, and at once
resigned their functions and renounced the Christian reli¬
gion. All the clergymen, whether Protestant or Catholic,
who were members of the Convention, followed this ex¬
ample, excepting only Gregoire, whom we formerly men¬
tioned as having been one of the first of his order to join
the tiers etat after the meeting of the States General, and
who had now the courage to profess himself a Christian,
although the emoluments of his bishopric were, he said, at
the service of the Republic. Amidst the acclamations of
the Convention, it was decreed that hereafter the only
French deities should be Liberty, Equality, and Reason;
and they would seem to have consecrated these abstractions History,
as the only objects of worship. What political purpose the
leaders of the Convention intended to serve by this pro- G93.
ceeding does not clearly appear; unless, perhaps, their ob¬
ject was to change so completely the French manners and
habits of thinking, that it should never be in their power
to return to the state from which they had just emerged,
or to unite in intercourse with the other nations of Europe.
The populace, however, could not at once relinquish the
religion of their fathers. The municipality of Paris order¬
ed the churches to be shut up, but the Convention found
it necessary to annul this order; and Robespierre gained
no small degree of popularity by supporting the liberty of
religious worship on this occasion. Hebert and Fabre
d’Eglantine, who led the opposite party, hastened their
own fall by an ill-judged contempt of popular opinion on
the subject of religion.
To the abjui’ation of Christianity by Gobet, followed as it
was by the apostacy of many of the constitutional bishops
and clergy in the Convention, who joined in the declaration,
that no other national religion was now required but that
of liberty, equality, and morality, the wildest excesses of
profanity and irreligion succeeded. Drunken artisans and
shameless harlots crowded to the bar of the Convention,
and there trampled under their feet the sacred vases con¬
secrated for ages to the holiest purposes of religion ; the
churches were despoiled of their plate and ornaments;
busts of Marat and Lepelletier replaced the images of Christ
and the Virgin, which were trodden in the mire; and pa¬
rodies on Che Hallelujah were sung as an accompaniment
to the Carmagnole dance. Hebert, Chaumette, and their
associates, appeared at the bar of the Convention, and
there declared that there was no God, and that the wor¬
ship of Reason ought to be substituted instead of his ;
whilst an opera singer, known in more than one character
to most of the Convention, was introduced as the personi¬
fication of the new divinity. The services of the Chris¬
tian religion were universally abandoned, and the pulpits
deserted throughout the revolutionized districts ; the church
bells were everywhere silent; Sabbath was entirely oblite¬
rated ; baptisms ceased; the burial service was no longer
heard; the sick received no consolation, the dying no
communion ; and the rites of heathenism, blended with the
profanities of the most fanatical infidelity, desecrated the
unhappy land. On every tenth day atheism was publicly
preached to the bewildered people by some revolutionary
leader; and on all the public seminaries was placed the
inscription, “ Death is an Eternal Sleep.” Marat was dei¬
fied ; God was insulted and defied. Such is the wild re¬
action which follows the overthrow of systems which ex¬
clude all reformation, and cherish the abuses engendered
by time as their most valuable prerogatives and distinc¬
tions. For seven years did the reign of impiety continue
in France; and when at length the worship of Christiani¬
ty was restored by Napoleon, its ruinous effects were ge¬
nerally felt; it had demoralized the old, and left the young
without any impressions of religion.
But now when the Republic saw itself successful in all Dissen-
quarters, when the Mountain party and the Jacobins hadsi°ns l)e-
no rivals at home, and accounted themselves in little imme- T^j^tain-
diate danger from abroad, they began to split into factions, istg antj
and to entertain the fiercest jealousies. The Jacobin Club Jacobins,
was the usual place in which their contests were carried
on ; but at this time Robespierre acted the part of a medi¬
ator between all parties, and attempted to turn their atten¬
tion from private animosities to public affairs. Having
spread a report that Great Britain intended speedily to in¬
vade France, he proposed that the Jacobin Club should en¬
deavour to discover the vulnerable parts of the British con¬
stitution and government. They caught at the bait which
had thus been thrown out to them; made speeches and
FRANCE.
Govern
ment.
History, wrote essays without number; and were in this way occu-
pied and amused for a considerable time.
The winter passed in tolerable tranquillity, and no mili-
Vigour of tary enterprise was undertaken either by the allies or by
the lievo- the French. On the first of February Barrere asserted
utionary -n Convention that the confederate powers were willing
provisionally to acknowledge the French Republic, to con¬
sent to a cessation of hostilities for two years, and at the
end of that time to conclude a lasting peace with the French
people. But this assertion met with no credit, and the
Convention declared itself determined to reject any pro¬
position founded on it, as affording to the other nations of
Europe the means of undermining the new government.
In the mean time the Revolutionary Government was gra¬
dually becoming more vigorous. Thirty committees of
ihe Convention managed the whole business of the state,
without sharing much of the direct executive government,
which remained in the hands of the Committee of Public
Safety ; and these different committees were engaged in a
great variety of matters. The ruling party had no competitors
for power. The most extensive plans were therefore car¬
ried into effect, without confusion or opposition. The Con¬
vention was little more than a court in which every project
was formally registered. At a single sitting thirty decrees
were passed, relating to subjects the most widely different,
and some of them of the greatest importance. The finances
were under a committee, at the head of which was Gam¬
bon, and which found resources for the most lavish expen¬
diture. The assignats were received as money throughout
the state ; so that a paper mill had become more valuable
than a mine of gold. The credit of this paper was sup¬
ported by an arbitrary law regulating the maximum or
highest price of all provisions, and by the immense mass of
wealth which had come into the hands of the Convention
by the seizure of the church-lands, and by the confiscation
of the property of royalists, emigrants, and other persons
condemned by the Revolutionary Tribunal. So unequally,
indeed, had property been divided under the ancient go¬
vernment, that, by means of these confiscations, about
seven tenths of the national territory was supposed to have
been transferred to the state. To this was added the plun¬
der of the churches, consisting of gold and silver images,
and vessels employed in divine worship, along with other
articles of less value, amongst which may be mentioned
the church bells, which were considered as sufficient for the
manufacture of fifteen thousand pieces of cannon. These
resources formed altogether a mass of property such as was
never perhaps possessed by any other government.
Other committees were engaged in very different occupa¬
tions. Highways were constructed, and canals planned. Im¬
mense manufactories of arms were everywhere established.
At Paris alone eleven hundred muskets were fabricated daily,
and a hundred pieces of cannon cast every month. Pub¬
lic schools were instituted, and the French language taught
in its purity from the Pyrenees to the Rhine. The Con¬
vention possessed immense resources, and they did not he¬
sitate to lavish them upon their schemes. Every science
and every art was called upon for aid; and the most accom¬
plished men in every profession were employed in giving
splendour to their country. The chemists, in particular,
gave essentia] aid by the facility with which they supplied
materials for the manufacture of gunpowder ; and in return
for their services, Lavoisier, the greatest of them all, suf¬
fered death by a most iniquitous sentence. Not fewer than
two hundred new dramatic performances, the object of
which was to attach the people to the existing order of
things, were produced in less than two years. The vigour
with which the committees of subsistence exerted them¬
selves is particularly remarkable. All Europe was at war
with France ; and as England, Holland, and Spain, the three
maritime powers, were engaged in the contest, it had been
85
thought practicable to reduce France to great distress by Fistorr.
famine, especially as it was imagined that the country had
not resources to supply its immense population. But the 1794.
rulers of that country acted with the policy of a besieged
garrison. They seized upon the whole provisions of the
country, and carried them to public granaries ; they regis¬
tered the cattle, and made their owners responsible for
them; they provided the armies abundantly ; and, as the
people were accurately numbered, they dealt out in every
district, on stated occasions, what was absolutely necessary
for subsistence, and no more. To all this the people sub¬
mitted; and, indeed, throughout the whole of the mixed
scenes of tire Revolution, the calm judgment of the histo¬
rian is not a little perplexed. It is impossible not to ad¬
mire the patience with which they endured every hardship
which was represented as necessary to the common cause ;
and equally so not to honour the enthusiastic energy with
which they lavished their blood in defence of the indepen¬
dence of their country. On the other hand, no one can
regard without indignation and horror the sanguinary pro¬
ceedings of the factions in the Convention and the capital,
or reconcile with our ordinary knowledge of humanity the
spirit of mutual extermination by which all of them were
in turn actuated.
During the winter the dissensions of the Jacobins in- Increased
creased. They were divided into two clubs, one of which dissensions
(that recently instituted) assembled in a hall which onceof l.he Ja*
belonged to the Cordeliers. The leaders of this club werecobins'
Hebert, Ronsin, Vincent, and others; but that of the Jaco¬
bins still retained its ascendency, and Robespierre had now
become decidedly its leader. This extraordinary man had
gradually combined in his own person the confidence of
the people and the direction of the government. But as
the committees were above the Convention, which had
become little more than a court of record, so that of Pub¬
lic Safety was above the other committees; and Robes¬
pierre was the leader of this dominant committee, Barrere,
Saint-Just, Couthon, and others of its members, only acting
a secondary part. These persons laboured in the business of
the state, but the supreme power was in Robespierre. He
surrounded the members of the Convention with spies, and
being equally jealous and implacable, set no bounds to the
shedding of blood. On the 25th of March he brought to
trial the following active Jacobins, who were condemned
and executed the day after, viz. Hebert, Ronsin, Momoro,
Vincent, Du Croquet, Koch, Laumur, Bourgeois, Mazuel,
Laboureau, Ancard, Leclerc, Proly, Dessieux, Anachar-
sis Clootz, Pereira, Florent, Armand, Descombles, and Du-
buisson. And not satisfied with this, on the 2d of April he
brought to trial nine of those who had once been his most
vigorous associates; Danton, Fabre d’Eglantine, Bazire,
Chabot, Philipeaux, Camille Desmoulins, Lacroix, Dela-
may d’Angers, and Herault de Sechelles, all of whom
were executed, along with Westermann, on the evening of
the 5th.
The fall of the Hebertists was regarded with satisfaction The He-
by every one beyond the pale of the municipality of Paris, bertists.
This faction, which had laboured in the Pere Duchene
to popularise obscenity of language, with grovelling and
cruel sentiments, and whose characteristic it was to blend
derision with ferocity, had for some time made redoubtable
progress ; and Robespierre, finding it untractable for his
purposes, resolved on its destruction, upon the pretence
that, whilst it corrupted the people, it served the purposes
of foreigners by promoting anarchy. This he effected by
a compromise. His object was to sacrifice both the com¬
mune and the anarchists ; whilst the committees desired to
sacrifice the Mountain and the moderate party. The par¬
ties came to a mutual understanding, in consequence of
which Robespierre gave up Danton, Camille Desmoulins,
and their friends to the members of the committee, and
86 FRA
History, the members of the committee in return gave up Hebert,
^ Clootz, Chaumette, Ronsin, and their accomplices. In
1'*94* at first favouring the moderate party in the Convention,
he prepared the destruction of the anarchists, and thus at¬
tained two objects advantageous to his power j he ruined
a redoubtable faction, and he disencumbered himself of a
revolutionary reputation which rivalled his own.
But the latter object was, after all, that which he had
probably most at heart, because the party of Danton stood
most in his way. Their principles were, that terror was to be
used only for the establishment of freedom, not made an in¬
strument of destruction in the hands of those who had obtain¬
ed it; they wished above all things that the Republic should
be consolidated by victory, but that success should be used
with moderation. Hence, whilst they vehemently repro¬
bated the proceedings of the dictators after the 31st of May
had ensured the triumph of the populace, they desired to
humble the anarchists of the municipality, to put down
the Revolutionary Tribunal, to discharge from confinement
those imprisoned as suspected persons, and to dissolve the
despotic committees of government. But these objects
were manifestly opposed to that supreme and undisputed
domination which Robespierre was now labouring to secure
for himself by means of the revolutionary machinery; and,
accordingly, after the understanding already mentioned had
been come to, it was not long ere he commenced hostilities,
by attacking the Jacobin Club, the Vieux Cordelier of Ca¬
mille Desmoulins,1 and indirectly denouncing Danton him¬
self.
Danton, who had not yet discontinued his relations with
Robespierre, demanded an interview, which took place at
the residence of the latter. Both parties were cold and
bitter. Danton complained violently; Robespierre was
haughty and reserved. “ I know,” said Danton, “ all the
hatred which the committee bear me, but I do not fear it.”
“ You are wrong,” replied Robespierre; “ there are no
bad intentions towrards you, but it is well to be explicit.
“ To be explicit,” rejoined Danton, “ good faith is neces¬
sary.” But observing Robespierre assume a lowering look,
“ It is doubtless necessary,” he added, “ to coerce the roy¬
alists ; but we ought to strike blows which are useful to
the Republic, and should not confound the innocent with
the guilty.” “ Eh ! who has told you,” replied Robespierre
sharply, “ that one innocent person has suffered ?” Danton
turned to the friend who had accompanied him, and with a
bitter smile, “ What say you ? Not one innocent man has
perished !” At these words they parted ; all hope of re¬
conciliation was at end.
N C E,
The fall of the anarchists ensued. They were brought
before the Revolutionary Iribunal, upon a charge of being 1794.
agents of foreigners, and of having conspired to give a ty¬
rant to the state. From the time of their arrest, their auda¬
city abandoned them; and as they had neither talents nor
enthusiasm, they defended themselves without ability, and
died without courage.
It was now time for Danton to look to liis own safety 5 F all of
the proscription had reached the commune, and was fast Danton.
approaching him also. His friends urged him to act; but
having failed to shake the dictatorial power by exciting
public opinion and rousing the Convention, where could
he look for support? The Convention was well disposed
towards him and his cause; but it was in complete subjection
to the revolutionary power of the committees. Having
neither the government, nor the assembly, nor the com¬
mune, nor the clubs, Danton therefore awaited the pro¬
scription without taking any step to ensure his safety. _ Still
his friends pressed him to act. 111 would rather, said he,
“ be guillotined than become guillotiner ; besides, my life
is not worth the trouble of preserving ; I am weary of exist¬
ence.” “ The members of the committee seek your death.”
“ What!” exclaimed he, in anger ; “ if ever—if Billaud—
if Robespierre... They will be execrated as tyrants ; the
house of Robespierre will be razed; salt will be scattered
on its foundations, and a stake of infamy planted to avenge
the crimes...But my friends will say of me that I have been
a good father, a good friend, a good citizen; they will not for¬
get me.” “ But you may escape.” “ I would rather be
guillotined than become guillotiner.” “ Still it is necessary
to fly.” “ To fly !” exclaimed he with a mixture of anger
and disdain ; “ do you suppose that a man carries his coun¬
try in the soles of his shoes ?” Danton had only one re¬
source ; to lift up his well-known and powerful voice, de¬
nounce Robespierre and the committees, and rouse the
Convention against their tyranny. He was warmly press¬
ed to adopt this course ; but, not to mention the difficulty
of overturning an established domination, however atroci¬
ous, he knew too well the subjugation and terror of that
assembly to trust to the efficacy of such an attempt. He
therefore awaited his fate, in the belief however that his
enemies would shrink from the proscription of one who had
dared so much. He was mistaken. On the 10th Germi¬
nal he received notice that the question of his arrest was
under the consideration of the Committee of Public Safety,
and he was once more urged to fly ; but, after a moment’s
consideration, he answered, “ They dare not.” In the night
his house was surrounded, and he was conducted to the
* In this production Desmoulins discoursed of liberty with the profound sense of Machiavel, and of men with the wit of Vol¬
taire. His picture of the horrors of this gloomy period is drawn with a powerful hand. “ At the present epoch, said he, words
became state-crimes ; and from this the transition is easy to simple looks, which, with sadness, compassion, sighs, nay even absolute
silence itself, are made the ground-work of suspicion. Is a citizen popular ? He is a rival of the dictator, and might excite commo¬
tions. Does he, on the other hand, avoid society, and live retired in the bosom ot his family ? This secluded life makes him re¬
marked, and excites the suspicion that he is meditating sinister designs. Are you rich ? There is imminent peril that the people
may be corrupted by your largesses. Are you poor ? You must be the more closely watched, because there is none so en erprising
as those who have nothing to lose. Are you ot a thoughtful and melancholy character, with a neglected exterior . ou are a ic e
because in your opinion public affairs are not well conducted. Does a citizen indulge in dissipation and bring on in iges ion . e is
concealing ambition under the mask of pleasure. Is he virtuous and austere in his morals ? He has constitute imse le censor
of the government. Is he a philosopher, an orator, a poet ? He will soon acquire more consideration than the rulers ot the state.
Has he acquired reputation in war ? His talents only make him the more dangerous, and render it indispensable to remove him trom
the army, perhaps to send him to the scaffold. The natural death of a distinguished person, particularly it in place, has become so rare,
that historians transmit it as an event worthy of record to future ages. Even the death of so many innocent and estimable citizens seems
a less calamity than the insolence and scandalous fortunes of those who have denounced and murdered them. Every day the accuser
makes his triumphal entry into ihe pavace of death, to reap the harvest of some rich succession ; and the tribunals which were once the
protectors of life and property have become mere slaughter-houses, where that which bears the name of punishment and confiscation is
nothing but robbery and murder.” In Camille Desmoulins the anarchists had an able, active, and redoubted antagonist, t his atrocious
faction he attacked with unsparing severity, and in an especial manner fastened on its head the infamous Hebert, whom he described
as “a miserable intriguer, a caterer for the guillotine, a traitor paid by Pitt; a wretch who had at different times received two hundred
thousand francs from the factions of the Republic to calumniate their adversaries ; a thief and robber, who had been expelled trom
his situation as lacquey in the theatre for common stealing, and now pretended to drench France in blood by his prostituted .journal.
Such is Desmoulins’ description of the man on whose testimony Marie-Antoinette was condemned, and whose evidence was also held
sufficient to send the Revolutionists themselves to the scaffold.
FRA
History. Luxembourg, with Camille Desmoulins, Philipeaux, La-
croix, Herault de Sechelles, and Westermann. On enter-
1794. jng prison iie cordially greeted the captives who pressed
around him. “ Gentlemen,” said he, “ I had hoped to have
been the means of releasing all of you from this place ; but
here I am among you, and I know where all this will end.”
An hour afterwards he was shut up in a solitary cell, which
Hebert had recently before occupied, and which was soon
to be tenanted by Robespierre himself. The past now rose
up to the review of his mind, and, giving way to reflection
and regret, he observed, “ It is just a year since I caused
the Revolutionary Tribunal to be instituted. I ask pardon
of God and man for doing so; but I never imagined that
it would become the scourge of humanity.”
The arrest of Danton and his friends produced a violent
agitation in Paris ; the Convention also was stricken with
dismay. Legendre made a powerful appeal in behalf of
his friend, and demanded that, before the report of the
committee wras received, Danton should be examined in
their presence. The proposition was favourably received,
and for a moment the assembly seemed disposed to cast
off its fetters. But the spell of the dictatorship of terror
was still strong on that body. Robespierre ascended the
tribune, and having by menace reduced the Convention
to silence, proceeded to mark out for vengeance the intre¬
pid Legendre. “ You affect to be afraid,” said he, in con¬
clusion ; “ but I say, whoever trembles at this moment is
guilty; for never did innocence fear the vigilance of the
public authorities.” None dared to incur the fatal impu¬
tation ; terror had frozen every heart. The assembly
crouched beneath their tyrants, and unanimously sent the
accused to the Revolutionary Tribunal. When brought be¬
fore this Rhadamanthine judgment-seat, they assumed an
attitude of haughty defiance, evincing at once an audacity
of purpose, and a contempt for their judges, altogether ex¬
traordinary. Danton, in answer to the usual interrogato¬
ries as to his name, age, and residence, put by the presi¬
dent Dumas, replied, “ I am Danton, well known in the
Revolution ; I am thirty-five years of age ; my abode will
soon be in nothingness ; and my name will live in the Pan¬
theon of history.” The disdainful and vehement respon¬
ses of Danton, the cool and measured discussion of La¬
croix, the austerity of Philipeaux, and the nervous vigour
of Desmoulins, began to make an impression on the peo¬
ple. The accused were therefore put hors de debats, on
the pretence that they had been wanting in respect to
the court, and they were immediately condemned without
any further hearing. “ We are immolated,” cried Dan¬
ton, “ to the ambition of a few cowardly brigands; but
they will not long enjoy the fruit of their criminal victory.
I pull down Robespierre ; Robespierre follows me.” They
were conducted to the Conciergerie, and thence to the
scaffold. On their way to the place of execution, they dis¬
played the stoical courage common at that period. A body
of troops had been assembled, and their escort was nume¬
rous ; but the people, who, on such occasions, are usually
clamorous and approving, maintained a profound silence.
Camille Desmoulins, even when on the fatal cart, was still
astonished at his condemnation, and could not compre¬
hend it. “ This, then,” said he, “ is the recompense des¬
tined to the first apostle of liberty.” Danton held his
head erect, and cast a calm and intrepid look around him.
At the foot of the scaffold, however, his feelings for a mo¬
ment overmastered him: “ Oh, my well-beloved,” cried
he ; “ oh, my wife, shall I then never see thee more I” But
immediately checking himself, “ Danton, no weakness,”
said he. He ascended the scaffold with a firm step, and
received the blow of the fatal axe with unshaken courage.
And thus perished the tardy but last defenders of huma¬
nity and moderation; men who had desired to establish
peace amongst the conquerors in the revolutionary struggle,
N C E. 8?
and to extend mercy to the vanquished. After their fall History,
no voice was for some time raised against the dictatorship
of terror, which, from one end of France to the other, now H94.
struck down its victims in silence.
Still, however, the preparations for the ensuing cam-Campaign
paign were pursued with unabated vigour. The commit- D94;
tee for military affairs, at the head of which stood Carnot 1 e
and others, were busily occupied in arranging along the
frontiers the immense force which the requisition had called
forth. Plans of operations were drawn out by this com¬
mittee, and, when approved by the Committee of Public
Safety, were sent to the generals to be executed. On the
other hand, the allies were making powerful preparations
for another attempt to subjugate France ; and the emperor
himself took the field at the head of the armies in the
Netherlands. The plan of the campaign is said to have
been framed by Colonel Mack, who afterwards acquired
so much negative celebrity. West Flanders was to be pro¬
tected by a strong body of men ; whilst the main army
was to penetrate to Landrecies, get within the line of
French frontier towns, and cut off the armies from the in¬
terior by covering the country from Maubeuge to the sea.
This plan was bold ; but it belongs to military men to judge
whether boldness was not its only merit. In fact, the al¬
lies seem to have had no correct information of the im¬
mense force which the French were collecting against
them. Even the town of Lisle alone, which was capable
of containing a numerous army within its walls, and which
was to be left in their rear, should have seemed an insur¬
mountable obstacle to the execution of this plan.
On the 16th of April, the Austrian, British, and Dutch State of the
armies assembled on the heights above Cateau, where they allied ar-
were reviewed by the emperor; and on the following day mles>
they advanced in eight columns against the French, drove in
their posts, and penetrated beyond Landrecies. The allied
army now amounted in all to a hundred and eighty-seven
thousand men, who were disposed in the following man¬
ner: Fifteen thousand Dutch and fifteen thousand Aus¬
trians, under the Prince of Orange and General Latour,
formed the siege of Landrecies ; fifteen thousand British
and fifteen thousand Austrians, commanded by the Duke
of York and General Otto, encamped towards Cambray;
the emperor and the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg, at the head
of sixty thousand Austrians, advanced as far as Guise;
twelve thousand Hessians and Austrians, under General
Worms, were stationed near Douai and Bouchain ; Count
Kaunitz, with fifteen thousand Austrians, defended the
Sambre and the country near Maubeuge ; and General
Clairfayt, with forty thousand Austrians and Hanoverians,
protected Flanders from Tournay to the sea; whilst sixty
thousand Prussians, for whom a subsidy had been paid by
Great Britain, were expected to take the field, but in fact
never arrived.
The French now commenced active operations. On Fall of
the morning of the 26th of April they attacked, in great Landre-
force, the Duke of York near Cateau; but after a severe c‘es; sut‘*
conflict they were repulsed, and General Chapuy was taken <jf.ss1<‘s °*
prisoner. At the same time they attacked the troops 110 ie£ru*
under his imperial majesty, but were again repulsed with
the loss of fifty-seven pieces of cannon. On the same day,
however, Pichegru advanced from Lisle, attacked and de¬
feated Clairfayt, took thirty-two pieces of cannon, and, in
the course of a few days, made himself master of Vervic,
Menin, and Courtray. On the 29th of April the garri¬
son of Landrecies surrendered to the allies. When this
event was known in the Convention, it excited a consider¬
able degree of alarm. But it was the last decided suc¬
cess obtained by the allies during this disastrous cam¬
paign. Clairfayt was again completely defeated by Piche¬
gru in a general engagement, and it was found necessary
to send the Duke of York to his assistance. This move-
88 FRA
Histoiy. ment no doubt seems to have been unavoidable; but its
effect was to divide the allied army into a number of de-
1^4, tachments, capable indeed of carrying on a desultory war¬
fare, but unfit for the prosecution of vigorous measures.
On the 10th of May the Duke of York was attacked near
Tournay by a body of the enemy, whom he repulsed ; but
he was unable to effect a junction with Clairfiiyt, upon
the destruction of whom the French were chiefly bent;
for whilst the Duke of York was occupied with the attack
made on himself, Pichegru fell upon Clairfayt with such
irresistible impetuosity, that the latter was compelled to
retreat in confusion, and part of his army fled to the neigh¬
bourhood of Bruges. Whilst Pichegru was thus advancing
successfully in West Flanders, Jourdan in East Flanders
advanced from Maubeuge, crossed the Sambre, and forced
Kaunitz to retreat. On the 18th, however, Kaunitz suc¬
ceeded in repulsing the enemy in his turn, and in forcing
them to re-cross the Sambre with considerable loss.
The allies now found that no progress could be made
in France whilst General Pichegru was advancing success¬
fully and occupying West Flanders in their rear.. The
emperor, therefore, withdrew the greater part of his army
to the neighbourhood of Tournay, and resolved to make
a grand effort to intersect the communications between
Courtray and Lisle, and thus to cut off the retreat of Piche¬
gru. With this view, the army, on the night of the 16th,
moved forward in five columns; and Clairfayt was at the
same time directed to cross the Lys, and if possible to
effect a junction, and complete the plan. The attempt
seemed at first to promise success; but, in the course of
the 17th, the division under the Duke of York was over¬
powered by numbers and defeated. The advance of the
other columns was thus checked, and Clairfayt sustained
another repulse. The plan of the allies had been com¬
pletely frustrated, and their army in consequence with¬
drew to the neighbourhood of Tournay.
Pichegru speedily attempted to retaliate. On the 22d
of May, at day-break, he directed his whole force against
the enemy. The attack commenced with a heavy fire of
artillery, and all the advanced posts were driven in, upon
which the action became general; the attacks were re¬
peatedly renewed on both sides, and the day was spent in
a succession of obstinate battles.. All that military skill
could effect was performed on both sides; the French
and the allied soldiers fought with equal courage and ob¬
stinacy ; but at nine o’clock in the evening the assail¬
ants reluctantly withdrew from the attack. The day,
however, on which a vanquished enemy quits the field is
not always that upon which the victory is won. In this
engagement the French were unsuccessful in their imme¬
diate object; but the weight of their fire, their steady
discipline, and the determined obstinacy of their attacks,
raised their military character in the estimation of the offi¬
cers and soldiers of the allied army. And it was soon per¬
ceived that, in addition to these, they possessed other ad¬
vantages. Their numbers were immense ; they implicitly
obeyed their generals j and the generals as implicitly sub¬
mitted to the directions of the Committee of Public Safe¬
ty. A combination of efforts was thus produced, and the
effect was not impaired by divided counsels. On the
other hand, the numbers of the allies were daily declining,
and their leaders were independent princes or powerful
men, whose sentiments and interests were often at vari¬
ance, and whose exertions were consequently disunited.
On the 24th the French again crossed the Sambre, but
were driven back with considerable loss. On the 27th
an attempt was made to besiege Charleroi, but on the 3d
of June the Prince of Orange compelled the enemy to
raise the siege. On the 12th the attempt was renewed,
but with no better success. In West Flanders, however,
Pichegru was sufficiently strong to commence the siege
N C E.
of Ypres, which was garrisoned by seven thousand men. History.
General Clairfayt made an attempt to raise it, but without
success. Reinforcements were sent to Clairfayt from the D94-
grand army, to enable him to renew his efforts for the re¬
lief of the place, and a series of sanguinary contests en¬
sued, in which that unfortunate general was almost uni¬
formly unsuccessful. Ypres held out till the 17th of June,
when it capitulated. In consequence of this and of other
events, the Duke of York found it necessary to retreat to
Oudenarde ; for Jourdan, after storming the Austrian
camp of Wattignies, now advanced in such strength upon
Charleroi, that its immediate fall was anticipated. But as
this would have enabled the two French armies to encircle
the whole of Flanders, the Prince of Cobourg advanced
to its relief; nevertheless Charleroi surrendered at discre¬
tion on the 25th. This circumstance was not known to
the Prince of Cobourg when he advanced on the 26th to
attack the covering army in their intrenchments near
Fleurus ; but the latter having by this time been reinforced
by the accession of the besieging force, repulsed the as¬
sailants without difficulty. Jourdan then drew his men
out of their intrenchments, attacked the Austrians in his
turn, and, though three times repulsed, was at last suc¬
cessful.
The allies were now obliged to retreat at all points. Further
Nieuport, Ostend, and Bruges, were taken ; and Tournay,successes
Mons, Oudenarde, and Brussels, at which place the French
armies of East and West Flanders formed a junction, ‘ *
opened their gates. The allied troops having evacuated
Namur, formed a line from Antwerp to Liege, in order
to protect the country behind. But the French having
advanced in force, attacked General Clairfayt, cut to pieces
half the troops which now remained under his orders, and
broke the line, upon which the allies retreated before them.
The Duke of York was joined by some reinforcements
under the Earl of Moira, which had wuth much difficulty
made their way from Ostend; and with these and the
Dutch troops he retired to the neighbourhood of Bergen-
op-Zoom and Breda for the protection of Holland. The
Prince of Cobourg evacuated Li>ge, crossed the Maese,
and threw a garrison into Maestricht; but he soon found
it necessary to send back part of his troops to the neigh¬
bourhood of Tongres. Flere the French armies, to the as¬
tonishment of all Europe, made a voluntary pause in their
career of victory, and ceased to pursue their retiring foes.
The war on the Rhine was equally successful on the part
of the French. On the 12th, 13th, and I4th of July, re¬
peated battles were fought, in which the French obtained
their usual success. As their armies were numerous, their
practice was to fight in great bodies day after day till their
object was accomplished. The Palatinate was next over¬
run, and Treves taken, by General Michaud. Flanders
and the Palatinate have always been accounted the gra¬
naries of Germany, and both of them, at the commence¬
ment of the harvest, now fell into the hands of the French.
During the four months which succeeded the fall of Execu-
Danton, the power of the committees was exercised with-tions in-
out opposition and without reserve. Death became the crease.c*5
only instrument of government, and the Republic was^1^1'13111
abandoned to daily and systematic executions. Then were k -
invented the conspiracies of the prisons, which had been ”
crowded by the operation of the law in regard to suspected
persons, and which were emptied by that of the 22d
Prairial, which might be called the law of the condemn¬
ed : it was then that the emissaries of the Committee of
Public Safety suddenly replaced those of the Mountain ;
that Carrier, the creature of Billaud, appeared in the
west; Maignet, the creature of Couthon, in the south ;
and Joseph Lebon, the creature of Robespierre, in the
north. The extermination en masse of the enemies of
the democratic dictatorship, which had been practised at
FRANCE.
89
1794.
History. Lyons and Toulon by means of the mitraillades, became
still more horrible when effected by means of the noyades
of Nantes and the scaffolds of Paris, Arras, and Orange.
The terrorists were now so completely united, that they
seemed to have but one body and one soul, in which all
feelings, sentiments, and desires, had merged in a craving
and insatiable appetite for blood. Posterity will find it diffi¬
cult to credit the extent to which this appetite had grown
by what it fed on. “ The more the social body perspires,
the sounder it becomes,” said Collot-d'Herbois. “ It is the
dead only who never return,” said Barrere. “ The vessel
of the Revolution can only arrive in port on a sea redden¬
ed with torrents of blood,” said Saint-Just. “ A nation
is only regenerated on heaps of dead bodies,” rejoined
Robespierre. Nor were their actions at variance with the
creed they professed. For months together these prin¬
ciples were daily carried into practice in every town in
France. Alone and unopposed, the Committee of Public
Safety struck numberless blows from one end of the king¬
dom to the other. The mandates of death issued from
the capital, and the guillotine was immediately set to work
in almost every town and village of France. Amidst the
roaring of cannon, the roll of drums, and the sound of the
tocsin, the suspected were everywhere arrested, whilst
the young and active were marched off to the frontiers;
fifteen hundred bastilles, spread throughout the depart¬
ments, were found insufficient to contain the multitude of
captives; and the monasteries, the palaces, the chateaux,
were in consequence converted into prisons. Rapidly as
the guillotine did its work, however, it reaped not the
harvest of death which everywhere presented itself. But
disease came to its assistance, and contagious fevers, pro¬
duced by the crowded state of the prisons, swept off thou¬
sands who had been destined to perish by the revolution¬
ary axe. Over the portals of these dread abodes might
have been written the inscription which Dante has placed
over the entrance of the infernal regions; hope never
crossed their thresholds, and despair of life produced its
usual diversified effects on the minds of the unhappy cap¬
tives. Some sunk into sullen indifference ; others indulged
in immoderate gaiety; many became frantic with horror;
not a few sought to amuse life even at the foot of the
scaffold. Rising in one wild and heart-rending chorus
might be heard raving, blasphemy, lamentation, com¬
mingled with the loud shouts of obstreperous laughter; in
short, all the varied sounds which intimate the absence
of hope, and a desperate recklessness of the future. Ter¬
ror was now in its zenith, and death at every door.
On the 10th of May, Madame Elizabeth, sister of the
late king, was sacrificed by the Revolutionary Tribunal;
and multitudes of every rank and both sexes daily shared
the same fate. The rich were naturally the great objects
of persecution, because the confiscation of their property
added to the strength of the ruling powers; but neither
were the poor safe in their poverty from the vengeance of
this ferocious and sanguinary government. No security
was to be found in any station of life, however humble or
mean; a word, a look, a gesture, might excite suspicion,
and suspicion was death. By the instrumentality of the
guillotine Robespierre had contrived to destroy every
avowed rival. The constituted authorities consisted of
persons nominated by him, or with his approbation; the
committees which conducted the business of the state
were at his disposal, and his will was irresistible through¬
out the Republic. In the Convention he met with no op¬
position ; for that body had ceased to be the turbulent
popular assembly which it once appeared, and had become
little more than a name employed to give a sort of sanction
to such schemes as were proposed to it. But notwithstand¬
ing all this, the dictator was fast approaching the crisis of
his fate, and at the very culminating point of his power
VOL. x.
destruction awaited both his system and himself. All History,
hope would indeed have been lost if the issue had de-
pended on the efforts of the virtuous classes ; these were *794.
complete!}' subdued by terror; but as it is the natural
effect of suffering to induce a remedy, so it was in the
shock of the wicked among themselves that the only hope
of salvation remained. From the beginning of 1794, in¬
deed, men gifted with foresight had entertained the con¬
viction that, in pity to an afflicted land, heaven would
throw the apple of discord among the tyrants themselves,
and strike them with that judicial blindness which is the
instrument it makes use of to punish men and nations.
Nor was this expectation disappointed. The Girondist
party, it is true, was indeed subdued and silent; its illus¬
trious leaders were no more ; but many members of the
Convention still remained attached to its principles, and
deeply repented having ever deserted them. The party
of the Mountain, too, by means of which Robespierre had
risen to power, now found itself not only disregarded, but
ready at every instant to fall a sacrifice to that system of
terror which they had contributed to erect. And even
the Jacobins themselves, though neither timid nor scru¬
pulous in the shedding of blood, began to murmur when
they saw that fearful privilege confined to a few, or rather
monopolized by one man.
For a time things remained in this state, during which it
was seen how possible it is for an individual to govern a great
nation, even when that nation is hostile to his authority.
It is far easier, indeed, to uphold the worst form of govern¬
ment, than to establish the best which human genius or pa¬
triotism ever devised. But still the power of Robespierre
rested upon no solid foundation, and his fall was therefore
inevitable. He had no organized force; his partisans, though
numerous, were not organized ; he was sustained only by
terror and a great force of opinion; and hence, not being able
to overpower his enemies by an act of violence, he sought
to strike them with dismay. And for a time he succeeded.
But such a system soon attains the utmost limit to which
it can be urged, and when the tension becomes extreme,
the recoil is near at hand. On the day after the festival
of the Supreme Being, when the power of the tyrant had
reached its apex, his sanguinary intentions were fully dis¬
closed. By the decree of the 22d Prairial, passed on the
motion of Couthon, every form, delay, or usage, calculated
to protect the accused, was at one fell swoop annihilated.
“ Every delay,” said Couthon, “ is a crime ; every forma¬
lity indulgent to the accused is a crime ; the delay in
punishing the enemies of the country should not be greater
than the time requisite for identifying them.” Accus¬
tomed as the Convention had been to blind obedience, a
project calculated to place every member of that body at
the mercy of the dictator startled its apathy. “ If this
law passes,” said Ruamps, “ nothing remains but to blow
out our brains.” But the hour of deliverance had not vet
arrived. Robespierre mounted the tribune, and demanded,
that instead of pausing on the proposal of adjournment,
the assembly should sit until the project of the law was
discussed. The assembly felt its weakness, and in thirty
minutes the decree was unanimously adopted. From
this moment, however, may be dated the commence¬
ment of the re-action. Proscriptions increased with fear¬
ful rapidity, and the cruelties committed in the provinces
equalled, if not exceeded, those perpetrated in the capi¬
tal. Lebon at Arras, and Carrier at Nantes, revelled in
horrors such as the world had never before witnessed.
Since the law of the 22d Prairial, heads fell at the rate of
fifty or sixty a day; yet the Committee of Public Safety,
not satisfied with this dreadful amount of carnage, inces¬
santly urged the public accuser, Fouquier Tinville, to ac¬
celerate the executions. But whilst the apprehensions of
the terrorists themselves inflamed and maddened their
90
History.
1794.
FRA
ferocity, discord arose in their conclave; the active mem¬
bers of the committees were divided; on one side weie
Robespierre, Saint-Just, and Couthon ; on the other Bil-
laud-Varennes, Collot-d’Herbois, Barrere, and the mem¬
bers of the Committee of General Safety. After several
fruitless attempts to regain his ascendency, Robespieire
absented himself from the committees, and threw himself
on the Jacobins and the commune, where his influence
was still paramount. Meanwhile his more furious parti¬
sans urged the immediate adoption of the most vigorous
measures. Henriot and the mayor of Palis were icady
to commence a new massacre, and three thousand young
assassins were provided for the purpose. “ Strike soon
and strongly,” said Saint-Just. 44 Dove; that is the sole
secret of "revolutions.” Tallien, Bourdon de 1’Oise, Thu-
riot, Rovere, Lecombre, Fanis, Monestier, Legendre, Fre-
ron, Barras, Cambon, were marked out as the fiist vic¬
tim’s. But as the conspirators had no armed force at their
command, as the Jacobin Club was only powerful fiom its
influence on public opinion, and as the committees of
government were all arrayed upon the othei side, Robes¬
pierre was compelled to commence the attack in the Con¬
vention, which he hoped to sway by the terror of his
voice, or at all events to overwhelm by a popular insur¬
rection similar to that which had proved so successful on
the 31st of May. Nor were the leaders of the Conven¬
tion and the committees idle on their side. Ihe imme¬
diate pressure of danger united all parties against the
tyrant, who, in the popular society, had made no secret
of his resolution to decimate the assembly.
At length, on the 8th Thermidor (26th July), the con¬
test commenced in the National Convention. Ihe dis¬
course of Robespierre was dark and enigmatical, but its
real object was not doubtful. Jhe dictator was listened to
with breathless attention ; not a sound interrupted the
delivery of his speech ; not a whisper of applause followed
its close. On the proposal that it should be printed, the
first symptoms of resistance showed themselves.^ Bour¬
don de 1’Oise opposed its publication; but Barrere sup¬
ported it, and the assembly, fearful of prematurely com¬
mitting itself, agreed to the proposal. Seeing the majonty
wavering, the Committee of General Safety now deemed
it necessary to take decisive steps. Ihe time for dissem¬
bling had passed. 44 One man paralyses the assembly, and
that man is Robespierre,” said Cambon. 441 would rather
that my carcass served for a throne to the tyiant, said
Billaud-Varennes, 44 than render myself by my silence the
accomplice of his crimes.” Freron proposed to throw off
the hated yoke of the committees, and to reverse the de¬
cree which permitted the arrest of the representatives of
the people ; but as Robespierre was still too powerful to be
overthrown by the Convention unaided by the committees,
this proposal was rejected, and the assembly contented
itself with reversing the decree for the publication of his
address, which was sent to the committees for examina¬
tion. In the evening the tyrant, attended by Hemiot,
Dumas, Coffinhal, and his other satellites, repaired to the
popular society, where he was received with enthusiasm ;
and during the night he made arrangements for disposing
his partisans on the following day. The two committees,
on their side, were not idle. They sat in deliberation du¬
ring the whole night; and it was felt by every one that a
combination of all parties was requisite to shake the power
of the tyrant. To this object, accordingly, all their ef¬
forts were directed; and, by unremitting exertions, the
Jacobins of the Mountain succeeded in forming a coali¬
tion with the leaders of the centre and the right. 44 Do
not flatter yourselves,” said Tallien to the Girondists,
“ that he will ever spare you; you have committed an
unpardonable offence in being freemen. Let us bury our
ruinous divisions in oblivion. You weep for Vergniaud ;
N C E.
we weep for Danton. Let us unite their shades by strik¬
ing Robespierre.” Before daybreak all the assembly had
united for the overthrow of the tyrant.
At an early hour on the morning of the 9th Ihermidor
(27th July), the benches of the Convention were crowded
with members, and the leaders walked about in the pas¬
sages confirming one another in their generous resolution.
At noon Saint-Just ascended the tribune, and Robespierre
took his seat on a bench directly opposite, to intimidate
his adversaries by that look which had so often stricken
them with terror. But its spell was powerless; fear had
now changed sides. As he proceeded to take his seat his
knees trembled, and the colour fled from his lips ; the hos¬
tile appearance of the assembly already gave him an an¬
ticipation of his fate. Saint-Just began by declaring that
he belonged to no party, and would combat them all.
44 The course of events has possibly determined,” said he,
44 that this tribune shall become the Tarpeian rock for him
who now tells you that the members of die committees
have strayed from the path of wisdom.” Here he was
vehemently interrupted by Tallien, the intiepid leader of
the revolt. 44 Shall the speaker, said he, 44 for ever ai 10-
gate to himself, with the tyrant of whom he is the satellite,
the privilege of denouncing, accusing, and proscribing the
members of the assembly ? Shall he for ever go on amus¬
ing us with imaginary perils, when real and pressing dan¬
gers are before our eyes? After the enigmatical expres¬
sions which fell from the tyrant yesterday, can we doubt
what Saint-Just is about to propose? You are about,”
added he, 44 to raise the veil; I will rend it asunder. Yes,
I will exhibit the danger in its full extent; the tyrant in
his true colours. It is the whole Convention which he
now proposes to destroy ; he knows well, since his over¬
throw yesterday, that however much he may mutilate
that great body, he will no longer find it the instrument
of his tyrannical designs.” Loud applauses followed this
intrepid declaration. 44 Two thousand assassins,” he pro¬
ceeded, 44 are sworn to execute his designs; I myself last
night heard their oaths, and fifty of my colleagues heard
them with me. The massacre was to have commenced in
the night, with the Committees of Public Safety and Ge¬
neral Security, all of whom were to have been sacrificed,
excepting a few creatures of the tyrant. Let us instant¬
ly take measures commensurate with the magnitude of
the danger; let us declare our sittings permanent, until
the conspiracy is broken and its chiefs arrested. Bil¬
laud-Varennes gave fuller details of the conspirac}^ which
had been matured in the society of the Jacobins, and de
nounced Robespierre as its chief; at the same time de
daring that the assembly would perish if it showed the
least symptom of weakness. 44 Me will never perish, ex¬
claimed the members, rising in a transport of enthusiasm.
Tallien then resumed, and in impassioned language called
upon the assembly to pass the decree of accusation. Du¬
ring this agitating scene Robespierre sat motionless fiom
terror. The Convention, amidst violent uproar, decreed
the arrest of Dumas, president of the Revolutionary Iri-
bunal, Henriot, commander of the national guard, and
their associate conspirators ; it also declared its sittings
permanent, and numerous measures of precaution were
suggested. But as the main object of destroying Robes¬
pierre was in danger of being lost sight of amidst these
multifarious proposals, Tallien again ascended the tribune,
and, in the most emphatic terms, demanded that the dic¬
tator should be declared hors la loi. 44 Let there be no
formalities with the accused,” said he; 44 you cannot too
much abridge his punishment, he has told you so himself
a hundred times.” Robespierre now attempted to obtain
a hearing, but in vain. His voice was drowned by the in¬
cessant ringing of the president’s bell, and by shouts of
44 Down with the tyrant,” which resounded throughout
History.
1794.
FRANCE.
91
History, the halls. A moment of silence ensued, during which he
made a last effort to be heard. “ For the last time, pre-
sident of assassins,” exclaimed he, turning to the chair,
“will you allow me to speak?” But Thuriot recom¬
menced ringing his bell; and, amidst renewed cries of
“ Down with the tyrant,” he sunk on his seat exhausted
with fatigue and rage. The foam now issued from his
mouth, and his speech failed. “ Wretch,” exclaimed a
voice from the Mountain, “ the blood of Danton chokes
thee!” The act of accusation was then passed amidst
the most violent agitation ; the two Robespierres, Lebas,
Coutbon, Saint-Just, Dumas, and some others, were una¬
nimously put under arrest, and sent to prison ; and, after a
scene perhaps unexampled in history, the assembly broke
up at five o’clock.
The Jacobins, who had fully expected that Robespierre
would be victorious in the Convention, no sooner heard of
his arrest than they instantly gave orders to sound the
tocsin, to close the barriers, to convoke the council-general,
and assemble the sections; they also declared their sit¬
tings permanent, and established the most rapid means of
communication between the two centres of insurrection.
Meanwhile Henriot endeavoured to excite the people to
revolt, by parading the streets, at the head of his staff,
with a sabre in his hand, exclaiming, “ To arms to save
the country.” But having been met by two deputies who
prevailed upon some horsemen to obey the orders of the
Convention, he was seized, handcuffed, and sent to the
Committee of General Safety. Peyan, the national agent,
was about the same time arrested; and the Convention
seemed triumphant. But between six and seven o’clock
the insurgents regained the advantage, chiefly in conse¬
quence of the energetic measures of the municipality.
Robespierre having been sent to the Conciergerie, and
the rest of the conspirators to the other prisons of Paris,
the commune sent detachments to deliver them ; and
Robespierre was speedily brought in triumph to the Hotel
de Ville, where he was joined by his brother and Saint-
Just; whilst Coffinhal, at the head of two hundred canno-
niers, forced the guard of the Convention, penetrated to
the rooms of the Committee of General Safety, and deli¬
vered Henriot. The assembly met again at seven o’clock,
when it received intelligence of the success of the insur¬
gents, the liberation of the terrorists, the assemblage at
the Hotel de Ville, and the convocation of revolutionary
committees, and of the sections. In a short time the de¬
livery of Henriot, and the presence of an armed force
around the Convention, were also communicated ; and
when the agitation was at its height, Amar entered and
announced that the cannoniers had pointed their guns
against the hall of the assembly. The moment was truly
terrible. But in this extremity Tallien and his friends
acted with that dauntless intrepidity which so often proves
successful in revolutions. Henriot was declared hors la
loi, and Barras appointed to the command of the military,
whilst Freron, Bourdon de 1’Oise, and other determined
men, were associated with him in this perilous duty; the
Committee of Public Safety was fixed on as the centre of
operations; and emissaries were instantly dispatched to
all the sections to summon them to the defence of the
Convention. Fortunately for this body, Henriot in vain
attempted to induce the cannoniers to fire. They had
obeyed his orders in marching from the Hotel de Ville,
and to this they limited their obedience. The refusal of
the cannoniers decided the fortune of this day. Dispirited
and alarmed, Henriot withdrew to the Hotel de Ville ; the
armed forced followed his example; and the Convention,
which had just been besieged in its hall, became the as¬
sailing party.
The battalions of the sections, who had been convoked
hy the emissaries of the Convention, now began to arrive
at the Tuileries; and in a short time a considerable force History,
assembled. The night was dark, the moon being in the
firs! quarter; but the public anxiety had supplied this l79**
defect by a general illumination. The defenders of the
National Convention took the line of the quay, carrying
with them several pieces of cannon ; they marched in si¬
lence, sustaining their courage without the aid of those
vociferations and exclamations which are the resource of
men who march to pillage and disorder. The space in
front of the Hotel de Ville was filled with detachments of
the national guard, who had obeyed the summons of the
municipality, companies of cannoniers, squadrons of gen¬
darmerie, and a multitude of individuals, some armed,
and others not, but all apparently inflamed with the most
violent spirit of Jacobinism, though perhaps in secret ac¬
tuated by fear alone. At midnight a rumour began to cir¬
culate through the ranks of the insurgents that the mu¬
nicipality had been declared hors la loi; that the sections
had joined the Convention; and that their forces were
advancing to attack the Hotel de Ville. In the Place de
Greve there were stationed about two thousand insur¬
gents, with a powerful train of artillery; but their firm¬
ness was much shaken when the light of the torches
showed the heads of the columns of the national guards
appearing in all the avenues which lead into the square,
and thus made obvious the defection of their fellow-citi¬
zens. Still it was a fearful moment. Ten pieces of
artillery had been placed in battery by the troops of the
Convention ; and the cannoniers of the municipality, with
burning matches in their hands, stood beside their guns
on the opposite side. But happily the authority of the le¬
gislature prevailed; its decree which declared the com¬
mune hors la lot was read by torch-light, and in an instant
the Place de Greve was deserted. A few moments after¬
wards, Henriot descended the stair of the Hotel de Ville,
with a sabre in his hand, and finding no one, “ How !” ex¬
claimed he, “ is it possible? These scoundrels of can¬
noniers who saved my life five hours ago, thus abandon nte
f ”
now I
With terror in his looks and imprecations in his mouth,
Henriot re-ascended the stair, and announced the total de¬
fection of the troops. Instantly despair took possession of
that band of assassins; every one turned his fury on his
neighbour ; nothing but mutual execrations could be heard.
In a transport of rage Coffinhal seized Henriot in his arms,
and exclaiming, “ Vile wretch, your cowardice has undone
us all,” hurled him headlong down the stair. Saint-Just
implored Lebas to put an end to his life. “ Coward, follow
my example,” exclaimed the latter, and blew out his brains.
Robespierre tried to imitate him; but his hand trembled,
and he only broke his under jaw, which disfigured him in
a frightful manner. Couthon was found under a table,
feebly attempting to strike with a knife, which he wanted
courage to plunge into his heart; Coffinhal and the young¬
er Robespierre threw themselves from the windows, and
were seized in the inner court of the building; Henriot,
bruised and mutilated, had contrived to crawl into the en¬
trance of a sewer, out of which he was dragged by the
troops of the Convention. Robespierre and Couthon, being
thought dead, were dragged by the heels to the Guai Pel¬
letier, where it was proposed to throw them into the river ;
but when daylight appeared, and it was found that they
still breathed, they were stretched on a board and carried
to the Committee of General Safety. There, extended on
a table, with his visage disfigured and bloody, the fallen
tyrant lay for some hours exposed to invectives and execra¬
tions, saw men of every party rejoicing in his overthrow,
and heard himself charged with all the crimes which had
been committed. “ II montra,” says Mignet, “ beaucoup
d’insensibilite pendant son agonie.” He was then convey¬
ed to the Conciergerie, w here for a brief space he occupied
92
FRANCE.
• History, the same cell in which Danton, Hebert, and Chaumette
had been confined. When brought with his associates be-
1794* fore the Revolutionary Tribunal, the process was short ; as
soon as the identity of their persons had been established,
they were ordered for execution. About five in the morn¬
ing of the 29th July, he was placed on the death-cart, be¬
tween Henriot and Couthon, who were as mutilated as him¬
self. A linen bandage soaked in blood supported his bro¬
ken jaw; his countenance was livid, and his eye almost
extinct. An immense multitude crowded around the cart,
testifying their feelings in loud and reiterated shouts of
exultation ; some shed tears of joy, others embraced, and
others again poured forth execrations against the tyrant,
whom, from time to time, the gendarmes pointed out to
the people with their sabres. Saint-Just was the only one
who evinced any firmness or self-possession ; the others,
to the number of twenty-two, were excessively dejected.
Robespierre was executed the last; when the fatal axe de¬
scended, an exulting shout arose, which was prolonged for
several minutes after the tyrant was no more.
With the fall of Robespierre ended the system of terror,
of which however he was not the most zealous partisan of
his party. Aspiring to supreme power, moderation would
have become necessary to him had he succeeded, and ter¬
ror, which ceased by his fall, would have equally ceased
by his triumph. But his destruction was inevitable. He
had no organized force ; his partisans, though numerous,
were not embodied and disciplined; he had only the force
of opinion and terror; and being thus unable to surprise
his enemies by a sudden act of violence, he sought to strike
them with dismay. When fear did not succeed he attempt¬
ed insurrection ; but as the Convention, when supported
by the committees, had become courageous, so the sections,
reckoning on the courage of the Convention, declared
against the insurgents. In attacking the government, he
roused the assembly ; in rousing the assembly, he let loose
the people ; and this coalition proved his ruin. The Con¬
vention, on the 9th Thermidor, was no longer what it had
been on the 31st May; divided and undecided, in the pre¬
sence of a compact, numerous, and daring faction. All par¬
ties were united by defeat, misfortune, and an ever-menacing
proscription, and under the pressure of common danger
they were prepared to combat together. The overthrow of History.
Robespierre was therefore inevitable. He could not avoid
separating himself from the committees. “ Au point ou H94.
il etait arrive, on veut etre seul, on est devore par ses pas¬
sions, trompe par ses esperances et par sa fortune jusque-
la heureuse ; et, la guerre une fois declaree, la paix, le re¬
pos, le partage du pouvoir ne sont pas plus possibles que la
justice et la clemence lorsque les echaufauds ont ete une
fois dresses.”1 A man so circumstanced must ultimately
fall by the means which have contributed to his elevation ;
and as conquerors are at length destroyed by war, so the
leaders of factions naturally terminate their career on the
scaffolds, by which they had sought to establish their power.
We may add, that the 9th Thermidor was the first day of
the Revolution in which those who attacked had failed.
The ascending revolutionary movement had reached its
term, and the contrary movement now commenced.2
After the fall of Robespierre the Convention exhibited Terror
a remarkable change of appearance. Instead of the silence £lves place-
which had formerly prevailed, all was now bustle and acti-^^atof
vity. The success of the general rising of all the Parties tism.™'
against one man destroyed the compression under which
they had laboured ; but the momentary union which had en¬
sured the victory was soon at an end, and the conquerors
speedily arranged themselves into two parties, namely, that
of the committees, and that consisting of partisans of the
Mountain, which received the name of parti Thermidorien.
But the committees were vanquished with Robespierre,
and their government lost the prestige of terror which con¬
stituted its whole force. Besides the loss of their chief,
they had no longer the commune, whose insurgent members,
to the number of seventy-two, were sent to the scaffold,
and which, after its double defeat under Hebert and under
Robespierre, was not re-organized, and lost in consequence
all its influence. The democratic power of the commit¬
tees accordingly declined, and the Thermidorian party, in¬
cluding a great majority of the Convention, prevailed;
whilst a new character was given to that assembly by the
coalition of the moderates, Boissy-d’Anglas, Sieyes, Cam
baceres, Chenier, Thibaudeau, with the Dantonists Tal-
lien, Freron, Legendre, Barras, Bourdon de TOise, RovAe,
Bentabold, Dumont, and the two Merlins. The former
1 Mignet, Histoire de la Revolution Fran false, ii. 479, 480.
2 The quantity of blood which was shed in France during the regime of terror will hardly be credited in future ages. Prudhomme,
who, as a republican, could scarcely be disposed to exaggerate the crimes committed by the popular party, gives the following appal¬
ling enumeration of the victims of the Revolution :
There were guillotined by sentences of the Revolutionary Tribunals,
Nobility of both sexes  2,028
Wives of labourers and artisans  1,467
Priests   1,135
Religieuses  350”
Common persons 13,623
 18,603
Women died in premature childbirth, and from grief... 3,748
Women killed in La Vendee  15,000
Children killed in La Vendde  22,000
Men slain in La Vendde 900,000
Victims of Carrier at Nantes  32,000
Killed at Lyons  31,000
Total 1,022,351
Of the victims sacrificed by Carrier, 500 children were shot, and 1500 drowned; 264 women were shot, and 500 drowned; 300
priests were shot, and 460 drowned ; 1400 nobles were drowned; and 5300 artisans were drowned.
The general results of this enumeration are strikingly curious. The nobles and priests guillotined are only 2413, whilst the per¬
sons of plebeian origin put to death in this manner exceed 13,000. The nobles and priests exterminated at Nantes do not much ex¬
ceed 2000, the infants drowned and shot amount exactly to this number, and the artisans drowned exceed 5000. It thus appears
that the middling and lower ranks were the greatest sufferers by the Revolution, which professed to have been undertaken and car¬
ried on exclusively in their interest. Finally, the total number of persons destroyed at Nantes and Lyons alone exceeded the total
number guillotined in virtue of the judgments pronounced by the Revolutionary Tribunals, by no less than 42,397-
In this enumeration are not included the massacres at Versailles, the Abbaye, the Carmes, and other prisons, on the 2d of Sep¬
tember ; the victims of the Glaciere of Avignon ; those shot at Toulon and Marseilles ; nor the persons slain in the little
town of Bedoin, which was almost entirely depopulated. (Prudhomme, Victimes de la Revolution; Chauteaubriand, Etudes His-
torujues.)
FRA
History, system of terror was consequently declared to be at an end,
and a new system of moderatism succeeded, which was
carried to as great a height as that of terror had formerly
been ; and all means were taken to render popular the fall
of the tyrant. The committees were organized anew, and
their members ordered to-Te frequently changed. The
correspondence between the affiliated Jacobin Clubs was
prohibited, and the Jacobin Club itself was at length abo¬
lished. This last event was accomplished without difficulty,
and that society which had been the great engine of the
Revolution was overturned almost without resistance. Se¬
venty-one deputies of the Girondist party, who had been
imprisoned since the 31st of May 1793, were set at liberty.
The name of Lyons was restored. Some of the agents of
Robespierre, particularly Lebon and Carrier, the former of
whom had signalized himself by unheard-of cruelties at
Arras and Cambray, and the latter at Nantes, were brought
before the Revolutionary Tribunal, condemned, and exe¬
cuted, with the greater part of their accomplices.1 Still,
however, the Convention appeared so little decided with
regard to objects of the first importance, that in all proba¬
bility they would not have conducted the important strug¬
gle against the nations of Europe with more success than
the Girondist party had formerly done, if the revolutionary
government and the late system of terror had not already
accumulated in their hands vast resources, and traced out
a plan of procedure, which rendered it comparatively an
easy matter to preserve their numerous armies in the train
of success to which they were now habituated.
The The allies in their retreat having left strong garrisons in
I-rench the French towns Conde, Valenciennes, Quesnoi, and Lan-
renderSUr* ^recies’ vv'h'ch had surrendered to them, these now surren-
without dered to the republican armies with so little resistance, that
resistance, the conduct of the emperor began to be considered as am¬
biguous, and he was even suspected of having entered into
some kind of compromise with the French. But this sus¬
picion proved groundless; and as soon as the army which
had besieged these towns was able to join the grand army
under Pichegru and Jourdan, the operations of the campaign
were resumed after a suspension of almost two months.
The French army divided itself into two bodies. One of
these under Jourdan advanced against General Clairfayt,
who had succeeded the Prince of Cobourg in the command
in the neighbourhood of Maestricht. On the 15th of Sep¬
tember the French attacked the whole Austrian posts, ex¬
tending along a line of five leagues from Liege to Maes¬
tricht ; and on the following day the attack was renewed
with nearly an equal loss on both sides. On the 17th the
French, with fifty pieces of cannon, attacked General
Kray in his intrenched camp before Maestricht; and the
latter was already retiring when General Clairfayt arriv¬
ed with a strong reinforcement, and, after a severe com¬
bat, compelled the French once more to fall back. On the
18th the French having renewed the attack with increased
fury upon every part of the Austrian line, obliged the
N C E. 93
whole to fall back to the neighbourhood of Aix-la-Cha- History,
pelle. General Clairfayt now took up a strong position
on the banks of the Roer, where he declared it to be his 1794.
w ish that he might be attacked ; but by this time the spi¬
rit of his army had been humbled, desertions were nume¬
rous, and discipline became extremely relaxed. On the
first of October the French crossed the Maese and the Roer,
attacked the whole Austrian positions from Ruremond to
Juliers, and, after a bloody engagement, compelled the
brave and active though unfortunate Clairfayt hastily to
repass the Rhine with the loss of ten or twelve thousand
men. The French general did not attempt to cross that
river ; but one detachment of his army took possession of
Coblentz, whilst others laid siege to Venlo and Maestricht,
which soon afterwards surrendered.
In the mean time the French army under Pichegru Progress of
entered Holland, and having attacked the allied army the French
under the Duke of York between Bois-le-Duc and Grave,111 ^ie l t!n'
forced the advanced post of Boxtel. Lieutenant-general
Abercromby was sent to attempt to recover this post, on
the 15th of September; but he found the French in such
force that he was obliged to retreat. They were in fact
discovered to be nearly eighty thousand strong; and
the Duke of York, unable to contend against a force
so greatly superior, retired across the Maese with the loss
of about fifteen hundred men. Pichegru immediately laid
siege to Bois-le-Duc. On the 30th of September, Creve-
coeur was taken, and Bois-le-Duc surrendered in ten days
thereafter.
The French now followed the Duke of York across
the Maese ; whereupon the greater part of the allied
army under his royal highness crossed the Rhine and
took post at Arnheim, whither the remainder followed
soon afterwards. Nimeguen was occupied by the French
on the 7th of November. At this time the Duke of Bruns¬
wick was requested to assume the command of the allied
army, and if possible to protect Holland; and with that
view he proceeded to Arnheim; but after attentively ex¬
amining the state of affairs, he declined undertaking the
heavy responsibility which such a command would in¬
volve. The allied troops had now so often fled before
their victorious enemies, they had so long been in want
of almost every necessary, and had been received so ill
by the inhabitants of the countries through which they
passed, amongst whom the French cause was extremely
popular, that they had lost that regularity of conduct and
discipline which alone can afford a reasonable prospect of
success in military affairs. The French, on the contrary,
well received, abundantly supplied with every thing, and
proud of fighting in a popular cause, now conducted them¬
selves with much order, and submitted to the strictest
discipline ; and, in addition to all these advantages, their
leaders had the dexterity to persuade the world that new
and unknown arts were employed to give aid to their
cause.2 3 In human affairs, and more especially in military
1 Lebon was a young man of a feeble constitution, and apparently mild in his disposition. In his first mission he had been
humane; but he was reproached by the committee for his lenity, and sent to Arras with orders to show himself a little more
revolutionary. Determined not to disappoint the inexorable policy of the committee, he now abandoned himself to the most
unheard-of excess; combined debauchery with extermination; had the guillotine, which he called holy, always in his presence ;
and made an habitual companion of the executioner, whom he admitted to his table. But Carrier having more victims to destroy,
surpassed Lebon in the art of extermination. Bilious, fanatical, and naturally sanguinary, he wanted only an opportunity to execute
all which the imagination of Marat would have dared to conceive. Sent to the borders of an insurgent country, he condemned to
death the whole hostile population, priests, women, children, old men, and young girls. As the scaffolds were not sufficient for his
purpose, he had replaced the Revolutionary Tribunal by a company of assassins, called the company of Marat, and the guillotine by
scuttled boats, in vyhich he drowned his victims in the Loire. Immediately after the 9th Thermidor, loud cries of vengeance and of
justice for these crimes w'ere raised in the Convention. Lebon was first attacked, as he had been more particularly the agent of
Robespierre; the proceedings against Carrier, who had been the agent of the Committee of Public Safety, and whose conduct had
been disapproved by Robespierre, were not instituted until some time thereafter; but both happily met the fate wdiich their unparal¬
leled crimes so richly merited.
3 At this period the telegraph was first used for conveying intelligence from the frontiers to the capital, and from the capital
to the frontiers. Balloons were also employed by the French during this campaign, to procure knowledge of the position of the ene-
94
FRANCE.
History.
1794.
Successes
in Spain.
The con¬
quest of
Holland
completed.
transactions, opinion or moral force is all-powerful. The
French soldiers confided in their officers as men possess¬
ed of a kind of omniscience, whilst the allied troops attri¬
buted their misfortunes to the incapacity of those in com¬
mand, and beheld with anxiety new contrivances em¬
ployed against them, the importance of which was magni¬
fied by ignorance, or exaggerated by fear.
Whilst these events were occurring in the north, the
French arms were scarcely less successful on the side of
Spain. Bellegarde was taken, Fontarabia and St Sebas¬
tian surrendered, and the whole kingdom of Spain seem¬
ed panic-stricken. That feeble government, with an al¬
most impregnable frontier and the most powerful fortress¬
es, made but little resistance ; and the difficult nature of
their country seemed now their only protection. The his¬
tory of this war is merely a list of victories gained by the
French. On the 17th of November the French general Du-
gommier was killed in an engagement fought in the East¬
ern Pyrenees, where, however, his army was successful.
On the 20th of the same month the French again attack¬
ed the Spaniards, and routed them with the bayonet,
without firing a single shot. Tents, baggage, and cannon,
for an army of fifty thousand men, fell into the hands of
the conquerors, along with the greater part of the province
of Navarre. Towards the end of the year an army of forty
thousand Spaniards, intrenched behind eighty redoubts,
the work of six months, suffered themselves to be com¬
pletely defeated ; their general was found dead upon the
field of battle, and the whole Spanish artillery was taken.
Three days afterwards, Figueiras, containing a garrison
of above nine thousand men, surrendered, although it
mounted a hundred and seventy-one pieces of cannon,
and possessed abundance of provisions. The French con¬
tinued their conquests ; Rosas surrendered, and the whole
province of Catalonia was left at the mercy of the in¬
vaders.
But the successes of this wonderful campaign were not
yet terminated ; the last, and perhaps the most important,
although no great effort was necessary to its execution,
yet remains to be noticed. The winter had now set in
with uncommon severity. For some years past the sea¬
sons of Europe had been uncommonly mild; there had
been little frost in winter, and no intense heat in summer.
But during the preceding season the weather had been
remarkably dry until the latter part of the harvest, when
there fell a considerable, though by no means an un¬
usual, quantity of rain. Towards the end of December a
severe frost bound up the whole of the rivers and lakes of
Holland, and in the beginning of January the Waal was
frozen over, which had not occurred for fourteen years
past. Taking advantage of this circumstance, the French
crossed that river on the ice, and seized with little opposi¬
tion the important pass of Bommell, which at other seasons
is so strong by reason of its inundations. The allied army,
having been joined by seventeen thousand Austrians, had
received orders to defend Holland to the last extremity.
Ihey did so, and were successful in repulsing the French
for some days between the Waal and the Leek; but the
republican army, amounting to seventy thousand men, hav¬
ing at last advanced in full force, the allied troops were com¬
pelled to retire across the Yssel into Westphalia. In the
course of their march through this desert country, in the
midst of severe frost and deep snow, they suffered incredi¬
ble hardships, and lost a great number of men. The French,
in the mean time, advanced rapidly across the country to
the Zuyder-Zee, to prevent the inhabitants from flying and
carrying off their property. On the 16th of January 1795 History,
a party of horse, without resistance, took possession of
Amsterdam. The other towns surrendered at discretion ; HSS-
and in consequence of an order from the States-General,
Bergen-op-Zoom, Williamstadt, Breda, and other strong
places, opened their gates to the French. By the intense
frost, the fleet and the shipping were fixed in their stations,
and became a prey to the enemy, who thus, with little ef¬
fort, made a complete conquest of this rich and highly-
defensible country. The people were almost everywhere
favourable to their cause ; and in fact the power of the
stadtholder had been supported solely by the influence of
Prussia and England. Through hatred of this office,
which had now become odious chiefly to the mercantile
aristocracy of Holland, the people were unfriendly to the
allies, and, during the war, gave them as little support
as possible. The stadtholder and his family now fled to
England. And thus terminated a campaign, in the course
of which, even before the conquest of Holland, the French
had taken two thousand pieces of cannon and sixty thou¬
sand prisoners ; whilst after that event the conquered ter¬
ritories added a population of nearly fourteen millions to
the Republic. Luxembourg and Mayence were the only
places on the Rhine which resisted them. But the for¬
mer was closely blockaded ; and the latter, though several
times assaulted, successfully held out.
As the constitution which had been framed in the year A new con.
1793 was justly deemed impracticable, a committee was stltutlon-
appointed to frame a new one. It was composed of Sieyes,
Cambaceres, Merlin de Douai, Thibaudeau, Mathieu,
Lesage de 1’Eure, and Latouche. On the 19th of April
Cambaceres reported that, in the opinion of the commit¬
tee, a commission should be appointed for this important
purpose ; and a number of qualified persons were accord¬
ingly chosen, whilst all citizens were invited to commu¬
nicate their sentiments upon the subject, and the commit¬
tee was instructed to order the best plans to be published.
The feelings of the nation at large received additional
gratification from the conduct of the Convention towards
Fouquier-Tinville, the public accuser,1 and fifteen judges
and jurors of the Revolutionary Tribunal. Having been
fully convicted on the 8th of May, they were executed on
the 9th, amidst the loud execrations of a vast multitude
of spectators.
But although the Jacobins were defeated on the 1st and Insurrec-
2d of April, they did not consider themselves as ent*rety j^^ins/
subdued. On the contrary, they were now plotting a
more extensive insurrection, which was not to be confined
to the capital alone, and they had fixed upon the 20th of
May as the period of revolt. In truth, the Convention had
been borne along too rapidly by the force of the re-action,
and, in its desire at once to repair and to punish, it fell into
a most imprudent excess of justice. In this way it drove
to despair a numerous party, which had ceased to be for¬
midable, and by threatening it with vast and eternal repri¬
sals, left it no resource but in insurrection, to which many
were but too well disposed from other causes, including
famine. The arrest of Billaud-Varennes, Collot-d’Her-
bois, Barrere, and Vadier, not to mention other circum¬
stances, convinced the Jacobins that their whole party
was doomed to destruction. Accordingly, on the morning
of the day fixed on, the tocsin sounded, and the drums
beat to arms in the faubourgs of Saint Antoine and Saint
Marceau, in which the Jacobins had always enjoyed the
greatest influence. The Convention met on the first
alarm; but although the insurrection was far from being a
my- An engineer ascended in the balloon (which was suffered to rise to a great height, but prevented from being carried away bv
along line), made plans of the enemy’s encampment, and during an attack sent down notice of every hostile movement.
1 “ Je-demande, said Freron, making himself the organ of public indignation; “ je demande qu’on purge enfin la terre de ce
monstre, et que Fouquier aille cuver, dans les enfers, le sang qu’il a verse.”
FRA
History, secret, the Committee of Public Safety did not appear to
have taken any measures to prevent it; and it was only
1795. a): (-hg moment when the insurgents were approaching
that General Hoche was appointed to the command of
the armed force, and sent to collect the military and citi¬
zens for the protection of the Convention. The hall was
presently surrounded, the guards were overpowered, and
the mob forced their way into the midst of the assembly.
The multitudes of women who appeared on this occasion
shouted for bread and the constitution of 1793. Vernier,
the president, a man far advanced in years, quitted the
chair to Boissy-d’Anglas, who kept it with unexampled
fortitude during the remainder of the day. The mob had
written on their hats with chalk, “ Bread, the constitu¬
tion of 1793, and the liberation of the patriots.” One of
the party attached to the Convention having imprudent¬
ly torn off the hat of one of the insurgents, the multitude
attacked him with swords ; and he was killed by a musket
shot as he fled for protection towards the chair of the pre¬
sident. The majority of the members gradually retired
from this scene of lawless intrusion, and left the multitude
masters of the hall; but several of the members who re¬
mained espoused the cause of the insurgents. The triumph
of the latter, however, was but of very short continuance.
In the evening they were overpowered by a large body of
military, aided by the citizens; the powers of the Conven¬
tion were restored; and the deputies who had espoused
the cause of the mob were put under arrest. But this day
decided nothing.
It would appear, indeed, that the Convention and the
citizens of Paris considered their triumph as complete ; at
all events no measures were adopted sufficient to prevent
the repetition of a similar outrage. The Jacobins, how¬
ever, were by no means disposed to consider their cause
as desperate. Next day they collected their forces in the
suburbs, and in the afternoon made a second attempt to re¬
gain the ascendency. The Place de Carrousel was taken
without opposition, and some pieces of cannon were even
pointed against the hall of the Convention. The mem¬
bers, being wholly unprotected, now endeavoured to gain
over the mob by flattery; they fraternised with the fau¬
bourgs, without however making them any positive pro¬
mise ; and the intruders retired on receiving an assurance
that the Convention was solicitously occupied with the
means of procuring subsistence, and that it would soon pub¬
lish the organic laws of the constitution of 1793. On the
23d, the citizens assembled, and proceeded to theTuileries
to defend the Convention from insult and violence. The mi¬
litary also collected in considerable force ; and the Conven¬
tion, at length encouraged to act on the offensive, decreed
that if the faubourg of ISaint Antoine did not immediately
surrender its arms and cannon, together with the assassin
of Feraud, who had been murdered in the very hall whilst
covering the president with his body, it would be declared
in a state of rebellion. Ihe generals of the Convention at
the same time received orders to reduce it by force if ne¬
cessary; and the insurgents, finding themselves unequal
to the conflict, were forced to surrender unconditionally,
in order to preserve their property from the depredations
of the military. All soldiers found amongst the prisoners
were put to death. Six members of the Convention who
had been concerned in the insurrection were also tried by
a military commission, and condemned. These were Gou¬
jon, Bourbotte, Homme, Duroy, Duquesnoy, and Soubrany,
all democrats of the Mountain party. When they heard
the sentence pronounced they all stabbed themselves with
the same knife, which they passed from one to another,
exclaiming Vive la Republique. Romme, Goujon, and
Duquesnoy were fortunate enough to strike home; the
other three were conducted to the scaffold in a dying
state, but with their countenances still serene.
N C E. 95
In the south of France, the Jacobins, equally turbulent History,
with their brethren in Paris, excited an insurrection at
Toulon on the 20th of May; seized on the gates, which 1795-
they planted with cannon; set at liberty such of their as¬
sociates as had been incarcerated; and detained the fleet
which was about to put to sea. From Toulon they pro¬
ceeded to Marseilles, forming in all a body about three
thousand strong, with twelve pieces of cannon; but on
their march they were encountered by Generals Charton
and Pactod, by whom they were defeated, and three hun¬
dred sent as prisoners to Marseilles.
Ihe Mountain party were now much reduced, and ex¬
posed in many places to violent persecution ; indeed as¬
sociations were formed for the purpose of avenging the
crimes committed by them during the continuance of their
power. Ihe character of Robespierre’s government, and
the amount of suffering which it inflicted on persons of
all ranks and parties, renders it truly astonishing that any
number of men should hazard their lives in attempting its
restoration. The party was of course gradually abandon¬
ed on the fall of the tyrant; but there still remained a
small number of its adherents, men of superior activity
and enterprise, but uncompromising republicans, who fan¬
cied they beheld the revival of royalty and aristocracy
in every attempt to establish a mild, sober, and regular
government. Hence, even amidst the universal odium
cast upon them, the Jacobins expected to rise once more
into power; and, what is more singular, the revival of their
strength may be dated from the unsuccessful insurrec¬
tion to which we have just adverted. Their unpopularity
began to affect even the Convention, for the people re¬
membered how tamely that body had submitted to the
tyranny of Robespierre, and how the majority of its mem¬
bers had been the servile instruments of his power. The
press being now free, the most hideous picture of their
conduct was accordingly held up to the public; and the
greater number began to repent of their victory over the
Jacobins, which they foresaw might in the end prove fatal
to themselves.
On the 23d of June, Boissy-d’Anglas presented the report New con.
of the committee relative to the project of a new constitu-stitution.
tion. Like its predecessors, it was prefaced with a declara¬
tion of the rights of man, and, besides, consisted of fourteen
chapters on as many different subjects, viz. the extent of
the republican territories; the political state of citizens;
primary assemblies ; electoral assemblies : the legislature ;
the judicial authority; the public force ; public instruc¬
tion ; the finances ; foreign, treaties ; the mode of revising
the constitution ; with a provision that nc rank or superio¬
rity should exist amongst citizens except such as might
arise from the exercise of public functions. The legislature
was composed of two assemblies ; the Council of the An¬
cients, consisting of two hundred and fifty members, into
which none but married men and widowers turned of forty
could be admitted; and the Council of Five Hundred,
consisting of as many members, who enjoyed the exclusive
privilege of proposing the laws, whilst the Council of An¬
cients might reject or oppose, but without having power
to alter, the bills or projects of law submitted to them.
The executive power was intrusted to five persons, who
were required to be forty years of age at least, and de¬
nominated the Executive Directory. The two coun¬
cils had the power of electing its members; the Council
of Five Hundred proposing ten times as many candidates
as could be chosen, whilst the Council of Ancients se¬
lected the five directors from amongst the fifty candi¬
dates thus designed. One member of the Directory was
to go out of office annually, by which means they would
all be changed in the course of five years. In enacting
laws the Directory had no vote, being appointed merely
to superintend their execution, to regulate the coining
96 FRA
History, of money, and to dispose of the armed force. The trea-
  ties made by the Directory with foreign courts were not
1795- binding without the sanction of the legislature, and war
could not be declared without a decree of the two assem¬
blies. All the articles of the new constitution underwent
each a separate discussion, after which they were ordered
to be transmitted to the primary assemblies for their appro¬
bation. Previously to this event, however, the Convention,
in order to avert the danger which now threatened it from
the loss of public favour, decreed that at the approaching
general election the electors should be bound to return
two thirds of the present members; and if this failed, that
the Convention might themselves fill up the vacancies.
Decrees to this effect accompanied the constitution; but
at Paris the idea of re-electing two thirds of the old mem¬
bers was rejected with indignation, and the absurdity of
doing so pointed out with every expression of acrimony
and contempt.
The Convention, however, did not fail to publish the
approbation of the decrees, as well as of the constitution,
by the primary assemblies; although it is pretty certain that
great numbers had confounded the one with the other,
and given their approbation accordingly. Such, indeed,
was the rage of many against the Convention, on account
of the decrees already mentioned, that it was even proposed
to try all the members before a new revolutionary tribu¬
nal, and to punish each according to his crimes. Ihe sec¬
tions remonstrated to the Convention against the decrees,
and the more eager they appeared in the matter, the more
persuaded was the Convention of its own imminent dan¬
ger. Every remonstrance was accordingly disregarded,
and the contending parties formed the resolution of set¬
tling the question by force.
The 13th About a hundred electors of Paris met in the hall of the
A endemi- theatre in the suburb of St Germain, before the day of meet-
aire. jng which had been appointed by the Convention, and hav¬
ing chosen the Duke de Nivernois as their president, began
their debates, absurdly concluding that the sovereignty was
vested in the hands of the electors after these had been
chosen by the primary sections. A body of troops was
sent to dissolve them as an illegal assembly, and this was
accomplished without any difficulty, because the citizens
had not been unanimous in their sentiments respecting it.
This, however, did not prevent the sections from presum¬
ing that, by steady perseverance, they would finally prove
victorious ; they had always found that the party favoured
by the co-operation of the Parisian populace had carried
their point ever since the commencement of the Revolu¬
tion. The armed force with which the Convention was
surrounded gave the people but little concern, as they had
persuaded themselves that the military could never be
brought to act against the citizens. The members of the
Convention also appeared to suspect their fidelity, and
therefore applied for assistance to those very Jacobins whom
they had humbled on the 24th of May. If the sections
of Paris detested the members for their connection with
the atrocities of Robespierre, the Jacobins admired them
for this very reason ; and from fifteen to eighteen hundred
of the latter, released from prison, were put in a state of
requisition for assisting the legislative body, and regiment¬
ed under the denomination of “ Battalion of the Patriots of
Eighty-nine.” The sections of Paris beholding the Conven¬
tion surrounded by men who had justly obtained the appel¬
lations of terrorists and men of blood, now exhibited the
strongest desire to engage them. Their leaders designed
to make the members prisoners till they could be conve¬
niently brought to trial, and in the interval to conduct
public affairs by committees of the sections, till a new le¬
gislative body could be chosen. General Miranda was to
have the command of the armed force after the overthrow
of the Convention ; but as it was still problematical which
N C E.
party would be triumphant, he retired to the country till History,
the event should declare it, ready to share the reward of
a conquest to which he had resolved to contribute nothing. ; *>-
The superior officers of the Convention were not to be de¬
pended on; but the subalterns and the soldiers continued
firm, to which they were strongly exhorted by their Ja¬
cobin auxiliaries. It was also greatly in favour of the
Convention, that the first moments of enthusiasm were
permitted to pass away; this w^as a fatal error, which no
subsequent vigour could repair.
As the danger, however, was imminent, the Convention
had declared its sittings permanent; called around its en¬
ceinte the troops in the camp at Sablons; and concen¬
trated its powers in a committee of five persons, instruct¬
ed to adopt such measures as they should judge necessary
for the public safety. These members were Colombel,
Barras, Daunou, Letourneur, and Merlin de Douai. In
the night of the 11th Vendemiaire the decree which dis¬
solved the college of electors, and armed the battalion of
the patriots of 1789, excited the greatest agitation; the
generale was beaten ; the section Lepelletier thundered
against the despotism of the Convention, and the return of
terror ; and during the whole day of the 12th it was oc¬
cupied in disposing the other sections to combat. In the
evening, the Convention, not less agitated itself, resolved
to assume the initiative, surround the disaffected section,
and terminate the crisis by disarming it. The general of
the interior, Menou, and the representative Laporte, were
charged with this mission. The head-quarters of the sec-
tionaries was in the convent of the Eilles-Saint-Thomas,
before which they were drawn up in order of battle to the
number of six or seven hundred. They were surrounded
by superior forces, on flank by the boulevards, and in front
on the side of the Rue Vivienne. Instead of disarming,
however, the chiefs of the expedition parleyed with them ;
and it was at length agreed that both parties should retire.
But scarcely had the troops of the Convention withdrawn
when the sectionaries returned in greater force than be¬
fore. This was to them a real victory, which, being exag¬
gerated in Paris, excited their partisans, augmented their
number, and gave them courage to attack the Convention
the following day. At eleven o’clock, the latter received
information of the issue of this expedition, and the danger¬
ous effect which it had produced. Menou was immediate¬
ly deprived of the command, which was conferred on Bar¬
ras ; and the latter demanded of the committee of five the
appointment, as his second in command, of a young officer
who had distinguished himself at the siege of Toulon ; “ a
man,” said he, “ of head and resolution, and capable of
serving the Republic at such a moment of peril.” This
young officer was Bonaparte, who immediately presented
himself before the committee; but nothing in his appear¬
ance or demeanour yet indicated his astonishing destinies.
Little connected with party, and called for the first time to
perform a part on a great scene, his countenance betray¬
ed something of timidity and want of confidence, which,
however, he lost in the preparations for action and in the
heat of the battle. He caused the artillery to be brought
in all haste from the camp of Sablons, and disposed the
guns as well as the troops, amounting to five thousand
men, on the different points of attack. On the 13th of
Vendemiaire (5th October), about mid-day, the enceinte
of the Convention had the appearance of a strong place,
which could only be taken by assault. The line of de¬
fence extended, on the left of the Tuileries, along the
river, from the Pont-Neuf to the Pont Louis XV., and on
the right occupied all the little streets which debouch
into that of Saint-Honore, from those of Rohan, L’Echelle,
and the cul-de-sac Dauphin, to that of the Revolution.
In front, the Louvre, the garden of the Infanta, and the
Carrousel were planted with cannon; and behind, the
FRANCE.
History. Pont-Tournant and the Place de la Revolution formed a
park of reserve.
1795. Thus prepared, the Convention waited for the insur¬
gents, who soon advanced upon several points. They had
about forty thousand men under arms, commanded by
Generals Danican and Duhoux, and an ex-garde-du-corps
named Lafond. The thirty-two sections which formed
the majority had furnished their military contingents ; but
of the sixteen others, several sections of the faubourgs
had their troops in the battalion of 1789; some sent re¬
inforcements during the action, others, though well dis¬
posed, wrere unable to do so, and a few remained neutral.
About three o’clock General Carteaux, who occupied the
Pont-Neuf with four hundred men and two four pounders,
was overpowered by several columns of sectionaries, and
obliged to fall back as far as the Louvre. This advantage
emboldened the insurgents, who were in force upon all
points, and General Danican now summoned the Conven¬
tion to withdraw the troops and to disarm the terrorists.
Several members declared for conciliatory measures.
Boissy-d’Anglas was for entering into a conference with
Danican; Gamon proposed a proclamation, in which, on
the citizens engaging to retire, the Convention should
promise to disarm the battalion of 1789; and Lanjuinais,
after some observations on the imminence of the danger,
and the miseries of civil war, supported this proposition.
But Chenier having declared that there was now nothing
for the National Convention but victory or death, that
body, on the motion of Fermoud, passed to the order of
the day. Seven hundred muskets were now brought in,
and the members of the Convention armed themselves as
a corps de reserve. The combat began in the Rue Saint-
Honore, of which the insurgents were masters ; the first
shots proceeded from the Hotel de Noailles, and a heavy
fire was instantly opened along the whole of that line. On
the other flank, two columns of sectionaries, about four
thousand strong, commanded by Count de Maulevrier,
debouched by the quays a few minutes afterwards, and
attacked the Pont-Royal. The battle now became general;
but it could not last long, as the place was too formidably
defended to be taken by assault. After an hour’s hard
fighting the sectionaries were driven out of Saint-Roch and
the Rue Saint-Honore, by the cannon of the Convention
and the battalion of 1789. The column of the Pont-
Royal received three discharges of artillery, directly along
the bridge, and obliquely from the quays, by which means
it was completely shattered, and driven back in the great¬
est disorder. At seven o’clock, the troops of the Con¬
vention, victorious at all points, assumed the offensive;
and at nine they had dislodged the sectionaries from the
theatre of the Republic, and the posts which they occu¬
pied in the neighbourhood of the Palais-Royal. The
latter had prepared to form barricades during the night;
but several discharges of round shot fired along the Rue
Richelieu prevented them. On the morning of the 14th
the Conventional troops disarmed the section Lepelletier,
and re-established order in the others. The victory was
used with moderation. The assembly had only combated
in its own defence, and had no vengeance to gratify.
The victors attributed this insurrection to the influence
of the royalists; but whether they were right in this
opinion or not, it is certain that the cause of royalty had
now become less odious to the people generally than the
bloody extravagance of republicanism; though, as to the
mob, they seem to have looked no further than the dis¬
arming of the Jacobins, and obtaining new representatives.
The sittings of the Convention terminated on the 27th of
October, and it was succeeded by the new legislature, in
terms of the constitution. Amongst its last decrees was
one granting a general amnesty for all crimes and pro¬
ceedings of a revolutionary nature; but the emigrants,
VOL. x.
transported priests, and every one concerned in the last History,
insurrection, were excluded from the benefit of it.
The first step of the new legislature was to divide it- D95.
self into two councils, and proceed to the election of an^?sures
Executive Directory. The Council of Five Hundred was ie„is|^<<new
bound to present to the other council fifty candidates, andture.
a list was accordingly made out; but it consisted of no
more than the five whom the council wished to be chosen,
the other forty-five being obscure persons, farmers and
peasants, so that the Council of Ancients, deprived of all
power of election, were obliged to appoint Sieyes, Barras,
Rewbell, Lareveillere-Lepeaux, and Letourneur de la
Manche, none of the others being qualified for the office.
Sieyes, however, did not deem it prudent to become one
of the five republican kings; and on his declining to ac¬
cept of the new dignity, Carnot was appointed in his
stead. The form of government now established did not
promise to be productive of much happiness or tranquil¬
lity, as the most important offices in the state were filled
by men odious to the people. The members of the Exe¬
cutive Directory, excepting only Lareveillere-Lepeaux,
had always been connected with the party of the Mountain,
and employed the Jacobins in almost every official depart¬
ment ; a circumstance which could scarcely fail to render
the government peculiarly obnoxious. It was feared that
a directory chosen by the Jacobins, and new legislators
appointed by the people, might one day be the means of
totally subverting the constitution; and the result show¬
ed that this apprehension was not groundless.
On the 10th of April a treaty of peace with the kingofTreaty of
Prussia was presented to the Convention, in order to bePeace.'vith
ratified. By virtue of this treaty, it was agreed that the1>ru8sia*
republican troops should be immediately withdrawn from
the territories of Prussia on the right bank of the Rhine,
but that the territories which France then possessed on
the left bank of that river should be retained till a gene¬
ral peace. A mutual exchange of prisoners of war was
agreed on, and the intercourse between the two countries
placed on its former footing. Measures were also adopt¬
ed to transfer the theatre of hostilities from the northern,
parts of Germany. The king of Sweden at the same time
acknowledged the French Republic, and his ambassador
was received at Paris with great solemnity. In the month
of May another treaty was concluded with Prussia, which
had a special reference to the line of neutrality. The
cantons of Switzerland followed the example of the king of
Sweden ; and on the 22d of July a treaty of peace was also
concluded at Basle, between the Republic and the court
of Spain, in consequence of which France gave up all the
conquests she had made in that country, and the original
frontier was restored; whilst, in return, the Republic re¬
ceived all the Spanish part of St Domingo. In this treaty
the Dutch Republic was included, and the mediation of
the king of Spain, in favour of Portugal and the Italian
princes, was accepted by France.
On the 9th of June, the dauphin, the heir to the throne Death of
of the unfortunate Louis XVL, and also his only son, died Louis
in the prison of the Temple, where he had been confined
with his sister since the death of his father. His death
interested the French nation so deeply in favour of his
family, that the Convention found it prudent to liberate
the princess. The Committee of Public Safety proposed
to the emperor to give her in exchange for the commis¬
sioners whom Dumouriez had sent as prisoners to the
Austrians, together with Semonville and another person,
who had been seized on their way to Turkey as envoys
extraordinary from the French Republic. This proposi¬
tion was agreed to, and the exchange took place in con¬
sequence, at Basle in Switzerland.
If Britain was unfortunate upon the Continent, she still Expedi-
retained her superiority on her own element. On thetionto
„ Quiberon.
98 FRA
History. 14th of March a fleet under Admiral Hotham engaged a
'—’'v-w French fleet, and took two sail of the line, the Ca Ira
1^95‘ and Censeur ; but this was nearly counterbalanced by the
loss of the Berwick and Illustrious. Three French ships of
the line were captured by Lord Bridport on the 23d of
June, in an attack on the enemy’s fleet off Port L’Orient;
the rest effected their escape. Britain having thus evin¬
ced her usual superiority by sea, advantage was taken of
this circumstance to send assistance to the royalists in
the western departments ; but unfortunately for them it
came too late. The Convention had offered them a treaty,
which was accepted and signed at Nantes on the 3d of
March, by deputies from the Convention on the one part,
and, on the other, by Charette, Sapineau, and the rest of
the chiefs of La Vendee, and by Cormartin, as represen¬
tatives of the party called Chouans. Stofflet also submit¬
ted to the Republic on the 20th of April. But the coun¬
tenance given by Britain to the royalists induced them to
disregard these treaties. The troops sent to their aid
were composed of emigrants in the pay of Great Britain,
and a number of prisoners who had agreed to join the
royal cause. Puisaye commanded this motley army, and
the Count de Sombreuil afterwards joined him with an
inconsiderable reinforcement. The expedition arrived in
the bay of Quiberon on the 25th of June, and arms were
put into the hands of the inhabitants of the country ; but
it was soon found that the latter could not be of much
advantage to regular troops. A resolution was therefore
adopted to withdraw the emigrant army within the penin¬
sula of Quiberon ; and the fort of the same name, with a
garrison consisting of about six hundred men, was taken
on the 3d of July, and occupied by the emigrants. But
all the posts without the peninsula were carried by an
army under General Hoche, the emigrants and Chouans
escaping in the boats of the British fleet, or flying for
protection under the cannon of the fort. The republi¬
cans then began to erect formidable works on the heights
of St Barbe, which commanded the entrance of the pe¬
ninsula. To prevent these operations, a sally was made
from the fort on the 7th, but without eftect; and another
in still greater force had no better success. The whole
forces in the peninsula, including Chouans, amounted to
about twelve thousand men, five thousand of whom were
sent to attack the heights of St Barbe. On this position
the republicans were intrenched in three camps, two of
which were taken without difficulty ; but as the emigrants
rushed forward to attack the third, a masked battery was
opened upon them with grape shot, which caused a dread¬
ful slaughter, and few of the emigrants would have effect¬
ed their escape, had not the fire of the British ships com¬
pelled the republicans to abandon the pursuit.
Failure of It was now evident what would be the fate of this ex-
the Quibe-pedition, and desertion amongst the emigrants became
ron expe- very frequent, especially those who had been liberated
dition. from prison on condition of serving against the Republic.
On the evening of the 20th, the weather was tempestu¬
ous, and this induced the emigrants to indulge in a fa¬
tal security. The troops of the Republic were conducted
in silence along an unguarded part of the shore, and sur¬
prised one of the posts, where they found the artillery¬
men asleep. They extinguished the lanthorn which was
intended to give the British fleet the alarm, and seized
on their matches. Some of the emigrants threw down
their arms and joined the republicans, whilst others main¬
tained an obstinate contest before they surrendered. The
Count de Sombreuil was taken and put to death, together
with the Bishop of Dol and his clergy ; none being spared
but such as pretended that their appearing in arms against
the republicans was purely owing to compulsion.
Conhnen- But it is time to return to the affairs of the Continent,
tal affairs. After a protracted siege Luxembourg surrendered on the
N C E.
7th of June, and put the French in possession of the whole Histoiy.
left bank of the Rhine, excepting Mayence, which the
Austrians could conveniently supply with every necessary M95.
from the opposite bank of the river. The republicans
therefore determined to cross the river, and to invest it
on every side ; but the attempt was delayed until the re¬
sult of the Quiberon expedition should be fully known. In
the month of August, the passage of the Rhine at Dus-
seldorf was effected by Jourdan, who had been appointed
commander-in-chief of the army of the Sambre and Meuse.
Flaving driven in the Austrian posts, he crossed the Maine,
and invested Mayence and Cassel; whilst Pichegru, hav¬
ing crossed the river near Manheim with the army of the
Rhine and Moselle, at the same time took possession of
that city. But a strong detachment of this army having
driven Wurmser from an important post, began to plun¬
der, and getting into confusion, the Austrians took prompt
advantage of the circumstance, returned to the charge,
and defeated the republicans. Jourdan was pursued by
Clairfayt as far as Dusseldorf, where he made a stand;
and Pichegru recrossed the Rhine near Manheim, leav¬
ing in that city a garrison of eight thousand men. But
after a vigorous siege it surrendered to the Austrians;
and the republicans were also driven from the vicinity of
Mayence, upon which an armistice of three months was
agreed to.
The Directory, however, still resolved to prosecute the Conduct of
war with vigour, and therefore, during the winter, made^he Direc-
great preparations for another campaign. But the Moun- 01T‘
tain party being again possessed of power, now began to
discover their restless and turbulent disposition; inca¬
pable of long submitting peaceably to any government,
they soon became disgusted with the Directory which they
themselves had established, and were continually disturb¬
ing the public tranquillity. After the 5th of October, the
people of Paris durst not openly avow their abhorrence
of the Jacobins ; but as it was understood that wearing
green cravats was a token of contempt for these parti¬
sans, this piece of dress was prohibited by the Directory,
on the pretence of its being a mark of attachment to roy¬
alty. Ashamed of this absurdity, however, they in a few
weeks recalled their edict, and the proscription of green
cravats ceased. In the south of France, the authority of
the Jacobins produced very serious effects. Freron, by
whom they had been abandoned after the death of Robes¬
pierre, rejoined them before the 5th of October, and was
sent with full administrative powers to Toulon, where he
dismissed the municipality which had been chosen by the
people, restored the Jacobin clubs, and caused to be im¬
prisoned every person whom he suspected. Alarmed at
the numerous complaints which were made from every
quarter against the conduct of these turbulent men, the
Directory resolved to obtain the confidence and affections
of the people by deserting them entirely. Freron was
recalled from Toulon, and moderate men replaced the Ja¬
cobins in most public employments. The Directory also
issued a public declaration that its confidence had been
abused. The minister of police was charged to remove
from Paris the members of former revolutionary tribunals,
and such as had been active leaders of the Jacobins ; and
ten thousand men, called the Legion of Police, who had
acted against the Parisians on the 5th of October, and
were decidedly favourable to the Jacobins, received orders
to join the armies on the frontiers. This induced the vio¬
lent Jacobins to concert a plan for the ruin of the Direc¬
tory and the majority of the councils, who had now aban¬
doned them. But their designs were discovered and com¬
pletely defeated. On the 10th of May the guards were
increased, and large bodies of cavalry were stationed
round the Luxembourg and Tuileries. The Council of
Five Hundred was informed by the Directory that a ter-
FRA
History, rible plot was ready to break forth on the ensuing morn-
ing' The consPir?tors> at the ringing of the morning bell,
7 • were to proceed in small parties of three or four, to the
houses of those persons whom they had singled out for
destruction; and having murdered these, they were then
to unite in one body against the Directory, whose guard
they conceived themselves able to overpower. Some of
the leaders of this conspiracy were arrested, amongst
whom was Drouet, postmaster of Varennes, who had stop¬
ped the unfortunate Louis on his way to the frontiers :
with ten others, he was condemned at Vendome, but he
subsequently contrived to make his escape. The defeats
which the Jacobins thus experienced, and the disgrace
into which they had fallen, determined the moderate party
in the two councils to attempt to procure the repeal of
the decrees of the Convention, which had granted them
an amnesty, and confirmed the laws against emigrants.
A number of days were occupied in the discussion of these
topics, but the moderate party gained nothing in favour of
the emigrants; and with respect to the Jacobins, all they
obtained was, that such of that party as had owed their
preservation to the amnesty, should be deemed incompe¬
tent to hold any public offices.
State of the Another matter of no less serious a nature now called
inances. for the attention of the republican government. This
was the deplorable state of the finances. Whilst the us¬
urpation of Robespierre continued, terror supported the
credit of the assignats, which, joined to the sale of the
church lands and the property of the emigrants, furnished
ample resources; but no provision was at all thought of
for future exigencies. If money was wanted, more as¬
signats were fabricated, and no inquiry was made con¬
cerning the public expenditure, as no taxes were demand¬
ed from the people. The Directory having complained
to the councils of the great distress under which they la¬
boured, and of the want of sufficient funds to meet the
unavoidable expenses of the ensuing campaign, a law was
passed on the 25th of March, giving authority to dispose
of the remainder of the church lands at the value former¬
ly fixed on them, namely, twenty-two years’ purchase. A
new paper cun ency, termed mandats, was also to be issued,
and to be received in payment; but government had now
lost all credit, and the mandats became rapidly depre¬
ciated in value, which increased the demand for national
property. To prevent this, the legislature decreed that
one fourth of every purchase should be paid in cash; a
provision which obstructed the sale of the national pro¬
perty, and increased the circulation of mandats,
rational During the preparations for the approaching campaign,
"2u;e . \he Directory attempted to render themselves popular at
[ “■home, by establishing, under the protection of government,
the French National Institute. Every man of science or
learning who had escaped the persecution of the Moun¬
tain party was invited to become a member; and it was
opened on the 4th of April, in the hall of the Louvre,
when the ambassadors of Spain, Prussia, Sweden, Den¬
mark, Holland, America, Tuscany, Genoa, and Geneva,
were present, and the members of the Directory attended
in their robes of state. The directorial president express¬
ed the determination of the executive government to af¬
ford every encouragement to the improvement of science,
literature, and the arts ; and the president of the Institute
replied that it was the determination of the members to
endeavour to give lustre to the republican government, by
the exercise of their talents, and by their publications.
The speeches were enthusiastically applauded by a multi¬
tude of spectators, and the general expectation was, that
h ranee would now enter upon a career of glory and pros¬
perity wholly unprecedented in her past history.
About this time an approach towards a negotiation with
France was made on the part of Great Britain, through
7 O
N C E. 9c
Mr Wickham, ambassador to the Swiss Cantons. On the History.
8th of March a note was communicated to M. Barthelemy,
ambassador of the French Republic, in which it was iii- 1796.
quned, whether France would be willing to send ministers ^,roPosa^
to a congress to negotiate peace with his Britannic majesty
and his allies ? whether she would be inclined to commu- Britain?
nicate the general grounds upon which she would be will¬
ing to conclude peace, that his majesty and his allies might
consider them in concert ? and, w hether she would desire
to communicate any other mode of accomplishing a peace ?
Any answer which might be returned was directed to be
transmitted to the British court; but it was at the same
time intimated that Mr Wickham had no authority to dis¬
cuss these subjects. On the 26th of the same month an
answer was returned by Barthelemy in name of the Direc¬
tory, complaining of the insincerity of the British court in
giving its ambassador no authority to negotiate, and stat¬
ing that the proposal of a congress rendered negotiation
endless. The Directory expressed their wish to obtain peace,
but declared that no portion of territory would be relin-
quished which, in virtue of the constitutional decree, form¬
ed part of the Republic. Fo this note no reply was made ;
but it was complained of to the foreign ministers resident
at the court of London, and considered as leaving Britain
no alternative but the prosecution of the war.
During the winter season the Directory found means to Royalists
reduce the western departments. The expedition fromin ble wesl
England had tempted the royalists once more to try their subduetl-
fortune in the field; but after a number of defeats, their
leaders, Charette and Stofllet, were apprehended and put
to death on the 29th of March; and this tended to sup¬
press the insurgents in every quarter. Domestic enemies
being thus subdued, the republican government was en¬
abled to make the most vigorous exertions on the fron¬
tiers. Their military force was divided into three armies :
the army of the Sambre and Meuse under Jourdan, princi¬
pally stationed about Dusseldorf and Coblentz ; the army
of the Rhine and Moselle, commanded by General Moreau,
stationed on the Upper Rhine, from Landau to Treves;
and the army of Italy, which occupied the Italian coast from
Nice towards Genoa, the command of which was now be¬
stowed on General Bonaparte, who had so greatly signaliz¬
ed himself on the 13th Vendemiaire.
The army of Italy, which had hitherto operated on the Bonaparte
flank of the Alps, was destitute of every thing, and scarce-assumes
ly thirty thousand strong; but it was full of courage and ^he corn-
patriotism, and by means of it Bonaparte commenced thatman(i of
brilliant career of victory which had nearly terminated in H10 arm^
the subjugation of all Europe. His plan was to debouch" Italy'
into Italy between the Alps and the Appennines, to turn
the former range, intersect the enemy’s line, and operate on
his flanks. He had before him the allied force, consisting
of ninety thousand men, placed in the centre under Ar<'en-
tau, on the left under Colli, and on the right under Beau¬
lieu ; but in a few days this immense force was dispersed by
prodigies of genius and of courage. On the 9th of April
the campaign was opened by General Beaulieu attacking
the post of Voltri, six leagues from Genoa; the republicans
defended themselves till the evening, when they retreated
to Savona. Next day Beaulieu renewed his attempts, and
penetrated to Montenotte, which was occupied by Colonel
Rampon, with fifteen hundred men. In a moment of en¬
thusiasm, their commander prevailed on them to swear that
they would never abandon their post; and they kept their
oath ; for, in spite of every effort that could be made on the
part of the enemy, they succeeded in arresting the pro¬
gress of the Austrian general during the remaining part of
the day. During the night the right wing of the French
army, under Laharpe, took up a position in rear of the re¬
doubt of Montenotte; whilst Bonaparte, Massena, Berthier,
and Salicetti, advanced by Altara, to take the enemy in
100 FRA
History, flank and rear. Powerful reinforcements were in the mean
time sent to Beaulieu, who, on the morning of the 11th,
HOG. again attacked the position of Montenotte; but the obsti¬
nate resistance of Laharpe, and the approach of Massena, at
length forced the Austrians and Sardinians to give way on
all sides ; two of the enemy’s generals were wounded, and
two thousand five hundred men became prisoners. The re¬
publicans pursued them beyond Cairo, which, on the fol¬
lowing day, fell into their hands.
Defiles of On the 13th April, General Augereau forced the defiles
Millesimo 0f Millesimo, and by a rapid movement surrounded General
torced. Provera at tbe head of fifteen hundred grenadiers; but
instead of surrendering, this brave officer forced his way
through the enemy, and intrenched himself in the ruins of
an old castle situated on the summit of the hill. Augereau
with his artillery endeavoured to dislodge him, but without
success ; he then arranged his troops in four columns, and
made an attempt to carry Provera’s intrenchments by storm,
which also proved unsuccessful. In this affair the French
had two generals killed, and Joubert was wounded. A divi¬
sion was now left to continue the blockade of Provera The
hostile armies continued in presence during the 14th. On
the following day the Austrians made an attack on the re¬
publican centre ; but Massena turned the left flank of their
left wing in the vicinity of Dego, whilst Laharpe turned
the right flank of the same wing; one column kept in check
the centre of the Austrians, another attacked the flank of
their left wing, and a third gained its rear. They were
completely defeated at all points, with the loss, besides
killed and wounded, of eight thousand prisoners. General
Provera also surrendered.
Deg° re- After his defeat at Millesimo, Beaulieu made a vigorous
taken. effort to change the fortune of war. With seven thousand
of his best troops he attacked Dego, where the republicans
after their success were indulging in security, and made
himself master of the village ; but the troops rallied under
Massena, who renewed the combat, and employed the great¬
er part of the day in his efforts to retake it. The repub¬
licans were thrice repulsed, but Bonaparte having arrived
in the evening with reinforcements, the village was retaken,
and fourteen hundred men were made prisoners. Bonaparte
had now accomplished his object of separating the Austrian
and Sardinian armies; for his right wing being secured
against the efforts of Beaulieu by the village of Dego, he was
enabled to act against the Piedmontese troops with the great¬
er part of his force. Augereau powerfully seconded his ex¬
ertions, and having opened a communication with the Fa-
naro, Serrurier was now approaching the town of Ceva, in
the vicinity of which the Piedmontese had an intrenched
camp with eight thousand men. The redoubts which co¬
vered this camp were, on the 16th, attacked by Augereau,
who carried the greater number of them, and thus forced
the Piedmontese, during the night, to evacuate Ceva, which
Serrurier entered in triumph on the morning of the 17th.
Count Colli repulsed Serrurier on the 20th ; but Bonaparte,
on the 22d, defeated the Sardinian general at Mondovi, and
there decided the fate of Piedmont. The beaten army en¬
deavoured to make a stand at Fossano, whilst its wings
rested on Coni and Cherasco; but on the 25th the latter
place was taken by Massena, Fossano by Serrurier, and
Alba by Augereau.
Armistice Previously to these movements, however, Count Colli had
with Sar- requested an armistice, which General Bonaparte granted,
dmia. on concption t]iat t}ie fortresses of Coni, Ceva, and Tortona
should be given up to him, with their magazines and ar¬
tillery, and that he should have permission to cross the Po
at Valentia. The armistice was signed on the 29th of April,
and a definitive treaty was concluded at Paris on the 17th
of May. The conditions, in as far as they concerned his
Sardinian majesty, were unquestionably humiliating. The
duchy of Savoy was given up to France, as were also the
N C E.
counties of Nice, Tende, and Breteuil; an amnesty was History,
granted to all his subjects who had been prosecuted for po-
litical opinions; and it was agreed that the French troops D96.
should have free access to Italy through his territory. His
Sardinian majesty also bound himself not to erect fortresses
on the side of France, to demolish those of La Brunette
and Suza, and to confess that his conduct to the last am¬
bassador of the Republic had been disrespectful.
In the mean time, the republican army advanced towards
the Po. Deceived respecting the article of the armistice
which stipulated permission to Bonaparte to pass the river
at Valentia, Beaulieu, concluding that the republican chief
seriously intended to cross at that place, made every pos¬
sible preparation to oppose him; whilst Bonaparte rapidly
penetrated into Lombardy, and on the 7th of May was
sixty miles down the river towards Piacenza before the
enemy had obtained information of his march. He passed
the river without difficulty. Six thousand infantry and two
thousand cavalry were dispatched by Beaulieu, when it
was too late, to oppose the passage of Bonaparte across the
river; but they were met and defeated on the following
day, near the village of Fiombio, whilst five thousand more
who had advanced to their assistance were repulsed by La¬
harpe. On the 9th an armistice was granted by General
Bonaparte to the Duke of Parma, on condition of paying two
millions of francs, and delivering ten thousand quintals of
wheat, five thousand quintals of oats, and two thousand
oxen, for the use of the army. The duke likewise con¬
sented to give up twenty of his best paintings, to be se¬
lected by the republicans.
Forced to abandon the Po, General Beaulieu crossed Victory
the Adda at Lodi, Pizzighettone, and Cremona, leavingat Lodi
some troops to defend the approaches to Lodi. On the
10th, the latter were attacked by the advanced guard of
the republicans, who drove them into the town, and pur¬
sued them so rapidly that they had not time to break down
the bridge on the Adda. The Austrians defended the pas¬
sage with thirty pieces of cannon, and the republican offi¬
cers, after holding a consultation, were of opinion that the
bridge could not be forced. Bonaparte, however, having
addressed his grenadiers, who declared themselves willing
to make the attempt, formed them in close column, and,
waiting a favourable moment, ordered them to advance.
Under cover of the smoke of the enemy’s artillery they
reached the middle of the bridge unobserved ; but the mo¬
ment they were perceived a tremendous fire of grape and
canister shot in a few seconds strewed the bridge with dead
bodies. The republican officers, including the general-in¬
chief, now flew to the head of the column, and, urging on
the troops, broke into the Austrian ranks, took the cannon,
and forced the enemy to fly in all directions.
All that seems to have been expected from the campaign
of Bonaparte in Italy was to induce the different princes
and states to abandon the coalition against France, which
every one of them had assisted, either with troops or with
money and provisions. But this youthful chief far surpass¬
ed all that even the most sanguine had anticipated. The
occupation of Alessandria, which opens the whole of Lom¬
bardy ; the demolition of the fortresses of Suza and La
Brunette on the side of France; the acquisition of the
county of Nice and of Savoy ; and the disengagement of
the other army of the Alps under Kellerman, which was
now rendered disposable; such were the fruits of a cam¬
paign of fifteen days, during which six victories had been
gained. The king of Sardinia was also detached from the
coalition against France, and so humbled and weakened
as to be no longer in a condition to occasion any uneasiness
to that country. Bonaparte likewise made himself master
of Ferrara, Bologna, and Urbino, and granted to his holi¬
ness and the Duke of Modena an armistice on the usual
terms of large contributions in money, as well as in paint-
FRANCE.
101
the French
in Genna-
ny-
History, ings and curiosities for the national gallery of France. Ter-
rifted by his march into the Roman States, the Neapolitan
1796. cabinet, in like manner, requested a peace ; and Bonaparte
agreed to an armistice without any of the humiliating con¬
ditions demanded from the other states of Italy. He next
proceeded to Leghorn, in order to drive out the English,
and confiscate their property; and thus finished the task
assigned him before the campaign on the Rhine had com¬
menced. Mantua, it is true, was still in possession of the
imperial troops ; but that fortress was in a state of siege,
and the rest of Italy had submitted to the French Republic.
Success of With a view to lessen the exertions of the republicans
in Italy, the contest was renewed in Germany. General
Jourdan was therefore instructed to denounce the armistice,
and renew hostilities on the 31st of May. Jourdan at this
time had to contend with General Wartensleben, whilst
the archduke put himself at the head of the army in the
Hundsruck to oppose Moreau on the Upper Rhine. The
commencement of the campaign on the part of the French
was distinguished by a singular stratagem, employed with
the view of drawing the whole of the Austrian forces to
the Lower Rhine, that an opportunity might thus be afford¬
ed General Moreau of suddenly entering Suabia, and car¬
rying the war into the hereditary dominions of Austria.
Jourdan began to make vigorous exertions, and Moreau re¬
mained inactive. On the 31st of May the lines of Dussel-
dorf were abandoned by the left wing of Jourdan’s army,
under the command of General Kleber, who defeated the
Austrians in his march towards the Sieg. Advancing with
his centre and right wing, Jourdan forced the Austrian posts
on the Nahe, effected the passage of the Rhine, blockaded
Ehrenbreitstein, and hastened forward as if he had intended
lo form the siege of Mayence. As these movements brought
the archduke into the perilous situation of having Moreau
in his front and Jourdan in his rear, he therefore crossed
the river in haste, leaving the fortresses of Mayence and
Manheim to retard the advance of Moreau, and attacked
the advanced guard of General Jourdan, which, after an
obstinate conflict, he forced to retire. Jourdan then with¬
drew to his former position, and Kleber on the 20th en¬
tered the lines of Dusseldorf.
But the archduke had no sooner withdrawn from the pa¬
latinate to force Jourdan down the Rhine, than Moreau
marched speedily towards Strasburg, so that the hostile
armies seemed to be receding from instead of approaching
each other. The passage of the river opposite to Kehl was
effected by Moreau on the 24th of June; an operation at¬
tended with considerable difficulty, owing to a sudden swell,
which prevented the Austrians being taken by surprise, as
appears to have been the original intention of the republi¬
can commander. The intrenchments on the islands occu¬
pied by troops were instantly carried at the point of the
bayonet, and two thousand six hundred republicans effected
a landing on the opposite bank, where they were exposed
to the Austrian cannon from the camp of Wilstedt, and also
to the fire of the fort. Still, however, they maintained their
ground, and even acted on the offensive, until the boats
returned with reinforcements, when the fort and redoubts
were carried by storm, and the Austrians retreated towards
Offenburg.
Austrians In consequence of the archduke’s departure to the Lower
Morea611 ^ RhinC in Pursuit of JourtIan> and the detachments sent to
au- Italy to check the victorious career of Bonaparte, Moreau
was in a condition to enter Suabia at the head of a supe¬
rior force. On the 26th of June he succeeded in compel¬
ling the Austrians to abandon their camp at Wilstedt, and
next day proceeded with his army in three columns against
another body of fifteen thousand men posted near Offen¬
burg. A strong detachment was sent to their assistance by
Wurmser, but the reinforcement was defeated on its march
by two republican columns, and Offenburg was evacuated
during the night. On the 2d of July a body of the French History,
under General Laroche seized on the loftiest point in the
ridge of mountains denominated the Black Forest; and 1796*
the Austrians were next day, after an obstinate resistance,
driven from the pass of Friedenstadt, by which their com¬
munication with the emigrants under the Prince of Conde
was entirely cut off. On the 8th the Austrians were at¬
tacked at Rastadt by the left wing of the republican army,
commanded by General Dessaix, and, after a most deter¬
mined resistance, obliged to retreat to Ettingen.
I he archduke now arrived writh his army on the Lower
Rhine, leaving Wartensleben to check the advance of Ge¬
neral Jourdan, who, as soon as he received information of
the archduke’s departure, resumed the offensive. Kleber,
as before, set out from the lines at Dusseldorf, whilst the
centre and right wing crossed the Rhine in the vicinity of
Coblentz. The French forced the posts of Ukareth and
Altenkirchen ; the whole army under Jourdan crossed the
Lahn on the 9th of July; and next day Wartensleben was
defeated with great slaughter, and the loss of five hundred
prisoners. On the 12th the republicans entered Franckfort.
I he two imperial armies were now at no great distance
from each other, being in fact in the centre between those
of Moreau and Jourdan. Had the archduke, therefore,
found it practicable to resist for a time one of these armies,
whilst he fell upon the other with the main body of his
army, it is not improbable that an end might thus have
been put to any further invasion of Germany. But the ac¬
tivity of the republican officers was not to be easily checked,
nor could their progress be arrested by any partial exertions.
His last resource, therefore, was to give battle to Moreau,
which he accordingly did; and the action was obstinately
contested on both sides. The French, in their endeavours
to force the heights of Rollensolhe, were four times re¬
pulsed ; but, after a terrible slaughter, they at length suc¬
ceeded in carrying the position at the point of the bayonet.
In consequence of the loss sustained at the battle of Et¬
tingen, the imperial armies retired eastward, the archduke
retreating through Suabia towards Ulm, where he had
magazines. At every position of any strength he made a
stand, in order, as much as possible, to obstruct General Mo¬
reau’s advance ; whilst Wartensleben, in his retreat through
Franconia, offered a similar opposition to Jourdan. The
archduke was forced by Moreau to cross the Neckar, and
afterwards the Danube, by which means the whole circle
of Suabia was in the rear of the republicans; and Whir-
tensleben was obliged to retreat through Aschaff’enburg,
Wartsburg, Schweinfurt, and to cross the Rednitz, in order
to avoid the army of Jourdan, which was pressing on his
rear. Jourdan continued his advance until his right wing,
commanded by General Bernadette, reached Neumarck,
and his advanced posts Teining ; and the main body of the
army having pursued Whirtensleben beyond the Nab, ar¬
rived at Amberg on the 22d of August.
The three republican armies under Moreau, Jourdan, Great
and Bonaparte, thus commanded an immense tract of coun- alarm in
try, extending from the frontiers of Bohemia to the shores G'erman^‘
of the Adriatic (excepting only a part of the mountains of
Tyrol), and caused unspeakable alarm throughout the whole
of Germany. The payment of four millions of francs pro¬
cured a peace for the Duke of Wirtemburg ; and the circle
of Suabia obtained it on condition of paying twelve mil¬
lions of livres, and delivering for the use of the army eight
thousand four hundred horses, five thousand oxen, a hun¬
dred thousand quintals of wheat, fifty thousand quintals of
rye, a hundred thousand sacks of oats, a hundred thou¬
sand pairs of shoes, and a large quantity of hay. Peace
was granted to the Margrave of Baden upon similar terms ;
and negotiations were also entered into by the Elector
of Bavaria and the circle of Franconia, each party offering
large sums in order to obtain it; and even the diet of Ra-
102
FRANCE.
Charles.
History, tisbon sent a deputation to the republican generals to treat
for a neutrality. About the same time Spain concluded
1796- a treaty offensive and defensive with France, and in con¬
sequence soon afterwards declared war against Great Bri¬
tain. Bonaparte was still detained in Italy; but had it
been in his power to traverse the Tyrol, and reach the
Danube, it is probable that the emperor of Germany would
have been obliged to accept peace upon any terms which
the conquerors thought proper to prescribe. But though
abandoned by every member of the coalition except Bri¬
tain, the pecuniary aid furnished by the latter enabled
the emperor to extricate himself from the dangers which
surrounded him ; with an almost unlimited command of
money, one army after another was raised to check the
career of Bonaparte in Italy, whilst his German armies
were recruited by extensive levies, and by mercenary
troops drawn from the states which had made peace with
France.
Able con- The Archduke Charles having received strong reinforce-
duct of the ments, came to the resolution of encountering Moreau at
Archduke Umersheim. A battle accordingly ensued, which lasted
seventeen hours, when one of the wings of the Austrian
army succeeded in gaining about four leagues of territory
in the rear of the republican army ; but as the archduke
had received information that Wartensleben was unable to
maintain his ground against Jourdan, he deemed it pru¬
dent to retreat, and adopt new measures. On the 17th
of August he left General Latour to keep Moreau in check,
and crossing the Danube at Ingolstadt, marched to the re¬
lief of General Wartensleben, determined with their unit¬
ed forces to fall upon Jourdan. On the 23d he attacked
Bernadotte at Teining, and compelled him to retreat to¬
wards Nuremberg. The archduke having thus placed
himself on Jourdan’s right, whilst Wartensleben menaced
him in front, the French general was forced to fall back,
which he did accordingly on the 24th. The state of the
French finances at the beginning of this campaign was
such that the armies of Jourdan and Moreau were under
the necessity of making the war support itself, or, in other
words, supplying their immediate wants by means of re¬
quisitions. This was particularly the case with Jourdan’s
army, which, when it commenced its retreat, suffered
nearly as much from the exasperated inhabitants as from
the pursuing enemy. The archduke and Wartensleben
having effected a junction of their forces, the former was
enabled to detach General Nauendorf with reinforcements
to Latour, in order to keep Moreau in check, whilst he
continued his pursuit of Jourdan towards Wurtzburg.
Here the French made a stand on the 3d of September,
and a severe engagement ensued, in which Jourdan was
defeated with great loss, and obliged to continue his re¬
treat during the night. Having crossed the Lahn, he made
a feeble resistance, and marched along the banks of the
Rhine, till his army on the 17th arrived at Coblentz and
Dusseldorf, the points from which it had formerly taken
its departure.
The army of Moreau was now in a situation of extreme
peril; yet he maintained his position till the 17th of Sep¬
tember, the day upon which Jourdan reached Dusseldorf.
But he obviously wavered as to his future movements,
and indeed seemed completely at a loss what course to
pursue. He made an unsuccessful attempt to arrest the
archduke in his pursuit of Jourdan, and frequently attack¬
ed, but without effect; on whatever side he moved, the
Austrian generals gave way before him. But finding that
the retreat of Jourdan was irretrievable, and that Bonaparte
was still detained in Italy, he finally resolved to retire.
1796.
To prepare for this arduous undertaking, he had crossed History,
the Lech, which he suddenly repassed as if fully deter¬
mined to penetrate further into Austria, and thus com¬
pelled Latour to fall back on Lansberg. Having thus ob¬
tained a free passage, he commenced his memorable re¬
treat, passing between the Danube at Ulm and the Lake
of Constance, whilst Latour continued pressing upon his
The defiles of the Black Forest were occupied by
Moreau’s
situation
and re¬
treat.
rear.
numerous bodies of Austrians and armed peasantry, whilst
his right flank was harassed by Nauendorf and Petrasch
at the head of twenty-four thousand men. To disengage
himself he once more turned upon Latour with terrible
impetuosity, defeated him, and took five thousand prison¬
ers. He then continued his retreat, checking Nauendorf
and Petrasch with the right wing of his army under Ge¬
neral Dessaix, whilst the remainder cleared the passages
in front, till he reached the Valley of Hell. This pass,
which is a narrow defile extending some leagues between
lofty mountains, and in particular places not more than a
few fathoms broad, he forced with the centre of his army
in a mass, whilst the wings opposed the enemy under
Nauendorf and Latour ; and after incredible efforts he ar¬
rived at Fribourg on the 13th of October. The archduke
having discontinued the pursuit of Jourdan, now arrived,
forced Moreau to abandon all his positions on the Suabian
side of the Rhine, excepting the forts of Kehl, and a tete-
de-pont at Hunningen. This memorable retreat has been
severely censured by Napoleon in his Memoires, dictated
at St Helena; but apparently without sufficient reason.
His dislike of Moreau seems to have biassed his judgment,
and sharpened the edge of his criticism.
As the French frontier was at this time in a defence¬
less state, the imperial forces took advantage of the cir¬
cumstance to cross the Rhine at Manheim, and march in
different detachments to Weissenberg, Seitz, and Hage-
nau, almost to the gates of Strasburg, levying contributions
and demanding hostages wherever they went. When these
detachments were recalled, the archduke formed the re¬
solution of terminating the campaign by the reduction of
Kehl and the fortification at Hunningen; but this he found
no easy task. Much of the winter was spent by the Aus¬
trians in endeavouring to reduce these places; but the
French at length agreed to evacuate Kehl on the 10th of
January, and the fortification at Hunningen was surren¬
dered in the month of February.
But although the republicans had experienced consi- Bonaparte
derable reverses of fortune in Germany, yet Bonaparte con victorious
tinned to be victorious in Italy. Having laid the whole of’11 Italy,
that country under contribution, he had the means of pre¬
serving a vigorous and steady discipline over a well-paid
army. The great secret of his tactics consisted in keeping
his army always in hand, advancing with the utmost rapidi¬
ty, and operating in masses on the decisive point; a system
which could scarcely fail to succeed against that of cordons,
to which it was opposed.1 The style, too, in which he ad¬
dressed his army before any great action, was well calcu¬
lated to inspire them with enthusiasm. He knew the sol¬
dier, and possessed the invaluable art of awakening in his
mind all those feelings which prompt to the performance
of daring actions. His address to the army on entering
Lombardy is a masterpiece of its kind. “ Soldiers,” said
he, “ you have rushed like a torrent from the summit of
the Appennines, you have driven back and dispersed all
who opposed your march. Your fathers, your mothers,
your wives, your sisters, your mistresses, rejoice in your
success, and boast with pride of being related to you. But
remains there nothing more for you to effect ? Shall
1 Napoleon, when asked what he considered as the most important rule or maxim in the art of war, replied, “ Faire douzt lieues
par jour, combattre, et cantonner ensuite en repos.”
FRANCE.
1796.
Siege of
Mantua.
H’stciry.^ posteiity reproach us with having found a Capua in Lom-
baidy? But I already see you rushing to arms; an un¬
manly repose fatigues you, and the days lost to glory are
lost to your felicity. But let the people be tranquil ; we
are the friends of all nations, and more particularly of the
descendants of the Brutuses, the Scipios, and the illustri¬
ous personages whom we have chosen as models. To re-
stoie the capitol, to replace with honour the statues of
the heroes who rendered it renowned, and to rouse the
Roman people, become torpid by so many ages of slavery,
such will be the fruit of your victories; they will form an
epoch to posterity, and you will have the immortal glory
of renovating the fairest portion of Europe. The French
nation, free and respected by all the world, will give to
Europe a glorious peace. You will then return to your
homes, and your fellow-citizens, who, when pointing to you,
will say, ‘ He was of the army of Italv.’ ”
During the early part of the month of July Bonaparte
was occupied in commencing the siege of Mantua, a place
of which he expected to become master towards the end
of the month. In this, however, he miscalculated. Aided
by Britain, Austria made great efforts, and poured rein-
foi cements from all points into Italy. Twenty thousand
tioops were sent from the Rhine; large masses arrived
fiom other quarters; and Italy had once more to be con¬
quered. Bonaparte wTas therefore obliged to raise the
siege, in order to make head against fresh masses descend¬
ing from the Tyrol to dispute the possession of Italy with
the youthful conqueror. On the 29th of July Massena
was attacked and driven from his post at La Corona,
whilst fifteen thousand Austrians forced the republicans
to retire, first from Salo, and next from Brescia, with the
loss of all the stores and magazines belonging to the army.
1 he imperial troops, however, committed a fatal blunder
in dividing into two columns, separated by physical obsta-
cles, an army which, united, would have been more than
a match for the enemy, and thus exposing themselves to
be beaten in detail. Of this error the republican chief
was fully awrare, and did not fail to take advantage of it.
He unexpectedly raised the siege of Mantua, and leaving
only a small body of troops to keep the Austrians in check,
marched rapidly westward, and on the 1st of August retook
Brescia, with all the magazines and hospitals. Carrying
the mass of his army along with him, he exceeded his
enemies in numbers wherever he attacked them. Having
foimed a large body of his troops into close columns, he
awaited the Austrians, who, as yet unacquainted with the
new tactics, extended their line with the view of surround¬
ing him. The result was such as might easily have been
foreseen. He penetrated their line in all directions, threw
them into the utmost confusion, made four thousand pri¬
soners, and took twenty pieces of cannon. A division of
the Austrians finding Salo in possession of the republicans,
wandered about in quest of a road by which to make their
escape, and, believing that the bulk of the French army
had marched in search of Wurmser to give him battle,
summoned Lonato to surrender. Their^ belief was w'ell
founded, but Bonaparte was still in Lonato, though with
no more than twelve hundred men. His situation w-as no
doubt critical, but, with great presence of mind, he threa¬
tened to destroy the whole division, for daring to insult
the French army, by summoning its commander-in-chief
to surrender. Persuaded that the whole army was in the
place, the Austrians abandoned all idea of resistance ; and
by this admirable acting on the part of Bonaparte,’four
thousand men were induced to lay down their arms.
°n the 5tl? and 6th Wurmser was attacked by Bona-
r- parte, and driven from Peschiera and the line of the Min-
cio. But on the 7th the Austrians were obliged to aban¬
don Verona, and again to betake themselves to the moun¬
tains of Tyrol; losing in a contest of a few days upwards of
103
defeat of
twenty thousand men, three fourths of whom were prison- History,
ers. The siege of Mantua was again undertaken by the
French ; but as their works had been destroyed by the H96.
enemy in their absence, and the cannon which they had
left behind taken into the city, the French could not un¬
dertake a regular siege ; and by the beginning of Septem¬
ber Wurmser wras in a condition to attempt the relief of
the place. Informed of his approach, Bonaparte left a di¬
vision to maintain the blockade of Mantua ; and, directing
his march northward with the main body of his army,
drove the Austrians from Santo Marco and Roveredo to
the pass of Galliano. Here however they made a stand,
and an engagement ensued, in which the Austrians were
defeated with the loss of six thousand prisoners, upon
which the French entered Trent in triumph. But instead
of i etiring, \\ urmser threw himsell into Bassano, upon the
flank and rear of Bonaparte, and then marched with great
rapidity towards Mantua. He endeavoured to make a
stand at Bassano, but was defeated with the loss of five
thousand prisoners. He then crossed the Adige at Porto
Legnago, and entered Mantua with no more than eight
thousand five hundred men, infantry and cavalry. The
loss which Wurmser had sustained was great beyond ex¬
ample, but still it had the effect of detaining Bonaparte
in Italy to watch the numerous garrison of Mantua. He
expected that, owing to its numbers, famine would soon
reduce it to the necessity of capitulating; but the flesh of
more than four thousand horses, which Wurmser carried
into the place, afforded the troops subsistence for a consi¬
derable time, and enabled the gallant veteran to signalize
himself by as brave a defence as any on record.
The emperor now endeavoured to relieve Mantua, by Battle of
sending another army into Italy under the command of Arcolo.
General Alvinzi. But having crossed the Piava, Aivinzi
was met by the republicans, and compelled to repass that
river. Davidovich, however, having with his division
driven the French down the Adige towards Verona, Bona¬
parte found it necessary to concentrate his forces. Leav¬
ing General Vaubois to keep Davidovich in check, he there¬
fore marched in person against General Alvinzi, and came
up with the Austrians in position at the village of Arcole.
But as the village could not be speedily turned, on ac¬
count of a canal, the French were obliged to attempt the
passage of a narrow bridge under the fire of the whole
Austrian army. Their officers rushed to the head of the
column, and in vain endeavoured to urge the troops to
advance. Augereau rushed to the end of the bridge with
a standard, but he was followed by no one. At length
the general-in-chief hastened to the bridge, and exclaim¬
ed, “ Grenadiers, follow your general;” the soldiers fol¬
lowed till within thirty yards of the bridge, when they
became intimidated by the tremendous fire of the Aus¬
trians, and Bonaparte judged it prudent to withdraw the
troops. In the evening General Guieux carried the vil¬
lage at the head of two thousand men, but the Austrians
again recovered possession of it. On the 16th of Novem¬
ber a desperate engagement took place in the vicinity of
Arcole ; but next day the Austrians, whilst pressing on
the centre of the republican army, were unexpectedly
taken in flank by the left wing of the French army, which
was lying in ambuscade. Bonaparte having sent into
their rear a party of horse with twenty-five trumpeters,
the Austrians concluded from the noise that they were
surrounded, and fled in all directions in the utmost con¬
fusion. Having driven Alvinzi across the Brenta, Bona¬
parte resumed the positions of Rivoli and La Corona,
and Davidovich was driven back into Tyrol. Wurmser
still defended Mantua, which held out during the remain¬
der of the year; but with these operations the campaign
in Italy terminated.
Whilst such was the fortune of the field of battle, Great
104 FRANCE.
History. Britain made an attempt to negotiate with France. Pass- Mantua, whilst powerful effoits were making to reinfoice History,
v——. ports were obtained from the Directory, and Lord Malmes- the army of Alvinzi. The youth of Vienna were request-
179(>. bury set out as ambassador to Paris. He commenced ed to lend their assistance, and six thousand of them vo-
Negotia- negotiations with Lacroix, the minister for foreign affairs ; lunteered their services for Italy. By these and other
tioiis be- but bis lordship soon discovered, or fancied he discovered, means Alvinzi’s army was augmented until it became fifty
Britain and that the Directory had no serious intention of concluding thousand strong ; and with this force he menaced the re-
France. a peace with Britain. As individuals, the British minis- publicans in all directions, in order to conceal from them
try did not approve of a peace at this time, yet officially the plan of his future operations. Bonaparte was at Bo-
they considered it as prudent to treat; that is, they sought logna, to prevent the escape of Wurmser in that direction,
from policy, what they had no desire, either from interest when, receiving information of the approach of the Aus-
or inclination, to obtain. It was proposed by Lord Malmes- trian army, he hastened to Mantua, and thence proceed-
bury, that the principle of mutual restitution should be ed to Verona, where the centre of his line had already
agreed upon as the basis of the treaty; but the Directory come to blows with the Austrians; but as they continued
desired that specifications should be made. Lord Malmes- to attack on all points at once, he was as yet unable to
bury therefore proposed that the French should give up the penetrate the design of Alvinzi. On the 13th of January,
Austrian Netherlands, in return for which Britain, he said, however, the movements of the enemy became more seri-
would consent to give up the foreign settlements belong- ous upon the lower part of his line, near Porto Legnago;
ing to the Republic which had been taken during the war. but having been informed in the evening that the upper
Many of the Dutch possessions abroad would also be extremity under Joubert had been attacked by greatly
relinquished, on condition that the authority of the stadt- superior numbers, he concluded that the Austrians were
holder was acknowledged. His lordship was next requir- there in greatest force. Notwithstanding all the lessons
ed to give in the ultimatum of his government in twenty- they had already received, the Austrians still persisted in
four hours ; and when he complained of this demand, he dividing their army; experience had not yet taught them
was informed, on the 19th of December, that the Direc- to correct an error which was soon to entail the same
tory would agree to no conditions repugnant to the French destruction on this as on former armies. len thousand
constitution, and that his further residence was unneces- troops, including the Vienna volunteers, received orders
sary. During this year Great Britain maintained her ac- to proceed to Mantua by Porto Legnago, whilst Alvinzi
customed superiority on the ocean. On the 16th of Sep- in person advanced against Joubert, who was forced to
tember 1795 the Cape of Good Hope was taken by Ad- retreat, and in fact reduced to such a situation that the
miral Elphinstone ; but as the Dutch were extremely anxi- capture of his whole division on the following day (the
ous to recover this settlement, they advanced money to 14th) seemed highly probable.
the French to enable them to fit out a squadron destined Bonaparte having received information as to the real Defeat of
to co-operate in an attempt to reduce it. Seven ships of state of affairs, left Verona on the 13th, having ordered the Aus-
the line were accordingly sent out for this purpose, under Massena to follow him with the centre to Rivoli as ffist rians*
the command of Admiral Lucas; but the latter having as possible. On the 14th, at the break of day, the divi-
been caught between two fires, found it impossible to sion of Joubert attacked the Austrians, a circumstance
escape, and therefore surrendered to the British admiral which much surprised them, ignorant as they were that
without firing a gun. Bonaparte had arrived with reinforcements. But the
Unsuccess- But although Britain maintained her superiority by sea, superior numbers of the Austrians baffled all the endea-
ful attempt yet an invasion of Ireland was attempted by the French vours of the French troops to turn their divisions; and the
on Ireland. jn the end of 1796 ; but as folly seemed to have concert- two wings of the republican army were forced back upon
ed the scheme, it consequently proved abortive. Ihe the centre in considerable confusion. Alvinzi encounter-
command was intrusted to General Hoche, without any ed the centre, which with difficulty maintained its ground ;
second in command to take his place in the event of acci- and the Austrian wings advancing on both sides, entiiely
dent. The disaffected party in Ireland had received no surrounded the French. The victory seemed already
information of the approach of the expedition, and the fleet won, and it is even reported that Alvinzi had sent a cou-
was sent towards a part of the country where the people rier to Vienna to announce the approaching capture of
were not much disposed to receive them. In this expedition Bonaparte and his army. But the tide was already at the
eighteen sail of the line, thirteen frigates, twelve sloops, turn. Forming his troops in three strong columns, Bona-
and transports with twenty-five thousand men, were em- parte led them against the right wing of the Austiians,
ployed; but it was detained for some time when ready which they penetrated at various points, and foiced to fly
for sailing, in consequence of a mutiny. Hoche set sail on in such confusion that four thousand Austrians laid down
the 10th of December, but in working out of Brest a ship their arms to a party of republicans which had not arnv-
of the line was lost, and some others were considerably ed in time to join the army, and surrendered themselves
damaged. The frigate which had on board the command- prisoners of war. Bonaparte, perceiving that this part of
er-in-chief was separated from the fleet in a gale of wind, his line was no longer in danger, left Joubert to prosecute
and when the latter arrived at Bantry Bay, it found itself the victory, and proceeded to oppose the march of Pro-
without instructions. The officers and troops desired to vera. A detachment under General Murat having conti-
disembark, but Admiral Bouvet refused to comply with nued their march during the whole night of the 14th, seiz-
their wishes. After remaining for some days on the coast, ed on Montebaldo in the rear of the position at La Corona,
he sailed for France, and on the 31st reached Brest with to which part of the Austrians retreated; and on the fol-
part of the fleet. General Hoche reached Bantry Bay lowing morning Joubert attacked them in front. Thus
when it was too late, and consequently could not land, surrounded, they were thrown into confusion, six thou-
One ship of the line and two frigates foundered at sea, a sand were taken prisoners, and numbers perished in at-
frigate was captured by the British, and a ship of the line tempting to cross the Adige.
was run ashore to prevent her being taken. During this bloody conflict on the upper part of tlm
Advan- In the beginning of the year 1797 the Archduke Charles Adige, Provera forced his passage across the lower part of
tages gain- was still employed in endeavouring to reduce Kehl and the river, near Porto Legnago, and obliged the republican
ed by the tj)e fortifications opposite to Hunningen. Moreau con- general Guieux to retreat towards Ronco. But as Pro-
Austnans. tjnue(j j-,^ 0pponent. Hoche succeeded Jourdan on the vera was marching rapidly to Mantua, Augereau came up
Rhine, and Bonaparte was still occupied with the siege of with his rear, and made two thousand prisoners ; notwith-
FRANCE.
History, standing which the Austrian general on the 15th reached
t^le neighbourhood of that city, which was blockaded at
iJi‘ St George and La Favourite. The Austrian general sum¬
moned the republican commander to surrender; but the
latter having refused to comply, Provera endeavoured,
without success, to carry it by assault. He next made an
attack upon La Favourite, and was seconded by Wurm-
ser with the troops in the garrison, who had observed
his arrival; but as Bonaparte had by this time arrived
with reinforcements, Wurmserwas defeated, and Provera
being surrounded by the French, surrendered both himself
and his troops as prisoners of war. In consequence of
these engagements at Rivoli and Mantua, the Austrians
lost twenty-three thousand prisoners and sixty pieces of
cannon. The surrender of Mantua had now become in¬
evitable, and in fact it capitulated from famine on the 2d
of February. That the French emigrants might escape,
Bonaparte allowed Wurmserto select and take out of the
garrison seven hundred men, who were not to be examin¬
ed nor viewed as prisoners of war; and the general him¬
self was permitted to depart unconditionally.
i he pope’s The most active and vigorous preparations were now
uaTSUb" ma^inS both by the emperor and the French to recommence
the contest on the German frontiers; and it was therefore
of importance that Bonaparte should leave Italy in his
rear in a state of tranquillity. On the 1st of February he
sent General Victor with the legion of Lombardy to enter
the papal territories ; and after the surrender of Mantua,
he himself followed in person. The Lombard legion,
after storming the position occupied by the papal troops,
made a thousand of them prisoners, and took all their can¬
non. General Colli had carried away most of the trea¬
sure from the chapel at Loretto; but the republicans still
found articles of gold and silver worth a million of livres,
and the image of the virgin was sent to Paris as a curiosi¬
ty. At Tolentino the republican chief was met by a mes¬
senger from his holiness, with overtures of peace; and
on the 19th a treaty was concluded, by which the pope pro¬
mised to pay fifteen millions of livres, and to deliver eight
hundred cavalry horses, with an equal number of draught
horses and oxen. He also agreed to pay three hundred
thousand livres to the family of the French ambassador
Basseville, whom the rabble had murdered at Rome, and
to make an apology through his minister at Paris for that
outrage against the law of nations and of humanity,
einforce- The Frencn having proved unfortunate in their inva-
ents sent sion of Germany through Suabia and Franconia, now de-
rte°na" termine(i t0 make their principal attempt from Italy under
the command of General Bonaparte. Considerable bodies
of troops were therefore detached by the Directory from
the divisions which had served under Moreau, and sent
as secretly as possible towards Italy by the way of Sa¬
voy. The impending danger was however perceived by ihe
court of Vienna, which accordingly conferred the command
on the side of Italy on the Archduke Charles, the only
Austrian general who had hitherto been successful against
the republicans. The war was now about to be carried
into territories where a foe had scarcely ever been seen
by the house of Austria. It was necessary that Bona-
parte should once more force his way across the Alps;
that he should carry the war into that immense chain of
mountains which, rising in the neighbourhood of Toulon
and stretching northward, obtains the names of Pied¬
mont and Savoy, and which, taking an easterly direction,
forms the countries of Tyrol, Carinthia, and Carniola,
and on the side of the Adriatic constitutes the frontier
of the hereditary states of Austria. As to the fertile and
level tract which belonged to Venice, it is situated be¬
tween the mountains and the sea, and is crossed by many
streams, which are increased by the melting of the Al¬
pine snows, and the peculiar characteristic of which is, that
VOL. x.
they are greatest in summer and least in winter. But
the archduke, instead of being ordered to make a stand
in the defiles of the mountains, was sent into the plain to
guard the passages of the rivers ; a blunder which entered
into the whole plan of defence adopted by the council of
war at Vienna.
Whilst Bonaparte advanced into the territories of the
pope, the Austrian army was assembling on the eastern
bank of the Piava. The republicans were on the opposite
side of the river, and Bonaparte, after quitting the papal
territories, hastened to join them. Having effected the
passage of the Piava on the 12th of March, the Austrians
retired, skirmishing for some days, till they crossed the
lagliamento, where they halted and concentrated their
w hole force. On the 17th the republican army reached
\alvesone, on the opposite bank of the river, and after
some hesitation determined to force the passage. The
stream had been diminished by the frost, and though the
banks were high, the operation seemed practicable. After
some sharp fighting, the French accordingly crossed the
river in columns at different points. Joubert, with the
left wing, then received orders to pass along the valley of
the Drave, beyond the highest chain of the Noric Alps;
Massena, at the head of the centre division, entered the
defiles of these mountains; and the right division, com¬
manded by Bonaparte, marched along the coast of the
Adriatic. On the 19th the town of Gradisca, situated
on the river Isonzo, surrendered to the right wing of the
army; and its garrison, consisting of three thousand men,
were made prisoners of war. On the 2ist the same divi¬
sion entered Goritz, where it found the principal maga¬
zines and hospitals belonging to the Austrians. Trieste
was taken on the 23d, and quicksilver, worth two millions
of livres, was sent off by the French from the mines of
Idria. On the 24th a large body of Austrians was kept
in check by Massena and part of the right wing under
General Guieux; but having procured reinforcements
from the archduke, they engaged the French next day,
and were defeated with the loss of five thousand prisoners
and from three to four hundred baggage waggons. Equal
success attended the left wing under Joubert, Baraguay-
d’Hilliers, and Delmas. Four thousand prisoners were
taken on the banks of the Lavis, and the enemy was de¬
feated at Clauzen with the loss of fifteen hundred men.
This division then directed its march eastward, along the
valley of the Drave towards Clagenfurt, the metropolis of
Carinthia, where it was met by General Massena, who
had obliged the archduke to evacuate his head-quarters,
and to fall back in order to cover the capital of the em¬
pire, which was now seriously threatened. Thus in fifteen
days General Bonaparte had effected the passage of the
Alps, taken twenty thousand prisoners, and arrived with¬
in twenty-four leagues of Vienna, which was thus com¬
pletely exposed. Yet his own situation was not free from
danger. The rapidity of his advance had rendered it im¬
possible to take the necessary measures for protecting his
line of communications; a hostile population hung upon
his rear; a continued success could alone enable him to
maintain his advanced positions, and the slightest reverse
might lead to ruinous consequences. Bonaparte, there¬
fore, prudently embraced the present moment of unpre¬
cedented success to make overtures of peace. On the 31st
of March he wrote to the archduke, deprecating the conti¬
nuance of the war, and entreating him to use his influence
for putting a period to its ravages. But the prince re¬
plied evasively, that it did not belong to him to investi¬
gate the principles on which the war was carried on, and
that he had no power to negotiate.
In the mean while the Austrians raised the peasantry
of the Tyrol to harass the rear of the French army, and
in consequence gained some advantages under Laudohn,
105
History.
1707-
Progress
of Bona¬
parte's
army.
History, who drove back the republican troops which had been
left at Botzen and Brixen. The people of the Venetian
states also rose against the troops which had been left
amongst them, and, with the assistance of ten Sclavonian
regiments, murdered every Frenchman they could find,
not sparing even the sick in the hospitals, of whom five
hundred were massacred at Verona. The Austrians now
attempted to surround the invading army ; but Bonaparte
knew that the embarrassment of the court of Vienna was
at least equal to his own. He was at the head of a body
of men hitherto irresistible ; and to surround his army
was not to vanquish it. For these reasons he continued
his advance, and on the 2d of April, after a bloody con¬
flict, forced the strong defiles between Freisach and Neu-
marck, making six hundred prisoners. On the 4th his
advanced guard reached Hunsmarck, where they again
defeated the Austrians. The cabinet of Vienna, finding
that there was now no place where the army of the arch¬
duke could make a stand, till it reached the mountains in
the vicinity of the capital, thought it high time to treat for
peace. With this view, therefore, Bellegarde and Mor-
veldt requested a suspension of hostilities, to which the
French commander consented, on condition of obtaining
possession of Gratz and Leoben, about fifty miles from
Vienna. This was on the 7th of April, but the armistice,
which would have expired on tile 13th, was afterwards
renewed for a longer period. On the 19th a preliminary
treaty was signed, by which the French were to retain the
Austrian Netherlands, and the whole of Lombardy, now
called the Cisalpine Republic, comprehending the Mila¬
nese, Mantua, Modena, Ferrara, and Bologna. Bonaparte
consented to return to Italy, on condition that his army
should be supplied with provisions during its march; and
all further disputes were to be settled by a definitive
treaty of peace. The overthrow of the Venetian govern¬
ment, which had so long been in a state of helpless de¬
crepitude, speedily followed the signature of the prelimi¬
nary treaty of Leoben. Bonaparte had for some time
meditated the dismemberment of the Venetian states, and
a pretext was now afforded him for carrying this design
into execution by the insurrection and massacre above
adverted to. He saw his advantage, and promptly seized
it; announced that the hour of Venice was now come ; de¬
clared war against the unfortunate city of the sea ; brought
up cannon to the edge of the lagoons ; and by menaces of
retaliation compelled the senate and the doge to pass a de¬
cree dissolving their ancient constitution, and establishing
a kind of municipal democracy in its stead.
Peace he- During the approach of Bonaparte towards Vienna, the
tween republican armies on the Rhine wrere pressing hard on the
trance Austrians, to prevent their sending reinforcements to the
tria. archduke. An armistice was offered by the Austrians,
but as the French required Ehrenbreitstein as a guaran¬
tee, both parties resolved to prosecute the war. Ihe left
wing of the army of General Hoche marched from Dus-
seldorf, whilst the centre and right wing crossed the Rhine
near Coblentz. On the 18th of April a fierce contest took
place between the hostile armies near the Lahn, in which
the Austrians were beaten with the loss of four thousand
prisoners. General Moreau having forced the passage of
the Upper Rhine near Strasburg, attacked and carried
the village of Diersheim ; and next day the conflict was
renewed with such vigour on the part of the republicans,
that the fort of Kehl was taken, and five thousand Aus¬
trians were made prisoners. The French then advanced,
and the Austrians were retiring towards the Danube,
when all military operations were suspended, in conse¬
quence of intelligence received from the archduke and
Bonaparte, that peace had been concluded. On the arri¬
val of this intelligence, the army of General Hoche was
making an attack upon Franckfort-on-the-Maine, which
General Warneeht was employing every effort to defend. History.
Both armies received the news about the same time, upon
which the troops threw down their arms, and congratulat- U97.
ed each other on the happy event.
A contest of a serious nature was now fast approaching changes in
between the legislative and executive branches of thetheDirec-
French government. The time had arrived when a third tory; state
part of the legislative body was to be changed. On the Parties-
19th of May Letourneur went out of the Directory by lot;
on the 20th the new third took their seats ; and on the
21st Barthelemy was chosen a member of the Directory
in the room of Letourneur. Pichegru, Jourdan, and Wil-
lot, were amongst the members of the new third, so that
a decided majority of both councils was of the moderate
party ; and two members of the Directory, Carnot and
Barthelemy, were understood to be men of the same de¬
scription. The old conventionalists, therefore, employed
every means which seemed calculated either to render the
Mountain party odious, or to embarrass the Directory. On
the 14th of June Gilbert Desmolieres brought up a report
from a committee on the state of the finances, in which
he inveighed against the prodigality of the Directory, and
censured in the strongest language the conduct of its
agents. On the 18th the same committee proposed a new
plan of finance, which went to deprive the Directory of
the administration of the public money. On the preced¬
ing day Camille Jourdan had presented a report of great
length on the subject of religion, in which he insisted on
the impropriety of forbidding its ceremonies to be publicly
displayed, and the iniquitous nature of that persecution
which its ministers had suffered because they could not
take the oaths prescribed by the legislature. On the 15th
of July the Council of Five Hundred decreed that all the
laws against refractory priests should be repealed ; and
on the following day a decree, requiring from them an oath
of fidelity to the constitution, was carried by a majority
of no more than six members'. Emery, a new member,
proposed the repeal of the laws by which the property of
emigrants had been confiscated and their relations de¬
clared incompetent to succeed them. The discussion
which these topics underwent made the Directory and
the Councils professed enemies to each other. The Coun¬
cils wished the Director}' to be changed before the expi¬
ration of the legal time, and the Directory desired to de¬
prive of their seats many new members who had been
elected by the people. As Barras was upon the whole
the most obnoxious member of the Directory, an effort
was made to deprive him of his seat, on the pretence that
he was less than the legal age of forty ; but his colleagues
maintained that he had been born in the year 1755, and
no proof of the contrary could be produced. Still the
Directory did not want a number of adherents. The re¬
solution of the Councils in favour of the priests had the
appearance of a counter revolution, which induced the
royalists to resume courage, and journals were rapidly
published in defence of their cause. On the 20th of July
the Councils received information that a division of the
army under Hoche was within a few leagues of Paris;
whilst the constitution declared that the Directory incur¬
red the penalty of ten years imprisonment, if it brought
troops any nearer the residence of the legislative body,
without its consent, than twelve miles. An explanation
was demanded and given ; the Directory declared their
ignorance of the march, which they said had been under¬
taken without orders from them, and owing to a mistake on
the part of the officer by whom it was conducted ; but the
Councils paid no regard to an allegation which they evi¬
dently disbelieved. The turbulent suburb of Saint An¬
toine adhered to the majority of the Directory; and this
encouraged them so much that they lost no time in pro¬
ceeding to action.
History.
1797-
Treaty of
Catnpo
Formio.
F RANG E.
107
General Augereau had been sent from Italy, upon the
pretence of delivering to the Directory some standards
taken from the enemy. On the morning of the 4th, the
Tuileries was surrounded by a division of the troops, un¬
der the command of this officer; the guard of the Councils
refused to act against them, and Ramel their commander
was made prisoner. On entering the hall, Augereau seiz¬
ed Pichegru and twelve more of the chiefs of the opposite
faction, whom he immediately sent prisoners to the Tem¬
ple. Carnot made his escape on the preceding evening;
but Barthelemy remained, and was put under arrest.
When several members of the Councils came to the hall
at the usual hour, they were astonished to find that seals
had been put upon the doors, and that they could not ob¬
tain admittance. They were ordered to go to the Sur¬
geons’ Hall, where the Directory, it was said, had ap¬
pointed them to meet; but of both Councils not more than
a hundred and twenty members assembled, who, however,
sent to obtain from the Directory an explanation of the
proceedings which had just taken place. They were given
to understand, that what had been done was absolutely
necessary for the salvation of the Republic, and the Coun¬
cils were congratulated on their escape from the machina¬
tions of the royalists. According to the report of Boulay
de la Meurthe, a great royalist conspiracy, the centre of
which was in the bosom of the Councils, was endeavouring
to subvert the constitution ; but, by the indefatigable dili¬
gence and activity of the Directory, it had been defeated,
it w7as proposed to banish the conspirators without a trial,
and the Councils were so completely imposed upon, that
they voted the deportation of fifty-three of their own
members, and twelve other persons, amongst whom were
the directors Carnot and Barthelemy. During these trans¬
actions the city of Paris remained tranquil. The unfor¬
tunate issue of the struggle on the 5th of October had so
completely subdued the ardour of the inhabitants, that
they suffered the national representation to be violated
with impunity, and saw liberty trampled under foot, with¬
out a single exertion in its defence. The Directory ex¬
cused their conduct to the nation, under pretence of the
existence of a royalist conspiracy. Pichegru, it was said,
had offered to join the emigrants under the Prince of
Conde, and the Austrians under Wurmser, and, at the
head of this aggregate force, to march directly to Paris,
and re-establish the monarchy. Moreau was also impli¬
cated in this conspiracy, but, as is alleged, saved himself
by betraying his accomplice.
The Directory were now powerful; but its members
soon became giddy from the elevated nature of their situ¬
ation, and seemed to act under the dangerous conviction
that there was nothing in which they might not venture to
engage, however great might be their ambition or rapacity.
Whilst contending with the councils, they prolonged the
negotiations with Lord Malmesbury; and, what is more
extraordinary, acted in a similar manner respecting those
which had been entered into between Bonaparte and the
imperial ambassadors at Campo Formio. But the negotia¬
tions with the emperor were at length terminated, and on
the 17th of October a definitive treaty was signed at Cam¬
po Formio. The Netherlands were given up to the French
Republic, and the Milanese to the Cisalpine Republic;
whilst the imperial territories in the Brisgau were surren¬
dered to the Duke of Modena, as a compensation for the
loss of his duchy in Italy. It was likewise agreed by the
emperor that the French should possess the Venetian
islands in the Levant, Corfu, Zante, Cephalonia, Santa
Maura, Cerigo, and others; and, on the other hand, the
emperor was to have the city of Venice, with its remaining
territory, from the extremity of Dalmatia, as far as the
Adige and the Lake of Garda. The Austrians according¬
ly withdrew from the bank of the Rhine, and the repub¬
licans were thus enabled to retake Mayence and Ehren- History,
breitstein. Venice was at the same time entered by the v—"-n-"—'
Austrians; and Bonaparte, when about to take his de- D97.
parture from Italy, left twenty-five thousand men to gar¬
rison Mantua, Brescia, Milan, and some other places, and
to retain the Cisalpine Republic in a state of dependence
upon France.
At this time the empire of the seas was so completely Naval sue-
possessed by Britain that the republican fleets lay block-cesses of
aded in their own ports during the greater part of the Br^a'n-
year. But as the expedition against Ireland had complete¬
ly failed, the Directory were at a loss how to dispose of
the galley slaves who had formed part of Hoche’s army.
It would have been cruel to send them back to punish¬
ment; the troops refused to serve with them in the army;
and by the new laws of France they could not receive a
pardon, neither was it prudent to set so many criminals
at liberty. To get rid of the difficulty, the Directory at
last determined to send them over to England; and these
criminals, to the number of about twelve hundred, were
landed from two frigates and some small vessels on the
coast of Wales, with muskets and ammunition, but des¬
titute of artillery. On the evening of the day on which
they landed, however (the 23d of February), they were
made prisoners by a party of militia, yeomanry, cavalry,
colliers, and others, under the command of Lord Cawdor.
But although the navy of France continued in port, and
therefore out of danger, the Spanish and Dutch allies of
that country sustained serious losses by sea. A Spanish
fleet of twenty-seven sail of the line, opposed to a British
fleet of only fifteen sail under Sir John Jervis, was com¬
pletely defeated off Cape St Vincent on the 14th of Fe¬
bruary. The Spanish fleet was on its way to Brest to ef¬
fect a junction with the French fleet; but by the victory
of Jervis this object was rendered unattainable. The
Dutch were, if possible, still more unfortunate. Admiral
Duncan having blockaded the Texel, where their fleet lay
during the summer, a resolution was at length adopted to
risk an engagement; and De Winter received positive
orders to put to sea. Admiral Duncan was at this time
refitting at Yarmouth; but on receiving intelligence that
the Dutch fleet had sailed, he immediately put to sea in
quest of the enemy, and on the 11th of October came up
with their fleet, consisting of a force rather inferior to his
own. The British admiral having carried his fleet through
the enemy’s line, commenced the attack between them
and their own coast, about nine miles from Camperdown.
The conflict lasted three hours, at the end of which time
the greater part of the Dutch fleet had struck. Eight
ships of the line, two of fifty-six and one of forty-four
guns, were taken, besides a frigate, which was afterwards
lost near the coast of Britain. See article Britain.
After the ratification of the treaty with the emperor atDisturb-
Campo Formio, Joseph Bonaparte was sent to Rome usances at
plenipotentiary of the French Republic. The pope having Rome,
now no expectation of foreign assistance, submitted to the
demands for the reduction of his troops, and the liberation
of every person confined in prison on account of political
opinions. But on the 26th of December 1797, three men
waited upon the ambassador, and requested the co-operation
of France in bringing about a revolution which a party at
Rome was anxious to effect. Fie refused to countenance the
project, and did every thing in his power to dissuade them
from embarking in such an enterprise; but unfortunately
he neglected to communicate the intelligence to the papal
government. On the 28th, however, he went to the cardinal
secretary, and showed him a list of persons under his protec¬
tion who had a legal authority to wear the tricolor cockade ;
he at the same time consented thatall others wearing it shouhl
be punished; and he offered to give up six of the insurgents
who had taken refuge in his palace. In the evening of the
108 FRA
History, same day, a most serious tumult, in its origin not altogether
1798- unknown to his holiness, happened in the courts and vici-
nity of the French ambassador’s palace, and the governor
of the city endeavoured to disperse the rioters by parties
of cavalry and infantry. But in attempting to induce the
military to desist from firing upon the people, General Du-
phot, who belonged to the French mission, was shot by a
petty officer belonging to the troops of his holiness. As
soon as the Spanish ambassador received information of
this event, he sent to the cardinal secretary, and protested
against this daring violation of the privileges of plenipo¬
tentiaries. The palace of the French ambassador was still
surrounded by the military, when he demanded his pass¬
ports, which were granted, accompanied by many protesta¬
tions of the innocence of government, and its sorrow that
such an unfortunate occurrence should have taken place.
Joseph Bonaparte retired to Florence, and thence proceed¬
ed to Paris. The protection of Austria, Spain, Naples, and
Tuscany, was earnestly solicited by the pope ; but all these
powers seemed disinclined to interfere in behalf of the pon¬
tiff. General Berthier experienced little or no opposition
on his march to Rome, where he subverted the dominion
of the pope, proclaimed the sovereignty of the Roman
people, and caused the tree of liberty to be planted on the
very day on which the anniversary of the pope’s election
was being celebrated. Whilst in the Sistine chapel re¬
ceiving the congratulations of the cardinals, the commis¬
sioner-general, and Cervoni, who commanded the troops
within the city, entered the chapel during the ceremony,
and announced to the sovereign pontiff that his reign was
at an end.
Conquest But scenes of a different and more sanguinary character
oi Switzer-were in the mean time exhibited in Switzerland, a country
land. which had preserved its neutrality during the conflict be¬
tween France and the combined powers. About the end
of the year 1797, an insurrection broke out in the Pays de
Vaud, a district subject to the canton of Berne. This oc¬
currence showed the government its critical situation, and
induced it to issue a proclamation on the 5th of January
1798, requiring the people of the Pays de Vaud to appear
in arms, renew their oath of allegiance, and reform all abuses.
A commission of the senate of Berne was also empowered
to examine every complaint, and redress every grievance;
but their motions were considered as too tardy by popular
impatience, and the insurgents endeavoured to make them¬
selves masters of the strong places. Troops were sent against
them by the government of Berne; but General Weiss hav¬
ing acted with hesitation, a body of republicans appeared
under General Menard, who sent an aid-de-camp with two
hussars to negotiate with Weiss. As the messengers return¬
ed, however, one of the hussars was killed, most probably by
accident; but this circumstance was instantly magnified into
a horrid breach of the law of nations. The French, there¬
fore, continued to advance, and by the end of January were
masters of the whole of the Pays de Vaud. The government
of Berne, whilst it used every effort to maintain peace, pre¬
pared for war. But a truce was entered into with General
Brune, the successor of Menard, and those who had killed
the hussar were delivered up. An army of twenty thousand
men was collected, the command of which was given to
D’Erlach, once a field-marshal in the service of France.
But disaffection prevailed in this army, and the people were
far from being united amongst themselves. Of this the
French were well aware, and therefore they demanded a total
change of government. On the other hand, D’Erlach, appre¬
hensive of a still greater defection in his army, requested
permission to put an end to the armistice. The French
now refused to negotiate, and on the 2d of March General
Schawenberg took possession of Soleure at the head of thir¬
teen thousand men; whilst Brune afterwards made himself
master of Friburg, and forced the Swiss army to retreat.
N C E.
The government of Berne, now greatly alarmed, decreed History,
the landsturm, or rising in mass, which the ancient cus-
toms of the country justified in the time of necessity. The 1798.
people assembled, dissolved the government, and offered
to dismiss the army, if the republican troops would retire.
But this offer was rejected, except upon the condition of
admitting a French garrison into Berne, and therefore the
Swiss continued to advance. About six thousand of the
army of D’Erlach had deserted, leaving him at the head of
little more than fourteen thousand men; and although the
rising had abundantly supplied him with numbers, yet raw
and undisciplined levies, however numerous, were of little
avail against veteran troops, and he was not allowed time
to give them any thing like regular organization. He was
accordingly attacked on the 5th of March, and driven from
Newenbeg and Favenbrun; but having rallied his troops,
he made a stand for some time at Uteren. The conflict
was renewed at Grauholtz, whence the Swiss were driven
four miles nearer the capital; and being at last completely
defeated, they in a fit of fury and despair murdered many
of their officers, amongst whom was their commander-in¬
chief. Berne capitulated to the French, and the more
wealthy and populous states followed the example; but the
poorer cantons made a vigorous effort to preserve their small
possessions, and the independence of their country; they
compelled Schawenberg to retire with the loss of three
thousand men, but were at last totally vanquished by the
superior skill and numbers of the republican army. The
public magazines were plundered, and a new constitution,
modelled on that of France, was forced upon them.
As the Directory had made no scruple of violating the Conduct of
independence of other nations, it was but reasonable to ex-the Direc-
pect that they would pay little regard to the liberties of their
own. A third of the legislature was changed in the month
of April; one member of the Directory also went out by
ballot, and Treilhard was chosen to succeed him. Nothing
was left unattempted by the Directory to influence the
elections in favour of their friends; but their success was
not commensurate with their exertions. On the 2d of May,
they made a complaint to the Council of Five Hundred, of
alleged royalist plots, by means of which it was said that
the elections had been made to fall on persons who were ini¬
mical to the interests of the Republic ; and on the 7th it was
proposed by the committee which reported on the message
of the Directory, that many electoral assemblies should be
annulled. But General Jourdan opposed this plan, as in¬
compatible with the freedom of election, and as proceeding
upon the supposition of conspiracies the existence of which
was not proved, and which most probably had no existence
at all.
After peace had been proclaimed between France and Threat of
Germany, the Directory made no secret of their determi-invasion,
nation to attempt the invasion of Great Britain. Whe¬
ther this project originated with Bonaparte himself, or was
intended by his kind friends of the Directory as a snare for
him and his victorious army, is a matter which our readers
must be left to determine for themselves. It appears, how¬
ever, that soon after the return of Bonaparte to the capital,
where the Directory received him with all imaginable splen¬
dour, an army was offered him by the government, with
which to invade England; and it is also certain that he ac¬
cepted the command. Barras, indeed, told him not to repose
on his laurels, but to prepare for undertaking the conquest of
the bitterest and most formidable enemy of the Republic ; a
mission, however, which it was somewhat more easy to con¬
fer than to execute. This came eventually to be the opi¬
nion of the general himself; after calculating all the chances,
he thought it possible to gain a battle on British ground,
but quite hopeless to maintain a footing in that country.
But England, though invincible on her own soil, might be
deeply wounded through her commerce and her colonies;
FRA
History, these he considered as the principal sinews of her strength ;
anc* if f*e could divert in different channels the main branch
17M- 0f the one and seize upon the most important of the other,
he doubted not that he would thereby effectually humble
the haughty island. Impressed with the common but
groundless notion that Britain derived incalculable re¬
sources from her Indian dominions, and conceiving that
commercial superiority must ever belong to the nation
which is possessed of the safest and readiest communica¬
tions with the East, Bonaparte thought of restoring the trade
of India to its ancient channel through Egypt and the Le¬
vant. With such views he contemplated the seizure and
conquest of the former, as the first step towards the reali¬
zation of his design; and this once effected, he conceived
that, proceeding from Egypt as from a place of arms, he
might march towards the Euphrates, and in less than four
months reach the Indus, there to dispute with the Eng¬
lish the possession of that country whence he supposed
they derived their inexhaustible resources. An expedi¬
tion to Egypt was therefore resolved on, with the full con¬
currence of the Directory, who were delighted to be rid
of a too fortunate soldier, and to the great satisfaction of
Bonaparte himself, whose imagination seems to have been
carried away with the idea of perhaps founding an eastern
empire.
French This resolution, however, was kept a profound secret,
expedition an(j every artifice employed to mislead the English as to
t0 »-vPL the real destination of the intended expedition. Threats
of invasion were therefore studiously reiterated, and mat¬
ters were so contrived as to give to the necessary prepara¬
tions, which could not escape observation, an appearance
calculated to confirm the idea that an invasion was actually
intended. Prodigious stories were circulated concerning
large rafts of timber, by means of which the Army of Eng¬
land was to be transported to Britain; and, to give the
greater probability to this report, General Bonaparte, the
commander-in-chief, made a journey to the coast oppo¬
site England. Meanwhile, the fleet was getting ready in
the harbour of Toulon, and troops were collected in its
vicinity; and when every thing had been prepared, Bo¬
naparte embarked with forty thousand veteran troops,
and, on the 9th of June, reached Malta. Having land¬
ed his troops in different places, he resolved to make
himself master of this island; and, after a very feeble
opposition, the grand-master capitulated, giving up in a
few days a fortress which might have held out for months
against all the troops of the French Republic. Bona¬
parte left in the island a garrison of four thousand men,
and on the 21st of June sailed for Alexandria. Admiral
Nelson was dispatched in pursuit of the French fleet;
but being wholly ignorant of its destination, he sailed for
Naples, where he obtained information of the attack upon
Malta. To that island accordingly he steered his course,
and on his arrival he found that Bonaparte was gone; but
conjecturing that he had sailed for Alexandria, he imme¬
diately prepared to follow him. The French commander,
however, instead of keeping a direct course towards the
coast of Egypt, stood along that of Greece, until he had
made the easternmost point of the island of Candia ; then
steering to the southward, he protracted his voyage, so as
not to reach the Egyptian coast till Admiral Nelson had
left it.
On the 5th of July, Bonaparte landed his troops, and
took by storm the city of Alexandria. The republican
transports were then drawn up within the inner harbour
of Alexandria, and the ships of war were anchored along
the shore of the bay of Aboukir. The republican army
then marched on towards the Nile, and, in proceeding
along the banks of that river, suffered much from the
intense heat of the climate. They soon came to action
with the Mamlukes; but this superb cavalry found itself
N C E. 109
unequal to contend with European discipline and valour. History.
Under Murad Bey, their most distinguished chief, they
made a last effort near the Pyramids ; but were routed with DOti-
the loss of two thousand men killed, four hundred camels
with baggage taken, and fifty pieces of cannon. Cairo im¬
mediately surrendered.
Bonaparte having proceeded thus far in the conquest ofBattle of
Egypt, framed a provisional government, and issued pro-the Nile,
clamations in Arabic, protesting that the French were
friendly to the religion of Mahommed, owned the autho¬
rity of the Grand Signior, and were only come to inflict
punishment on the Mamlukes, the oppressors and spoilers
of Egypt. Thus far the good fortune of Bonaparte seem¬
ed still to attend him. But on the 1st of August the Eng¬
lish fleet under Admiral Nelson appeared off the mouth of
the Nile; and before the sun of the morrow rose, that of
trance had been destroyed, and all communication be¬
tween the French army and Europe thus completely cut
off. The action commenced at sunset, and continued, with
occasional intervals, till daybreak, when the morning dis¬
closed to the astounded invaders the extent of the cala¬
mity which had befallen them. (See article Britain.) It
would be difficult to point out any naval engagement of mo¬
dern times, productive of results so important as this. The
military exertions of France had by degrees destroyed
the combination which the princes of Europe had formed
against her; the victories of Bonaparte had humbled the
pride of Austria; the Continent looked with dismay to¬
wards the new Republic; and when the Directory seized
on Rome and Switzerland, no power ventured to inter¬
pose in their behalf. But in consequence of the victory
of the Nile the aspect of affairs suddenly underwent a
remarkable change, and the conqueror of Italy was shut
up in a distant country, from which the fleets of Britain
might prevent his return. Proposals were therefore made
by Britain to the northern powers, to recommence hosti¬
lities against France ; the states of Italy determined to
make a vigorous effort for the recovery of their indepen¬
dence ; and the court of Naples, encouraged by the de¬
struction of the French fleet, threw off the mask which it
had been compelled to wear, and joined the new confede¬
racy against the Republic.
The French, it is well known, had long held out en-General
couragement to the Irish rebels; but as the expectations
of the latter were disappointed, they broke out into openE"™^6®
rebellion without the promised assistance; and when thelrearu‘
spirit of insurrection had been almost wholly extinguished,
the Directory, with its usual imbecility, made a feeble at¬
tempt to revive it. On the 22d of August General Hum¬
bert, with a handful of troops, amounting only to eleven
hundred men, landed at Killala. Yet this force, small as
it was, would have proved formidable a month before. On
landing they were joined by a party of the more desperate
rebels in the vicinity, and defeated General Lake at the
head of a superior force, taking from him six pieces of can¬
non. They sent in different directions to announce their ar¬
rival, advanced ashort way into thecountry, and maintained
their ground for three weeks. But receiving no reinforce¬
ments from France, finding the rebellion in a great mea¬
sure crushed, and being informed that General Corn¬
wallis was about to surround him with twenty-five men,
General Humbert laid down his arms to a British force
four days after he had dismissed his Irish associates, that
they might provide for their own safety. Active mea¬
sures were now taken by the Directory to send troops to
Ireland when it was too late; the vigilance of British
cruisers defeated all their endeavours. On the 12th of
October, La Hoche, a ship of eighty-four guns, and four
frigates, were captured by Sir John Borlase Warren, in
attempting to reach Ireland with three thousand men ; on
the 20th another frigate, destined for the same country,
110
FRANCE.
History.
1798.
Impru¬
dence of
Naples.
was also taken. The Directory therefore abandoned the sion of a campaign undertaken in contempt of all prudence, History,
attempt as hopeless. commenced with gasconading and cruelty, and carried on
The victory of the Nile, important as beyond all doubt in such a manner as to leave it exceedingly doubtful which 1'99-
it was in a political point of view, seems nevertheless to was more remarkable, the utter incapacity of the officers,
have been over-estimated by the court of Naples, which, or the abject cowardice of the troops.
considering the destruction of the army of Egypt as cer- In Naples there had long been a numerous body of men Conduct
tain, now rushed headlong into a new war with France, called Lazzaroni, who subsisted entirely on charity. These°1’-he i^z-
Disdaining to wait until the Austrians were ready to take vagabonds frequently threatened the state if their wantszaron1,
the field against the republicans, the king prevailed on ■were not immediately supplied, and their submission was
General Mack to assume the command of his army, began often purchased by liberal contributions. Having been in-
the war without any foreign aid excepting that of the Bri- formed that the French, wherever they came, destroyed all
tish fleet, and thus brought upon himself the vengeance the monasteries and other sources of charity, this immense
of the French Republic. The Directory had no concep- gang of sturdy beggars determined to oppose them to the
tion that he would adopt such an insane line of conduct; utmost, and to appear forsooth as the advocates of royal go-
and consequently, when General Mack appeared at the vernment. In the beginning of January 1799 they exhi-
head of forty-five thousand men, the troops of France in bited marks of discontent, and at last broke out into open
that quarter were not in a condition to contend with him. insurrection. They appointed as their commander-in-chief
When General Championet complained of the attack made Prince Militorni, who, however, did his utmost to restrain
upon his posts, he was informed that his Neapolitan ma- their violence and love of plunder. But all his efforts were
jesty had resolved to take possession of the Roman terri- unavailing. They declared war against the French, forced
tory, advised to retire quietly into the Cisalpine states, and open the prisons, and murdered all who had been incarce-
further apprised that his entrance into Tuscany would be rated for disaffection to the government. Their ravages
considered as a declaration of war. Championet having now became so dreadful and boundless, that Prince Mili-
no force sufficient to contend with the Neapolitan army, torni abandoned them, and proceeded to Capua, where he
accordingly evacuated Rome ; but he left a garrison in requested Championet to take possession of the city, in
the castle of St Angelo, and concentrated what troops he order to rescue it from utter destruction. It was accord-
could collect in the northern parts of the Roman states, ingly agreed that a column of French troops should ad-
In the end of November General Mack entered Rome vance against the capital by a circuitous route, and endea-
without opposition. When these transactions became vour to enter the city from the opposite quarter. But be-
known at Paris, war was immediately declared against the fore this plan could be carried into execution, a great body
king of Naples and the king of Sardinia. The latter had of the Lazzaroni marched out (on the 19th and 20th of Ja-
committed no act of hostility against the French ; but he nuary) to attack the French in the fortifications of Capua,
was accused of disaffection towards the Republic. This This daring attempt failed, as might have been expected,
charge could scarcely fail to be true. For, ever since the and multitudes perished by the fire of the French artillery ;
entrance of Bonaparte into Italy, he had been reduced but in order to favour the capture of Naples by the de-
to a most humiliating condition ; his strongest fortresses tachment sent for that purpose, Championet continued on
were in the possession of the French ; a garrison had been the defensive. On the 21st the Lazzaroni, informed that
placed in his capital; contributions were levied from his a French column had marched for Naples, returned to the
subjects at the pleasure of the conquerors; and he was city ; and although Championet closely pursued them, they
reduced to such a situation, that, unable to protect him- arrived in time to barricade the streets, and prepare for the
self, he made a voluntary surrender of his continental do- defence of different quarters. A fierce conflict now com-
minions, and agreed to retire to the island of Sardinia. menced, and lasted from the morning of the 22d till the
But a period was soon put to the dispute with Naples, evening of the 23d of January, when, having been driven
As the French retreated, the people of the country gave from street to street, they finally rallied at one of the gates,
them infinite trouble and uneasiness, and the Neapoli- where they w^ere almost totally cut off.
tan troops scarcely observed the rules of modern warfare This advantage maybe considered as the last which theUnpopula-
towards such as they made prisoners. When, by orders Directory obtained ; for the consequences of their past mis-rity of tba
from General Mack, Bouchard summoned the castle of St conduct were now rapidly gathering around them. They ^irector-'‘
Angelo to surrender, he declared that he would view the were justly unpopular at home, both from their mode of
prisoners in the light of hostages for the conduct of the conducting public affairs, and their repeated violations of
garrison, and that a man should be put to death for every the constitution. Their profusion was boundless, and the
gun which was fired from the castle. It is not to be ima- demands which they made upon conquered countries exor-
gined that the Neapolitan officers would have dared to bitant. Championet was so ashamed of their proceedings,
hold such language if they had not calculated on the vigo- that he refused to enforce their orders in Italy, and was
rous co-operation of the Austrian forces; but in this ex- in consequence depidved of his command, and thrown into
pectation they found themselves grievously disappointed, prison ; whilst Scherer, the war minister, was appointed
and were ere long obliged to change their tone. The his successor. Under the latter the rapacity of the govern-
Neapolitan troops were defeated by one fourth of their ment agents, and the embezzlement of the public stores,
number, at Terni, Porto Fermo, Civita Castellana, Otri- were carried to an incredible extent. Still France continued
coli, and Calvi; and as the army of Mack was speedily to be dreaded by foreign nations, to whom the true state
reduced by defeat and desertion to less than twelve thou- of her internal affairs was but imperfectly known. A
sand men, he advised the king and his family to take re- Russian army had arrived, but the cabinet of Vienna was
fuge on board the British fleet which was then lying at Leg- at a loss whether to declare war or temporise a little
horn. This advice was adopted, and the royal family reach- longer. Britain solicited the aid of Prussia with an offer
ed Palermo in Sicily on the 27th of December. General of large subsidies ; but Sieyes, the French plenipotentiary
Mack now requested an armistice, which wras refused ; at Berlin, artfully contrived to defeat the negotiation, and
and being driven from Capua, the only remaining post of counteract the unpopularity of his country in Germany,
any importance in the Neapolitan territory, and in danger by giving to the world the secret convention of Campo
from the disaffection of his troops, he surrendered himself Formio, which determined the greater number of the Ger-
and the officers of his staff as prisoners to the republican man princes to observe neutrality under the guardianship
general. And such was the lame and impotent conclu- of Prussia.
i
F R A N C E.
in
History. On the 2d of January a note was presented to the congress
at Rastadt, by the French plenipotentiaries, intimating, that
if the entrance of Russian troops into Germany was not pre-
clared a' ven^e^> ^ would be considered as tantamount to a declaration
gainst the °fwar- To this no satisfactory answer was returned. On the
emperor. 26th of the same month the strong fortress of Ehrenbreit-
stein, which had been blockaded since the treaty of Campo
Formio, surrendered ; and the possession of this place, to¬
gether with that of Mayence and Dusseldorf, rendered the
French powerful on the Rhine. Switzerland and all the for¬
tified places of Italy were also in their hands, so that they
were fully prepared to commence active operations. At
this period Jourdan commanded on the Upper Rhine from
Mayence to Hunningen ; the eastern frontier of Switzer¬
land was occupied by Massena; Scherer commanded in
chief in Italy, with Moreau under him ; and Macdonald was
at the head of the troops in the Roman and Neapolitan ter¬
ritories. But these armies thus disseminated did not ex¬
ceed a hundred and seventy thousand men, a force greatly
inferior to that of Austria, independently altogether of the
Russian army. The Directory, however, trusting to the
unity of its own plans, the wavering politics of the court
of Vienna, and the slow movements of the imperial armies,
was anxious to renew the contest; and, accordingly, on the
13th of March war was declared against the emperor of
Germany and the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Jourdan had
actually crossed the Rhine at Strasburg on the first of that
month, and occupied strong positions in Suabia. Man-
heim was taken, and General Bernadette summoned Phi-
lipsburg, wdiilst General St Cyr entered Stutgardt. To op¬
pose the march of this army, the Archduke Charles cross¬
ed the Lech upon the 4th of March; whilst, on the other
side, Massena entered the territory of the Grisons, surpris¬
ed a strong body of Austrians, made the whole prisoners,
with their general and his staff.
But the plan of campaign could not be carried into
operation without the junction of Massena’s and Jourdan’s
armies ; and to accomplish this it was necessary to carry
the important post of Feldkirch, which was occupied by
General Hotze. Defeated in his first attempt, Massena re¬
newed the attack five times with fresh troops ; but the de¬
termined bravery of the Austrians rendered all his efforts
ineffectual. As the French, however, were in possession
of the Grisons, this facilitated the invasion of the Engadine,
where the Austrians being too weak to resist, retreated into
the Tyrol, and were pursued by the republicans, who for¬
ced some of the defiles, and pushed forward their flying
parties as far as Glurentz and Nauders.
Battle of The vanguard of the principal Austrian army now ad-
Stockach. vanced to meet the French, and on the 20th of March was
attacked by Jourdan, who drove in the enemy’s outposts ;
but on the following day the centre of the French army
was attacked, and forced to retire to Stockach during the
night. The archduke encamped before Stockach on the
24th, and the republicans again attacked him on the fol¬
lowing day. Their main object of attack was his right wing
under General Meerfeldt, which they succeeded in driving
into a wood between Liptingen and Stockach. Meerfeldt
renewed the conflict without success. But the left wing
having maintained its ground, sent reinforcements to Ge¬
neral Meerfeldt, who in his turn obliged the French to
retire. The French, however, made four thousand prison¬
ers during the various movements of the day. Yet their
loss was so great, and the Austrian force so much superior,
that Jourdan durst not hazard another engagement. He
therefore retreated on the following day, and, finding that
he was not a match for the enemy, sent part of his army to
cover Kehl and Strasburg, and marched with the remain¬
der towards Switzerland. By this event General Massena,
who was forcing his way into the Tyrol and Engadine, was
obliged to return to the protection of Switzerland. He
was now appointed to the chief command in this quarter, History,
and Jourdan was removed.
The Austrians were not less successful in Italy, not- 1799.
withstanding they had been attacked by the French before *ta^’
the termination of the armistice. General Kray obtained
a complete victory at Legnago, and forced the enemy to
fly for protection under the walls of Mantua. On the
15th of April they were again attacked by the Austrians
at Memiruolo, and forced to retreat after an obstinate re¬
sistance. The loss sustained by the French in these dif¬
ferent engagements was certainly great; but the Austrians
also purchased their success at a costly rate. Scherer at
first gained some advantages over them, but he wanted
the skill necessary to improve them. The Austrian posts
were forced by a division of his army on the 26th of
March, and four thousand men made prisoners ; but ano¬
ther division being repulsed, Scherer withdrew his troops,
and thus relinquished the advantages he had obtained.
On the 5th of April the division under Moreau was again
successful, and took three thousand prisoners ; but, by the
unskilful measures of Scherer, he was not supported, and
the triumph of the Austrians was therefore complete.
A short time previous to this, the Russians had effected Suwarof.
a junction with the imperialists, and the command of the
combined army was given to Field-marshal Suwarof. The
Russian commander on the 24th of April advanced to¬
wards the Adda, and after carrying the outposts of Mo¬
reau, determined to attack him in his intrenchments. Su¬
warof maintained a show of attack along the whole line
of Moreau, whilst he secretly threw a bridge amongst the
rocks at the upper part of the river, where such an opera¬
tion had been considered as impossible. By this bridge
part of the combined army next morning turned the re¬
publican fortifications, and attacked their flank and rear,
whilst the remainder forced the passage of the river at
different points. The French fought with their usual in¬
trepidity, but were soon driven from all their positions,
and forced to retreat towards Pavia, with the loss of six
thousand men killed, five thousand prisoners including
four generals, and eighty pieces of cannon.
General Moreau now established the remains of his
army, amounting to about twelve thousand men, upon the
Po, between Alessandria and Valentia, where, on the 11th
of May, he forced a body of Austrians to retreat, and
took a number of prisoners. On the 12th about seven
thousand Russians crossed the Po at Basignano, and
marched towards Pecetto, when Moreau fell upon them
with incredible fury ; and as they obstinately refused to
lay down their arms, about two thousand of their number
were drowned in repassing the river, and a few taken pri¬
soners. On the advance of Suwarof, General Moreau was
under the necessity of retiring to occupy the Bochetta,
as well as other passes leading to the territory of Genoa,
when the combined army commenced the sieges of the
fortified places in Italy then occupied by the French.
Bellegarde drove the French from the Engadine; Massena,
pressed by the archduke, was obliged to retire to the vici¬
nity of Zurich; and nearly the whole of Piedmont had
risen against the republicans. The armies received no re¬
inforcements from the interior of France, and their officers
were obliged to act upon the defensive. In one instance
only they had the power of acting on the offensive, and it
was certainly done with great vigour. General Macdonald
had still a considerable army in the territories of Naples
and of Rome ; and the combined powers had made no
effort to cut off his retreat, which, indeed, could scarcely
be accomplished in the mountainous countries of Tuscany
and Genoa. Knowing his situation secure, he was in no
haste to withdraw, although nearly the whole of the coun¬
try between him and France was occupied by the allies.
His army amounted to about thirty thousand men, and he
112 FRANC E.
History, had received orders from the Directory to leave the terri-
tories of Rome and Naples, and unite, if possible, with the
17i>y- army of Moreau. From the situation of the allies, how¬
ever, he resolved to hazard an action by himself. With
Moreau he had concerted a plan for dividing the enemy,
and vanquishing them in detail, as Bonaparte had pre¬
viously done with so much success. Macdonald alone was
in a situation to strike an important blow; but it was never¬
theless necessary that Moreau should draw upon himself
as many of the Austro-Russian forces as possible, in order
that the remainder might be the more completely exposed
to the attack of Macdonald.
Stratagem Moreau artfully availed himself of the circumstance
ot'JMoreau. 0f tiie French and Spanish fleets being in the vicinity of
Genoa, to spread a report that they had brought him
powerful reinforcements, intending thereby to withdraw
the attention of Suwarof from Macdonald. The Russian
general was at Turin, and his advanced posts were at Susa,
Pignerol, and the Col d’Assiette, whilst General Hohen-
zollern was stationed at Modena with a considerable force,
and General Ott occupied Reggio with ten thousand men.
General Macdonald began his operations on the 12th of
June, when his advanced divisions attacked and defeated
Hohenzollern, and made two thousand prisoners. Gene¬
ral Ott was also attacked, and compelled to retreat, upon
which the French made their entry into Parma on the
14th. The Austrian general was again attacked on the
17th, and forced to retire towards Giovanni; but here the
progress of the French was arrested by a more powerful
and determined antagonist.
French de- Suwarof having received information of the approach
leated by and successes of Macdonald, left Turin on the 15th of
Suwarof'. june? at the ileat| 0f twenty thousand men, and came up
with the enemy upon the banks of the Tidone. The centre
and right wing of Suwarof’s army were commanded by
Rosenberg and Forster; the Austrian general, Melas,
commanded the left wing; Prince Bagration was at the
head of the advanced guard; and Prince Lichtenstein
commanded the reserve. An action immediately ensued,
and was continued with desperate fury for three succes¬
sive days, when victory at length declared in favour of Su-
w'arof. Driven from the Tidone to the Trebbia, the French
were finally defeated on the 19th, after a greater slaugh¬
ter on both sides than the oldest officer ever recollected
to have witnessed. Victory had remained doubtful until
General Kray arrived with large reinforcements from the
army besieging Mantua, and, in direct contempt of his
orders, decided the fortune of this protracted and terrible
battle. The republicans retreated during the night, and
were next day pursued by the army of Suwarof formed in
two columns. Seldom could the French be overtaken in
retreat; but this the victorious barbarian accomplished,
and, having surrounded the rear-guard, obliged them to
lay down their arms. The rest of the army defended
themselves in the passes of the Appennines and territory
of Genoa, after losing nearly half their numbers in killed,
wounded, and prisoners. Moreau, in the mean time, gave
battle to the Austrians under Bellegarde, who, though
greatly superior in numbers, were totally defeated. But
this temporary advantage proved of little avail. Suwarof
rapidly returned from the pursuit of Macdonald, and
Moreau was compelled to retire. The fortresses of Italy
now surrendered in close succession, and the combined
powers regained a complete ascendency in that country.
Siege of The affairs of the republic became equally critical in
Acre. Palestine. After having defeated the Mamlukes, and
made himself master of Alexandria and Cairo, Bonaparte
led an army into Palestine. At the head of ten thousand
men, with officers eminently skilled in war, he reached
Acre on the sea-coast, and laid siege in due form to this
town, which was but indifferently fortified, and defended
by a small garrison. But Sir Sidney Smith received the History,
command, and detained Bonaparte sixty days before Acre,
although the number of the garrison by whom it was de-
fended scarcely exceeded three thousand men. The French
commander made eleven successive attempts to carry the
place by assault; but in all these he proved unsuccessful,
and was at last obliged to raise the siege, after he had
lost eight generals, eighty-five inferior officers, and nearly
one half of his army. The successful defence of this place
destroyed ihe prestige of invincibility, and mainly contri¬
buted to decide the fate of the French army in Egypt.
Whilst France experienced such reverses abroad, she Murder of
was much disturbed also by internal commotions, and the the French
Directory now found itself in a most critical situation. E|mbassa-
The new elections were still unfavourable to their inte-^®^^
rest, and they could no longer command a majority in the
Councils. When they sought money they met with re¬
proaches for their profusion ; and royalist insurrections in
the west and south were with difficulty subdued, on ac¬
count of the absence of the military. But in the midst of
these difficulties an event occurred which seemed to pro¬
mise the Directory the return of their former influence.
On the 28th of April the French plenipotentiaries having
received orders to quit Rastadt in twenty-four hours,
demanded passports from Colonel Barbasey, but were in¬
formed that none could grant these excepting the comman¬
der-in-chief. They accordingly set out without passports.
The three ministers, Bonnier, Roberjot, and Jean Debry,
were in separate carriages, Roberjot having his wife, and
Jean Debry his wife and daughters along with him ; and
they were attended by the ministers of the Cisalpine Re¬
public. At a short distance from Rastadt, however, they
were met by fifty Austrian hussars, who stopped the car¬
riage of Jean Debry, and fiercely demanded his name.
Debry gave them the information required, adding, that
he was a French minister returning to his own country.
He was immediately torn from his carriage, desperately
wounded with sabres, and thrown into a ditch for dead ;
whilst Bonnier and Roberjot were murdered outright on
the spot. When the ruffians departed, the carriages re¬
turned to Rastadt, and Jean Debry wandered all night in
the woods. Next day he retraced his steps, and demand¬
ed the restitution of the papers which the assassins had
carried off when they plundered the carriages; but these
were refused. Rastadt and its vicinity had been occu¬
pied by French troops during the sitting of the congress,
and the Austrians had obtained possession of the place
only a few days before. In any view, therefore, this event
was a severe reproach to the discipline of the Austrian
army; but it is probable that more than the want of su¬
bordination was at the bottom of a crime so atrocious, in¬
deed unprecedented in the history of civilized nations.
The archduke, it is true, lost no time in declaring his ut¬
ter ignorance of the matter, in a letter addressed to Mas-
sena; but this was far from giving satisfaction to the Di¬
rectory or to France. In a message to the Councils on the
5th of May, they accordingly described it as a premedi¬
tated act on the part of the Austrian government, intended
to insult France by the murder of her ambassadors.
The introduction of a new third this year into the legis- Sieyes cho-
lature was the commencement of a violent opposition to the sen a inem.
Directory. Sieyes, who had been ambassador at Berlin,ber °|tlie
and possessed considerable influence over all parties, was directory,
elected a member of the Directory. This station he re¬
fused to occupy on the establishment of the constitution,
and therefore his acceptance of it at such a critical junc¬
ture excited surprise. Treilhard was removed upon the pre¬
tence that he had held an office in the state within less
than a year previously to his election ; and Merlin and Re-
veillere-Lepeaux were under the necessity of resigning, to
avoid a threatened impeachment. Barras, however, still
FRANCE.
History, retained his place, and Moulins, Gohier, and Ducos, men
little known, were chosen members of the Directory. An at-
1799* tempt was made to revive public spirit by the establishment
of clubs ; a proceeding of which the Jacobins were the first
to take advantage. They soon proposed violent measures,
and began to denounce the members as well as the conduct
of government. But their intemperance having alarmed
the Directory, permission was at length obtained from the
Councils to suppress their meetings.
Battle of The Directory now employed every effort to reinforce
Novi. the armies which had lately suffered such dreadful losses.
In the beginning of August the army of Italy amounted to
forty-five thousand men, and General Joubert was promot¬
ed to the chief command. Turin, Alessandria, Milan, Pes-
chiera, and Ferrara, were captured by the allies with as¬
tonishing rapidity. Turin sustained a bombardment of
only three days, Alessandria held out seven, and Mantua
only fourteen ; the latter place contained thirteen thousand
men, who were dismissed on their parole. The combined
forces next laid siege to Tortona; but General Joubert re¬
solved to attempt its relief, which he expected to accom¬
plish before the arrival of Kray with reinforcements. On
the 13th of August, the whole of the Austrian posts were
driven in by the republicans, who took possession of Novi.
But on the 15th they were attacked by Suwarofi who had
by this time received reinforcements from Mantua under
General Kray. The right wing was commanded by Kray,
the left by Melas, and the centre by Prince Bagration
and Suwarof in person. The engagement commenced
about five o’clock in the morning ; but soon afterwards Ge¬
neral Joubert, whilst urging his troops forward to charge
with the bayonet, received a musket shot in his body, and
falling from his horse, immediately expired. Moreau now
assumed the command, and after a bloody conflict the allied
army gave way in all directions. The Russians in particu¬
lar suffered severely from the obstinate manner in which
they fought. The French line was attacked at three in
the afternoon, but remained unbroken; and the whole
would have terminated in the defeat of the allies if Gene¬
ral Melas had not turned the right flank of the republican
line, and, following up his advantages, obtained posses¬
sion of Novi, when the French army began to retire under
the direction of General Moreau. The French now lost
all hope of being able to defend Genoa, and therefore pre¬
pared to evacuate that city and territory. The Directory
fully expected that the south ofFrance would immediately
be invaded; but in this they were happily deceived. The
conquered army was astonished to find itself unmolested
after so signal a defeat, and in a few days sent back parties
to reconnoitre the movements of the allies. Championet,
the successor of Joubert, was amazed to discover that they
had rather retreated than advanced, on which account he
resumed the positions which the army had occupied before
the battle of Novi.
Suwarof So far from prosecuting the advantages which he had
the^rTf0 °^taine^ in Italy* Suwarof was persuaded to abandon that
of Switzer- c.ountry wit'l1 ^ Russian troops, and to march to the de-
land. 'liverance of Switzerland. In the month of August, the
army of Massena in this quarter amounted to seventy thou¬
sand men, a force which not only prevented the archduke
from pursuing his advantages, but even enabled the French
to threaten his position ; and the right wing under General
Lecourbe had carried Mount St Gothard, the great pass
leading from the eastern parts of Switzerland into Italy.
Suwarof’s expectations were no doubt high, as he had
never yet been beaten ; and he felt flattered in being called
upon to undertake an enterprise in which the Austrians
had hitherto failed, even under their most fortunate general.
But when he was ready to march, the Austrian commander
in Italy refused to furnish him with mules for transporting
his baggage, and asserted that he would be furnished with a
VOL. X.
] 13
competent number at Bellinzone, where, however, none were H istory.
to be found. Suwarof had therefore no alternative but to dis-
mount his cavalry, and make use of their horses to drag along 1799.
the baggage. In spite of all obstacles, however, he arrived,
by forced marches, on the frontiers of Switzerland, upon the
very day which he had stipulated with the archduke. But the
archduke, either supposing that it would demean a prince
of the house of Austria to serve under a Russian general,
or not having courage enough to require the most expe¬
rienced general in Europe to receive orders from one so
much his junior, immediately marched into Suabia, and car¬
ried with him a large body of troops. It is not easy to con¬
ceive upon what principle the council of war at Vienna
could imagine that so very able an officer as Massena would
continue inactive at the head of an army almost double
that which had been sent to oppose him. The archduke
marched against the French in Suabia, who resisted him
as long as the small number of their troops would permit;
but they were gradually driven towards the Rhine. To
carry on the deception, however, they made a serious stand
in the vicinity of Manheim, where they lost nearly eighteen
hundred men.
In the mean time Switzerland was completely exposed
to the army of Massena. The right wing of the combined
army was commanded by General Hotze ; the centre, com¬
posed of the newly arrived Russians, was headed by Kor-
sakof, and the left wing by General Nauendorf. As soon
as Massena understood that the archduke had entered Man¬
heim, and that Suwarof was approaching Switzerland by
St Gothard, he commenced his movements, and, as St Go¬
thard was defended by Lecourbe, determined to anticipate
the Russian general. Having by a false attack, on the 24th
of September, drawn the attention of the Russians to an¬
other quarter, he suddenly crossed the Limmat, three leagues
from Zurich. Some French divisions now engaged the
Austrians, but the main body of the army marched against
the Russians. Flotze fell in the beginning of the action,
and Petrasch, who succeeded him, saved himself from a
total defeat by retiring in the night with the loss of four
thousand men. The Russians fought with singular obsti¬
nacy, though in a mountainous country to which they were
strangers, and contending against the ablest commanders
in Europe. It was in vain to attempt to put them to flight,
for even when surrounded they refused to lay down their
arms, and stood to be slaughtered on the spot. But the
Austrians having retreated on the 25th, the Russians on
the 28th followed their example, retiring in good order
under General Korsakof, but with the loss of three thousand
men, which, considering their perilous situation, was not
very great.
During these transactions General Suwarof was advan- Suwarof
cing from Italy with an army of from fifteen to eighteen disgusted
thousand men. Having carried the pass of St Gothard, he^jj^j6^
descended into the valley of Urseren, drove Lecourbe he-Austria-
fore him with great slaughter, and advanced as far as Al-
torf. He next day reached the canton of Glaris, and made a
thousand prisoners, whilst General Linken defeated another
corps of thirteen hundred men. Massena now turned upon
Suwarof, and surrounding him on all sides, expected to
take both the field-marshal himself and the grand duke
Constantine prisoners. But Suwarof defended himself in
a masterly manner, and there being one pass in the moun¬
tains which the republicans had left unoccupied, the vete¬
ran discovered it, and thus effected his escape, but lost his
cannon and baggage amongst the dreadful precipices with
which the country abounds. He made his way through the
country of the Grisons, and arrived at Coire with only about
six thousand men. When Suwarof discovered in what man¬
ner affairs had been conducted, when he ascertained the
perilous situation in which the Russians had been left
by the archduke, and saw the destruction which had in
p
114
FRANCE.
History, consequence overtaken them, his indignation knew no
bounds ; he considered himself and his men as betrayed,
' ' complained bitterly of the commander of the allies in Swit¬
zerland, publicly charged the council of war at Vienna with
selfishness and injustice, and refused any longer to co-ope¬
rate with the Austrian army. He transmitted an account
of the whole to Petersburg, and withdrew his forces to the
vicinity of Augsburg, there to wait for further orders from
his court.
British in- In the mean time Great Britain made active preparations
vasion of invade Plolland, with an army of forty thousand men,
Holland. compOSeti 0f British troops and Russian auxiliaries. The
first division, under General Sir Ralph Abercromby, sailed
in the month of August, protected by a fleet under Admi¬
ral Duncan; but bad weather prevented any attempt to
land the troops till the morning of the 27th, when the dis¬
embarkation was effected without opposition, at the Helder
Point. As the invaders had not been expected to land in
North Holland, there were but few troops in that neighbour¬
hood to oppose them. But before the British had proceeded
far they were met by a considerable body of infantry, caval¬
ry, and artillery, hastily collected from the adjacent towns.
The Dutch fought with great obstinacy, but, fatigued by the
steady opposition of their antagonists, they fell back about
two leagues, and in the night evacuated the fort of Helder,
which was taken possession of by the British on the morn¬
ing of the 28th. Admiral Mitchell now entered the Zuyder-
Zee with a detachment of the British fleet, in order to give
battle to the Dutch under Admiral Story; but the latter,
instead of retiring to the shallow water with which that sea
abounds, surrendered his whole fleet, on the 30th of August,
without firing a gun, pretending that from the mutinous
disposition of his seamen he could not prevail upon them
to fight. If the expedition had terminated here it would
have been fortunate. This success, however, was followed
up by an attempt to restore the authority of the stadtholder,
and to re-establish the ancient form of government. But as
no more than the first division had arrived, the terror of
invasion began to be dissipated, the enemies of the new go¬
vernment became disheartened, and time was allowed to pre¬
pare for defence. Nor were these the only errors chargeable
against the expedition. The British troops were landed in
the worst place which could possibly have been selected, in
a part of the country everywhere intersected by ditches
and canals, and abounding more than any other with per¬
sons disaffected to the person and government of the stadt¬
holder ; and this unfortunate expedition was undertaken to¬
wards the approach of the rainy season, when a campaign
in Holland is next to impossible. An invasion of Holland
seemed so natural an operation on the part of Britain, and
one too which might be undertaken with so many advan¬
tages by a power which had the command of the sea, that
when it was first talked of the French Directory hesitated
to undertake the defence of that country; but when the
time and the place of disembarkation came to be known, the
prospect of an almost certain success put an end to every
doubt on the subject; and General Brune was accordingly
sentwith such troops as could be hastily collected, to co-ope¬
rate with General Daendels. In the mean while, as no rein¬
forcement had arrived, General Abercromby could only act
on the defensive; and the enemy, encouraged by his want
of activity, ventured to attack him on the 10th of Septem¬
ber. Two columns of Dutch and one of republicans advan¬
ced against the invaders, but were repulsed in every direc¬
tion, and forced to retreat to Alkmaer. On the 13th addi¬
tional troops arrived under the Duke of York, who now as¬
sumed the chief command ; and the Russians having also ar¬
rived, the army, upon the 19th, assumed the offensive. The
left wing under General Abercromby advanced along the
shore of the Zuyder-Zee to attack Hoorne ; Generals Dun-
das and Pulteney commanded the centre columns ; and the
Russians were led by their own general D’Herman. But, History,
owing to some misconception, the Russians advanced to
attack the enemy about three o’clock in the morning, some H99.
hours before the Vest of the army had begun its march. Their
first efforts, however, were crowned with success, and they
made themselves masters of the village of Bergen ; but as
they pressed too eagerly forward, without waiting for the co¬
operation of the other columns, the enemy nearly surround¬
ed them; their general was made prisoner ; and notwith¬
standing that the British troops came up in time to cover
their retreat, they lost upwards of three thousand men.
This defeat of the right wing induced the commander-in¬
chief to recall his troops from their advanced positions, not¬
withstanding Abercromby had by this time made himself
master of Hoorne and its garrison, and Pulteney had carried
by assault the chief position of the Dutch army. The seve¬
rity of the weather prevented any fresh attack being made
till the 2d of October. On that day, however, an action
was fought between the British and the united Dutch and
French troops, which was warmly contested, and did not
terminate till late in the evening, when the British regain¬
ed possession of Alkmaer and the neighbouring villages.
But as this engagement had taken place among the sand¬
hills near the sea, the fatigue which the troops had under¬
gone prevented them from profiting by their victory; and
the fugitives were enabled to take up a position between
Baverwyck and Wyck-op-Zee. Here they were again at¬
tacked on the 6th by the Duke of York, who after a san¬
guinary contest kept possession of the field. This, however,
was the last success gained by the invading army. The
Duke of York, finding that he could make no further pro¬
gress, that the enemy had been rapidly reinforced, and that
the difficulties presented by the face of the country and the
badness of the weather also conspired against him, retired
to Schager Brug, where he waited for fresh orders from
England. But being closely pressed by the enemy, the em¬
barkation of the troops must have been effected with great
difficulty, had he not entered into a convention with the
Dutch and French that his retreat should not be molested,
in return for which he engaged not to injure the country
by demolishing any of the dikes which defended it against
the sea, and also to restore to France and Holland eight
thousand prisoners taken before the present campaign.
The affairs of the French Republic now began to wear a French
more favourable aspect. Championet, it is true, had been affairs,
defeated in Italy, and Ancona surrendered on the 13th of
November to General Frdlich; but the French were still
masters of the Genoese territory, Switzerland, and Hol¬
land ; and the new combination formed against them seem¬
ed about to be dissolved. Prussia withdrew at an early pe¬
riod, and still preserved a neutrality ; and, from the fate of
Suwarof’s army, it was reasonable to conclude that the em¬
peror of Russia would also desert the cause of the allies.
But the crisis of the directorial government was now fast Revolution
approaching. Bonaparte, on his retreat from Syria, had of the 18th
received intelligence that a Turkish army, supported by a Brumaire.
fleet, was about to invade Egypt. Fie hastened his return
across the desert, and arrived in the vicinity of the Pyra¬
mids on the 11th of July, when he found that an army
consisting of eighteen thousand Moslemins had landed at
Aboukir, carried that place by assault, and put the garri¬
son, consisting of five hundred men, to the sword. On the
15th he marched against these new invaders, and ten days
afterwards not only defeated, but annihilated, their whole
force, slaying about half their number, and driving the re¬
mainder into the sea. On the 10th of October the Direc¬
tory received a dispatch announcing this victory ; and on
the 14th of the same month the less agreeable intelligence
was communicated, that Bonaparte, accompanied with his
principal officers, had landed on the shores of Provence.
The state to which France had been reduced under the
F R A
History, directorial regime was truly deplorable. Not to mention
the disastrous defeats which had been sustained by the
1799. French army, the loss of Italy, and of all the advantages se¬
cured to the Republic by the treaty of Campo Formio, the
provinces had fallen into a state of extreme disorganization ;
the roads were infested with brigands; and, by the law of
hostages, all persons nobly born, or related to the nobility,
were obliged either to skulk in concealment, or to join the
insurgent bands. The rich were vexed with the same ex¬
actions as in the early period of the Revolution, when the
country was menaced with invasion; the great mass of
the population had been decimated by the consumption of
the armies ; the fields in many places remained uncultivat¬
ed ; disorder and misery everywhere prevailed. The ne¬
cessity of a change was every day becoming more and more
obvious ; and whatever difference of opinion there might
be in the capital, the provinces were prepared to submit
to any government which might supersede the Directory.
Even the members of this body itself had become convin¬
ced that the period of its demise was at no great distance.
Barras treated with the Bourbons ; Sieyes had repeatedly
remarked that the chief thing wanting was a head; others
held similar language ; and the minds of all, excepting the
extreme democrats, were prepared for a change.
Bonaparte, on his arrival, repaired to the Luxembourg.
The Directory praised and feared, but dared not reproach
him with the bold step he had taken in returning to France.
Fie had evidently come to watch the course of events, and
with this view shut himself up in a modest mansion in the
Rue Chantereine. But it soon appeared that he was the
loadstone which drew to it all interests and all ambition ;
ministers, generals, deputies, men in office who desired to re¬
tain their places, and men out of office who desired to dis¬
possess the actual occupants, flocked in crowds to General
Bonaparte. All parties in fact made overtures to him ; the
extreme democrats, who sought in him an instrument, and
the moderates, who desired the re-establishment of order at
almost any price. Not to have picked up the fragments of
sovereign power which thus crumbled and fell at his feet,
would have been an act of self-denial unexampled in the
annals of ambition. The country had despaired of obtain¬
ing at once a free and an efficient government; and, torn
by the violence of contending factions, it now languished for
repose. . Bonaparte took several days to mature his plans,
and decide on the course which he was to adopt. The de¬
mocrats and moderates were equally eager in their advan¬
ces. But his revolutionary connections inclined him to the
former; and as his brother Lucien had, in compliment to
him, been chosen president of the Council of Five Hundred,
Bonaparte proposed, through this party, to become Director
in room of Sieyes. Gohier and Moulins were accordingly
sounded, but these pragmatical blockheads objected on the
ground of the law which required that a director should
be forty years of age. The facility of getting a dispensa¬
tion voted was hinted at; but they persisted, not seeing the
inevitable consequences of their obstinacy ; and Bonaparte
instantly joined Sieyes and the moderates, with whom he
planned a change, not only in the members, but also in the
form of government. But to effect this, it was necessary
to commence with a coup d'etat, or revolution; and the
success of the latter must in a great measure depend on
the support of the military. Of that order Bonaparte was
the natural representative, and great exertions were now
employed to secure its co-operation. He could reckon on
the inferior officers and the troops ; their idol is always a
victorious leader. But three of the generals, Moreau, Au-
gereau, and Bernadette, were either too high in rank to
stoop to a comrade, or too republican in principle to ac¬
quiesce in a project of revolution which might terminate
in establishing a despotism. Moreau, however, was irre
solute, and being discontented with the Directory, suffer-
NCR 115
ed himself to be neutralized, if not gained over ; Augereau, History,
brave in the field of battle, wanted political courage and
conduct; and even Bernadotte, who had both, and argued 1799.
stoutly against Bonaparte, was stilled, awed, or duped by
his address.
On the 18th of Brumaire, the day fixed for this revolu¬
tion, Bonaparte summoned all the generals and officers in
Paris to an early breakfast. It was a kind of levee ; some
regiments were to be reviewed; and it was necessary to
harangue the troops. The Directors Barras, Moulins,
and Gohier, were kept in ignorance of the plot; they in¬
habited the same palace, that of the Luxembourg, and,
forming a majority of the Directory, might have done mis¬
chief. The first step, however, had all the forms of le¬
gality. The Council of Ancients, in which the influence
of Sieyes predominated, met at six in the morning, and
passed the preconcerted decree removing the sittings of
the legislative body to Saint Cloud, and conferring upon
Bonaparte the command of the troops in the capital. The
decree was brought to Bonaparte in the midst of his levee,
and immediately communicated to the officers present,
whom he also addressed. The moment for action had
now arrived. Seizing Lefebvre by the arm, he presented
him with a sword, and won the rough soldier by a few
magical words. The decree of the Legislative Assem¬
bly secured the obedience of Moreau. Bernadotte alone
stood firm, but he was not permitted to retire, until he
had given a promise not to raise agitations, harangue the
soldiers, or act in any way until legally summoned. Hav¬
ing thus made himself certain of the military, Bonaparte
rode to the Tuileries, reviewed the troops, and watched
the course of events. Talleyrand had been sent to the
Luxembourg to induce Barras to resign, and the latter had
sent his secretary to the Tuileries to collect tidings. The
directorial emissary was brought to Bonaparte, who in¬
stantly addressed him as if he had been the Directory it¬
self: “ What have you done with France, which I left so
brilliant ? I left peace and I find war, victories and I find
reverses ; I left you the millions of Italy, and I find nothing
but spoliation and misery. WTere are the hundred thou¬
sand soldiers, my companions in glory ? They are dead.”
This was spoken to excite the officers around, and to dis¬
pose them to march against the Luxembourg, which he was
now prepared to do. But the prudence of Barras rendered
such a step unnecessary. Having received from Talleyrand
a promise of oblivion for the past, wealth and impunity for
the future, he signed his resignation, and left the capital
for his house in the country, attended by an escort of dra¬
goons. Moulins and Gohier, less accommodating, were
ordered to be put under a guard in the Luxembourg, and
Moreau was charged with this invidious duty. As Sieyes
and Ducos had also resigned, the Directory was now vir¬
tually dissolved; and all that remained to be done was to
replace it with a new executive government.
On the following day, being the 19th of Brumaire, the
members of the two Councils met at Saint Cloud. Bona¬
parte had occupied the road and the environs of the cha¬
teau with troops ; but his project was still far from being
accomplished. The democratic majority in the Council of
Five Hundred were indignant; the moderate majority in
the Council of Ancients wavered as the crisis approached ;
and whilst the one prepared for extremities, the other be¬
gan to repent their own act, and to be apprehensive of the
intentions of Bonaparte. When the Councils met, the
greatest agitation prevailed. In the Five Hundred the oath
of fidelity to the constitution was renewed ; and it was fear¬
ed that some similar demonstration would be made by the
Ancients. Informed of this dangerous spirit of resistance,
Bonaparte resolved to confront, and if possible put it down
by his presence. Surrounded by his staff, he accordingly
entered the Council of the Ancients, and addressed their
116 FRA
History, president, but with so much confusion both of language
and of manner that his partisans began to despair. “ Ite-
1799. presentatives,” said he, “ you are on a volcano. I was
tranquil yesterday when your decree was brought me, and
I have come with my comrades to your aid. On this ac¬
count I am recompensed with calumnies. I am stigma¬
tized as a Cromwell and a Caesar. If such were my cha¬
racter, I had no need of coming here.” He then mention¬
ed the resignation of the Directors, the distress of the coun¬
try, and the agitated state of the Council of Five Hun¬
dred, upon which, he said, no dependence could be pla¬
ced ; and he besought the Ancients to save the Revolution,
liberty, and equality. “ And the constitution,” exclaimed
a voice. “ The constitution !” repeated Bonaparte, paus¬
ing and collecting himself; “ I tell you, you have no con¬
stitution. You violated it in Fructidor, in Floreal, and in
Prairial, when you seized by force and condemned the na¬
tional representatives, when you annulled the popular elec¬
tions, when you compelled three directors to resign. The
constitution, forsooth ! a name at once invoked and violat¬
ed by every faction in turn. What force can it possess,
when it has ceased to command even respect ? The govern¬
ment, if you would have such a thing, must be fixed on a
new basis.” Having thus shown the necessity of the re¬
volution, he then proceeded to re-assure his partisans, by
promising it success; and, pointing to the glittering bayo¬
nets of the soldiers, “ I am accompanied,” added he, “ by
the god of fortune and of war.” The Ancients applauded
this speech, and Bonaparte, satisfied with the effect it had
produced, hurried to the other wing of the chateau, where,
in the Orangery, the Council of Five Hundred were in a
state of extreme excitement. Leaving his staff behind, he
advanced into the hall, whilst the grenadiers who followed
him remained at the door. As he proceeded towards the
chair, which was occupied by his brother Lucien, a violent
tumult ensued, and the epithets “ Cromwell,” “ Caesar,”
“ Usurper,” were freely applied to him from all parts of
the house. Had the assembly heard him calmly, and then
voted him a traitor or outlaw, his career might have been
speedily closed; for Jourdan and Augereau were both
without, and might easily have withheld or drawn off the
soldiers. Instead of this, however, the exasperated depu¬
ties sprang from their seats as soon as he appeared, and
pressing upon him, collared, hustled, and maltreated him,
whilst Arena Corsican endeavoured to dispatch him with a
dagger. The grenadiers flew to his assistance, and rescued
him from their fury. “Let us outlaw him ; a vote of out¬
lawry,” was the instant cry of the assembly ; “ let him be
treated like Robespierre, let him be put ho?'s la loi.” But
Lucien refused to put the decree to the vote; he resisted,
gained time, and at length, when about to be overpowered,
was borne out of the hall by the grenadiers whom Napoleon
sent to his assistance. Throughout the whole of this trying
scene the civilian showed more courage and presence of
mind than the soldier. Divesting himself of his robes, Lu¬
cien mounted a horse and harangued the troops, telling
them that the majority of the Council of Five Hundred
were held in terror by a few democrats armed with poni¬
ards, who menaced them, and attempted to assassinate the
general. This declaration produced a great impression ;
and the demand whether they might be reckoned on was
answered with acclamations by the troops. A company of
grenadiers was instantly ordered to clear the Orangery.
They advanced from the one end to the other with fixed
bayonets, whilst the deputies escaped by the windows and
through the woods, leaving in their retreat fragments of
their robes upon almost every bush. In the evening of the
same day the Council of Ancients, and about fifty mem¬
bers of the dispersed Council of Five Hundred, passed a
decree abolishing the Directory, and establishing in its
room three consuls, Bonaparte, Sieyes, and Roger Ducos,
N C E.
as a provisional government, which, in concert with two History,
committees chosen from each council, was authorized to
prepare a constitution. l800-
The plan of a new constitution was presented to the A consular
public by the consuls in the month of December 1799.govern-
According to this plan, eighty men, who had the power of nie“t es-
nominating their own successors, and were called the Con- ab 18 ei1,
servative Senate, had likewise authority to elect the whole
of the legislators and executive rulers of the state, whilst
none of these offices could be held by themselves. One
man, called the chief or first consul, was to possess the so¬
vereign authority, to hold his office for ten years, and to be
competent to be re-elected ; and other two consuls were to
assist in his deliberations, but to have no power to control
his will. The legislative power was divided into two as¬
semblies ; the Tribungte, composed of a hundred members,
and the Conservative Senate, of three hundred. When the
first consul thought proper to propose a law, the Tribunate
might debate upon it, without having authority to vote
either for or against it, whilst the members of the Senate
might vote, but were not entitled to debate. The consuls
and the members of the legislative body, as well as of the
Conservative Senate, were not responsible for their con¬
duct ; but the ministers of state employed by them were
undei'stood to be accountable. The committees which
framed the constitution nominated the persons who were
to execute the functions of government. Bonaparte was
appointed first consul, and Cambaceres and Lebrun second
and third consuls. Sieyes, as formerly, declined taking
any active part in the administration of public affairs, and
received, as a gratuity for his services, an estate belonging
to the nation, called Crosne, in the department of the
Seine and Oisne.
Bonaparte had not been long in possession of the reins Bonaparte
of government, when he made overtures for negotiating ProPose.s
peace with the allied powers at war with France. Separate
proposals were made to the different belligerent powers,
no doubt with a view to dissolve the coalition ; but the de¬
crees of the Convention which had declared war against all
the powers of Europe still remained unrepealed. Departing
from the forms sanctioned by the custom of nations in car¬
rying on diplomatic correspondence, he addressed a letter
directly to his Britannic majesty, the substance of which
was, whether the war, which had for eight years ravaged
the four quarters of the globe, was to be eternal ? and whe¬
ther there were no means by which Britain and France
might come to a good understanding ? To these questions
the British ministry made a formal and elaborate reply,
in which they dwelt much on the bad faith of the revolu¬
tionary rulers, and the instability of the governments of
France since the subversion of the monarchy. The over¬
ture transmitted to Vienna was of a similar description, and
experienced similar treatment; but, irritated by the shame¬
ful treatment of Suwarof while carrying on the war in Italy
and Switzerland, the emperor of Russia abandoned the coa¬
lition.
On the 7th of March Bonaparte sent a message to the
legislative body, containing his ideas as to the conduct and
designs of the British cabinet, and assuring them that he
would invoke peace in the midst of battles and triumphs,
and fight only for the happiness of France and the repose
of the world. This message was followed by two decrees ;
the one calling, in the name of honour, upon every soldier
absent upon leave from the armies of Italy and the Rhine,
to join them before the 5th of April; and the other appoint¬
ing a fresh army of reserve to be assembled at Dijon, un¬
der the immediate command of the first consul.
About this time the belligerent powers were nearly ready Affairs of
to open the campaign both in Italy and on the Rhine.
The Genoese Republic formed the only territory of any
importance in Italy, which remained in the hands of the
FRA
History. French ; but the army by which it was defended had been
very much reduced since the preceding year, and might be
1800. considered as in a state of mutiny, from the want of pay,
clothes, and provisions. The Austrians were most anxious
to obtain possession of Genoa and its dependencies ; and in
this they were seconded by the Genoese themselves, who
regarded the republicans as the destroyers of their com¬
merce. Massena received the command of the army in
Genoa, with extraordinary powers, and by his conduct
proved himself a general of consummate abilities. Carrying
with him a reinforcement of troops from Lyons and Mar¬
seilles, and reducing to order and obedience all whom he
had found ready to desert their standards, he was soon at
the head of a force sufficient to check the progress of the
Austrians, and to keep the Genoese in subjection. But
after a number of battles, all of them most vigorously con¬
tested, he was at length obliged to retire within the city,
where he had soon an opportunity of distinguishing him¬
self by one of the ablest and most obstinate defences on
record. The appearance of the British fleet on the 5th
of April was the preconcerted signal for Melas to attack
Genoa, the communication between which and France
was thus cut off. But previously to the arrival of Lord
Keith, a quantity of wheat and other provisions had been
thrown into the city, by which means the army and the
inhabitants were rescued from immediate famine. The sur¬
rounding country wras soon occupied by the Austrians ;
but as Massena still lived in the expectation of supplies
from France, he obstinately refused to surrender the city.
General Melas having nothing to apprehend from the army
shut up in Genoa, left General Ott to continue the block¬
ade, and with the remainder of his forces marched against
Suchet, who commanded another division of the French
army. On the 7th of May a battle was fought, between
Ceva and St Lorenzo, in which the republicans were de¬
feated with the loss of twelve hundred prisoners and ten
pieces of cannon. The consequences of this defeat, which
in the circumstances was perhaps inevitable, proved emi¬
nently disastrous to the French. Suchet was obliged to
abandon his strong position on the Col di Tende, where he
left behind him four pieces of cannon and two hundred pri¬
soners ; and though he disputed every defensible point on
his retreat, the Austrians drove him from one post to ano¬
ther, till he was finally obliged to take refuge behind the
Var; by which means General Melas became master of
the whole department of the Maritime Alps.
Campaign But the campaign on the Rhine did not open in so fa-
Rhin vourable a manner for the Austrians as that of Italy. The
lne court of Vienna directed the Archduke Charles to resign
the command of the army to General Kray, who had emi¬
nently distinguished himself during the Italian campaign
of 1799. Of his military talents there could be only one
opinion, and his integrity and zeal had been sufficiently
tried; but he had the misfortune not to be noble, and in
the Austrian dominions the want of high birth cannot be
compensated by the possession of great talents. It could
scarcely be expected, therefore, that a divided army, com¬
manded by an officer without birth, though possessed of
ability, would make head against the united veterans of
France, led on by a general under whom they had been
accustomed to conquer ; and, in fact, the Hungarian troops,
finding themselves ready to be sacrificed to the dissen¬
sions of their officers, refused to fight against the enemy.
At the opening of the campaign, the council of war at
Vienna had sent General Kray instructions how to dis¬
pose of his forces ana having no general under him to
support his views, Re was under the necessity of obeying
his instructions whether he approved of them or not. In¬
structions of a similar nature had been transmitted to Mo¬
reau by the chief consul, but he refused to fight under re¬
straint. Conscious that in knowledge of the military art he
N C E. 117
was not inferior to Bonaparte himself, whilst he possessed History,
the advantage of being infinitely better acquainted with the v—~~y—
country, he sent a courier to Paris to inform the first con- 1800-
sul, that if the orders sent him were to be rigidly obeyed,
he should feel it his duty to resign his command, and ac¬
cept of an inferior station. He accompanied his resigna¬
tion with a plan of the campaign which he had framed for
himself; and as the propriety of his suggestions forcibly
struck the mind of the first consul, he was ordered to act
according to his own judgment.
Being thus judiciously left to adopt and execute his own
measures, General Moreau crossed the Rhine, and drove
the Austrians from one post to another, till General Kray,
finding it impracticable to adopt offensive measures with a
mutinous army and disaffected officers, resolved to main¬
tain his position at Ulm, and wrait for reinforcements from
\ ienna. He had been defeated at Stockach, at Engen, and
at Mbskirch, although on almost every occasion he gave
proofs of abdity and determination; but no talents, how¬
ever great, can counteract the pernicious effects of treach¬
ery and disaffection, to say nothing of an absurd and im¬
practicable plan of operations. At one time, indeed, seven
thousand men, when ordered to advance, instantly threw
down their arms. Convinced that it was absolutely vain to
attempt any offensive operation, Kray intrenched himself
strongly at Ulm, which, as it commands both sides of the
Danube, is consequently a place of great importance. But
Moreau, perceiving his intentions, resolved to attempt the
passage of the Danube, and force Kray to a general en¬
gagement, by cutting him off from his magazines at Dona-
wert; and with this view he ordered Lecourbe, with one of
the wings of his army, to take possession of a bridge between
Donawert and Dillingen. This was not effected without
difficulty and loss; but it fully disclosed the intentions of
the French general. The Austrians, in fact, perceived
their danger in all its magnitude, and accordingly disputed
every inch of ground with the enemy. Kray sent rein¬
forcements to the left bank to oppose the passage, and a
battle in consequence ensued at Hochstet, in the vicinity
of Blenheim, where victory again declared for the French,
who made four thousand prisoners. Sensible that his situ¬
ation had now become perilous in the extreme, Kray left a
strong garrison at Ulm, and marched against the enemy,
whom he attacked at Neuburg. The troops on both sides
fought with determined bravery ; but, after a severe contest,
the Austrians were obliged to fall back on Ingolstadt. This
battle may be said to have decided the fate of Germany.
The electorate of Bavaria was now in the possession of the
French, besides other territories of less extent; and as they
approached the hereditary dominions of the emperor, re¬
publican sentiments were loudly expressed, whilst the peo¬
ple in many parts evinced such a leaning towards the ene¬
my, as to convince the court that no dependence could be
placed on armies composed of such persons. The imperial
family, and the British ambassador, were openly insulted
in the theatre, and the cry of “ Peace, peace,” resounded
from every part of the house.
“ A new dynasty must be baptized in blood.” This was vjews and
the careless remark of a rhetorician, but Napoleon deeply wants of
felt its truth. His authority, which wanted the sanction ofNapoleon.
time, required the support of victory. It was necessary for
his own sake, as well as for that of the country which had
placed its destinies in his hands, that he should strike a blow
which would at once humble the enemy, and impress the
world with an idea of his irresistible power. With this
view, he had caused to be assembled at Dijon, and organiz¬
ed by Berthier, an army of reserve (as it was called), which
was thought to have no other destination than that of de¬
fending the course of the Rhine, but which was in reality
intended to perform a conspicuous part on an independent
theatre of action. 1 he object of Napoleon was to reconquer
118 F R A
History. Italy, which, with the exception of Genoa, where Massena
still held out, the Austrians now occupied to the foot of the
1800. Alps. And every thing seemed to favour the project which
had been so boldly conceived. His preparations had been
so skilfully masked, that when the government ostentati¬
ously announced the real strength of the army of reserve,
the statement was universally discredited ; and Melas, who
commanded the imperial forces in Italy, so little dreamed
of being called upon to contend for the possession of that
country with the most fortunate and enterprising general
of his time, that his whole attention was directed towards
the pursuit of Suchet, who was now retreating over the
Alps of Savoy. In his head-quarters at Alessandria, he
never suspected that he would have to oppose an invading
force descending into Italy by the pass of the Great St Ber¬
nard. The real views of Bonaparte were too bold to enter
into the conception of the Austrian general. These were,
to traverse Switzerland by the lake of Geneva and the val¬
ley of the Rhone as far as Martigny, and thence to cross the
Great St Bernard, and descend into the plains of Lombardy
in rear of Melas; in other words, to intersect the commu¬
nications of the Austrian general, disarrange all his plans,
oblige him to countermarch and take up new positions, and,
lastly, impose on him the necessity of receiving battle in a
situation where defeat would be total ruin. He expected
to reap the benefit of a complete surprise, and at all events
to take the enemy in flagranti delicto.
Passage of On the 6th of May the first consul left Paris, and pro-
the Alps; ceeded to take the command of an army the strength and
invasion (]est;nation 0f which had given rise to so many conjectures.
ta This army, which had been reinforced from the Rhine,
and amounted to about forty thousand men, immediately
began its march into Switzerland, and on the 20th cross¬
ed the Great St Bernard. The passage of this mountain
is justly accounted one of the most extraordinary achieve¬
ments in modern warfare, and is not inferior in any of its
circumstances to the celebrated passage of the Alps by
Hannibal. The French army now advanced by a path
which had hitherto been considered as practicable only
for mules and foot passengers ; they removed their cannon
from the carriages, placed the guns in the hollowed trunks
of trees, and thus dragged them up the steep ascent. In
May winter still reigns with unmitigated severity in these
regions ; and the rigours of a northern climate, snow, ice,
and whirlwinds, increased the dangers of the march ; but
all difficulties were overcome by the enthusiasm and per¬
severance of the troops. On reaching the summit, refresh¬
ments awaited them at the convent, to the monks of which
large sums had been transmitted for the purpose ; and in
that cloud-capped habitation of peace, the soldiers as they
passed received a cordial welcome, and enjoyed some
needful rest. The division which crossed the Simplon
encountered still greater difficulties than that which pass¬
ed the Great St Bernard, having to clear deep fissures in
Indian file, and sometimes clinging to a single rope. In
descending from Mount St Bernard into the valley of Aoste,
the road passes under the fort of Bard, by which it is
completely commanded. Here, then, was a lion in the
path. The troops might avoid it by clambering over the
adjoining precipices, but for the artillery this was impos¬
sible. The fort was summoned and cannonaded, but in
vain ; the governor disregarded the menaces of the invad¬
ers, and his little citadel was secure against a coup-de-
main. What was to be done ? The case seemed desperate,
but ingenuity at length triumphed. The street of the
village immediately below was covered with straw and
small branches, and the cannon were dragged past during
a dark night without attracting the attention of the gar¬
rison. Had the fort opened its fire, and delayed the army
longer, all the advantages of this bold march would have
been lost. But fortune still remained true to her favourite ;
N C E.
and Bonaparte, having cleared an obstacle which at first History,
appeared insuperable, followed the course of the Doria and -
the Po, entered Milan and Pavia, and thus accomplished
his first object, namely, that of placing himself on the
communications of Melas.
The Austrian general had already retrograded ; he could
not credit the report of Bonaparte being in Italy, but still
he had taken the precaution to fall back. What above all
astonished him, was to hear that the French had cannon;
how had they passed the Alps? Bonaparte arrived at
Milan on the 2d of June, and there expected Moncey to
join him with reinforcements from the army of Switzer¬
land. In the mean time he dispatched his lieutenants to
seize the towns on the Po; which was promptly effected.
In occupying Piacenza, Murat interceptejd a courier on
his way to the Austrian head-quarters, with tidings of the
fall of Genoa. This event, which disengaged and render¬
ed disposable a large Austrian force, left Napoleon no al¬
ternative but either to fall back and wait for his expected
reinforcements, or to march against Melas, and put all to
the hazard of a battle. Fie chose the latter course, and
trusting that his own genius and fortune would compen¬
sate for his deficiency in effective force, resolved to anti¬
cipate the enemy. Melas had concentrated his whole
force at Alessandria, on the Bormida; and General Ott,
having reduced Genoa, was rapidly advancing, with the
intention of surprising the French advanced posts on the
Po, and at the same time combining his operations with
those of the principal army in a grand effort against the
enemy. But Ott was himself surprised by Lannes at
Montebello, and after a severe action completely defeated
with the loss of five thousand men. The French army
now advanced to Stradella, where it took up an advanta¬
geous position, and remained several days to allow Suchet
to close upon the enemy’s rear, and Massena, with the
liberated garrison of Genoa, to join from the south. The
Austrians in the mean while made no movement; and Na¬
poleon, apprehensive that Melas might escape him, either
by marching north towards Turin or south towards Genoa,
advanced into the plains of Marengo ; thus giving a pro¬
digious advantage to the enemy. But although Melas
was greatly superior in cavalry, and might at his option
either attack the French, or defend the course of the Bor¬
mida, behind which his army was concentrated, Bonaparte
was still so apprehensive that he might file off towards
Genoa, that he detached Dessaix, who had just arrived
from Egypt and taken the command of a division, to coun¬
teract any movement in retreat, and to compel the Aus¬
trians to receive battle. But this measure, which in its
consequences had nearly proved fatal to the French army,
proceeded on a total miscalculation ; for at the very mo¬
ment when Napoleon was thinking of preventing the flight
of Melas, it was decided in a council of war that the only
mode of securing Genoa was to give battle to the French.
On the morning of the 14th, which Melas had fixed on Battle of
for the attack, the French were echelloned in an oblique Marengo,
formation, extending from Marengo, the village next the
Bormida, which was occupied by their advanced guard, to
San Giuliano, where the head-quarters were established,
with considerable intervals between the divisions. The
Austrians passed the Bormida in three columns, by as
many bridges, which they had thrown across the river.
One cause of the want of preparation on the part of Napo¬
leon, was the assurance he had received that the principal
bridge had been broken down ; and this was perfectly true ;
but the Austrians had not lost a moment in re-establish¬
ing the bridge, and thus restoring their communications
with the opposite bank of the stream. The first burst of
the attack was directed against the French at Marengo.
But instead of advancing boldly to the charge, and storm¬
ing the key of the position, the imperialists deployed,
FRA
History, planted batteries, and waited to effect tardily by their
fire what an assault might have at once accomplished.
1800. Ibis afforded the trench time, which they so much want¬
ed, and enabled Napoleon to recall Dessaix. The right and
left of the Austrians had scarcely an enemy to contend
with; for being composed chiefly of cavalry, in which arm
the Austrian army was eminently powerful, they swept
every thing before them; and at length, turning towards
the centre, drove the enemy from the village of Marengo,
across a swampy rivulet in the rear. At mid-day, the
plain presented an extraordinary spectacle. The French
in disordered masses were in half retreat, yet still main¬
taining a vigorous resistance ; whole columns of wounded
and stragglers were pressing towards the rear, and throw¬
ing into confusion the ranks which still held firm ; the
Austrian cavalry domineered in the plain, and threatened
at every moment to break in among the disordered troops ;
the fate of the day seemed already decided. Seeing him¬
self victorious at Marengo, General Melas retired to Ales¬
sandria to write his dispatches, leaving the chief of his
staff, Baron Zach, to complete the victory. He had al¬
ready withdrawn from the field a considerable body of ca¬
valry, which he deemed it necessary to send against Su-
chet; a fatal error, which he had soon reason to repent. But
whilst Melas thus indulged in the security of an assured
triumph, Bonaparte was preparing to make a stand at San
Giuliano, and to avenge the defeat of the morning by
fighting a fresh battle in the evening. Dessaix had now
joined, and highly applauded the resolution of the gene¬
ral-in-chief. The artillery was at the same time placed
in battery upon an eminence commanding the high road,
along which the Austrians shortly afterwards advanced
in column. But success had rendered them as impru¬
dently confident in the evening as the French were in the
morning, and they came on less to dispute the victory than
to gather up the fruits of one which had been already
gained. Bonaparte now rode leisurely along his newly-
formed line. “ Soldiers, said he, tl we have retreated
enough for to-day ; you know it is my custom to sleep on
the field of battle.’ When the imperialists led on by
Zach approached San Giuliano, the battery, unmasked,
opened its fire; Dessaix led on his fresh division of in¬
fantry to the attack; Kellerman, with a brigade of light
horse, watching the favourable moment, charged and broke
through the advancing column, then wheeling round,
chaiged back and again penetrated it. Thus surprised and
enveloped, the head of the column laid down its arms, and
the remainder scarcely attempted to make a stand ; being
speedily routed and put to flight, it communicated its
panic to the troops in the rear, which, had they come up
with suitable determination, might have repeated at San
Gmhano the success of Marengo. All was now lost. The
impel ialists fled across the plain of Marengo towards the
bridges, pursued by the French, who slaughtered the fu¬
gitives in all directions. The carnage was dreadful, and
continued until nightfall, when the victors, weary of slay¬
ing and oppressed by fatigue, slowly withdrew. Thus the
battle of Marengo, which a vigorous charge of cavalry
would for ever have decided, was restored and gained
by six o’clock in the evening. Dessaix fell early in the
second battle, to which the brilliant charge so opportunely
executed by young Kellerman gave the decisive turn.1
Italy was thus conquered at Marengo; and France by
one battle regained her superiority in the field. An ar¬
mistice was now agreed to, the terms of which were, that
N C E. 119
Piedmont and Genoa were to be given up to the French, History,
and that the Austrians should retire behind the Mincio; s--
thus abandoning at once all the conquests of Suwarof. 1800.
Ihe convention with Melas was considered as preparatory
to a treaty; and, in fact, Bonaparte offered to Austria the
terms of Campo hormio; but the cabinet of Vienna, more
resolute in adversity than in prosperity, pleaded her en¬
gagements with Britain, as precluding her from treating
excepting in conjunction with that power, her ally. Ho-
henlinden was destined to add its glories to that of Maren¬
go, before peace could be conquered.
General Kray was anxious to avail himself of the armis¬
tice concluded in Italy in order to arrest the progress of
Moreau; but that able general refused to listen to any
overtures upon the subject, until he should have received
instructions from Paris. Count St Julien, however, arriv¬
ed with proposals of peace from the imperial cabinet, in
consequence of which the armistice was extended to Ger¬
many ; and the posts then occupied by the respective ar¬
mies were considered as constituting the line of demarca¬
tion. But, in opposition to the spirit of the stipulations
with General Melas, the French reinforced their army in
Italy, levied immense contributions, and raised troops in
different states which they themselves had declared inde¬
pendent.
. Whilst France was thus victorious in Europe, her troops Distress
in Egypt were subjected to the greatest hardships. The °f the
circumstance of their being abandoned by their chief gave Prench
rise to bitter complaints; and Kleber is said to have de-
dared that the same universe should not contain him and
Bonaparte. Under the auspices of the latter, a convention
for the evacuation of Egypt by the French was concluded
at El Arisch on the 24-th of January 1800, between the
Grand Vizier on the part of Turkey, and Sir Sidney Smith
on that of Great Britain. By virtue of this convention,
the republican army, with its baggage and effects, were to
be collected at Alexandria, Rosetta, and Aboukir, and to
be conveyed to France in vessels belonging the Repub¬
lic, or such as might be furnished for that purpose by the
Sublime Porte.
Towards the close of the year 1799 the British ministry Kb'ber as-
reason to believe that an arrangement would be en-sassinated*
tered into between the Grand Vizier and General Kleber
for the evacuation of Egypt by the French ; and as such
an event was much to be desired, Lord Keith received
orders to accede to it, but only on condition that Kleber
and his army should be detained as prisoners of war. The
convention of El Arisch accordingly fell to the ground ;
and, but for the honourable conduct of Sir Sidney Smith,*
Kleber would have been treacherously attacked by the
Grand Vizier whilst resting upon his arms, in reliance that
the treaty would be ratified. But the Turks paid dear for
their meditated perfidy. On the 20th of March, Kleber
attacked and totally routed them at Heliopolis, near Cairo,
with the loss of more than eight thousand men killed and
wounded on the field of battle. This victory restored to
the French Cairo, which in terms of the convention of El
Arisch they had abandoned. Kleber again proposed to
evacuate Egypt, upon the terms agreed to by the Grand
Vizier and Sn Sidney Smith; and Lord Keith being now
empowered to agree to them, a suspension of hostilities
took place, and the Turks were about to be delivered from
an enemy whom they were not able to expel, when Gene¬
ral Kleber was suddenly assassinated. Both parties had
reason to regret this event, as Kleber was not only one of
an, supported b.v a.toost a.l the
omission of all notice of this achievement in the official account of the hntfle8 -n S of .res^tment was excited in his mind by the
he acknowledged. “ That charge of yours was oonnlmA- K the ^tle. Ihe service thus rendered was perhaps too great to
“ UU)ortune in^ed,” replied Kellerman; « it has placed the crownTn ^ourtead.” e’ ln a tone of lukewaim Praise’
120 FRA
History, the most able, but also one of the most upright and hon-
ourable men ever intrusted with the command of an army.
1801. Menou succeeded Kleber in the command of the French
ofTh^Bri1 army in Egypt, but refused to quit that country by capitu-
tish go-n" Nation; in consequence of which the British government
vernment. formed the resolution of expelling him by force. Sir James
Pulteneyhad received the command of twelve thousand men
in the Mediterranean, with orders to act in such a manner
as might most effectually annoy the enemy ; but as this plan
had been disconcerted by the result of the battle of Marengo,
he -was superseded by Sir Ralph Abercromby, who carried
out with him reinforcements, together with a train of ar¬
tillery from Gibraltar. Having touched at Minorca and
Malta, Sir Ralph steered his course thence for the coast of
Egypt, which he reached on the first of March 1801, and
next day anchored in the Bay of Aboukir. But the
weather prevented him from attempting to land till the
8th, when the first division effected a landing in the face
of the French, to the amount of four thousand men, and
the disembarkation was continued during that and the
following day. The army moved forward on the 12th, and
coming in sight of the enemy, gave them battle on the 13th.
The conflict was obstinate on both sides, and the loss very
considerable ; but victory in the end declared for the Bri¬
tish. This advantage was followed up with vigour, and on
the 21st a more decisive battle was fought about four miles
from Alexandria, where, after various turns of fortune, the
British were finally victorious. In the heat of the action,
General Abercromby received a mortal wound, and died
on the 28th. The loss on both sides was severe.
The north- As the fate of Egypt was in a great measure decided by
em confe- ^gg two battles, we shall now advert to affairs of great im-
eracy. portance which about this time took place in Europe. The
northern powrers, jealous of the maritime superiority of Bri¬
tain, and acting under the influence of the Emperor Paul,
resolved to revive the armed neutrality of Catharine II.
established during the American war, and to claim the
right of trading to the ports of France without being sub¬
jected to what they conceived the intolerable evil of having
their vessels searched. The ministry of Great Britain had
determined to break up this confederacy; but, to the asto¬
nishment of the nation, which was not prepared for such
an occurrence, they suddenly resigned.
Change of Various causes have been assigned for an event so un-
ministry in expectefl ; but the ostensible reason was a difference in the
iitain. cabinet relative to Catholic emancipation. After the union
of Ireland with Britain, the minister appears to have pro¬
posed this subject in the cabinet; but his majesty, from
some conscientious scruples founded on his coronation oath,
gave it his direct negative, and in consequence Mr Pitt and
his friends tendered their resignation. They were succeed¬
ed by men, however, who had generally supported Mr Pitt’s
administration during the war, and who were entirely of
the same school in politics. Mr Addington was appointed
first lord of the treasury and chancellor of the exchequer;
Lord Eldon, lord high chancellor; the Earl of St Vincent,
first lord of the admiralty ; Lords Hawkesbury and Pelham,
secretaries of state ; and the Honourable Colonel Yorke,
secretary at war. The former ministry was dissolved on
the 11th of February ; but owing to the indisposition of the
king, the new ministry did not enter upon office until the
middle of March, during which interval Mr Pitt and his
associates had the chief management of public affairs. The
new ministry commenced their career by solemnly pledg¬
ing themselves to the nation that they would employ their
united efforts in procuring a safe and honourable peace with
France, which in fact was loudly demanded by the nation.
Proceed- About this time measures the most hostile were adopted
ings of the towards Britain, by the powders composing the northern con-
northern fe(ieracy. The city of Hamburg was taken by a Danish
conte era- porce uncjer the Prince of Hesse ; and the king of Prussia
N C E.
likewise sent a numerous army into the electorate of Ha- History,
nover, all with the view of injuring British commerce. To
punish this audacious conduct, and dissolve the northern iSOl.
confederacy, a fleet of seventeen sail of the line, four fri¬
gates, four sloops, and some bomb vessels, was fitted out
in the ports of Britain, and sailed from Yarmouth on the
12th of March, under the command of Admiral Sir Hyde
Parker, Lord Nelson, and Rear-admiral Graves; and hav¬
ing passed the Sound, appeared before Copenhagen on the
30th of the same month. The Danes did not appear in the
smallest degree moved by this display of force, thinking it
impossible to molest either their fleet or their city without
passing through a channel so extremely intricate that it was
once believed hardly safe to attempt it even with a single
ship unopposed by an enemy. But this channel was sound¬
ed by Lord Nelson, who undertook to conduct through it
a large division of the fleet; and having requested from Sir
Hyde Parker the command of the squadron, it was accord¬
ingly given him, and Rear-admiral Graves was appointed
his second in command. As the largest ships drew too
much water for being employed in so hazardous an attempt,
his lordship selected twelve of from seventy-four to fifty
guns, together with four frigates, four sloops, two fire-ships,
and seven bombs. To this a prodigious force was oppos¬
ed, consisting of six sail of the line, eleven floating batte¬
ries, each mounting from eighteen to twenty-eight heavy
guns, one bomb-ship, and a number of schooners ; and these
were supported by the Crown Batteries, mounting eighty-
eight pieces of cannon, by four sail of the line, moored in
the mouth of the harbour, and by a few battei'ies on the
island of Amak. On the 2d of April, Lord Nelson attack¬
ed this tremendous force, and after an obstinate and bloody
action, which lasted four hours, silenced the fire of the bat¬
teries, taking, burning, and sinking about seventeen sail,
including seven ships of the line. A suspension of hostili¬
ties was the immediate consequence of this brilliant victo¬
ry, and the armed neutrality was in fact dissolved.
When the armistice was signed between the Austrian Battle of
and French generals in the year 1800, the troops of the lat- Hohenlin-
ter were in possession of Germany almost to the banks of(*en#
the Inn, and of Italy to the frontiers of Venice; but the
spirit of the emperor was yet unsubdued, and he declined
abandoning his allies by ratifying the preliminaries of peace
which Count St Julien had agreed to at Paris, more espe¬
cially as the latter was alleged to have exceeded his powers.
Kray having retired from the army, the Archduke John suc¬
ceeded him in the command, and with the emperor in per¬
son repaired to the army ; but they soon found it imprac¬
ticable to undertake any offensive operation against Mo¬
reau, and therefore another armistice, comprehending Italy,
was agreed to. The emperor wished to include Britain in
any treaty which might be entered into with France; but
as Bonaparte refused to admit any plenipotentiary from
that power until a naval armistice had been agreed to,
Moreau received orders to resume his military operations.
The command of the Austrian divisions was now given
to generals whose very names were unknown beyond the
confines of their own country, and who had shown them¬
selves but little acquainted with the military art. Moreau
was on the banks of the Iser, with his troops considerably
disseminated; the Austrians were on those of the Inn,
occupying a good line of defence if they had understood
its importance, or had the prudence to maintain it. But
whilst the French general-in-chief was meditating the plan
of his winter campaign, the right wing of his army was
attacked and driven back by the Austrians ; and had they
known how to make a judicious use of their advantage,
the French commander would in all probability have been
reduced to act on the defensive. Elated with success,
however, they unaccountably abandoned their position on
the Inn, and marched to attack the French along wretched
FRANCE.
History, roads, rendered nearly impassable by November weather.
Moreau was with his army at Hohenlinden, behind the fo-
80 ’ rest of Ebersberg, where he awaited the approach of the
enemy. The archduke ordered his army to advance in se¬
parate columns by the roads and paths leading through the
forest, on the exterior edge of which he intended to de¬
ploy and give battle. His centre, under Kollowi’ath, took
the principal road, but was encountered as it debouched
from the forest by the divisions of Ney and Grouchy; whilst
another division of the French under Ilichepanse turned
the flank of the Austrians, and fell with great fury upon its
rear at the other side of the forest. This double attack
was attended with complete success. The centre was en¬
tirely routed, with the loss of no less than eight thousand
prisoners, besides killed and wounded; and the defeat of
the rest of the army followed as an inevitable consequence.
Had the Archduke Charles commanded on this occasion,
a defeat caused by such a blunder would have been impos¬
sible ; but this prince was now in disgrace for having coun¬
selled peace. At Hohenlinden the Austrians lost in all
eighty pieces of cannon, two hundred caissons, and ten
thousand prisoners.
Tonse- Moreau allowed the enemy no time to rally, but march-
Eattl ing directly towards the Inn, crossed that river on the 9th
e' of December, drove the enemy before him, and struck the
court of Vienna with consternation and dismay. Prince
Charles was recalled and invested with the command of the
army; but after many fruitless efforts to retrieve its honour,
he on the 27th of December proposed an armistice, which
was acceded to by the French commander, upon condition
that it should be immediately followed by a definitive treaty.
If the archduke could have placed any dependence upon his
army, this armistice would not in all probability have taken
place. The position of Moreau was, in fact, perilous in the
extreme. Having advanced into the very heart of the
Austrian states, he had behind him on his right about thir¬
ty thousand men in the Tyrol, and upwards of fifty thou¬
sand on his left. But Austrian valour was now well nidi
extinguished by so many reverses of fortune; the officers
were discontented; and the army was not in a condition to
make head for a single day against so able and enterprising
an enemy. Accordingly, the armistice was followed by a
treaty of peace, which was signed at Luneville on the 9th
of February 1801, between the emperor for himself and the
Germanic body on the one hand, and the first consul of the
French Republic, in name of the people of France, on the
other. By this treaty the emperor ceded the Brisgau to the
Duke of Modena, in lieu of the territories lost bv that prince
in Italy, and bound himself to find indemnities in the Ger¬
manic empire to all those princes whom the fate of war had
deprived of their dominions. The Grand Duke of Tusca¬
ny renounced his dukedom, with its dependencies in the
isle of Elba, in favour of the Duke of Parma, who assumed
the title of king of Etruria; and for this the empire was to
provide him with an adequate indemnification. Italy re¬
sumed its republican forms and divisions of governments
under French influence and protection ; and the Rhine still
continued the boundary of France on the side of Germany.
On the 28th of March, peace was also concluded between
the French Republic and the king of the Two Sicilies.
By this treaty his majesty obliged himself to shut the ports
of Naples and Sicily against ships of every description be¬
longing either to the British or the Turks ; and he renoun¬
ced for ever Porto Longano in the island of Elba, his states
in Tuscany, and the principality of Piombino, to be dis¬
posed of in such manner as the French Republic might think
proper.
ntain Great Britain had now no ally left to aid her in the contest
thin™ With F.rance’ excepting the Turks in Egypt and the Portu-
>a, ’ Suese in Europe, powers which rather diminished than in¬
creased her strength. At the desire of France the Spa-
vol. x.
121
mards had made an attack upon Portugal, and conquered History,
some of its provinces ; but a treaty of peace was conclud- '"-"■"Y''*.'
ed on the 6th of June, by which the king of Spain restor- 1802.
ed all his conquests excepting the fortress of Olivenza; and
the prince regent of Portugal and the Algarves promised to
shut the ports of his territories against the ships of Great
Britain, and to make indemnification to his Catholic majesty
for all losses and damages sustained by his subjects during
the war. When the first consul had made peace with all his
other enemies, he threatened Great Britain with an imme¬
diate invasion ; a circumstance which at first gave great un¬
easiness to a considerable part of the nation. But in order
to assuage this alarm, Lord Nelson was sent to destroy the
shipping in the harbour of Boulogne ; and though his suc¬
cess fell short of wdxat had been expected by many, he
nevertheless made such an impression on the enemy as
showed that Britain could annoy the coast of France with
greater facility than France could molest that of Britain.
During the summer of 1801, attempts were again made Treaty
by Britain to negotiate with France. From the total dis-with
solution of the northern confederacy, the first consul could ^ rance ?
not fail to perceive that it was impossible for him to ruin Bri- Pea<:e of
tish commerce, and consequently that all the treaties which Amiens'
he might make for excluding our ships from neutral ports
would signify nothing. He seemed determined, however,
to keep possession of Egypt; and Britain, on the other
hand, was as fully resolved to wrest it from him. On this
account the negotiations were protracted till the conquest
of that country became known both at London and Paris.
On the death of Sir Ralph Abercromby, General Hutchin¬
son succeeded to the command of the British forces in
Egypt, and as he was acquainted with the designs of his
predecessor, one spirit seemed to actuate both. Rosetta
surrendered, and this was soon followed by the capitulation
of Cairo ; and Menou having accepted of similar terms for
Alexandria, the whole of Egypt fell into the hands of the
allies, and the republican troops with their baggage were
conveyed to the nearest French ports in the Mediterranean,
in ships furnished by the allies. After these events, the
negotiations between Britain and France proceeded more
agreeably ; and, on the 1st of October, the preliminary trea¬
ty was signed at London by Lord Hawkesbury on the part
of his Britannic majesty, and by M. Otto on that of the
French Republic. By this treaty Great Britain engaged to
give up all the conquests made by her during the continuance
of the war, excepting the islands of Ceylon and Trinidad,
whilst France was in fact to restore nothing. The Cape
of Good Hope was to be free to all the contracting par¬
ties ; the island of Malta was to be given up to the knights
of the order of St John of Jerusalem ; Egypt was to be re¬
stored to the Ottoman Porte ; Portugal was to be main¬
tained in its integrity, excepting what had been ceded to
the king of Spain by the prince regent; Naples and the
Roman States were to be evacuated by the French, and
Porto Ferrajo by the British, together with all the ports and
islands occupied by them in the Mediterranean. Plenipo¬
tentiaries were also appointed to meet at Amiens, for the
purpose of drawing up and concluding a definitive treaty.
This accordingly took place on the 22d of March 1802,
and the French Republic was thus acknowledged by the
whole of Europe.
Having thus arrived at the period when the dogs of war Itetrospec-
were during a brief interval chained up, and the nations oftive Hew
Europe allowed to respire a little after the fierce contestof re'
in which they had been engaged, it may not be uninstruc- volutlon£U
tive or uninteresting to pause for a moment and pass in
review that extraordinary series of revolutions in France
which overthrew the monarchy to make way for the Re¬
public, and in turn destroyed the Republic to make way
for the Consulate and the Empire.
Popular insurrections, and an army, have hitherto been
Q
122 FRA
History, the usual means, or chief instruments, of every revolution ;
'—but insurrections of this description have generally been
1802, fomented by a certain number of factious men, devoted to
and dependent upon some ambitious chief, daring, brave,
possessed of military talents, the absolute conductor of
every step of the revolt, and the master of all the means of
the insurrection. In the hands of such a chief, the soldiers,
or people armed, are mere machines, set in motion or re¬
strained according to his pleasure, and are always employ¬
ed to put an end to revolutionary disorders and crimes, as
soon as the object of the revolution has been attained. Thus
Caesar and Cromwell, after they had usurped the supreme
power, lost no time in securing it, by placing it upon the
basis of a wise and well-regulated government; and they
employed in quelling the troubles which had favoured their
usurpation, those very legions which they had used to ex¬
cite them.
But this was not the case in France. In that country
the revolution, or rather the first of those revolutions it ex¬
perienced, and of which the others were the inevitable
consequence, does not seem to have been the result of a
conspiracy or preconcerted plan to overturn the monarchy
and to establish a republic in its place. It was unexpect¬
edly engendered by a mixture of weakness, ignorance, ne¬
gligence, and numberless errors in the government. The
States General, however imprudent their convocation may
have been, would have produced only useful reforms, if
they had found the limits of their power marked out by a
hand sufficiently firm to keep them within their natural
boundaries. It was but too evident, however, that even
before their opening they were dreaded, and that conse¬
quently they might attempt almost any thing they pleased.
From that time, under the name of Clubs, various associa¬
tions and factions sprang up; some more violent than others,
but all tending to the subversion of the existing government,
without agreeing upon the form of that which was to be
substituted in its stead: and at this period also the projects
of the faction whose views were to get the Duke of Or¬
leans appointed lieutenant-general of the kingdom began
to manifest themselves.
This faction, or, as some call it, this conspiracy, was, in
truth, of the same nature with those which had produced all
former revolutions, and might have been attended with the
same consequences had the Duke of Orleans been posses¬
sed of the energy and courage requisite in the leader of a
party. The people had already declared in his favour, and
he might easily have corrupted and brought over a great
part of the army had he been equal to the command of it;
but, on the very first occasion of personal risk, he discover¬
ed such cowardice and meanness that he defeated his own
conspiracy, and convinced all those who had entered into
it that it was impossible to continue the Revolution, either
in his favour or in conjunction with him. T.he enthusiasm
which the people had felt for him ended with the efforts of
those who had excited it.
First revo- Neckar, whom the multitude had associated with this
lution. prince in their homage, still preserved for some time his
worshippers, and that little cabal was for ever exalting him
to the skies. But inferior even to Orleans in the talents
and dispositions necessary to influence the army in his fa¬
vour, he was as little calculated to be the leader of a re¬
volution ; and for this reason his panegyrists confined them¬
selves, in the pamphlets and placards with which they
inundated the capital, to insinuating that the only means
of saving the state was to declare Neckar dictator, or at
least to confer upon him, under some title xuore consistent
with the monarchy, the authority and powers attached to
that republican office. In fact, if after his dismission in
the month of July 1789, he had dared to make this a con¬
dition of his return to the ministry, it is more than probable
that the king would have been under the necessity of agree-
N C E.
ing to it, and perhaps of re-establishing in his person the History,
office of mayor of the palace. At that moment he might w~y^'
have demanded any thing ; eight days later he might have 1802-
been refused every thing ; and soon afterwards he was re¬
duced to the humiliating necessity of sneaking out of the
kingdom like an outlaw, to escape the effects of the general
contempt and censure which he had brought upon himself.
General Lafayette, who then commanded the Parisian
national guard, gathered the wrecks of all this popularity,
and might have turned them to the greatest advantage, if
he had possessed that resolute character and heroic judg¬
ment of which Cardinal de Retz speaks, and which serves
to distinguish what is truly honourable and useful from
that which is only extraordinary, and what is extraordinary
from that which is impossible. With the genius, the talents,
and the ambition of Cromwell, he might have gone as
great a length ; with a less criminal ambition, he might at
least have made himself master of the Revolution, and di¬
rected it at his pleasure ; in a word, he might have secured
the triumph of whatever party he chose to declare himself
the leader. But, as unfit for supporting the character of
Monk as that of Cromwell, he soon betrayed the secret of
his incapacity to all the world, and was distinguished
amongst the crowd of constitutional leaders only by his
tri-coloured plume, his epaulettes, his white horse, and his
saying that insurrection is the most sacred of duties when
oppression is at its height.
The Revolution, at the period when the faction which had
begun it for the Duke of Orleans became sensible that he
was too much a coward to become a leader, and when La¬
fayette discovered his inability to conduct it, was too far ad¬
vanced either to recede or to stop ; and hence it continued
its progress, but in a line which no other revolution had
ever taken, namely, without a military chief, or the inter¬
vention of the army ; and it gained triumphs, not for any
ambitious conspirator, but for political and moral innovations
of the most extraordinary kind, innovations the most suited
to mislead the multitude, who were incapable of compre¬
hending them, and to let loose those passions which are
most dangerous to the repose and happiness of nations. The
more violent combined to destroy every thing; and their
fatal coalition gave birth to Jacobinism, a revolutionary pro¬
duct till then unknown, and till now not sufficiently unmask¬
ed. This new creation took upon itself alone to carry on the
Revolution; it directed and executed all its operations, all
the explosions and the outrages which occurred ; it every¬
where appointed the most active leaders, and employed as
instruments the profligates of every country. Its power far
surpassed that which has been attributed to the inquisition,
and other similar tribunals, by those who have spoken of
them with the greatest exaggeration. Its centre was at
Paris ; and its ramifications, formed by means of clubs in
every town and little borough, overspread the whole sur¬
face of the kingdom. The constant correspondence kept
up between those clubs and that of the capital, or, to use
their owm expressions, between the affiliated popular socie¬
ties and the parent society, was as secret and as speedy as
that of free-masons. In a word, the Jacobin clubs had
succeeded in causing themselves to be looked up to as the
real national representation. Under that assumed charac¬
ter they censured all the authorities in the most imperious
manner ; and whenever their denunciations, petitions, or
addresses failed to produce an immediate effect, they gained
their point by having recourse to insurrection and assassi¬
nation. Whilst Jacobinism thus subjected all France to
its control, an immense number of emissaries propagated
its doctrines amongst foreign nations, and prepared for it
new conquests in distant countries.
The National Assembly, the capital, indeed all France,
was divided into three distinct parties. The most con¬
siderable in number, but unhappily, through a deficiency
FRA
History, of plan and resolution, the weakest, was the party purely
royal; it was adverse to every kind of revolution, and was
1802, solely desirous of some improvements, with the reform of
abuses and pecuniary privileges. The most able and most
intriguing was the constitutional party, or that which was
desirous of giving France a new monarchical constitution,
but modified after the manner of the English, or even the
American, by a house of representatives. The third party
was the most dangerous of all, by its daring spirit, by its
power, and by the number of proselytes it daily acquired
in all quarters of the kingdom ; it comprehended the demo¬
crats of every description, from the Jacobin clubs, calling
themselves Friends of the Constitution, to the anarchists
and plunderers of the school of Hebert and Chaumette.
The democratic party, which at first was only auxiliary
to the constitutional one, in the end annihilated it, and
became itself subdivided into several parties, whose fatal
struggles produced all the subsequent revolutions. But in
principle the constitutionalists and the democrats formed
two distinct though confederate factions; both were desi¬
rous of a revolution, and employed all the usual means of
accomplishing it, except troops, which could be of no use
to them, for neither of them had a leader to put at the
head of the army. But as it was of equal importance to
both that the king should be deprived of the power of
making use of it against them, they laboured in concert to
disorganize it; and the complete success of that manoeuvre
was but too fully proved by the fatal issue of the departure
of the royal family for Montmedy. The revolution then
took a more daring and rapid stride, which was concluded
by the constitutional act of 1791. But the incoherence of
its principles, and the defects of its institutions, present a
faithful picture of the disunion of its authors, and of the
opposite interests by which they were swayed. It was,
properly speaking, a compact or compromise between the
party of the constitutionalists and that of the democrats,
in which, to secure co-operation, mutual concessions and
sacrifices were made. But this absurd constitution, the
everlasting source of sorrow and remorse to all who had a
part in framing it, might have been got over without a shock,
and led back to the old principles of monarchical govern¬
ment, if the assembly who framed it had not separated be¬
fore they witnessed its execution; if, in imposing on the
king the obligation to maintain it, they had not deprived
him of the power and the means ; and if the certain conse¬
quence of the new mode of proceeding at the elections had
not been to secure, in the second assembly, a considerable
majority of the democratic against the constitutional party.
The second assembly was likewise divided into three
factions, the weakest of which was the one that desired to
maintain the constitution. The two others were for a new
revolution and a republic; but they differed in this, that
the former, composed of the Brissotines or Girondists, was
for effecting it gradually, by beginning with divesting the
king of popularity, and allowing the public mind time to
wean itself from its natural attachment to monarchy ; and
the latter, which was the least numerous, was eager to have
the republic established as speedily as possible. These
two factions, having the same object in view, though tak¬
ing different roads, were necessarily auxiliaries to each
other; and the pamphlets, excitations to commotion, and
revolutionary measures of both, equally tended to over¬
throw the constitution of 1791.
Those different factions, composed of advocates, attor¬
neys, apostate priests, doctors, and a few literary men, hav¬
ing no military chief capable of taking the command of the
army, dreaded the troops who had sworn allegiance to the
constitution and obedience to the king, and who moreover
might be influenced by their officers, amongst whom there
still remained some royalists. The surest way to get rid
of all uneasiness on the subject, was to employ the army in
N C E. 123
defending the frontiers. For this purpose a foreign war History,
was necessary, to which it was known that the king and
his council were equally averse. Nothing more was want- i802-
ing to determine the attack which was directed, almost at
the same time, against all the ministers, in order to compel
them to retire, and to put the king under the necessity of
appointing others more disposed to second the views of the
parties. Unhappily this attempt was attended with all the
success which its authors had promised themselves; and
one of the first acts of the new ministry was to declare war
against the emperor. At the same time, the emigration
which had been provoked, and which was almost every¬
where applauded, even by the lowest class of people, drained
off the flower of the royalist party, and left the king, de¬
prived of his best defenders, exposed to the suspicions and
insults which sprung from innumerable calumnies, for
which the disasters at the beginning of the war furnished
but too many opportunities.
In this manner was prepared and accelerated the new
revolution, which was accomplished on the tenth of August
1792, by the deposition and imprisonment of the king, and
by the most flagrant violation of the constitution of 1791.
The latter, however, was not entirely abandoned on that
day; for the project of the Girondists, who had laid the
plot of that fatal conspiracy, was then only to declare the
king’s deposition, in order to place the prince royal upon
the throne, under the guidance of a regency composed of
their own creatures ; but they were hurried on much fur¬
ther than they meant to go, by the violence with which
the Jacobins, who took the lead in the insurrection, con¬
ducted all their enterprises. The prince royal, instead
of being crowned, was shut up in the Temple ; and if
France at that moment was not declared a republic, this
was less owing to any remaining respect for the constitu¬
tion, than to the fear the legislative body entertained of
raising up against it the majority of the nation, who could
scarcely fail to be astonished and exasperated at finding a
constitution fenced by so many oaths thus precipitately over¬
thrown. It was on these grounds that the opinion was adopt¬
ed, that a National Convention should be convoked, in or¬
der to determine the fate of royalty.
From this moment the Girondists daily lost ground, and Second re-
the most furious members of the democratic party, sup- volution,
ported as they were by the Jacobin club, by the new com¬
mune of Paris, and by the tribunes, made themselves mas¬
ters of every debate. It was of the utmost importance to
them to control the ensuing elections ; and this was effected
by the horrible consternation which the massacres of Sep¬
tember excited throughout the kingdom. The terror of
being assassinated, or at least maltreated, drove from all the
primary assemblies not only the royalists and constitution¬
alists, but moderate men of all parties; those assemblies
became enth*ely composed of the weakest men and most
desperate characters to be found in France ; and from
amongst the most frantic of these a large proportion of the
members of the Convention was chosen. Accordingly,
this third assembly, in the first quarter of an hour of its
first sitting, was heard shouting for the abolition of royalty,
and proclaiming the Republic, upon the motion of a mem¬
ber who had formerly been a player.
Such an opening but too plainly showed what was to be
expected from that horde of plunderers who composed the
majority of the National Convention, and of whom Robe¬
spierre, Danton, Marat, and the other leaders, formed their
party. That of the Girondists still existed, and was the
only one really republican. Glutted with the horrors al¬
ready committed, they seemed desirous of arresting the tor¬
rent, and laboured to introduce into the assembly the mo¬
deration necessary to give to the new Republic a wise and
solid organization. But the superiority of their knowledge,
talents, and eloquence, which their opponents could not
124
FRANCE.
History, dispute, had no power over men thirsting for blood, and
determined to rule by the instrumentality of terror alone.
They had no doubt occasion for atrocities, to prepare the
terror-stricken nation to suffer them to commit, in its
name, the murder of the unfortunate Louis XVI.; and that
sacrifice was necessary to commit the Revolution beyond
all possibility of retreat, and bring about a third revolution,
which Robespierre and his associates were already prepar¬
ing. Fear had greatly contributed to the two former ; but
this was effected by terror alone, without popular tumults,
or the intervention of the armies, which, being now drawn
by their conquests beyond the frontiers, never heard any
thing of the revolutions at home till they were accomplish¬
ed, and always obeyed the prevailing faction, by whom
they were either paid or allowed to pay themselves.
By the degree of ferocity discovered by the members of
the Convention in passing sentence upon the king, and in
the debates relative to the constitution of 1793, Robespierre
was enabled to mark which of the deputies were most likely
to second his views, and which of them it was necessary to
sacrifice. As to the people, they could not but receive with
transport a constitution which seemed to realise the chi¬
mera of their sovereignty, but which would only have given
a kind of construction to anarchy, if the execution of this
new code had not been suspended, on the pretence common
to all acts of despotism and tyranny, that the safety of the
state is the supreme law. This suspension was effected by
establishing the provisional government, which, under the
title of revolutionary government, concentrated all the
powers in the National Convention until there should be
an end to the war, and to all intestine troubles.
Third re- Although the faction which acknowledged Robespierre
volution. as its bead possessed a decided majority in the assembly,
and might consequently have considered themselves as ex¬
clusively exercising the sovereign power, he was a dema¬
gogue of too despotic a nature to endure even the ap¬
pearance of sharing the empire with his associates. Hence
he greatly reduced their number, by causing all the powers
invested in the National Assembly by the decrees which
had established the revolutionary government, to be trans¬
ferred to a committee, of which he got himself appointed a
member, and in which he was certain to rule, by obtaining
as colleagues men less daring, but if possible even more
wicked, than himself; such as Couthon, Saint-Just, Bar-
rere, and others of the same stamp. This committee, styled
the Committee of Public Safety, soon seized upon both the
legislative and executive powers, and exercised them with
the most sanguinary tyranny ever heard of amongst men.
I he ministers were merely their clerks ; and the subjugat¬
ed assembly, without murmur or objection, passed all the
revolutionary laws which were proposed, or rather dictated,
by them. One of their most decisive proceedings was the
establishment of those revolutionary tribunals which cover¬
ed France with scaffolds, on which victims of every rank,
age, and sex, were daily sacrificed ; so that no class of men
should be beyond the influence of that stupifying and ge¬
neral terror which Robespierre found it necessary to spread
in order to establish his power. Nor was this all. He soon
dragged some members of his own party, such as Danton,
Camille Desmoulins, and others, whose energy and popu¬
larity had offended him, before one of those tribunals, where
he had them condemned to death. By the same means he
had got rid of the leaders of the Girondists ; and had caused
all the moderate republican party, who were still members
of the assembly, except those who had time and address to
escape, to be sent to prison, in order to be sentenced and
executed on the first opportunity.
In this manner ended the third revolution, in which the
people, frozen with terror, dared not take a part. Instead
ot an army of soldiers, Robespierre employed an army of
executioners and assassins, set up as revolutionary judges ;
and the guillotine, striking or menacing all indiscrimi- History,
nately, rendered France submissive from one end to the '***~Y*+S
other. A nation, formerly proud, even to idolatry, of its 1802,
kings, wras thus seen to expiate, by rivers of blood, the
crime of having suffered the most virtuous of all their mo-
narchs to be murdered on a scaffold. In the room of the
famous Bastille, whose capture and demolition had set only
seven prisoners at liberty, two of whom had long been in a
state of lunacy, the colleges, the seminaries, and all the re¬
ligious houses of the kingdom, were converted into so many
state prisons, into which were incessantly crowded the vic¬
tims devoted to feed the ever-working guillotines, at once
the chief resource of supplies for the government, and the
instrument of its ferocity. “ The guillotine coins money
for the republic,” said Barrere. In fact, according to the
jurisprudence of the revolutionary tribunals, the rich of
every class were declared suspected persons, and received
sentence of death for no other reason but that of giving to
the confiscation of their property a show of judicial form.
But still blood flowed too slowly to satisfy Robespierre; Fourth re.
his aim was but partly attained by the proscription of the volution,
nobles, the priests, and the wealthy. He fancied not only
an aristocracy of talents and knowledge, but of the virtues,
none of which however his orators and journalists would
admit, save that horrid “ patriotism” which was estimated
according to the enormity of the crimes committed in fa¬
vour of the Revolution. His plan was to reduce the French
people to a mere plantation of slaves, too ignorant, too
stupid, or too pusillanimous, to conceive the idea of break¬
ing the chains with which he would have loaded them in
the name of liberty ; and he might perhaps have succeed¬
ed, had not his ambition, as impatient as it was jealous, too
soon unveiled his intention of resorting to the guillotine to
strike off the shackles with which an assembly of national
representatives fettered or might fetter his power. He
was about to give the decisive blow, which he had con¬
certed with the Commune of Paris, the Revolutionary Tri¬
bunal, the Jacobin Club, and the principal officers of the na¬
tional guard, when the members of the Convention, who
were marked out to be the first sacrificed, anticipated him
at a moment when he least expected it, by attacking him¬
self in the assembly, with energy sufficient to rouse against
him and the Jacobins all the sections of the capital. The
parties came to blows, and for several hours victory re¬
mained uncertain, but at length it declared in favour of the
Convention. In the space of a day that execrable monster
was dragged from the highest pitch of power ever attained
by any tyrant, to the very scaffold which was still reeking
with the blood of his last victims. His principal accom¬
plices in the Committee of Public Safety, in the Commune,
in the national guard, in the Revolutionary Tribunal, and
many of his agents in the provinces, met the same fate.
The revolutionary tribunals were suppressed, the prisons
thrown open, and the terrorists hunted down wherever they
could be found.
This fourth revolution, in which the faction which was
then esteemed the moderate party overthrew the terrorists,
and seized the supreme power, was no less complete than
those which had preceded it, and produced the constitution
of 1795. All France received as a great blessing a constitu¬
tion which delivered them from the revolutionary govern¬
ment and its infernal policy. Besides, in spite of great de¬
fects, it had the merit of coming nearer than the two pre¬
ceding ones to the principles of order, justice, and real li¬
berty, the violation of which had, during the five preceding
years, been the source of so many crimes and disasters.
I he royalists, considering it as a step towards monarchy,
were imprudent enough to triumph in it; and their joy, as
premature as it was indiscreet, so alarmed the assembly,
that they passed the famous law, ordaining the primary as¬
semblies to return two thirds of the members of the Con-
FRA
History, vention to the legislative! body destined to succeed that
assembly. It was thus that the spirit of the Convention
1802. continued, for the first year, to be displayed in the two coun¬
cils. In the year following, the bias of the public mind, too
hastily turned towards royalty, showed itself, in the elec¬
tions of the members for the new third, so clearly as to
alarm the regicides who composed the Directory, and the
conventionalists who still formed a third of the legislative
body; nor did they lose a moment in devising means for
their defence. That which appeared to them the surest,
was to publish notices of plots amongst the royalists, and an¬
nex one or more denunciations, in terms so vague as to leave
room for implicating, when necessary, all their adversaries ;
whilst by the help of this imposture they procured some se¬
cret information, ever easily obtained by those who have
at command the guillotine and the exchequer. This mask¬
ed battery was ready to be opened before the members of
the new third took their seats. These at first confined
themselves to the object of securing a constant majority in
the two councils in favour of moderate opinions; but in a
little time every sitting was marked by the repeal of some
revolutionary law, or by some decree tending to restrain
the executive authority within the limits fixed by the con¬
stitution.
Fifth and Alarmed at the abridgment of their power, and dreading
sixth revo- more serious attacks, the Directory came to the reso-
ii ions. luticm of no longer postponing the blow which they had been
meditating against the Legislative Assembly; and in the
manner already related they accomplished a fifth revolu¬
tion, as complete as any of those by which it wTas preceded.
It differed indeed from them essentially in the facility and
promptness with which it was effected; although the party
which prevailed, that is to say, the majority of the Directo¬
ry, and the minority of the legislative body, had to combat,
not only against the constitution, but against the opinion,
and even against the indignation, of the public. That mo¬
ral force, on which the majority of the two councils had
unluckily placed all their reliance, vanished in an instant
before the physical force of a detachment of troops con¬
sisting of six or seven hundred men. The Directory, com¬
pelled to withdraw the larger body of troops which they
had thought necessary to ensure the revolution they were
meditating, discovered great ability in securing the two
councils, by appearing to dread them ; but it was chiefly to
the energy of their measures, and to the concentration and
promptness with which they were executed, that they owed
their success. Two days before, the legislative body might
without obstruction have impeached, arrested, and even
outlawed, the majority of the Directory, who were execrat¬
ed by the public under the title of the triumvirate; and,
if requisite, they would have been supported by more than
thirty thousand armed citizens, who, with Pichegru and
N C E. 123
Willot at their head, would soon have dispersed, and per- History,
haps brought over, the feeble detachments of troops of the
line which the Directory had at their command. But the 1802.
legislative body, relying too much upon its popularity, did
not sufficiently consider that the people, whose impetuosi¬
ty is commonly decisive when allowed to take advantage
in attack, are always feeble when acting on the defensive,
and totally unable to withstand any assault made previous¬
ly to an insurrection, seeing it is always easy to prevent
their assembling. It was on this principle that the Direc¬
tory founded their operations, and the 5th of September
too well proves how justly. That day reduced the legisla¬
tive body to the most degrading subjugation, a mere cari¬
cature of national representation; it invested the Direc¬
tory with the most arbitrary and tyrannical power, and re¬
stored the system of Robespierre, under a form less bloody,
but not less pernicious; for the revolutionary tribunals which
that monster had established were scarcely more expediti¬
ous than the military commissions of the Directory. The
power of arbitrary and unlimited transportation is, in time,
as destructive as the guillotine, without possessing, like
that, the advantage of exciting a salutary horror, which, by
recovering the people from the state of stupor and apathy,
the first effects of terror, gives them both recollection and
force to break their chains. Though, in violating the most
essential regulations of the constitution, the Directory ob¬
tained a temporary confirmation of their pow'er, their ex¬
ample pointed out to Bonaparte and Sieyes the path which
they pursued with infinite address, and in which they ac¬
complished a sixth revolution, by the establishment of the
consulate, the character of which will be sufficiently unfold¬
ed in the sequel.
The truce of Amiens having been concluded (it had none Policy of
of the characteristics of a solid peace), Bonaparte pursued Bonaparte,
his plans of internal organization with an evident view to the
re-establishment of monarchy in France. A church had
already been reared up, and the Catholic religion, with a
suitable hierarchy, re-constituted by the state. With this
view the pope had been spared when the course of events
placed him at the mercy of the conqueror; and the year
1801 was spent in negotiating a “ concordat” with Rome,
by which, in return for a decree declaring the Catholic re¬
ligion that of the great majority of the French, and under¬
taking to grant salaries to the clergy, the pontiff agreed to
consecrate such bishops as should be nominated by the
French government, to give up all claim to the lands which
had belonged to the church, and to order a public form of
prayer for the consuls. At the desire of Bonaparte, the
court of Rome further consented to secularize Talleyrand,
and to make certain other concessions, all indicating an ac¬
commodating, if not an obsequious spirit towards the ruler of
France.1 The next desideratum was an aristocracy, which,
1 In re-establishing religion in France, Bonaparte encountered much opposition from the prejudiced incredulity of those around
him. “ Hearken,” said he to one of his councillors during a promenade at Malmaison ; “ I was here last Sunday, walking in this so¬
litude amidst the silence of nature. The sound of the church bells of Ituel suddenly struck upon my ears. I was moved, and said,
if I am thus affected, what must be the influence of those ideas on the simple and credulous mass. The people must h-ave a religion,
and that religion must be in the hands of the government.” The councillor, thus addressed, waiving the broad question of religion or no
religion, objected to Catholicism. “ It is intolerant; its clergy are counter-revolutionary ; the spirit of the present time is entirely op¬
posed to it. And, after all, we, in our thoughts and principles, are nearer to the true spirit of the gospel than the Catholics, who affect
to reverence it.” Bonaparte urged, that by his leaning to Protestantism the government would be weakened, not strengthened; one
half of France might embrace it, but the other half would remain Catholic. “ Let them call me papist if they will. I am no such
thing. I was a Mahommedan in Egypt, and I will be a Catholic here for the good of the people.” This was certainly very accom¬
modating ; but, notwithstanding, considerable resistance was experienced. The theophilanthropists raised the cry of no popery.
The soldiers, too, were excessively indignant. In commemoration of the re-establishment of the church, Cardinal Caprara celebrat¬
ed Te Deum in Notre Dame on Easter Sunday 1802, when the first consul attended, surrounded by his officers. On his return he
asked several of them their opinion, and, in particular, addressing General Delmas, said, “ Well, general, we have just witnessed a
very imposing ceremony ; I hope you are satisfied.” “ Yes,” replied Delmas, “ a pretty capucinade ; there was only wanting the
million of men who have perished in overthrowing all you have built up. We must now, I presume, fasten beads to our swords.”
Lannes expressed his resentment in still stronger terms. Perceiving in the hall of the Tuileries Cardinal Caprara and several bi¬
shops, he accosted them in the rudest manner; then entering without ceremony the cabinet of Bonaparte, he exclaimed, “ Eh ! que
lais-tu de ce tas de pretres dans tes antichambres ; chasse-moi toute cette canaille ; est-ce avec des soldats de cette espece que tu as
gagnd la bataille de Marengo ? A quoi diable songes-tu done ? Tu verras qu’un beau jour ils te jetteront bas.” Delmas received orders
126
FRANCE.
History, after the conchuson of the peace, every effort was used to
supply. The ancient nobility were allowed, nay even en-
1802. couraged, to return to France ; Napoleon seemed anxious
to gather around him the fragments of a monarchy sanc¬
tioned by time, though at last overthrown by the force of
opinion and circumstances; but, stripped of their proper¬
ties, and alike disinclined to the Revolution and its repre¬
sentatives, they refused to abandon the cause of legitimacy
for an equivocal or anomalous place in the consular court.
In one sense they judged rightly ; for, even if they had
availed themselves of the permission granted by the French
government, it would still have been necessary to counter¬
balance the old nobility by elevating to the same rank those
who had attained to distinction during the wars and strug¬
gles of the Revolution, in short, warriors and civilians, who
had earned their honours in the school of democracy. Ac¬
cordingly Napoleon, obliged for a time to abandon this idea,
formed a scheme eminently calculated to attach to him a
nation which, with all its professed republicanism, still re¬
tained a strong predilection for the trappings of monarchy.
This was the institution of the Legion of Honour, by which,
at the expense of red ribbons and very moderate pensions,
an order of merit was created, into which every man of am¬
bition or enterprise might hope one day to gain admission,
and which was calculated to ensure the attachment of all
the men of courage and ability in the country. But when
the project was communicated to the council and the le¬
gislative body, an instant outcry was raised against it. “ It
destroys equality, it contradicts the principles of the Re¬
volution. The legion of honour contains all the elements
of hereditary nobility; privileges, powers, honours, titles
and pensions. It is sowing the seeds of an aristocracy.”
Bonaparte combated these objections, of which he must
nevertheless have felt the force. “ You cite the Roman
republicans against me ; the Romans, amongst whom dis¬
tinctions were perhaps more marked than amongst any other
people. Observe the consequence when the noble class of
patricians was destroyed at Rome ; the Republic, left at
the mercy of the populace and its leaders, ran straight
through anarchy and proscription to despotism.” And was
not this also the case in France? Did not the re-action
which followed the reign of terror prepare the way for that
despotism which Napoleon himself was so soon to establish
over France? In one respect, however, the first consul
acted with equal firmness and justice. When Mathieu Du¬
mas proposed to confine the decorations of the legion of ho¬
nour to the military, he peremptorily refused to admit any
such exclusive limitations, and persisted in his determina¬
tion to render the new order equally accessible to the sol¬
dier and the civilian.
Plans for But whilst Napoleon was thus reconstructing the sup-
establish- ports and providing the ornaments of monarchical power, he
ver Vntv' not neS^ec^ ^ie necessary means for raising the edifice
in his fa- ^tse^» that is, the establishment of a permanent sovereign-
mily. ty in his own person and family, on a basis involving a full
recognition of the rights and interests created by the Re¬
volution. In this, accordingly, he laboured with equal skill
and perseverance, advancing step by step towards his ob¬
ject. It was at first hoped indeed that he would be con¬
tented with the second place, and restore the crown to the
Bourbons; and, on this supposition, Louis XVIII. twice
addressed him in terms which might perhaps have conciliat¬
ed ordinary ambition. But although Josephine exhorted him
to imitate the conduct of Monk, and there were not want¬
1802.
ing others to insinuate the same advice, Bonaparte, satisfied History,
that there were more difficulties in the way of restoring the
Bourbons than of founding a new dynasty, and that the
men of the Revolution would more readily tolerate as sove¬
reign one who had risen from its ranks, than receive back
any member of a family who had so many wrongs to avenge,
resolved to put on his head the crown which genius and
fortune had enabled him to win. Accordingly, he began by
feeling the pulse of the nation in a pamphlet, which, it is
said, was written by his brother Lucien, and corrected by
himself. But as the public mind was not yet prepared for
so violent a transition, the experiment failed ; ridicule was
provoked at the idea of an Emperor of the Gauls ; and the
first consul, throwing the blame of this alleged imprudence
on his brother, deprived him of his office of minister of the in¬
terior, and sent him as envoy into Spain. Meanwhile, the
Tribunate, or representative body, had been remodelled, and
the most froward patriots excluded; an “ epuration” which
materially facilitated the development of his plans. In May
1802, Bonaparte was declared first consul for another ten
years; and, after a short interval, this was amended into a
vote by which he was appointed first consul for life. Under
a republican designation, he thus became the acknowledged
sovereign of France ; and it is not less remarkable than in¬
structive that this surrender of the liberties of the country
encountered much less opposition in the council than the
institution of the legion of honour had done. The history
of the Revolution shows, indeed, that it is not liberty which
the French prize, but equality and military glory.
The views of the consular government in concluding the Effects of
peace of Amiens were now sufficiently indicated by the the peace
course which Napoleon pursued in extending his influence 0^^‘m^ens*
over the neighbouring states. The Cisalpine Republic
had been remodelled to suit his views, and the first consul
elected as president of its legislature. The Batavian and
Ligurian Republics were obliged to submit to similar modi¬
fications ; Piedmont was formally annexed to France, and
divided into departments ; and the stipulations of the treaty
of Luneville, which guaranteed the independence of the
republics of Italy and Holland, thus became void. Britain
began to show alarm and distrust, though the grounds for
such a feeling were scarcely stronger now than at the time
when the treaty of Amiens had been concluded. Bonaparte
was merely following out the system which he had pre¬
viously adopted. Remonstrances were made against these
encroachments and usurpations ; but the answer was ready
and conclusive. “ You must have foreseen all this. The
Cisalpine Republic chose the first consul as its president in
January 1802, two months before the signature of the pre¬
liminary treaty of Amiens; you could not be ignorant of
the fact. And why should England complain of the infrac¬
tion of the treaty of Luneville, when Austria, with whom
it was concluded, remains silent ?” This seems wholly un¬
answerable. Great Britain was neither a party to nor the
guarantee of the treaty of Luneville, and no stipulation
had been included in that of Amiens, that the articles of
the treaty of Luneville should be observed. She had ob¬
viously, therefore, no right whatever to interfere. Accord¬
ing to the admission of Lord Castlereagh, she had made
“ a peace to try France;” but then this trial should in
justice and fairness have been confined to the treaty which
she had actually concluded, and not extended to a differ¬
ent one in which she could not even pretend to have any
concern, excepting upon the assumption that she held Aus-
to qmt^ Paris immediately ; Lannes, more favoured, was only admonished to show a little more patience, and less vivacity. “ I shall
know, said Napoleon, “ how to govern these men, and prevent them from exciting any disturbance. What I do is necessary ; I
pray you in tuture to be more reserved.” Moreau, Bernadotte, Oudinot, Colaud, Victor, and others, entertained the same senti¬
ments as Eannes and Delmas; and the army, generally, was decidedly opposed to the concordat, and the re-establishment of the
clergy. (Montgaillard, Histoire de France, tome v. p. 445.)
FRA
History, tria in tutelage. On the other hand, it was equally futile
to complain of interference with the Helvetian Republic,
1802. because, in concluding a peace with France, it must have
been foreseen that Napoleon would inevitably act by it
as he had already done by the Cisalpine Republic. In treat¬
ing, the object of both powers was most probably the same,
namely, to display to Europe a readiness to make peace,
and thus cast on each other the blame of the inevitable
and speedy rupture. But in playing this difficult and not
very creditable game, English diplomacy was completely at
fault. The French observed the treaty to the letter; by
the English it was decidedly violated. The former conti¬
nually appealed to the compact which had been entered into
between the twm countries; the latter were obliged to tra¬
vel out of the bond in quest of reasons or pretexts to justify
the nonfulfilment of its stipulations. The British ministry
may have had rational grounds for their mistrust; indeed
it is certain that they had such; but in withholding Malta
and the Cape of Good Hope, merely because France had
increased her territories and encroachments in Europe, they
took up an indefensible position, and consequently were
under the necessity of supporting their cause with vague
and unstatesmanlike recrimination.
Fresh But whilst the peace which had so recently been con-
causes of eluded was thus endangered by the hesitation of the Bri-
a icnation. government to surrender Malta, and the transmission
of counter orders not to deliver up the Cape of Good Hope
to the Batavian Republic, other sources of division and ali¬
enation were unhappily opened up. Sensitive at all times
to public opinion, and peculiarly so at this time when em¬
ployed in rearing the fabric of his power, the first consul
felt deeply the unsparing attacks which were now made
upon him by the English press, and re-echoed by the pa¬
pers of the French royalists in England. To him this was a
species of warfare at once more dangerous and more galling
than any other. A formal demand was therefore made by
the French ambassador in London that this torrent of abuse
should be checked; and further, that the press should be
prohibited from indulging, in future, in strictures offensive
to the head of the French government. The ministry re¬
plied that the press in this country was free; that so far
from having any control over its conduct, they were them¬
selves daily exposed to the utmost severity of remark ; and
that all persons aggrieved by it must seek redress in the
ordinary courts of law. Nevertheless, to avoid the appear¬
ance of conniving at or encouraging such attacks, they con¬
sented to gratify him as far as might be done in a constitu¬
tional way, by sending one of the libels complained of to
a jury. But this made matters ten times worse. Peltier
was acquitted, and an obscure libel received consequence
from the prosecution, and notoriety, if not fame, from the
incomparable splendour of the defence. Another demand,
that the Bourbons and their partisans should be expelled
from England, met with a firm and generous refusal. Cha¬
grined and exasperated, Bonaparte now condescended to
enter into a personal quarrel with the English press, and
employed his time in dictating articles for the Moniteur,
filled with acrimony and insult. About the same time also
appeared a report by Sebastian! (who had been employed
in a mission to the Levant), in which, amongst other things,
it was stated that six thousand French soldiers could re¬
conquer Egypt, and that England durst not renew the war
against France. To say that intemperate paragraphs in
newspapers, and silly vaunting in reports, could ever be¬
come a reasonable ground of war, is preposterous. But
the English government, by its want of foresight and pre¬
caution, if not also by its want of faith, was reduced to the
humiliating necessity of appealing to such authorities in
vindication of its conduct. The first consul now demanded
why Malta had not been evacuated according to stipula¬
tion. The English ministry replied by a claim to retain it,
N C E. 127
on the ground that France had increased her territory in History.
Europe, and that Egypt was threatened. But the first ob-
jection was irrelevant, and the second ridiculous. Bonaparte, 18t,3.
whose throne was being erected on the basis of national
glory, could never consent to the retention of Malta by the
English; to demand it of him was in fact to declare war.
“ England,” said the French minister, shall have the trea¬
ty of Amiens, and nothing more than the treaty of Amiens.”
A rupture wras now inevitable, as indeed it had from the A rupture
first been, and accordingly both countries made prepai’a- inevitable,
tions for war. Napoleon assembled troops in the fortresses
of Holland and the north of France, and dispatched envoys
to Austria and Prussia. Britain was not less active ; in all
her ports and harbours the deep note of preparation was
Tieard. Still Bonaparte was unwilling to commence war,
and, unavoidable as it now seemed, made a last effort to ward
it off. In an interview with the British ambassador, Lord
Whitworth, he expressed himself with a degree of frank¬
ness and sincerity unusual in diplomacy, but which unhap¬
pily led to no amicable result. “ Why should I wish for
war ?” said he. “ A descent upon England is the only mode
I have of combating her ; and this, if compelled, I am re¬
solved to undertake. But why suppose that, arrived at my
present height of power, I should risk my reputation and
life, unless constrained thereto by necessity, in an expedi¬
tion in which myself and the greater part of my army would
most probably go to the bottom of the sea ; for there are
a hundred chances to one against me.” But all this can¬
dour proved unavailing. Napoleon was exceedingly averse
to war at this time, when he had good cause to apprehend
that the basis on which his power was fixed had not yet be¬
come sufficiently consolidated to withstand the rude shock
of a fresh contest. For the same reason England was in¬
exorably bent upon trying again the fortune of arms. A
warlike message from the king to parliament in March
1803 formed the prelude to the storm which was now ready
to burst. Bonaparte replied in a diplomatic note of singu¬
lar ability and unanswerable cogency of reasoning. It was
important to him to cast upon England the whole blame of
the rupture ; he had at once to satisfy the people of France,
and to conciliate the other powers of Europe ; and, besides,
his pride was mortified to find England assume the language
of cold and haughty defiance, if not insult, at the very mo¬
ment when he had almost humbled himself before the mi¬
nister of that country. Hence his keen and quick resent¬
ment prompted him to break through the rules of courtly
decorum, and, at a public levee held on the 13th of March,
to give vent to the bitterness of spirit which this conduct
had excited. “ You are decided on war, it seems you wish
it,” said he, addressing the British ambassador. “ After
fifteen years of combats, we must yet recommence and fight
for fifteen years to come. You force me to it.” Then turning
to the ambassadors of Spain and Russia, he said, “ The Eng¬
lish will have war. They are the first to draw the sword;
I will be the last to put it in the scabbard. They do not
respect treaties, which we must henceforth cover with
black crape. You may destroy France, but you shall not
intimidate her.” “ We do not wish to do either the one
or the other,” replied Lord Whitworth. “ Respect trea¬
ties, then. Wo be to those who do not respect them ;
they shall be responsible to Europe for the consequences.”
At the conclusion of the levee, he again addressed the
British ambassador when near the door: “ The Duchess
of Dorset has passed the unpleasant season at Paris; I
sincerely wish she may pass the pleasant one also ; but if
it be true that we are to have war, the responsibility, in the
sight of both God and man, will rest on those who shall re¬
fuse to execute the treaty.” It has been said by some that
this burst of anger was calculated. Why might it not be
natural and sincere ? War at this time was not for the in¬
terest of Napoleon, or of the country which had placed him
128
FRANCE.
History.
1803.
British ul¬
timatum.
Renewal
of hostili¬
ties.
at its head; he required time to mature his plans of go¬
vernment ; France languished for repose. But the die was
now cast, and all that remained was to abide the hazard of
the throw.
Lord Whitworth was now instructed to demand that the
French forces should evacuate the Batavian and Swiss ter¬
ritories ; that a suitable provision should be made for the
king of Sardinia, and that Britain should be permitted to
retain possession of Malta for ten years. This was called
an ultimatum, and a week was insultingly fixed as the term
beyond which no reply would be received. Yet even now
the French government did not assume a peremptory tone.
Talleyrand was sincerely averse to war, and up to the last
moment used every effort to prevent it; foreseeing, pro¬
bably, the pernicious consequences which would result even
from fresh victories. But the English ministry resisted
every advance towards an accommodation of the points in
dispute, gave wretched and shuffling reasons for a mistrust
which in the main was perhaps not altogether groundless,
and sought to cover the blunders of their diplomacy by
means of sullen pride and defiance. Outwitted, out-argued,
and outdone, both in talents and in good faith, they
had no voice for, no resource in, any thing but war. Or¬
ders had already been issued for seizing the ships of France,
and those of the states dependent on or in close alliance with
that country ; a measure entirely in the spirit of that usur¬
pation which they at once denounced and imitated; and
the first consul retaliated by detaining all the British sub¬
jects whom curiosity or business had induced to visit
France. And thus recommenced between the nations a
quarrel unrivalled for the inveteracy of its spirit and the
variety of its fortunes. “ The rupture was to the first
consul,” says Bignon, “ the decisive point of his destiny.
Henceforth he saw England rise before him like a cape of
storms, which he was for ever forbidden to pass.”
The first step of Napoleon, on the renewal of hostilities,
was to put his armies in motion ; that of Holland to occupy
Hanover, and that of Lombardy to invade Naples, and gar¬
rison Tarentum. Britain, secure from direct attack in her
insular fortress, could only be combated by establishing the
power of France in the sea-ports, and excluding British
commerce from the Continent. To bestride Europe like a
huge colossus, having one foot on the Mediterranean and
the other on the Baltic, wras therefore the grand object of
Napoleon; and this menacing attitude he lost no time in
preparing to assume towards England. That power now
reigned supreme as empress of the seas ; but “ her control
stopped with the shore,” which was now about to be closed
against the enterprise of her people. Towards the end of
May 1803, General Mortier marched against Hanover with
an army from Holland, and speedily made himself master
of the country. The troops of the electorate, incapable of
offering any serious resistance, retreated before the enemy,
and at length capitulated, when they were discharged on
condition of not serving against France during the war.
About the same time the kingdom of Naples was re-occu¬
pied with equal facility by a French force. These sudden
conquests, however, excited uneasiness and suspicion on
the part of the northern powers. Russia, wfflich had taken
the Sicilian court under its protection, was offended by the
re-occupation of the Neapolitan territory, and still more
seriously displeased to observe the French flag waving on
the shores of the Baltic. Prussia had still greater cause for
alarm at the presence of so formidable a neighbour; more
especially as the French, not satisfied with Hanover, al¬
ready threatened to occupy Hamburg and Bremen, the
possession of which was necessary to enable them to give
the law to the north of Germany. The blow aimed at
England thus recoiled on a power whose selfish and tem¬
porising policy had induced her to withdraw from the con¬
test with republican France, and leave her allies to defeat
and humiliation. But as these proceedings placed the Histcrv,
courts of Berlin and St Petersburg under the necessity of
either humbling themselves before France, or throwing 1803-
themselves once more into the arms of Britain, Napoleon
sought by every means to conciliate these powers, and even
to bribe them to join him in his attempts to destroy the
commercial and maritime superiority of this country. “ The
germ of what was subsequently called the Continental Sys¬
tem,” says Bignon, “ already existed in the mind of the
first consul, and this system reposed upon the support of
Prussia. One of the objects of the usurpation of Hanover
was to make that court feel the inconvenience of a state of
indecision towards France, and the advantages of a close
alliance with her. To render Prussia powerful, in order
that by its union with France it might awe the Continent
to quiet, was the aim of Napoleon. If it be asked why,
towards the close of his reign, Napoleon showed himself
inexorable towards Prussia, the reason is, that Prussia was
the power which wished him most ill, in forcing him to
combat and destroy her, instead of extending and strength¬
ening her monarchy, in order that she and France united
might keep Austria and Russia immoveable, and at the
same time give that development to the continental sys¬
tem which would force England to make peace.” Prussia,
in short, was to be fattened and enriched at the expense of
acting in subservience to the views of France, and Hanover
was offered to her as the price of her submission. The
bribe was tempting, and there was considerable hesitation
in refusing it. All the old ministers were disposed to ac¬
cept the electorate with the French alliance ; Hardenberg
alone was of a contrary opinion, and his view ultimately
prevailed. But the influence which decided the Prussian
court to reject the insidious proposals of Bonaparte was
that of the Emperor Alexander, whose opinions, argu¬
ments, and weight overcame all the representations of
Duroc and the other French envoys, even when on the
point of accomplishing their object.
By a singular turn of opinion and events, every act of Effect of
Bonaparte now told in favour of Britain, the ministry ofNapoleon’s
which, had he remained on the defensive, could scarcely measur^s
have persisted in a war which had been undertaken with-on.P^*’c
out any adequate object, and in the prosecution of which °^inion*
there was no reasonable prospect of success. But the oc¬
cupation of Hanover and the south of Italy excited the ap¬
prehensions of Europe ; whilst the army collected on the
northern coasts of France, and destined to invade England,
had the effect of exciting the patriotic energies of that
country, silencing the arguments of the friends of peace,
firing the national pride, and uniting all by the tie of a
supposed common danger. The voice of reason, prudence,
and humanity, was drowned in the tumult of contending
passions ; and the most unjustifiable war in which Britain
had ever engaged, suddenly became, in the broadest sense
of the term, a national one. Meanwhile, as a field of bat¬
tle was denied to Napoleon, he turned his activity towards
military organization, forming the armies and preparing
the resources with which his most brilliant conquests were
afterwards achieved. Alessandria was fortified upon the
most approved principles, at an enormous expense, and ren¬
dered the bulwark of Italy. From Otranto to the Texel
every coast and sea-port was put in a state of defence ; and
the British fleet, whilst blockading every harbour, and me¬
nacing every accessible point, might observe the gigantic
attempt made by the enemy to surround Europe, as it
were, with a wall of iron. The few remaining colonies or
foreign possessions of France now fell into the hands of
Britain ; and Louisiana, which had been wrested from
Spain, was sold to the United States, as the only mode
left of deriving advantage from the acquisition, and at the
same time defeating the views which England might en¬
tertain in regard to the occupation of the province.
FRANCE.
129
History. Whilst public attention was mainly directed to the army
and flotilla assembled at Boulogne, Ambleteuse, and other
1804. places adjoining, for the professed purpose of invading
Conspiracy Britain, it was suddenly diverted from military projects
firs^con t^ie discovery of a conspiracy against the first consul.
3U;. ' The hopes which the royalist party had entertained upon
his first accession to power have already been noticed.
They fancied that, satisfied with military glory, he might
be prevailed on to favour a restoration, if not directly to
assist in bringing it about; and, in two letters, LouisXVIII.
demanded of him this act of disinterestedness, which, how¬
ever, he calmly but firmly declined. His subsequent mea¬
sures for strengthening and perpetuating his power left
no doubt that, occupying the first place in the state, he
would never voluntarily descend to the second, and that
the hopes which they had so hastily fprmed were entirety
fallacious. Disappointment now gave place to intrigue,
and intrigue became envenomed by the spirit of revenge.
The decree which conferred upon Napoleon the consul¬
ship for life had encountered very considerable opposition.
Lafayette protested against it; Camille Jourdan publish¬
ed a reclamation in favour of the liberty of the press ; and
Madame de Stael opened her brilliant saloon to the most
distinguished opponents of the consular government. Of
all this the royalists now took advantage; and a corre¬
spondence was entered into with Louis XVIII., who pro¬
mised, in the event of his restoration, to respect the prin¬
ciples of liberty, and further to grant a charter in which
these should be fully recognised. The hopes of the roy¬
alists were thus kept alive ; the activity and confidence of
their adherents were augmented ; whilst the watchfulness
and jealousy of the government were proportionally in¬
creased. But although the opinions and predilections of
speculative persons seldom lead those who entertain them
to embark in the perilous adventure of conspiracy, the
Bourbons counted amongst their more zealous and active
partisans men eager to strike a blow at the head of the new
government, and to anticipate events rather than to wait for
their tardy development. Of these, General Pichegru was
one. His fortunes were now desperate ; and he had many
wrongs, or at least misfortunes, to avenge. Having escaped
from Sinamary, to which he had been banished by the fac¬
tion of the 18th of’Fructidor (4th September 1797), the ex¬
patriated general returned to Europe ; openly espoused the
cause of the Bourbons ; and, as Bonaparte had now become
master in France, wished to attempt by a coup-de-main to
overturn the principal author of his misfortunes. A plan of
conspiracy, having for its object to overthrow the consu¬
lar government and to restore the Bourbons, was accord¬
ingly arranged at London, in conjunction with Georges
Cadoudal, son of a miller at Morbihan, a determined
Chouan, and other persons well fitted to engage in such
an enterprise. The views of the conspirators can only be
gathered from circumstances, and from the admissions
afterwards made by themselves when arrested by the
French police; but it seems tolerably certain that the as¬
sassination of the first consul was regarded by them as a
preliminary measure, indispensable to the success of the
counter revolution which it was their main object to bring
about. The whole fabric of Bonaparte’s power rested on
the basis of his character and reputation ; he was not part
of a system established on a wide and solid foundation, but
the system itself; the existence of the consular govern¬
ment depended entirety on him; and hence the surest as
well as speediest mode of overturning his authority was to
begin by destroying himself. But be this as it may, the
ultimate success of the enterprise depended on providing
beforehand the means of giving it a determinate charac¬
ter, and at the same time acting powerfully on public
opinion.
What the conspirators most wanted, therefore, was a
VOL. X.
name to oppose to that of Bonaparte ; a leader of eminence, History,
whose reputation might conciliate public opinion, and bear
to be put in competition with that of the first consul. Mo- 18(14.
reau was precisely such a personage, indeed the very man
they required. Possessing great talents for war, his success
had been commensurate with his ability as a commander,
and the renown of Hohenlinden had equalled, if not eclips¬
ed, the glory of Marengo. Besides, he was discontented, liv¬
ing in affected obscurity, and full of resentment on account
of the unmerited neglect with which he had been treated
since the 18th of Brumaire. But though a brave soldier,
Moreau was deficient in moral courage. He could not
persuade himself either to yield or resist; he wanted the
strength of mind or the dissimulation necessary to restrain
the expression of his resentment; nature had denied him
that promptitude of volition as well as energy of action
which are so indispensable in the chief of a party; and,
on the 19th of Brumaire, he had not dared to convert
that revolution to his own advantage or that of the na¬
tion, and had even served, though with a bad grace, as
aide-de-camp to his more audacious rival. His wife also
had great influence over him, and having been slighted at
the consular court, now exerted it to induce him to listen
to propositions for overthrowing the tyranny of Bonaparte.
The royalist agents, ever on the watch, took advantage of
these dispositions, effected a reconciliation between him
and Pichegru, and thus entangled him in a scheme des¬
tined to prove his ruin. Pichegru arrived from England
in January 1804; Georges Cadoudal had preceded him
by several months. They both saw Moreau, who was dis¬
gusted with the ferocity of the Chouan ; but their scheme,
whatever it was, made little progress towards maturity.
From the first, indeed, Fouche had spread his toils around
them ; numbers of their accomplices were already arrest¬
ed ; and if Pichegru and Cadoudal were still allowed to
remain at large, it was only that they might gain over
Moreau, and effectually implicate him in their schemes.
Meanwhile the conspirators were unable to come to any
decision. At their last interview Pichegru showed much
hesitation ; Moreau possessed ambition which he could
not conceal, but was totally wanting in character; Geor¬
ges, and especially Pichegru, perceived that he had per¬
sonal views. Cadoudal, endowed with great energy, and
devoted to the cause of the Bourbons, pressed, conjured,
threatened Moreau, but could not decide him to act; and
Pichegru ended by proposing to adjourn the execution of
the plot for four days. But in the night fixed for action,
the conspirators, whilst impatiently waiting the signal
agreed on, received counter orders, and dispersed ; some
indulging in the most violent proposals, others resolved
to mix no longer in such intrigues. The police was on
the alert; the most inquisitorial means were employed ;
all kinds of seduction were had recourse to; Moreau,
Pichegru, and Georges were successively arrested. When
interrogated as to the project of assassination, the Chouan
answered frankly, “ I came to Paris to attack the first
consul openly by force ; by the same means, in short, which
he takes to protect himself. We waited to act until a
French prince arrived in Paris.” This prince was, it
seems, the Duke d’Enghien ; and the voluntary confes¬
sion of the Chouan sealed his fate.
But in the interval between the arrest and trial of Piche- Murder of
gru and his associates, Bonaparte struck a blow which the Duke
stunned all Europe, and was no doubt intended to strike
terror into the hearts of those who had so often plotted
his destruction, We allude to the seizure and military exe¬
cution of the Duke d’Enghien. This young prince, a son
of the Duke de Bourbon, and grandson of the last Prince
of Conde, inhabited the chateau of Ettenheim, belonging to
the elector of Baden, and only four leagues distant from
Strasburg, where he had lived for some time in perfect
K
130 FRA
History, security. The proximity of his residence to the French
' frontier, the fact of which the consular government had
1804- received information that Dumouriez was at Ettenheim,1
and, above all, the confession of Cadoudal that he and his
brother conspirators only waited for the arrival of a French
prince in order to commence operations, satisfied the first
consul that the duke was not only aware of, but deeply
implicated in, the counter-revolutionary movement which
had been concerted in Paris ; and this conviction was much
strengthened by the reports of the police, all of which re¬
presented the conspiracy as having assassination for its
principal object. “ The air,” said Fouche, “ is full of po¬
niards.” The life of the first consul had already been at¬
tempted by means of the infernal machine ; and although,
on that occasion, he had escaped as it were by miracle,
he could not always hope that the hand of the assassin
would miss its aim, or that his machinations would fail of
success. The law of self-preservation, which gives to
every man, when his life is in jeopardy, the right of de¬
fending it by all the means in his power, seemed there¬
fore to sanction the adoption of measures calculated not
merely to ward off the present danger, but also to strike a
salutary terror, which might in future prevent the renewal
of such attempts. Accordingly a detachment of French
gensdarmes, under the order of Captain Chariot, was di¬
rected by General Ordener to surprise the castle of Etten¬
heim, and carry off the Duke d’Enghien ; whilst another
expedition, under General Caulincourt, moved upon Kehl
and Offemburg to seize some emigrants at those places.2 * * * *
But the gensdarmes advanced so rapidly, that on the night
of the 15th of March the prince was seized in his bed, and
hurried off to Strasburg. The tidings of his capture were
immediately conveyed to Paris by the telegraph, and
through the same channel orders were received on the
morning of the 18th, in consequence of which the pri¬
soner was rapidly transported to the castle of Vincennes,
but without traversing the capital. He reached Vin¬
cennes at nine o’clock in the evening, much fatigued with
his journey, and the same night was brought before a
military commission, specially appointed to try, or rather
to condemn him.
The charges brought against him were six in number;
first, having borne arms against the Republic; secondl}7,
having offered his services to England, the eternal enemy
of France ; thirdly, having received accredited agents of
that country, facilitated their correspondence in France,
and conspired against the internal and external safety of
the state; fourthly, having placed himself at the head of
a corps of French emigrants in the pay of England, which
had been formed in the Brisgau and in Baden ; fifthly, hav¬
ing maintained a correspondence in Strasburg, with the in¬
tention of raising the adjoining departments, and operat¬
ing a diversion in favour of England; and, lastly, having
entered into the conspiracy formed by that power for the
assassination of the first consul, and held himself in readi¬
ness, in the event of success, to enter France with arms
in his hands. Interrogated on each of these heads, the
prince made the best defence which circumstances ad¬
mitted of, oppressed as he was with fatigue, and exhaust¬
ed from want of food and rest; but, after a sham trial,
which lasted about three hours, he was found guilty upon
all the counts, and condemned, although not a single docu-
N C E.
ment had been produced, nor a witness examined in evi- Historv.
dence against him. It is said that the commission which
so summarily tried and convicted the young prince, did so
under the impression that the punishment of death would
not be inflicted; but if they entertained any such belief,
the event speedily showed that it was entirely groundless.
The prince requested to see and speak with Bonaparte,
and begged that this request might be communicated to
the first consul. Savary, however, who had positive orders
to see the judgment carried into execution, refused to
grant any indulgence ; and at daybreak the prince was
conducted to the fosse of the chateau, where, beside a
new-made grave, destined to receive his remains, he was
shot by a party of gensdarmes, and died with a courage
worthy of his race.
Whatever excuse Napoleon may have had for seizing
and detaining the Duke d’Enghien as a hostage, he had
none whatever for putting him to death; whilst the cir¬
cumstances attending this tragedy, the rapid journey, the
nocturnal trial, the shameful conviction without evidence,
and the immediate execution of the sentence, gave to it
the character of a premeditated assassination. In this light,
accordingly, it was regarded throughout Europe, men of
all parties uniting in execrating the deed as a foul mid¬
night murder, only rendered more revolting by the mock¬
ery of justice with which it was accompanied. It has in¬
deed been said, that in accelerating the catastrophe, and
condemning the prince clandestinely by night, the fermen¬
tation which might have arisen had the procedure been
prolonged was avoided ; and that the circumstances which
had created the necessity for a great example, also required
that it should be promptly made. But is the policy of him
who seeks to profit by a crime, any justification of the
crime itself? or can mere expediency ever sanction a pro¬
ceeding by which justice is trampled on, and the door shut
against mercy ? It is no doubt true that the life of the first
consul was aimed at, and that the principle of self-preser¬
vation warranted him to take some measures for his own
protection ; but the law of self-defence requires of him who
resorts to such a plea, proof that he has not exceeded the
moderamen inculpates tutelce, or, in other words, that the
measures he had recourse to did not go beyond the neces¬
sity of the occasion. Had Napoleon confined himself to
the seizure and detention of the prince as a hostage for his
own safety, all Europe would probably have thought that
he was justifiable in taking such a precaution ; by acting as
he did, he outraged the sentiments of justice and humanity,
armed public opinion against him, and exhibited himself to
the world in the light of a man capable of committing any
crime, however dark and atrocious. Fouche was right, there¬
fore, in pronouncing the murder of the Duke d’Enghien, a
great political fault, which, in his estimation, was worse than
a crime. Napoleon, in a laboured defence of his own con¬
duct, dictated many years afterwards, endeavours to incul¬
pate Savary, by charging him with precipitation ; and affirms
that if the request of the prince for an interview had been
communicated to him, it would have been granted, and
might have been followed by a remission of the capital pu¬
nishment. But is it to be believed that in a matter of so
much importance, a subaltern would have ventured to act
as Savary did without positive orders ? or that having such,
he would dare to disobey them ? On this point, indeed,
1 This proved to be a complete mistake. The person whom the spies of the French police represented as General Dumouriez,
was in reality the Marquis de Thumery, the German pronunciation of whose name had led them to confound him with General
Dumouriez. (Montgaillard, Histoire de France, tom. vi. p. 47-) It moreover appears that, among the persons present at Etten¬
heim, was a Count Demoustier of Franche-Comte', the consonance of whose name approaches still more nearly to that of Dumou¬
riez. (Ibid.)
* The minister of exterior relations, Talleyrand, in a letter dated the 11th of March, sent to the minister of the elector a notifica¬
tion of the intended arrest of the Duke d’Enghien, but it is uncertain whether this letter reached Oarlsruhe before the seizure of the
prince, which was so rapidly effected by the gensdarmes under Chariot. Talleyrand evidently desired to prevent the commission of
a crime which, he foresaw, would arm public opinion against the new order of things established in France.
FRANCE.
History, tbe vindication of Savary is complete ; for, whatever may
be thought generally of the part which he acted in the af-
1804. fair, he has at least established this point, that he merely
obeyed his orders.
The French government had early intimation of the sen¬
timents with which this crime was regarded in other coun¬
tries. The emperor of Russia lost no time in instructing his
charge d’affaires at Paris to notify that he had learned with
equal surprise and grief the event which had taken place at
Ettenheim, the circumstances which followed it, and its
deplorable result; and that the interest felt by his imperial
majesty was the stronger, because he could in no way re¬
concile the violation of the territory of Baden with those
principles of justice and humanity regarded as sacred by
nations, and which alone protect their mutual relations.
The Russian minister, at the diet of Ratisbon, also present¬
ed a note, in which he forcibly represented this violation of
the Baden territory as endangering the peace and security
of every state in Germany.1 A long diplomatic correspond¬
ence ensued, without leading to any result; and on the 29th
of August the Russian charge d’affaires quitted Paris, after
which all relations ceased between his country and France.2
)eath of Some time after this tragedy, Pichegru, who had been
’ichegru. confined in the Temple since the 28th February, was found
strangled in his prison. The operation had been performed
by means of a faggot-stick inserted between the neck and
the cravat, so as to act like a tourniquet, or rather like what
is commonly called a Spanish windlass. Wright, an English
captain, who had landed Cadoudal upon the coast of Nor¬
mandy, and had afterwards been taken prisoner, was also
found with his throat cut. The French government pub¬
lished all the details relative to both suicides; but the re¬
cent catastrophe of the Duke d’Enghien had produced in
all minds an impression so unfavourable to Bonaparte, that,
without proof, and even without examination, the death of
Pichegru, in particular, was at the first moment imputed
to him. But time has demonstrated the injustice of this
imputation. The circumstances of real evidence connect¬
ed with the deed itself, the clear interest of Napoleon to
bring Pichegru to a public trial, as he afterwards did Mo¬
reau, the situation of that unfortunate man himself, and,
above all, the fact that, even after the fall of Bonaparte,
not a particle of evidence was discovered to contradict the
statement originally published by the government, or to
warrant so much as a suspicion of foul play, all unite to
prove that Pichegru died by his own hand. What possible
motive could the first consul have to order this unhappy
man to be privately assassinated ? The evidence against
him was complete. His negotiations with the Bourbons
could not be disavowed; the agents of Louis XVIII. and
of the English ministers, with whom he had corresponded,
were detained as prisoners in the Temple; and that cor¬
respondence was about to be judicially authenticated by
their respective depositions. Was it not for the interest of
the first consul, and of the government of which he was
the head, that all this should be clearly established in a
court of justice, and that the man who had associated him¬
self with assassins should also be proved to have been a
traitor to his country? Buc Pichegru appears to have
judged more correctly of his position in the Temple, than
131
those who preposterously attempted to invest him with the History,
honours of martyrdom. He saw himself undone without
resource, and being unable to endure the ignominy of as-
cending the scaffold with brigands, chiefly known by their
exploits on the highway, he put an end to his existence.
Georges Cadoudal, and several of his more guilty asso¬
ciates, were soon afterwards brought to trial, condemned,
and executed, without the slightest manifestation of pub¬
lic feeling in their favour.
The prosecution of Moreau commenced on the 10th of Trial of
June. He was arraigned on a law which declared the con- Moreau,
cealment of proclaimed conspirators an offence punishable
with six years’ imprisonment in fetters ; and the specific fact
charged against him was the harbouring of Georges Ca¬
doudal and his accomplices. His conduct on this occasion
fully justified the opinion which we have previously pro¬
nounced as to his character. The public declared loudly
in his favour; but he did nothing corresponding to the
great interest excited in his behalf. Brave and decided
on the field of battle, he constantly showed himself timid,
and sometimes pusillanimous, on the political arena; nature,
in giving him the bravery of the soldier, had denied him
the courage of the citizen. He must indeed have been
conscious that he was deeply compromised; but, on the
other hand, never did a person accused find so many de¬
fenders in almost every class of society. The enemies of
Bonaparte, and they were numerous, loudly expressed the
interest with which Moreau had inspired them ; a crowd
of military men, who had served under his orders, prepared
to defend him by open force, nay, even to rescue him from
the tribunal; and the very gensdarmes appointed to guard
him turned towards him the hilts of their sabres in token
of their readiness to assist in his deliverance. But always
feeble, and incapable of taking a decided part, Moreau had
recourse to supplications addressed to the first consul, to
whom, in a letter from his prison in the Temple, he pre¬
sented the most humble excuses, at the same time implor¬
ing the “ bienveillance” of the head of the government.
Nor was his conduct less humiliating wEen brought before
his judges. The exigencies of his defence imposed upon
him the dire necessity of denying the statement which he
had written to the Directory, and signed with his own hand,
that “ the proofs of the treason of Pichegru were as clear
as day, but that he doubted whether they could be exhi¬
bited in a judicial form.” Accordingly, after having repeat¬
edly affirmed that “ it was but too true that Pichegru had
betrayed the confidence of the whole nation,” he had now^re-
course to the most miserable shifts in order to invalidate all
the accusations which he had presented against Pichegru,
when the latter commanded the army of the Rhine and Mo¬
selle in 1795 and the beginning of 1796, as guilty of main¬
taining a correspondence with the Prince of Conde and the
enemies of the Republic. But the force of public opinion had
made itself felt even on the bench; and the recollection
that he had gained thirty battles for the Republic, and
saved two armies, created an interest in his favour which
all his weakness and folly could not destroy. The culpa¬
bility of Moreau was evident, and Bonaparte required that
he should be condemned to death, or to some degrading
punishment, intending, as is said, to have remitted the sen-
1 As a proof of the sentiments with which he professed to regard the murder of the Duke d’Enghien, the Emperor Alexander
caused to be erected in the principal church of St Petersburg, a funeral monument in honour of the unfortunate prince, with a Latin
inscription, in which the latter is described as a hopeful scion of the house of Bourbon, quern Corsica bdlua immaniter trucidavit. Yet,
four years later, we shall find the autocrat, who on this occasion professed so much hatred and contempt for Bonaparte, loading him
with every mark of regard, priding himself on being acknowledged as a friend by the new emperor of the Gauls, and even exclaiming,
in the words of a French poet, “ L’amitie d’un grand homme est un present des dieux.” At Erfurt, the Corsica bellua of the inscrip¬
tion was held out, by this Greek of the lower empire, as little short of an angel of light.
* In replying to the first note of M. d’Oubril, the llussian chargd d’affaires, the French minister made a palpable hit : “ Si
lorsque les Anglais concertaient 1’assassinat de Paul Ier., on fut venu avertir 1’Empereur Alexandre que ses assassins n’dtaient qu’^.
une lieue de la frontiere Russe, ne se serait-il pas mis en devoir de les faire arreter ?” This was a home-thrust, which admitted of no
riposte.
132
FRANCE.
History, tence, which would have effectually destroyed Moreau in
    ' public opinion. But in vain did he attempt to seduce or
1304. intimidate the judges. Out of twelve, seven feared not to
resist j1 and by a sort of compromise between the govern¬
ment and public opinion, Moreau was declared culpable,
but excusable, and condemned to suffer two years’ impri¬
sonment, which was afterwards commuted into exile.2 Of
forty-six others who were at the same time arraigned,
twenty were condemned to death, five to two years’ impri¬
sonment, and the rest acquitted, but not released. The
Polignacs were spared at the intercession of Josephine,
and Madame Murat, afterwards queen of Naples.
Civil code. In the early part of this year a law was passed which
decreed the re-union of the civil laws in a single code,
under the title of Code Civil des Francrais. The advan¬
tage which a country derives from the establishment of
uniform laws does not need to be proved; but, to appre¬
ciate the full importance of this benefit to France, it is only
necessary to cast a glance at the state of the law under the
old regime. It was divided into two principal systems;
that, of written law, and that of the countries governed by
customs or common law. Both systems were subdivided
into an infinite number of branches. There were about
three hundred general customs, varying in the extent to
which they prevailed; and these, again, were modified by
a multitude of local usages. The number of commentators
was immense. France was also governed by many other
written institutions, such as ordonnances, edicts, declara¬
tions of the sovereign, and arrets of the parliaments ; each
province, each diocese, each bailliage, each town, each cor¬
poration, had in fact its own usages and its own jurispru¬
dence. “ Besides the forty thousand Roman laws, of which
some one is always cited at random,” says Voltaire, “ we
have five hundred different customs, reckoning the small
towns and burghs, which derogate from the usages of the
principal jurisdiction ; so that a person travelling post in
France changes laws oftener than he changes horses, and
an advocate who is very learned in one city is no better
than an ignoramus in that next adjoining.” This descrip¬
tion is not in any respect overcharged. Never in any
other country had chicanery and oppression so wide a field
to expatiate in ; never was there so urgent a necessity for
substituting, in the room of conflicting usages and accu¬
mulated anomalies, a comprehensive and uniform system
of laws.
The em- The failure of the royalist plot to overthrow the consular
piie. government, together with the exposure of the follies com¬
mitted by Drake and Smith, the English residents at the
courts of Munich and Stutgardt, materially contributed to
advance the project which Napoleon had for some time
cherished of assuming the imperial purple. A despotism
for life is an absurdity ; and besides it holds out a sort of
premium for assassination. That the first consul’s life
had been aimed at, the infernal machine, and the conspi¬
racy of Pichegru and Georges, placed beyond all doubt;
that similar attempts would be repeated, as long as the
hope remained that, by taking off a single individual,
a counter revolution would be effected, was indeed most
probable. According to the logic of the time, a necessi¬
ty had arisen, not for abating the despotism, but for pla¬
cing it on a more solid and permanent foundation ; or, in
other words, for declaring it hereditary in the person and
family of the man who was already invested with absolute
power. Thus reasoned the partisans of Napoleon, and, in
their view of the question, correctly ; because any thing
was preferable to a government which might at any given
instant of time be overthrown. Measures were therefore
taken to effect the object which was now declared to be so
necessary to the safety and happiness of France. On the
30th of April a motion was made in the Tribunate to con¬
fide the government of the Republic to an emperor, and
to declare the empire hereditary in the family of the first
consul Napoleon Bonaparte. This motion was made by
an obscure member of the legislative chamber, named
Curee, who concluded his speech on the occasion by de¬
claring that the nation desired a chief as illustrious as its
destiny. Ever since the 2d of August 1802, when, by an
organic senatus-consultum, the members of the Tribunate
were reduced to a hundred and fifty, Bonaparte had com¬
pletely controlled the deliberations of that body; indeed
almost all the tribunes were either sold or intimidated,
and scarcely a shadow of representation remained. The
proposition to confer upon Bonaparte the title of emperor
was therefore adopted by the Tribunate; but the unani¬
mity of that body was greatly troubled by the heroic op¬
position of Carnot, who on this occasion expressed the
most noble and generous sentiments. “ I voted,” said he,
“ at the time against the consulate for life; I shall in like
manner vote now against the re-establishment of the mo¬
narchy in France.” He contended that the government of
a single individual was any thing rather than a guarantee
of stability and tranquillity. “ The duration of the Roman
empire,” said he, “ was not longer than that of the Repub¬
lic would have been; the intestine disorders were still
greater, and crimes more multiplied ; republican high¬
mindedness, heroism, and all the masculine virtues, were
displaced to make room for the most ridiculous pride, the
vilest adulation, the most insatiable cupidity, and the most
complete disregard of national prosperity. What evil, pray,
was remedied or obviated by declaring the succession to
the throne hereditary? Was not this in fact regarded
as the legitimate inheritance of the house of Augustus ?
Was not Domitian the son of Vespasian, Caligula the son
of Germanicus, Commodus the son of Marcus Aurelius ?”
He concluded a powerful address in the following words,
the beauty and force of which we shall not impair or en¬
feeble by any attempt at translation. “ La liberte fut-elle
done montree a 1’homme pour qu’il ne put jamais en jouir ?
Fut-elle sans cesse olferte a ses veeux comme un fruit
auquel il ne peut porter la main sans etre frappe de mort ?
Ainsi la nature, qui nous fait de cette liberte un besoin
si pressant, aurait voulu nous trailer en maratre ? Non,
je ne puis consentir a regarder ce bien si universellement
prefere a tous les autres, sans lequel tous les autres ne
sont rien, comme une simple illusion ; mon cceur me dit
que la liberte est possible, que le regime en est facile et
plus.stable qu’aucun gouvernement arbitraire, qu’aucune
oligarchie.”
The vote of the Tribunate was communicated to the
Conservative Senate, which, on the 4th of May, decreed,
History.
1304.
1 These were, Clavier, the learned translator of Pausanias, Lecourbe, Martineau, Desmaisons, Rigault, Laguillaumie, and De-
meuve. To an emissary who informed him that Bonaparte only desired the condemnation of Moreau in order to pardon him, Cla¬
vier replied, “ Et qui nous la fera, a nous ?” Who will pardon us ?
2- After the sentence had been pronounced, every facility of escape was afforded to Moreau ; but, discovering the snare laid for him,
he avoided it by returning alone to the prison of the Temple. At length a compromise was entered into, and, after having paid
the whole expense of the prosecution, he retired through Spain to America. “ En montrant un caractere moins inddeis, moins pu-
sillanime,” says the Abbe de Montgaillard, “ Moreau aurait trouve' de 1’appui dans le senat, dans Parade, dans la population de
Paris, et meme dans la nation ; mais son infirmitd politique se montre ici tout entiere. II ne s’dtait fait une idee positive de la
part qu’il pouvait et devait prendre dans ces grandes crises de Fructidor et de Brumaire ; il ne sut se determiner ni dans 1 une ni
dans Pautre de ces circonstances; patriote sincere, ami de Pordre, de la justice, et de la libertd, il ne sent jamais que des velleites
incohdrentes d’imiter ces grands hommes qui se signalerent contre les oppresseurs de la patrie.” (Montgaillard, Histoire dc c ranee,
tome vi. p. 125, 12G.)
FRA
History, on the motion of the second consul, Cambaceres,1 “ that
it is for the decided interest of the French people to con-
U ‘ fide the government of the Republic to Napoleon Bona¬
parte as hereditary emperorand fourteen days after¬
wards the same body, without waiting until the vain for¬
mality of obtaining the sanction of the people had been
gone through, passed another decree, :n which the first
consul is styled “ Emperor of the French,” a title which,
according to the mover, “ is only the expression of an
authentic wish already manifested by the nation.” It ap¬
pears, however, that the people were not in any shape
consulted or referred to in the matter. For form’s sake,
, they had been admitted to vote respecting the question
of the consulate for life; but on the present occasion the
experiment was not repeated, however advantageous it
might have been to obtain at least a semblance of popu¬
lar assent; and, what is not a little remarkable, this fact
is established by the conclusion of the very discourse in
which it is unblushingly affirmed that the assumption of
the imperial dignity by Napoleon is only the expression
of an authentic wish already manifested by the nation.
“ If it is in the principles of our constitution,” says Cam¬
baceres, in presenting the decree of the senate, “ and al¬
ready several examples have been given, to submit to the
sanction of the people the part of the decree which con¬
cerns the establishment of an hereditary government, the
senate nevertheless conceives that it ought to supplicate
3'our imperial majesty to consent that the organic dispo¬
sitions should immediately receive their execution ; and,
for the glory as well as for the happiness of the Republic,
it proclaims, on the instant even, Napoleon emperor of the
French. W hat, then, becomes of the assertion, so often
advanced, as if it could not be contradicted, that “ the
wish of thirty millions of men had crowned the Emperor
Napoleon ?” By evidence the most conclusive it is here
established that Bonaparte was created emperor by the
senate, consisting entirely of his own creatures, and that
the nation was not consulted or appealed to in the matter.
An organic senatus-consultum next declared the imperial
dignity hereditary in the direct, natural, and legitimate
descendants of Napoleon, from male to male, in the order
of primogeniture, to the perpetual exclusion of women and
their descendants. It provided, however, that the empe¬
ror might adopt the children or grandchildren of his bro¬
thers, it he had no male oftspring himself at the moment
of adoption, and that the children who might thus be
adopted should enter into the direct line of descent, but
could only be called to the succession after legitimate and
natural descendants. In default of an heir of Napoleon, the
imperial dignity was to devolve upon Joseph-Napoleon and
his descendants, and, failing the latter, upon Louis Bona¬
parte and his descendants. And thus expired the French
Republic, surnamed indivisible and imperishable by so
many orators and rhetoricians; and thus was monarchy
re-established in France, with even greater facility than it
had been overthrown eleven years before. Having pass¬
ed through a course of representative government, they
now hastened to submit to the government of one man
N C E. 133
invested with despotic power; like the ancient slaves, History,
they voluntarily replaced themselves under the yoke which '
for a day they had entertained the design of for ever 1804.
shaking off.2
Having assumed the title of emperor, which the obse-Measures
quious senate had, by a sort of improvisation, bestowed on of Napo-
him, Bonaparte lost no time in exercising the powers be-^e?n to 0D*
longing to his new dignity. On the 19th of May he cre-tain fh.e re'
ated eighteen of his generals marshals of the empire.
This was an act of homage to the army, the real basis ofdignitv.
his power, and it was performed without even waiting until
the senate had taken the oath of allegiance, which it did
on the 27th. Addresses now flowed in from all parts of
the hundred and eight departments into which the terri¬
tory of the imperial republic was divided. The authori¬
ties, the functionaries, the magistracy, and the army, all
brought to the foot of the throne assurances of the most
profound devotion. Harassed with the convulsions of a
long anarchy, the people now invoked the repose of ser¬
vitude. The despotism of one man seemed to them a
small evil compared with the tyranny of the factions. Of
this disposition Napoleon took full advantage, and, ac¬
cordingly, spent the remainder of the year in employing
every means to get his new dignity confirmed and sanc¬
tioned both at home and abroad. The fact of his assump¬
tion of the imperial dignity was formally announced to all
the states of Europe, Britain alone excepted, and nego¬
tiations were at the same time opened with a view to ob¬
tain its recognition. Austria was the first to acknowledge
the new emperor of the Gauls; and the opportunity was
even chosen by her sovereign for modifying his own title,
to which he now added that of hereditary emperor of Aus¬
tria. But the other powers either hesitated or delayed.
I he army, however, formed the true basis of Napoleon’s
power, and their sanction was essential to its stability. To
obtain this with suitable eclat, he visited Boulogne in the
course of the summer, and, soon after his arrival in the
camp, ordered a grand review, during which he distribut¬
ed to the military crosses of the Legion of Honour, which,
created by the law of the 19th May 1802, had been so¬
lemnly inaugurated at Paris a short time before (14<th Ju¬
ly). Here, on the 16th of August, seated on a temporary
throne in the midst of his numerous hosts, with the shores
of England and its fleets before him, he received, as it
were in presence of the enemy, the exulting acclamations
with which the troops answered his claim to empire, and
seemed, like another Clovis, raised on their bucklers, to
be the founder of a new dynasty in France. From Bou¬
logne Napoleon hurried to Aix-la-Chapelle, the ancient
capital of Charlemagne, where the acknowledgment of his
new dignity by the Emperor Francis II. awaited his arrival.
Lastly, on the 1st of December, the Conservative Senate
presented to him the plebiscitum, as it was called, which
recognised the imperial dignity as hereditary in his family.
That nothing might be wanting, the church was required His coro-
to give her formal sanction to the new dynasty. The Gal-nation,
lican clergy had already signalised their zeal by proclaim¬
ing Napoleon emperor, and in their discourses styling him
17Q3^o "i1” l*llJS fcd tde Cr<lWn on tfie fiea(^ an ambitious soldier was the same person who, in the night of the 19th January
S„SC “n ed’ ? -VeM « P™non,a„t la mart d„ dernier lioi Ses Franks, vous aJez iait u„ acte dont
mnrt « > passera jamais, et qui sera grave par le burin d’immortalite' dans les fastes des nations...Qu’une expedition du de'cret de
r r/nVTe’ U ins,tant; au C0nseil ex^utif pour le faire exdcuter dans les vingt-quatre heures de la notification/’ Hi this
u j ^ sena °rs was a so t e minister of justice who, on the 20th January, announced to Louis XVI. the sentence of death,
souille lf» 5ml)eie*jr (e ome, ^ says Montgaillard, “ ne dut le diademe a de plus vils aff'ranchis; pose par de telles mains il eul
so eao-pr m liastmi The death'of Louis *XVT Francc’> vL ?4>) In a word’ these Conventionalists, who, in 1793, had shown themselves
s jj e .ta , , Couis XVI , were not less so, in 1804, to accelerate the enthronement of Napoleon Bonauarte
H ow well they verified the words of an Italian poet, the reader will judge : P uonaParte-
Torna contento cosi
Schiavo, che usci di pena,
Alia barbara catena
Che detestava un d'. (Metastasio.)
134 FRANC E.
History. Moses and Cyrus, not to mention other impious absurdities.1 good sense, intuitive quickness, unquenchable energy, sc- History.
[nsuccessthey discovered divine right as well as legitimacy, vere judgment, untiring perseverance ; such were the ge-
1804. anci proclaimed the finger of God as the agent of his ele- neral attributes of his mind, to which circumstances af-
vation. Nor was the successor of St Peter, and the vicar forded full opportunities of development. He was not one
of God upon earth, less accommodating than the members of those men born to struggle against events, or to create
of the Gallican church. At the command of Napoleon, occasions for the display of his own powers, and for the gra-
his holiness made a journey to Paris, in order to place the tification of an aspiring ambition. He never anticipated
crown on the head of the new Charlemagne, who had de- the course of events, nor ventured forward until every ac-
spoiled the church of the very possessions which had been cessory had been prepared, until all was ripe for consum-
bestowed on her by the pious emperor of the Franks. The mation. His mind was essentially practical, and his su-
sovereign pontiff who thus obsequiously consented to con- preme excellence consisted in a just appreciation ol the
secrate military usurpation, was no other than that Bishop true character of events, united with unexampled promp-
of Imola who, in December 1797, exhorted his flock to titude in availing himself of the favours of fortune, and in
follow the traces of the democratic revolution of France ; turning every propitious circumstance to the utmost pos-
but if the hearts of men are in the hand of the Most High, sible advantage. But his energy was active, not passive ;
infallibility is of course an attribute of the papal tiara. The with the current of events in his favour, his audacity was
ceremony of the coronation took place in the church of boundless; when the tide turned against him, he evinced
Notre Dame on the second of December; and no labour but little fortitude; in prosperity he seemed like a god,
or expense had been spared to give splendour and magnifi- governing all things at his pleasure ; in adversity he pined
cence to the spectacle. But notwithstanding all the pomp like a southern exotic under a northern sky. He was not
and luxury displayed, few acclamations greeted the empe- fitted by nature to play the part either of Caesar or of
ror on his way to Notre Dame, and still fewer awaited him Cromwell, and he would never have descended to that of
on his return. No man said God bless him. The people Catiline. He was in truth but a bad conspirator; for, as
generally remained passive and silent. During the cere- we have already seen, the revolution of the 18th and 19th
monial, Napoleon, impatient of its slow march, seized the of Brumaire was effected, in spite of his blunders and
crown, which he placed on his own head, and next he also hesitation, by the firmness and intrepidity of his brother
crowned the Empress Josephine. The holy father then Lucien. Further, Napoleon was endowed with great and
performed the triple unction on the head and the two commanding intellect, but not with strong passions; he
hands, after which he recited the following strange for- neither loved nor sympathised with freedom ; and even
mula of consecration; “ Almighty and eternal God, who his ambition seems to have been after-thought begotten
hast established Hazael to govern Syria, and Jehu king of events. A little before the 13th of Vendemiaire, vyhen
of the Jews, in manifesting to them thy will by the organ accident first brought him into notice, his views were limit-
of the prophet Elias; who hast equally shed the holy ed to the purchase of a country-house and farm, but not of
unction of the kings on the head of Saul and of David by confiscated property, so unstable did he then consider the
the ministry of the prophet Samuel; shed, by my hands, Revolution. But he had that restless spirit, that craving ac-
the treasures of thy grace and of thy benediction on thy tivity, and that innate consciousness of intellectual power,
servant Napoleon, whom, notwithstanding our personal out of which ambition springs. He was not without en-
unworthiness, we do this day consecrate emperor in thy thusiasm of a certain kind ; but it never approached the
name.” This formula explicitly announces the doctrine generous warmth of inspiration, or betrayed him into any
of divine right, a doctrine borrowed from the constitution sallies which his judgment condemned; and hence his
of the Hebrews, and introduced into Europe at a period compositions and addresses, though full of force and vi»
of the grossest ignorance, under the feeble Carlovingians, gour, are deformed by exaggeration, and devoid of natu-
when the priesthood established the absolute power of ral feeling, the essential element of true eloquence. But
kings over their people, and the absolute power of the the absence of passion and enthusiasm implies selfishness
pope over kings. in the highest degree ; and this again naturally produces
Character The man who had thus gathered up out of the wrecks the most depreciatory judgments of mankind. The cha-
ofNapo- of the Revolution the fragments of the sovereignty which racter of Napoleon was deformed by both these vices iiy
Icon. it had broken to pieces, and with these materials, aided an eminent degree. Himself, his greatness, and that of
by his own genius, constructed a new empire in France, France through him, became, if not a passion, at least the
was, considering his character in its various aspects, the substitute for one ; and, mistrustful of all pretensions to
most extraordinary personage that any age or country public virtue or disinterestedness, he regarded mankind
has ever produced. Gifted by nature with all the general as all governed by their immediate interests, and as ready
and efficient elements of greatness, but possessing few or to serve any cause by which these might be advanced,
none of those peculiarities which sometimes mar and some- From this nullity of feeling, and strength of intellect, flow-
times adorn it, his powers differed from those of ordinary ed the virtues and vices of the man. He was neither im-
men not so much in kind, perhaps, as in degree. Great posed on by the cant of the Revolution, nor in the slight-
1 The language of impious adulation in which the clergy indulged on the occasion referred to reflects eternal disgrace, if not on
their order, at least on themselves. The following are specimens of the pious incense with which they endeavoured to regale the
nostrils of Napoleon : “ Le Dieu des dieux,” said Cardinal Cambaceres, “ et des rois, avait donne, et il avait repris; il n’a pas rendu,
mais il a donne de nouveau, comme il avait donnd le trone de Clovis a Charlemagne, et le trone de celui-ci k Saint-Louis...L’homme
de la religion trouvera nos maximes dans PEvangile.” “ Un dieu et un monarque,” said the Archbishop of Turin, “ comme le Dieu
des Chretiens est leseul digne d’etre adord et obei; vous (Napoleon) etes le seul homme digne de commander aux Franqais. Par-
lit cesseront toutes abstractions philosophiques, tout depecement du pouvoir.” “ Qu’elle est grande,” cried another dignitary,
“ qu’elle est admirable, cette divine sagesse qui etablit les empires. Napoleon, que Dieu appella des deserts d’Egypte, comme un
autre Mo'ise...Donnons pour garant de notre fiddlite it Cesar, notre fidelite a Dieu...N.e cessons de le dire, le doigt de Dieu est ici...
Nouveau Mathathias, Bonaparte parut dans 1’assemblde du peuple, envoye par le Seigneur...Un nouveau Cyrus a paru...Gdnereux
comme le pieux Onias...L’ecriture nous trace, dans leregnede Josaphat, ce prince cheri de Dieu et des hommes, 1’image du gouverne-
tnent accompli de Napoleon... La sou mission lui est due, comme dominant surtout; a ses ministres, comme envoyes par lui pour
proteger le bien et punir le mal, parce que tel est 1’ordre de la Providence.” It would be at once curious and instructive to compare
this with the language held after the events of 1814, by some of the very men who thus profaned holy writ in order to offer incense
to the Jacobin emperor.
F RANG E.
1804.
History, est degree tinged with its fanaticism. Indebted for his
promotion to the democracy, he adopted that side which
threw command open to talents; he espoused the cause
of the Revolution, and rendered it triumphant; but he
imbibed none of its passions or prejudices against either
the aristocracy or the clergy, both of whom he spared and
even protected. He was not by nature cruel or implaca-
ble; but the supreme command of armies, and the habi¬
tual spectacle of fields of battle, had inspired him with a
contempt of human life, and a disregard for destroying it.
He had no immoral tendencies; but as he had derived
from education no principle of religion, or, at least, as the
Revolution annihilated any he might have originally im¬
bibed, he was left free to adopt those untempered maxims
of expediency, according to which prudence becomes the
only regulating principle of human actions. Nor does he
seem to have cherished any nice sentiment of honour, or
in general to have possessed those habits and manners
which are characteristic of a gentleman. The one would
have inspired him with a respect for truth, and prevented
an imperial bulletin from becoming synonymous with
falsehood; and the other would have preserved him from
that habitual rudeness, which at length left around him,
not devoted servants, but servile instruments, alike inca¬
pable of delaying a guilty order or of hastening a generous
one. As to war, Napoleon always found it made to his
hand; if his system provoked it, which it unquestionably
did, this never entered into his calculation, and he could
not imagine why Austria, Britain, or any other power,
should affect to feel any alarm at his aggrandisement. He
had come in place of the Revolution ; he was at once the
representative and the guardian of all the interests and
changes which it had created or effected ; and yet, though
but a Jacobin enthroned, he resented as an indignity and
an insult the mistrust evinced by those very powers which
had previously combined to crush the Revolution of which
he was the representative. This was no doubt the grand
misfortune of his position. He could not stand still, much
less recede. His system was essentially of a progressive
and an encroaching character ; his policy was from neces¬
sity arbitrary and menacing. Wars followed; coalition
aftercoalition was formed and destroyed; and whilstFrance
only assumed the offensive in order to anticipate enemies
which were preparing to strike her, victory attended her
standards. But the very fruits of success, which no man
knew so well as Napoleon how to gather up, soon accu¬
mulated to such a degree, that a further extension of his
authority became inevitable. The obstinate hostility of
England, which he endeavoured to overcome by means of
what he chose to denominate the continental system, in¬
volved him in the Russian expedition, in which he assum¬
ed a directly aggressive character; and the consequences
were unheard-of disasters and defeats. The elements
warred against him, and in the snows of Russia were
buried those formidable legions which had so often march¬
ed to victory. I he tide of events now turned ; and in the
violence of the reflux Napoleon was, after a brief strug¬
gle, overthrown. When he crossed the Niemen to invacTe
Russia, he had reached the culminating point of his des¬
tiny ; when he recrossed that stream, the nations of Eu¬
rope were already freed from his grasp. But though una¬
ble to control events, Napoleon was eminently calculated
to rule over masses of men. If he deprived them of liberty,
he at least secured to them equality; in all departments a
boundless field was opened by him to talent and enter¬
prise ; and in pursuing his own schemes of greatness, he
conferred the most substantial and enduring benefits on
the nation which he governed. His was essentially a
popular despotism; one which rested not on the narrow
basis of castes, but leaned on the general mass. Yet his
power, though it extended widely over the land, did not
135
strike downwards, but, spreading its roots horizontally History,
and superficially through the soil, wanted that firm hold
which alone could have enabled it to resist the fury of Soo¬
the adverse blasts to which it was exposed.
Ihe events of 1804< prepared the way for a new coah-New coali¬
tion against France. The breach with Russia, resulting tion against
ostensibly from the seizure and execution of the Duke France pre.
d’Enghien, had accomplished the first wish of Great Bri-r’ann£-
tain, which was to find a continental ally. Menaced with
invasion, the mere threat of which, independently of any
danger to be apprehended, was an evil, because an insult,
that power, acting upon the most obvious principles of
policy, naturally sought to find employment on the Con¬
tinent for the legions which frowned defiance on the op¬
posite shores of the Channel; and a prospect of accom¬
plishing this object was unexpectedly opened in conse¬
quence of the event to which we have alluded. But this
prospect was for a time overclouded by an unjustifiable
aggression on the part of Britain. Spain had for several
years been in close alliance with France, which she se¬
cretly aided with subsidies; yet the English government,
though fully aware of the circumstance, pretended not to
observe it, and had hitherto respected Spain as a neutral
power. I his policy, however, which, in the circumstan¬
ces, was not less wise than cautious, the English minis¬
try suddenly abandoned, and, by a most unjustifiable act
of aggression, threw Spain into the arms of France.
Without any declaration of war, or the least indication of
a change in the system which had hitherto been pursued
by England, several Spanish vessels, returning laden with
treasure, were attacked by a superior force, and after a
sharp action captured. I his proceeding, stamped with all
the characters of violence and treachery, was immediate¬
ly followed by a declaration of war on the part of the
Spanish government; and from this time Britain had not
only to contend with the fleets of France and Spain unit¬
ed, but, in consequence of the gigantic schemes of Napo¬
leon, became seriously exposed to all the perils and mi¬
series of an invasion.
Meanwhile, as the clouds of hostility were gathering pr0p0sai
around him, Napoleon addressed a letter directly to the for p^ace.
king ot Great Britain (14th January), containing overtures
of a peace. “ I attach no dishonour,” said he, “ to making
the first advance. I have, I think, sufficiently proved to the
world that I do not dread any of the chances of war. Peace
is the wish of my heart. I conjure your majesty not to
deny yourself the satisfaction of giving it to the world.
A coalition will never have any effect but to increase the
continental preponderance and grandeur of France.” In
any view, this was a politic proceeding. It served to con¬
ciliate public opinion in France, to throw upon England the
odium of persisting in embroiling the Continent, to mask his
real designs, and at the same time to parade his dignity by
treating on a footing of equality with the proudest and
most powerful monarch in the world. The reply of the
English ministry was cold and repulsive. “ His majesty
is persuaded,” said they in their reply addressed to M.
Talleyrand, “ that the object of peace can only be obtained
by engagements calculated to provide for the future safe¬
ty and tranquillity of Europe, and to prevent the recur¬
rence of the dangers and misfortunes in which it has been
involved. His majesty, therefore, feels that it is impos¬
sible for him to reply more particularly to the overture
which has been made to him, until he has had time to
communicate with the powers of the Continent.” Both
parties were equally insincere. Britain desired to abide
by the fortunes of a third coalition ; Napoleon pursued his
schemes of aggrandisement, and on the 18th of March
announced to the senate that he had accepted the crown
of Italy, in conformity, as he said, with the wishes mani¬
fested by the Italian Republic. At Milan, where he was
136 FRA
History, received with enthusiasm, he had exchanged his title ot
president of the Cisalpine Republic for that of king of Italy,
and placed upon his head the iron crown1 * of Charlemagne,
amidst the acclamations of a people charmed with the
idea of a kingdom of Italy. This was followed by an act
of a still more unequivocal character, namely, the incor¬
poration of Genoa, lately the Ligurian Republic, with the
French empire; a measure certain to alarm Austria, and
to furnish Great Britain and Russia writh a new and
powerful argument for inducing that power to join the
coalition against France.8
Napoleon’s Many persons have thought, and some gravely main-
plan of in- tained, that Napoleon was not serious in his menace of in¬
vasion. vading England. But the contrary has been proved by the
most incontrovertible evidence. He was well aware, how¬
ever, that without obtaining at least a temporary supe¬
riority of naval force, such a project would be impracti¬
cable ; and accordingly all his efforts had, for some time
past, been directed towards the accomplishment of this
preliminary object. His plan was to distract the atten¬
tion of England, by sending a powerful fleet to the West
Indies, which, after threatening her possessions in that
quarter, should suddenly return to Europe, effect a junc¬
tion with the Spanish fleet, then disengage the squadron
blockaded in Brest, and having rallied under its flag ships
from other ports, enter the Channel with an overwhelm¬
ing force of nearly sixty sail of the line. This project was
admirably conceived, and most skilfully combined; and
if the execution had at all corresponded with the de¬
sign, or if Yilleneuve had obeyed his orders, or if, even
after his indecisive action with Sir Robert Calder, he had
made sail for Brest, instead of going into Cadiz in the face
of reiterated instructions, enforced even with menaces,
it would beyond all doubt have succeeded. In this splen¬
did conception, almost every contingency had been taken
into the calculation, except the obstinate and infatuat¬
ed disobedience of the admiral, which allowed England
time to collect her n^eans, and enabled Nelson to anni¬
hilate, by one decisive blow, the navies of both France
and Spain. On this occasion fortune was on the side of
England, which was saved from imminent peril, perhaps
from a great national calamity, by a degree of infatuation
in the commander of the combined fleets, far beyond all
ordinary experience or reasonable calculation. If, after
his action with Sir Robert Calder, Villeneuve had pro¬
ceeded to Brest, according to his peremptory instructions,
his force would have at once been increased to forty-five
sail of the line, which, with the Rochefort squadron, the
junction of which he could then calculate on, would have
N C E.
enabled him to enter the Channel with at least fifty sail History,
of the line; a force amply sufficient to secure to France
for the time the naval superiority required. And, in such lo0j‘
an event, what would most probably have followed ? The
troops were in hand, almost on the very beach ; the flo¬
tilla was kept in readiness to put to sea at a moment’s
notice; and in ten hours a hundred and fifty thousand
men, with material and ammunition, might have been on
their way to the opposite coast.3 * * * * But providence willed it
otherwise.
Whilst Napoleon was thus menacing England with inva-Third
sion from the heights of Boulogne, his looks were at thecoafitiun
same time anxiously directed towards the east and north ^ormei^
of Europe. He was by no means ignorant of the coalition
which was forming against him ; but as the position which
he at present occupied enabled him at once to threaten
England and observe Austria, he waited for the develop¬
ment of events in order to judge whether he should attack
the former upon her own soil, or strike a blow at her in Ger¬
many. Prepared for instant operations, his principal ob¬
ject was to suffer the continental powers to anticipate him
in declaring war, and then in turn to anticipate them, by
promptly assuming the offensive, dashing into the very
heart of Germany, overpowering Austria before she had
time to concentrate her means of resistance, and thus de¬
stroying the coalition by, as it were, cutting off its head.
And this plan, based on the most accurate prescience of
events, was that which he ultimately carried into execution
with the most astounding success. On the 8th of April
a treaty of alliance was concluded at St Petersburg, be¬
tween Great Britain and Russia, in which the contracting
powers engaged to employ the most prompt and effectual
means to form in Europe a general league, capable of con¬
straining the government of France to consent to the re-?
establishment of peace, and of the equilibrium of power;
and to attain this object, the force to be employed was
fixed at five hundred thousand effective men, exclusively
of the succours to be furnished by England. The special
objects of the league were, the evacuation of Hanover and
of Germany ; the independence of Holland and of Switzer¬
land ; the re-establishment of the king of Sardinia in Pied¬
mont, with a considerable extension of territory; the se¬
curity of the kingdom of Naples; and the entire evacua¬
tion of Italy by the French. Sweden, having already de¬
cided against France, acceded to these stipulations. Prus¬
sia approved of their spirit, but temporised; and finally
resolved to persevere in that neutrality by which she had
already profited so much. Austria, anxious to redeem
her defeats, and regain her ascendency in Italy, formally
1 This crown is called iro«, from a nail of the true cross, which, it seems, is attached to it.
s Napoleon’s object in seizing Genoa is announced in one of his letters to Lebrun, who had been appointed governor, and en¬
deavoured, as far as possible, to mitigate the rigour of his stern orders. “ In uniting Genoa to the empire, I was induced neither
by the revenue, npr by the land forces she might contribute. I had but one object in view, viz. fifteen thousand seamen. It is, then,
going against the very spirit of my orders to be lenient or backward in levying and raising this force. You are too mild, too merci¬
ful. How can you govern people without discontenting them ? What would you do if you were charged with forcing the conscripts
of a couple of French departments to march to the army ? I tell you that, in matters of government, justice means force as well as
virtue. ( Vous savez bien qu'en fait de gouvernement justice •cent dire force comme vertu.) As to the discontent of the Genoese, I am not
the man to listen to such remonstrances. Think you I am decrepid enough to fear them ? My answer is, seamen, seamen, still sea¬
men. Govern but to collect seamen ; dream but of them. Say what you will from me, but say that I will have seamen.” The
reason of this extreme urgency will immediately appear. As to the detestable maxim, that justice means force, it might with truth
be converted into a general motto for the history of Napoleon's reign. With him the amount of force was ever the measure of
justice and virtue.
3 Dumas, Precis des Evenemens Militaires, tome xvii. pieces justifcatives. I’ourrienne reports a conversation which he had with
Napoleon on this subject, and in which the latter is made to say, “ Those who believe in the seriousness of my menace of invasion
are fools. They do not see the thing in its true light. I can without doubt disembark in England with a hundred thousand men,
fight a great battle, win it; but I must reckon on thirty thousand killed, wounded, or prisoners. If I march upon London, a second
battle awaits me ; suppose me again successful, what am I to do in London, with an army diminished by three fourths, without hope of
reinforcements ? It would be madness. Without naval superiority, such a project is impracticable.” This merely shows either
that Bourrienne did not understand the nature of the communication made to him, or that it suited the views of Napoleon to con¬
ceal his real intentions from the inquisitive secretary. That the menace was “ serious” as long as a hope remained of obtaining, by
the means already described, a superiority of naval force in the Channel, is proved beyond all doubt by the documents which General
Dumas has inserted in the Appendix to his seventeenth volume, above referred to; and it seems equally certain that, if Villeneuve
had obeyed his orders, the experiment, with all its attendant hazards, would have been tried.
'
FRANCE.
137
History. acceJea to the treaty of St Petersburg (on the 9th of staff-officer, was wholly unequal to the difficult and re- History
1805~ August), notwithstanding the strenuous opposition of the sponsible situation in which he had been placed. Of this ' ^
Archduke Charles, who, foreseeing the peril, earnestly total incapacity he gave early and lamentable proofs. Con- ls°5.
counselled peace. She engaged not to lay down arms ceiving that Napoleon must necessarily advance by the
except with the consent of her allies, and xvas to receive same road which had formerly been made choice of by
from England a subsidy of three millions sterling during Moreau, he took post at Ulm, and there awaited the ap-
the current year, 1805, and of four millions during each proach of the enemy. The French emperor, however,
of the following years. These negotiations did not long had very different views. His preparations had been made
remain a secret from Napoleon-, who had anxiously watch- with such rare ability, and the plan of the campaign so
ed the gathering storm; and scarcely had Austria acced- well digested beforehand, that towards the end of Sep-
ed to the third continental coalition, when the French tember the French grand army had arrived on the right
army, assembled upon the shores of the Channel, was in bank of the Rhine. It was divided into seven corps, with
full march towards the Rhine. Bavaria had previously a grand reserve of cavalry. The first corps was command-
been secured by a promise of territorial aggrandisement; ed by Bernadette, the second by Marmont, the third by
the Russians were still in Gallicia ; and Austria, as the Davoust, the fourth by Soult, the fifth by Cannes, the
Archduke Charles had foreseen, was thus left to contend sixth by Ney, the seventh by Augereau, and the cavalry
single-handed with the whole power of France. In these by Murat, who had under his orders Nansouty, D’Haut-
circumstances Austria pushed forward her troops, and poul, Klein, Beaumont, and Walcher. Napoleon entered
peremptorily demanded that the elector of Bavaria should Germany at the head of about a hundred and sixty thou-
abandon the alliance of France, and unite with her in sand men, including his guard.1 By the 6th of October
maintaining the independence of Germany. The elector Bernadotte and the Bavarians occupied Weissemburg,
temporised, pleaded his engagements, gained time, and twelve leagues south of Nuremberg ; Marmont was in the
succeeded in drawing off his army. The Austrians then vicinity of Neuburg; Davoust was at Oettingen, eight
occupied Munich, thereby committing the very act of ag- leagues north of Donawerth ; Soult was at Donawerth;
, gression which Napoleon expected and required. Ney was at Kenssingen, three leagues west of Dona-
seinsli and I he great object which the English ministry had in werth; Cannes was at Neeresheim, two leagues north-
m forming a new coalition against France cannot be north-west of Donawerth; and Murat with his cavalry
England. n?,st^k®n- But in thus precipitating Austria into hostili- was on the borders of the Danube. In thus placing him-
ties before her allies had time to come to her assistance, self in rear of the enemy, Napoleon accomplished two
in order to remove the French army from Boulogne, Pitt grand objects ; he avoided exposing his flank to the de-
played into the hands of the very enemy whom he was bouchesof the Tyrol; and by the rapidity of his march he
. 80 desirous to humble. From the cause already stated, had completely disconcerted the plans of the Austrians,
namely, the failure of Napoleon’s maritime combinations, whilst, by turning towards the north, he might cutoff the
through the incapacity of his naval commanders, a de- Russians who were advancing from Gallicia towards the
scent upon England had become impossible, and the dar- Danube. But in order to operate a prompt re-union of
ger, before so imminent, had by this time entirely ceased, all his columns, it was necessary that Bernadotte, setting
It was already certain that France could not obtain even out from Hanover, and Marmont from Holland, should
a temporary superiority of naval force in the Channel, traverse the country of Anspach, belonging to Prussia,
without which such an attempt would have been worse Napoleon had secured the neutrality of that power by
than madness. To obviate a danger, therefore, which no the corruption of the Prussian ministry. But this violation
longer existed, Pitt recklessly sacrificed the principal ally of its territory wounded the self-love of the sovereign, as
of England, contributed to extend and consolidate the co- well as the pride of several distinguished military men,
lossal power of Napoleon, and enabled him to impose on who, desiring to see an end put to the humiliation of their
Germany those fetters which it afterwards cost so much country, loudly demanded war against France. The in¬
blood and treasure to shake off. The blunder of the dignation inspired by this insult had more effect on the
English minister was indeed gigantic, and no wonder it cabinet of Berlin than all the efforts of England and Rus-
cost him his life. He fell into the very snare which had sia ; and Prussia, when it was too late, renounced the neu-
been so skilfully laid for him ; and by this fatal error placed trality which she had observed ever since the peace of
Europe at the feet of the man for whom he may with truth Bale, 5th April 1795, to engage single-handed in a contest
be said to have paved the way to victory. Nor was the with France.
conduct of the campaign itself in any respect unworthy of The contest in Germany now advanced, with singular
the blind and infatuated policy which had hurried on the rapidity, towards a crisis. On the 8th of October a combat
v contest. . . t00k p]ace at Wertengen, four leagues south-west of Do-
ienced™" ^ "e Archduke Charles, finding his pacific counsels dis- nawerth, in which Murat, supported by Lannes, enve-
urrender reSart^e^’ resigned the presidency of the war depart- loped an Austrian division, making a great number of
f'Ulm. merd, and refused to assume the general direction of a prisoners. On the 9th the Archduke Ferdinand was de-
war which, he foresaw, would be attended with ruin to his feated by Ney at Guntburg, six leagues east of Ulm, with
house. 1 he command of the Austrian army, therefore, considerable loss ; and the same day Soult occupied Augs-
was in an evil hour intrusted to General Mack, who, it is burg. On the 12th Bernadotte occupied Munich ; and
said, had been recommended by the English government; on the 14th Memmingen, a considerable place on the II-
a mere pedantic tactician, without genius or energy, who, ler, surrendered by capitulation to Soult, when four thou-
a few years previous to this, had failed to defend Rome sand Austrians were made prisoners. The same day a
with a numerous army, against General Championnet with combat took place at Elchingen, two leagues north-east
only a few thousand troops; and who, though a tolerable of Ulm, in which Ney signalized himself by the most chi-
tlJ j^assena’ at tke ,same f11?6’ assumed tne command of sixty thousand men assembled in the north of Italy, and advanced towards
dom of ’ 7her?’ being reinforced by twenty thousand troops, who, under the conduct of Gouvion-Saint-Cyr, had evacuated the king-
j i , aplfS’ he found himself in a condition to contend with the Archduke Charles, and prevent him from oneratimr through the
logne C Maveru^ amTst °n}.the .0,f the Sfand army. Three corps d’armde, intended as a reserve, were also assembled at Bou-
^vo’L a^ ence5 an(l Strasburg, and three flying camps of grenadiers were marked out at Rennes, in La Vendde, and at Marengo.
s
138 FRA
History, valrous bravery. Three thousand Austrians were made
prisoners. It had become necessary to obtain possession
1805. 0f t]ie bridge and position at Elchingen, in order to isolate
on the left hank of the Danube the mass of the Austrian
army confined in Ulm. The bridge and the position, de¬
fended by six thousand men with four pieces of artillery,
were twice carried by the bayonet, and as often recover¬
ed ; but a third onset, made with the greatest impetuosity
under Ney in person, proved successful. On the 15th
the head of the first Russian column arrived on the Inn.
The corps of Bernadette was then in position between
that river and Munich. At the combat of Langenau, three
leagues north-east from Ulm, Murat, on the 16th, came
up with the division of Werneck, which had escaped from
Ulm, and made three thousand prisoners.
Thus, by the direction given to his army after the pass¬
age of the Rhine, and by the rapidity of his marches, Na¬
poleon had, as it were, overwhelmed the Austrians, and
reduced all their offensive plans to a defensive without
method. Mack at Ulm was placed in nearly the same
situation in which Melas had found himself before the
battle of Marengo, Both had their retreat cut off; but
Melas tried to break through the enemy in his rear, and had
succeeded in his object, when an accident deprived him of
the reward of his resolution; wdiilst Mack, closely invested
in Ulm and its immediate vicinity, made no effort to force
his way with his masses united, although continual rains
favoured such an attempt, but preferred risking the es¬
cape of his divisions separately. Thus the Archduke
Ferdinand, nominally general-in-chief, but placed under
the tutelage of Mack, had left Ulm with part of the cavalry ;
whilst Mack, who had the title of quarter-master-general,
still remained there. As already stated, he was the same
person who, in the campaign of Naples, had lost his re¬
putation as a tactician, without displaying any talents for
execution; and who, on the 23d January 1799, had sur¬
rendered himself prisoner to General Championnet. His
situation had now become desperate. The French occu¬
pied all the surrounding heights, and he had nothing left
but to capitulate. General Segur, sent to demand his
submission, found every thing in disorder, and the brain
of Mack in a state entirely corresponding. This poor man
had no clear idea of the state of things until the French
themselves informed him; and he did not even know that
Napoleon was his antagonist. He began by demanding
eight days’ truce, or death, and concluded by immediate¬
ly capitulating. Ulm, with all its magazines and artillery,
was surrendered to the French; and thirty thousand
combatants became prisoners of war. The officers, in¬
cluding sixteen generals, were discharged on their parole ;
the sub-officers and soldiers were conducted into France.
In less than fifteen days, the Austrians had lost above
fifty thousand prisoners, two hundred pieces of cannon,
many thousand horses, with about eighty colours and
other trophies, and were now forced to shelter themselves
behind the Inn. Never was triumph more rapid or more
complete. The surrender of Ulm took place on the 20th
October, and on the 21st was fought the battle of Trafal¬
gar, in which Lord Nelson annihilated the combined fleets
of France and Spain, and by the results of that glorious
day counterbalanced to England the advantages which
Napoleon had just reaped in Germany.
Pro ecu- But the disasters which Austria had sustained at Ulm
tion ot the might have been repaired, and the fortune of the war
campaign, changed, it Prussia, otherwise so well disposed towards
the coalition, had even now struck in. By her hesitating
and (as the result proved) ruinous policy, a heavy blow
had fallen on Austria; but there was still time to check
the advance of the French, and even to reduce them to
the necessity of acting on the defensive. On the 25th of
October an interview took place at Berlin, between the
N C E.
Emperor Alexander and Frederick-William III., and, at the History,
tomb of Frederick II., these two sovereigns promised to
unite their efforts to restrain the ambition of Napoleon. 1805-
But this political and sentimental farce ended in nothing.
The favourable moment thus allowed to escape could not
be recalled ; the king of Prussia was ere long at the feet
of Napoleon; and the emperor of all the Russias became
the friend of the man who had granted him his life upon
the field of battle. Very different indeed was the course
pursued by the French emperor. After reconducting
his ally, the elector of Bavaria, to his capital, Napoleon
advanced into the heart of the Austrian states, whilst his
lieutenants continued to drive all before them. On the
1st of October he had crossed the Rhine; on the 20th
Mack and his army were prisoners; and on the 15th of
November he made his public entry into Vienna, which
had capitulated on the 13th. The Austrian court and
army had retired into Moravia ; but in evacuating the capi¬
tal they had neglected to break down the great bridge on
the Danube, of which Lannes, by an act of unexampled
audacity, now made himself master. The Emperor Fran¬
cis had hoped that the Russians would arrive in time to
act on the right bank of the Danube, and thus save his
capital from occupation ; but in this he was disappointed.
The first Russian army under Kutusof having advanced
higher up the Danube than Vienna, immediately fell
back towards Brunn on receiving intelligence of the oc¬
cupation of the capital. Justly apprehensive of having his
communications with the second army intercepted, which
in fact was the aim of Napoleon, the Russian commander
felt himself compelled to execute this retrograde move¬
ment, which he did with all possible celerity. But being
warmly pursued beyond Vienna, and attacked in the midst
of his movement by Murat with the French cavalry, he
proposed an armistice, with the sole view of gaining time
to receive the reinforcements which were advancing from
Upper Moravia, and to secure his retreat. Murat, who
was already at Hollabrunn, fell into the snare, and accept¬
ed the artful propositions of the Russian commander,
which, however, were immediately rejected by Napoleon.
By means of this stratagem Kutusof saved his army from
the imminent perils to which it was exposed, and on the
18th November effected a junction with the second Rus¬
sian army under Buxhowden, at Wischau, six leagues
from Brunn, the capital of Moravia, where he assumed
the command in chief of the allied army. Kutusof’s re¬
treat was covered by Prince Bagration, who, with a corps
of six thousand men, made a desperate stand at Junters-
dorf against a greatly superior force under Murat, Soult,
and Lannes, and, in spite of every effort that could be
made to dislodge him, maintained his ground till night,
when he withdrew with the remains of his corps. This
encounter, which saved the army of Kutusof, raised the
courage of the Russians; they were still the soldiers of
Suwarof, and longed to measure swords, in an ampler
field of battle, with an enemy whom that victorious chief
had so often overthrown.
I he trench now occupied Brunn, a strong place, well Situation
armed and supplied with munitions of war, which the°^^ie
Austrians had precipitately evacuated on the evening 0f French
the 18th November, and on the 19th Napoleon establish- armA
ed his head-quarters at Wischau. Still the situation of
the French army was one of imminent hazard. Hurried
on by the ardour of success, it had arrived in the centre
of Moravia, more than two hundred leagues from the
frontiers of France; it had in its rear neither magazines
nor strong places to serve as points c?appui; its line of
operations was disproportionately long ; and it was expos¬
ed in a space of about ninety leagues of hostile coun¬
try. Bohemia was in a state of insurrection, and threat¬
ened the communications by the left. The warlike
FRA
History. Hungarians had risen in mass upon the right. The Arch-
duke Charles, having escaped from Massena, whom the
1805. appearance of an Anglo-Russian fleet had retained in
Italy, was within fifty leagues of Vienna, the numerous
population of which was in a state of extreme fermenta¬
tion. Prussia had secretly acceded to the coalition, and
her minister Haugwitz brought to Napoleon an ultimatum,
the rejection of which was to be immediately followed by
an official declaration of war. In a word, all the proba¬
bilities were against the French army, which had no re¬
source but in a prompt and decisive victory, and, without
immediate prodigies of bravery and military science, could
not hope to escape from the numerous enemies by whom
it was about to be enveloped. What Napoleon most
wanted, therefore, was a great battle; but, in proportion
as this had become necessary to him, the clear interest
of the allies recommended for the present a Fabian sys¬
tem of tactics, and at any sacrifice avoiding a decisive ac¬
tion, by the result of which alone could the French army
be saved from destruction. But, in spite of the strong
and urgent reasons for acting upon the defensive, it was
nevertheless resolved at the head-quarters of the allied
emperors to deliver battle.
Battle of On the 2d of December the three emperors with their
Audlerlitz. troops were near Austerlitz, a village about two leagues
south of Brunn. The Russian army, reinforced by a second
corps (18th November), reckoned about eighty thousand
effective combatants; and that of Austria amounted to
about twenty-five thousand. The French army did not
exceed eighty thousand men on the field of battle. The
artillery on both sides was formidable, but the allies had
the advantage in the number of cavalry. The allies no
doubt desired to gain time, in order to await the arrival
of a third Russian corps, now only eight marches distant;
but the manoeuvres of Napoleon, and, we may add, his
artifices, induced, if not compelled them to accept battle.
The immense accumulation of troops around Olmutz, re¬
sulting from the extraordinary rapidity of events, occa¬
sioned such a scarcity of provisions, that the general-in¬
chief, Kutusof, felt himself constrained to precipitate of¬
fensive operations. This determination had, without his
knowledge, entered into the plan of Napoleon, who, three
days before, bad withdrawn his advanced guard, in order
to fight upon ground which he had reconnoitred, and all
the accidents of which were consequently known to him.
The hesitation of Kutusof allowed a precious opportunity,
and circumstances extremely favourable, to escape him.
But not having attacked when the French forces were
scattered, he ought to have continued his retreat, in order
to engage them still more in advance, either by moving
upon Hungary to operate a junction with the Archduke
Charles, or upon Bohemia to communicate with Prussia,
whose army was assembled and in a condition to act; in
short, he ought to have temporised until the simultaneous
co-operation, now close at hand, of all the members of
the coalition had been obtained, in which case the retreat
of the French army towards the Rhine would have been
rendered impossible. But instead of acting in this man¬
ner, by which eventual success would have been placed
almost beyond the reach of accident or fortune, he decid¬
ed to risk the chances of a general battle, when the re¬
spective forces of the combatants were nearly equal.
Marshal Lannes, having under him General Suchet,
commanded the left; Marshal Soult directed the right;
Marshal Bernadette commanded the centre; Marshal
Davoust kept himself in observation before the left of the
allies; Marshal Murat, with his cavalry, and twenty-four
pieces of light artillery, supported the right under Mar¬
shal Lannes ; and the reserve consisted of ten battalions
of grenadiers under General Oudinot, flanked by ten bat¬
talions of the guard under General Junot, the whole being
N C E. 139
provided with forty pieces of cannon. The action com- History,
menced at sun-rise, and continued until night. The sun
rose with unclouded brilliancy, and was long remembered 1305.
as the sun of Austerlitz. Its first rays discovered the
Austrians and Russians disseminated on, around, and be¬
hind the village of Austerlitz, where the allied emperors
had taken post to observe the first efforts of the attack.
This was directed against the French right, and sustain¬
ed by Soult and Davoust with their wonted activity and
skill, aided greatly by their positions, which were amongst
flooded and marshy ground, where the ice was still too
weak to support the weight of men or horses. All that
Napoleon required of these officers was to maintain their
ground for a certain number of hours, whilst with his left
and centre he simultaneously attacked that portion of
the enemy’s force in front, which he proposed to cut off
from the wing engaged. This was the decisive movement;
but he delayed long in giving the signal for the premedi¬
tated attack, so little anticipated by the enemy, fearing
lest they might recall their troops from their left, by
which they proposed to assail the French. But as soon
as he heard the sound of battle fully engaged in that di¬
rection, he gave the word; his generals hurried to their
respective posts; and Lannes, Bernadotte, Legrand, St
Hilaire, each at the head of a division, advanced. At this
moment the allied columns were descending from the
heights, and filing off in the direction of their left, where
they expected to find the main strength of the battle.
But it was nearer them than they imagined, even in their
front, where, owing to their ignorance of the true position
of the French army, they had not looked for any serious
opposition. Surprised, and attacked during an oblique
movement, by columns of equal or superior force to their
own, the Russian line was intersected; and the French hav¬
ing gained the heights, drove their adversaries down into
the defiles behind. But between the village of Austerlitz
and the heights thus carried were the Russian reserve,
consisting of chosen troops, including the imperial guard,
commanded by the Grand Duke Constantine. These,
too, were marching towards the left, when, to their asto¬
nishment, the French light troops, supported by cavalry,
broke in amongst them. A scene of surprise and confusion
ensued. But the emperor, aided by Kutusof rallied the
troops ; the Russian guards, assisted by some other regi¬
ments, charged with great fury; the French, victorious a
few moments before, were now driven back; and some
regiments which had formed squares were broken by the
impetuosity of the Russians. Napoleon did not observe
what was taking place, Austerlitz being hidden from his
view by the intervening heights; but his ear having
caught sounds betokening any thing but victory, he in¬
stantly ordered General Rapp, one of his aides-de-camp,
to advance at the head of the grenadiers d cheval of the
French imperial guard. Rapp galloped off at the head of
these superb squadrons, rallied the stragglers as he advanced,
and on approaching the immediate scene of conflict, found
the victorious Russians sabring the French as they were
driven from the broken squares. Without hesitating a
moment, he sounded the charge, broke through a superb
regiment of the Russian imperial guard, and made Prince
Repnin, one of its colonels, prisoner. This afforded the
French time to rally ; and, with their usual promptitude
and intelligence, they quickly regained their order. Rapp
returned to the charge, and overpowered the regiment of
the Grand Duke Constantine, who was indebted for his
safety to the swiftness of his horse ; whilst General Gar-
danne, charging with a division of dragoons, completed the
discomfiture of the enemy. From the heights of Austerlitz,
the Emperors Alexander and Francis witnessed the defeat of
the Russian guard. The Emperor Napoleon then direct¬
ed his efforts to the right, where the enemy still continued
140
FRANCE.
History, to oppose a vigorous resistance; and the Russian corps,
being at length surrounded and driven from all the heights,
1805. were force(j hack to the margin of a lake, where the French
artillery made a terrible carnage. From fifteen to eigh¬
teen thousand Russians, attempting to escape over the ice,
were drowned; two columns, each four thousand strong,
laid down their arms ; the whole Russian artillery was taken,
whilst forty standards, including those of the imperial guard,
also fell into the hands of the French ; and the remains of
the Russian army, without artillery, without baggage, in a
state of the most frightful disorganization, and surrounded
on all sides, must have surrendered at discretion had they
been vigorously pressed. Even the life of Alexander was
at the mercy of Napoleon, who ordered his artillerymen
not to fire on the emperor of all the Russias, and, from mo¬
tives of generosity or policy, allowed him to escape.1 Such
was Austerlitz, one of the most remarkable battles fought
in modern times. It consisted of a series of manoeuvres,
every one of them successful, by which the Russian army,
surprised in an oblique march, was cut into as many por¬
tions as there were columns directed against it. The loss
sustained by the Russians, in killed, drowned in attempting
to cross the lake on the ice, wounded, and prisoners, has
been estimated at thirty-five thousand men ; fifteen gene¬
rals were either killed or taken ; the general-in-chief, Ku-
tusof, received several wounds ; and a hundred and fifty
pieces of cannon were abandoned. The French appear to
have lost about ten thousand men, including a general of
division and two colonels, who died on the field of battle.
At Austerlitz, masses of the French cuirassiers charged,
for the first time, the.enemy’s batteries ; a bold manoeuvre,
which, being rapidly executed and courageously sustained,
during nine hours, by the corps of Marshal Soult, contri¬
buted powerfully to the success of the battle. Marshal
Bernadotte also took an active part in this mighty conflict.
At the moment when the Russian guard was defeated, he
advanced at the head of the centre of the army, and by
means of his cavalry vigorously charged the enemy ; whilst
Marshal Lannes, who commanded the left, charged at the
same instant, with rare intrepidity, and thus threw them
into the most frightful disorder.
Conse- On the evening of the battle the emperor of Germany
quences of
the battle.   
sent to demand an interview with Napoleon. It was ar- History,
ranged for the 4th of December, and took place within a few
leagues of Austerlitz, by the fire of a bivouac. “ I receive 1805*
you,” said Napoleon, “ in the only palace which I have in¬
habited for two months. “ You made so good use of this
kind of habitation,” replied the emperor of Germany, smil¬
ing, “ that it ought to content you.” Francis took Napo¬
leon by the hand, and saluted him by the name of brother.
From this moment the judgment of Napoleon, usually so
clear, seemed to be bewildered; he changed, so to speak,
his nature ; and, in his desire to become at any price a
monarch allied to an old dynasty, he ceased in future to be
any thing but an emperor. The sovereigns remained two
hours in conversation, during which the terms of an agree¬
ment appear to have been arranged.2 Napoleon showed
great forbearance and moderation. The emperor of Russia,
to whom he afterwards restored the portion of his guard
who had been made prisoners, w^as permitted to retire unmo¬
lested to his dominions, under the protection of an armistice ;
but although the czar professed great admiration of the
man who had so generously spared both himself and the
wrecks of his army, he declined to enter into any treaty,
or even to acknowledge Napoleon as emperor of the French.
The king of Prussia had a more difficult part to perform.
He had been ready openly to join the coalition, to which
he had secretly acceded ; and his minister, Count Haug-
witz, had arrived, prepared to employ the language of me¬
nace. But fortune had embarrassed all the calculations of
Prussian policy; and Haugwitz, finding Napoleon success-
fid, changed his tone, and complimented him on the victory
which he had just gained. “ This is a congratulation,” said
Napoleon, in reply, “ of which fortune has changed the
address.” In proportion as he had shown forbearance to
Austria, he gave way to his indignation against the dupli¬
city and perfidy of Prussia, and so terrified Count Haug¬
witz that the latter concluded a treaty, accepting Hanover
in lieu of Anspach and Bareuth, which were to be given up
to France. The object of Napoleon, no doubt, was to em¬
broil Prussia with Britain, and he thought this would be
most effectually accomplished by an arrangement which im¬
posed on the former powTer the odious task of seizing upon
Hanover. Nor was this all. At the very moment when
1 “ Cette gen^rositd,” says the Abbe de Montgaillard, “ doit £tre conskHr^e, politiquement, comme une tres-grande faute; Alex¬
andre tue sur le champ de bataille, et I’arme'e Itusse ane'antie ou prisonniere de guerre, un grand soulevement devait avoir lieu h
Saint-Petersbourg; il est difficile,de pre'sumer lYtendue des consequences d’un tel ordre de choses ; mais elles ne pouvaient qu’etre
favorables au systeme et aux intdrets Franqais. Napoffion, chargd de fers a Sainte-Hdlene, et proie a toutes les barbaries qu’ordon-
nent les cabinets de Saint-Petersbourg, de Vienne, et de Berlin, barbaries dont le cabinet de Saint-James s’est rendu Pexecuteur,
Napoleon aura du vivement regretter la magnanimite dont il use envers les deux empdreurs vaincus a Austerlitz. Cette magnanimite,
il n’est pas permis d’en douter, est produite par le brulant desir qu’a Napoleon d’etre reconnu empereur et roi; d’entrer dans le ca¬
talogue officiel des monarques d’Europe, et de s’entendre appeler mon frere par les deux plus puissans de ces monarques. Mais une
bonne et sage politique demandait que les deux empereurs, Alexandre et Francois, fussent fails prisonniers et amine's en France; la
paix, une veritable paix, et non une treve de quelques mois, eut ffi:e, selon toute apparence, le prix de la ran<;on des deux captifs, et
1’Angleterre n’eut pas refusd d’y adherer, pour peu que Napoleon eut borne son ambition a maintenir, pour la France, lYtat actuel de
possession. Q,ue ne pent done I’amour d’une vaine gloire, que ne peut I’orgueil imperial et royal sur I’esprit d’un parvenu de la Ile'-
volution Franchise ? (Montgaillard, Hist, de France, tome vi. p. 179, 180.)
2 Whilst the proceeding adopted by the emperor of Germany shows the deep impression made upon his mind by the battle of Aus¬
terlitz, following as it did so rapidly after the disaster of Ulm, it is at the same time clear, that the check which he had just expe¬
rienced, though infinitely grave, was not so decisive and irremediable as to destroy all hope, or to be incapable of being repaired in
the course of another campaign. The Archdukes Charles and John were advancing at the head of eighty thousand fresh troops, and
had already put themselves in communication with Hungary, where the insurrection was becoming general ; the losses sustained by
the Russians were on the eve of being effaced by a considerable corps (the third army) which had arrived in Silesia; the inhabitants
of Bohemia had commenced their levy in mass; a hundred and sixty thousand Prussians, Saxons, and Hessians, were under arms,
waiting the order to advance ; numerous corps of Prussians and Swedes menaced the northern frontier of Holland ; a formidable di¬
version was on the point of being operated in the south of Italy; and, lastly, the army of Napoleon, sensibly weakened by its rapid
marches and successes, was more than three hundred leagues from its reinforcements, and in fact only occupied the long narrow line
which it had followed in its advance from the Rhine to Olmutz. A little more tenacitv on the part of Austria would therefore in all
probability have brought about the ruin of Napoleon and his army. But the Emperor Francis, dejected by his last disaster, threw
away a thousand chances which had become favourable to him ; he wanted the courage necessary to support the struggle when the
tide was about to turn, or to prolong hostilities on the eve of a general change ot circumstances, which could scarcely have failed to pro¬
duce a great amelioration in his position, political as well as military ; and, without waiting to calculate or deliberate, he came hum¬
bly to solicit an armistice, as Darius would have done after a defeat, and as Sapor would not. By a strange and inconceivable destiny,
the emperor of Austria, without intending it, twice saved Napoleon, in the heart of his states, namely, at Austerlitz and at Wagram;
on both occasions, the French emperor, having committed great military faults, found himself, after gaining two battles, exposed to
have his communications with Prance intercepted, and was saved from this danger by an almost immediate suspension of hostilities.
FRANCE.
1806.
History, the transfer in question was concluded by Haugwitz, Har-
J denberg had required the assistance of Britain, conjunctly
with Russia, in case Prussia should be attacked ; and these
incompatible agreements were, to its no small embarrass¬
ment, soon laid before the cabinet of Berlin. The difficul¬
ties thus created were no doubt great; but it endeavoured
to escape fiom them in the best way it could, by accept¬
ing Hanover as a deposit, and by yielding up Anspach,
together with Cleves, Berg, and Neufchatel, as had been
agreed to by Haugwitz, On the 26th of December, a treaty
of peace was concluded at Presburg, between France and
Austria. The ancient states of \ enice, including Dalmatia
and Albania, were ceded to the kingdom of Italy. The
principality of Eichstett, part of the archbishopric of Pas-
sau, the city of Augsburg, the Tyrol, and all the posses¬
sions of Austria in Suabia, the Brisgau, and the Ortenau,
were transferred to the elector of Bavaria, the Duke of
Wirtemberg, and the Duke ol Baden ; and the indepen¬
dence of the Helvetic Republic was also stipulated. The
Germanic constitution, so much damaged by the treaty of
Lunecille, was now virtually dissolved by two of its mem¬
bers, the elector of Bavaria and the Duke of Wirtemberg
assuming the title of kings, under the auspices of France,
without the consent either of that body or of its chief.
By this treaty, Austria likewise sanctioned all the partitions
previously effected both in Germany and Italy, and lost a
territory of eleven hundred thousand square miles, with a
population of two millions six hundred thousand souls.
Napoleon declared to the French senate, as he had pre-
141
Proceed-
Son iNa'viously done t0 the emperor of Austria, that he had sought
no aggrandizement for France. But this declaration was
made in the true spirit of the Italian school of politics,
which enjoins the observance of the letter of an obligation,
but permits an infringement of its principle. If France was
not aggrandized, all the states in dependence on her wore
so. Venice and Dalmatia were added to the kingdom of
Italy. Naples, which an Anglo-Russian force had invad¬
ed, was occupied, and the reigning house expelled, as if by
the mere word of command. Berthier and Murat were
created German princes. The newly acquired provinces
of Venice, Dalmatia, Istria, Friuli, Belluno, Feltre, Bas-
sano, Vicenza, and Rovigo, were declared duchies, and as¬
signed to the generals and civilians of the imperial court.
Bavaiia and Wirtemberg had already been aggrandized
out of the spoils of Austria, and their rulers raised to the
rank of royalty. Ihis was Napoleon’s first performance as
king-maker. But his elder brother Joseph was now declared
king of Naples, and his younger brother Louis, a man of
mdd and amiable character, king of Holland ; whilst vari¬
ous matches were made, all having for their object at once
to aggrandize and unite the new imperial family. Lastly,
having done so much for those of his own house, Napoleon
consented to receive the homage of his subservient legis¬
lature, which, after lavishing on him the most fulsome ex¬
pressions of adulation, ordered to be erected, in one of the
principal places of the capital, a column surmounted with
a statue of the emperor, and bearing the inscription, “ A
Napoleon le Grand, la patrie reconnoissante.” ’
faiart,e.°nfaf' .The commencement of the year 1806 was brightened
pect ofr03'wlth a momentary prospect of peace. On the 23d of Ja¬
nuary, not two months after the battle of Austerlitz, where
all his schemes had been overthrown, Pitt breathed his last.
With the bitter exclamation, “ Oh, my country,” on his lips,*
he expired, leaving Europe in confusion, and England be¬
set with difficulties. On the accession to power of Mr Fox
pect of
peace.
and his friends, hopes of peace were entertained ; and that History,
statesman having opened a correspondence with the French
emperor, by apprising him of an offer which had been made iSOG.
to assassinate him, negotiations followed. But serious ob¬
stacles unexpectedly arose, one of them relating to Sicily,
which the trench insisted should be conjoined with Naples.
Talleyrand, however, pushed the conferences with great
activity, and evinced the utmost anxiety to conclude a
peace. W ith prophetic sagacity, he foresaw, that without
a peace with England, every thing was problematical with
the French emperor; that nothing short of a sequence of
iortunate battles would consolidate his power ; that this
was a series of which the last term might perhaps be zero;
that nothing could be safe where all was continually put tc
hazard ; that one great reverse would overthrow the fabric
which it had required many victories to rear up and esta¬
blish ; that, in short, the time had arrived to secure what
had already been gained, and to realise, as it were, the
glory which no disaster had as yet overclouded.1 But all
these efforts proved, unhappily, vain ; nor in fact would any
peace that might now have been concluded have proved
lasting. . Napoleon could not descend from the position to
which victory had raised him ; and England could not ac¬
quiesce in the continued exercise of an ascendant influence
subversive of the general balance of power and the inde¬
pendence of states in Europe. Austria and southern Ger¬
many were under the dictation of the French emperor;
Italy, from the Alps to the Gulf of Tarentum, was subject
to his immediate sway ; Spain had degenerated into a mere
province of the French empire. The only independent
power bordering on France was Prussia, and she was al¬
ready marked out as the next object of attack. In such
circumstances peace was unattainable, or, if nominally at¬
tained, would have only been a renewal of the truce of
Amiens. Bonaparte was still in his ascending movement;
and although wisdom would have counselled him to stop,
and even to descend to a lower and safer level, ambition
held different language, and urged him to go on.
Prussia, however, had acted a part equally imprudent Prussia,
and unworthy. We have already adverted to the two
treaties, one concluded by Haugwitz with Napoleon, and
the other by Hardenberg with England, in December
1805. Perplexed by the results of her own perfidy and
double dealing, she derived advantage from neither. She
naturally hesitated to accept of Hanover, and to shut her
ports against England; but, on the other hand, as Ans¬
pach, Cleves, and Berg, ceded by Haugwitz, were already
seized by the French, the desire of an equivalent prevail¬
ed over all sense of justice or regard even to decency,
and this hesitation was overcome. On the 1st of April
Hanover was annexed to the Prussian territory, in virtue
of a proclamation which set forth that, since Hanover be¬
longed to France by right of conquest, its legitimate pos¬
session had been transmitted to Prussia as an equivalent
for the cession of three of her provinces to France. A
more impudent and unblushing declaration was never
made by any government, nor one more subversive of
every principle of public law, justice, and morality. But
the same cabinets which stigmatized Bonaparte as a usurp¬
er, recognised him as legitimate sovereign of France
whenever they could profit by his political crimes, and
when his spoliations suited their own interests and political
arrangements. The conduct of Prussia, in this particular,
met with loud and indignant reprobation in England. Mr
Fox publicly denounced it as “ every thing that was con-
Talleyrand poussait les conferences avec activite: rien ne lui fW k R ,g°' • 1 be words of‘ Savary are, “ M. de
voulait I’entendre, que, sanselle, tout (halt probleme nour I’emnerenr r ,.n n’ Vrt? la Paix, avec Angleterre. II disait, a qui
Ufa,,,, „ que cela se r&luisait a uue serie, dont le premier Jme dt’ail A, Jdone la’deSr™ uVatutr" Y ou'zero? ^ ^
142
FRANCE.
History, temptible in servility, and all that was odious in rapacity.”
' Nor was this all. Whilst Prussia had thus dishonoured
!806. herself for the sake of Hanover and the French alliance,
she had the incredible mortification to learn, through the
English papers, that Napoleon had offered to restore Ha¬
nover to Britain as the price of peace. She had sacrificed
her character to obtain Hanover, and she had even dis¬
missed her minister, Hardenberg, to please the French
emperor ; she had rendered herself an object of scorn to
the government of England, and France now rewarded
her abasement and humiliation with contempt. Never
indeed was perfidy more severely and at the same time
more justly punished. But Prussia had yet other and
more severe mortifications to endure.
Confedera- A compact still more alarming to Prussia than any
tion of the which had yet been formed was now entered into. This
lilhne. was the confederation of the states of the Rhine, which
was concluded on the 12th of July, between the emperor
Napoleon, and several princes of the south and west of
Germany. These princes separated themselves, in per¬
petuity, from the territory of the Germanic empire, and
united together in a new federation, of which the em¬
peror of the French was declared the protector. The
contingent to be furnished by each of the allies was de¬
termined ; a great number of secularisations and annexa¬
tions of territory in their favour were recognised and sanc¬
tioned ; the old constitution of the Germanic body was
dissolved; and Napoleon became, in fact, lord suzerain of
a large portion of Germany. His object, indeed, seems
to have been to make the confederation of the Rhine the
centre and pivot of his future power. The notification of
the treaty of the 12th July was made to the diet at Ratis-
bon on the 1st of August, when fourteen German princes
declared their separation from the Germanic body, and
their new confederation under the protectorate of Napo¬
leon. The common interests of the confederate states
were to be discussed in a diet which was to sit at Franck-
fort-on-the-Maine ; and this diet was to be divided into
two colleges. In the college of kings were to sit the repre¬
sentatives of the elector of Bavaria and the Duke of Wir-
temberg, who had each assumed the title of king, together
with those of the Grand Dukes of Baden, Berg, Darmstadt,
and the prince primate; and in the college of princes
were eight petty princes bearing inferior titles. The con¬
tingents were, for France two hundred thousand men ; for
Bavaria, thirty thousand ; for Wirtemberg, twelve thou¬
sand ; for Baden, eight thousand, &c.; making in all two
hundred and sixty-three thousand men. Such was the con¬
federation of the Rhine, which, in the course of six years,
was augmented by all the sovereigns of Germany, old or
new, with the exception of the emperor ol Austria, the
king of Prussia, the Dukes of Brunswick and Oldenburg,
the king of Sweden as Duke of Pomerania, and the king
of Denmark as Duke of Holstein.
Relations On the 20th July preliminaries of peace between France
of France and Russia were signed at Paris. This was before the
with Rus- treaty of the confederation of the Rhine had transpired.
Prussia When that organic compact had become known, the cabi¬
net of St Petersburg refused (15th August) to ratify the
stipulations which had been agreed to with France, upon
the pretence usual in such cases, that its envoy had ex¬
ceeded his instructions. The negotiations on both sides
had, in fact, been entered upon with equal duplicity, with
the same perfidy. The ambitious designs of Napoleon
against the north of Europe had already become sufficient¬
ly manifest not to leave any room for doubt as to his real
intentions ; whilst the czar, anxious to obliterate the hu¬
miliation of Austerlitz, and to re-establish his preponder¬
ance in the west of Europe, had recourse to those arti¬
fices which have at all times been familiar to Russian di¬
plomacy. The object of the French emperor was to ma¬
ture his schemes, and augment bis means of future aggres- History,
sion; what the Russian autocrat desired, was to gain the
time necessary to prepare for another struggle. Mean- 1806*
while the situation of Prussia was every day becoming
more and more critical. If she had cause for mistrust on
discovering that Napoleon had offered to restore Hanover
to England, this was not lessened by the organization of
a powerful, and, from its very constitution, hostile confe¬
deracy on her most defenceless frontier. Napoleon, how¬
ever, attempted to assuage her just suspicions by inviting
Frederick-William to form in the north of Germany a
confederation similar to that which he had established in
the south and west, and also to assume the imperial dig¬
nity. But, in the circumstances, these propositions were
no better than sheer mockery. The court of Berlin had
received too many proofs of the slighting conduct, if not
hostile intentions, of France, to repose any confidence in
her offers. Injury had been exasperated and envenomed
by insult, and the cry of the nation was now for war. Still
the most obvious maxims of prudence should have indu¬
ced Prussia to temporize until her allies were in a condi¬
tion to take the field. Russia having refused to ratify the
stipulations of the 20th July, was preparing to renew the
struggle ; all hopes of an accommodation between Britain
and France were completely at an end ; and Prussia, single
handed, was not in a situation to contend with a power
which had so recently overthrown Austria, even when
assisted by Russia. But, neglectful of all this, the court
of Berlin, passing from the extreme of caution to the ex¬
treme of temerity, gave full intimation of its intentions
as early as the month of August, by increasing the army
and calling out its reserves. Prussia was now destined
to reap the bitter fruits of her selfish and equivocating
policy. Had she, during the last coalition, united cordi¬
ally with Austria before that power had received a stun¬
ning blow, Napoleon might have been compelled to re¬
ceive instead of dictating the law; Austria would at least
have been saved ; and the confederation of the Rhine would
never have been beard of. But selfish timidity kept her
arms tied when every motive urged, nay when the strong¬
est obligations bound, her to strike in ; and now, when
Austria was humbled and France aggrandised, when all the
favourable chances had disappeared, and when a mighty
army, trained to combats and flushed with victory, was
ready to pour its veteran legions across her frontier, Prus¬
sia stepped forth alone, in her own strength, to encounter
the gigantic force before which her more powerful neigh¬
bour had fallen. Her councils became smitten with that
infatuation which is the sure forerunner of calamity.
If it was the height of imprudence in Prussia to decide War be-
upon a war in which Austria was no longer in a condition t^een
to take part, it was sheer madness not to have both secured
and waited for the co-operation of Great Britain andsia
Russia. Instead of this, however, when Lord Morpeth,
the British envoy, spoke of Hanover, he was answered
that its fate depended on a battle; plainly intimating that, if
victorious, Prussia meant to retain it. The same indiffer¬
ence was manifested as to the aid of Russia; and the army,
which, indeed, it was difficult to restrain, pushed for¬
ward into Saxony to compel the elector to join his forces
to those of Prussia, and to induce Hesse to espouse the
cause of the north of Germany against France. For the
sake of these secondary objects, the blunder of Mack at Ulm
was repeated. The French troops were already assembled.
Napoleon left Paris in the end of September, and proceed¬
ed by Mayence and Wurtzburg to Bamberg, the rendez¬
vous of his army, where he arrived on the 6th of October.
Proclamations, the usual preludes of war, now followed.
The king of Prussia required the French to tfuit Germa¬
ny, the soil of which they had no right to tread. Napo¬
leon returned the bravado by some sarcastic remarks on
F R A
History, the Prussian queen and court. “ The queen of Prussia,”
says a French bulletin, “ is with the army clothed as an
1806. Amazon, wearing the uniform of her regiment of dragoons,
and penning twenty letters a day, in order to kindle flames
on every side. One might believe her to be Armida out
of her senses, setting fire to her own palace. Near her is
the young Prince Louis, overflowing with valour, and ex¬
pecting vast renown from the vicissitudes of war. Echo¬
ing these two illustrious personages, the entire court cries
out for war. But when war shall have come, with all its
horrors, it is then that each will vainly endeavour to ex¬
cuse himself of the guilt of having drawn down its thun¬
ders upon the peaceful countries of the north.”
Opening cf The Prussian army, commanded by the king in person,
the cam- ancj t]-ie 0]cj X)uiie 0f Brunswick, whom his campaigns
paign* against the French had not instructed in their new sys¬
tem of tactics, was scattered along the high road from
Eisenach and Weimar. Having advanced so far, it should
have assumed the initiative, and, by a great offensive effort,
endeavoured to break through the enemy’s line before
his corps were in a condition to afford mutual support.
But Brunswick was alike incapable of conceiving or exe¬
cuting such a plan of operation ; he hesitated when he
should have decided ; marched and countermarched with-
out object; and, worst of all, committed the fatal error of
dividing his army when almost in presence of the enemy.
The road by which the Prussians had advanced, and along
which their magazines were established, from Weimar, in
a north easterly direction, to Leipsic, run obliquely to the
line on which the French were now approaching from the
south. Instead of attacking Weimar, where their main
force was concentrated, Napoleon therefore resolved to
throw himself on their communications, intersect their
line of retreat, and cut them off from their principal ma¬
gazines. And this he effected by one of those rapid and
masterly movements which, executed by him, had so often
decided the fate of armies. Ihe only resistance which
the French met with was at Saalfieid, where, on the 10th
of October, the division of Suchet, belonging to the corps
of Lannes, was opposed by Prince Louis of Prussia, com¬
manding the advanced guard of the corps of Hohenlohe.
A fierce combat ensued; but the Prussians, being unsup¬
ported, were overpowered, the brave prince lost his life,
and thirty pieces of cannon, with a thousand prisoners, fell
into the hands of the French. The French now occupied
the line of the Saale, with their backs towards Germany;
whilst the Prussians, in order to face them, were obliged
to turn theirs to France. Ihe belligerents having thus,
as it were, changed places, the main body of the French
under Napoleon crossed the Saale at lena; the interval
between lena and Naumberg was occupied by Bernadotte,
who had orders to observe the Saale as far as Doern-
berg, by which he was to debouch, in order to cut off the
enemy’s masses from their reserves, and to fall upon their
rear, in case they should move in force upon Naumberg
or lena; and Davoust, with three fine divisions of infam
tiy thirty thousand strong, but weak in cavalry, was post¬
ed between Naumberg and Doernberg, on the right of the
Saale, to guard the defiles of Koesen. To drive the
French from these positions, and to restore the communi¬
cations, was now the great object of the Prussians. Ac¬
cordingly the king and the Duke of Brunswick, at the
head of the main body of the Prussian army, marched to
dislodge Davoust; whilst the remainder, under Prince
Hohenlohe, advanced against the main body of the French
s army> commanded by Napoleon. In this way Davoust
found himself in the presence of an enemy more than
sixty thousand strong, one-fifth of whose force consisted of
cavalry, in which arm he was disproportionately weak;
whilst, on the other hand, Hohenlohe advanced to attack a
force which outnumbered him in a still higher ratio, and was
N C E. 143
supported by the main body of the cavalry under Murat. History.
Both parties appear to have had false notions of each other’s
movements ; but Napoleon was evidently misled by the ex- 1606.
traordinary proceeding of the Duke of Brunswick, in divid¬
ing his army on the eve of a great battle, an error which
exceeded all ordinary calculation or experience.
The battles of lena and Auerstadt were fought on the Battles of
same day, the 14th of October, at the distance of six Iena an<i
leagues, without contact or communication. That of lena -^uersta(lt.
does not present any masterly or decisive manoeuvre. It
was decided by charges of the cavalry under Murat, who,
supported by Augereau, completely routed the half of
the Prussian force, and pursued the remains of it five
leagues from the field of battle, indeed as far as Weimar.
Ihe action at Auerstadt was long and bravely disputed.
Marshal Kalkreuth and General Blucher combated with
vigour under the eye of their sovereign. But the invin¬
cible firmness of Davoust, supported by Generals Gudin,
Triant, and Morand, triumphed over numbers, and this
portion of the Prussian army was, notwithstanding its
great superiority in numbers and in cavalry, also thrown
into disorder, and driven from the field. The battle of
Auerstadt, which was in fact the grand and decisive com¬
bat, reflects infinite honour upon Davoust. Surprised by
the sudden apparition of the main body of the Prussian
army, and denied all assistance by his colleague Berna¬
dotte, who, from a narrow construction of his orders, and
still more perhaps from an unwillingness to act a secon-
dary part, withdrew his corps to continue a movement
which had no longer an object, he was thrown upon his
own resources, and, but for his great experience and in¬
flexible tenacity, his corps, thus compromised, might have
been overthrown and destroyed. Forming his battalions
into squares, he received and repulsed the repeated char¬
ges of the Prussian cavalry led on by Blucher; and when
the latter, disordered by the failure of their own efforts,
were obliged to retreat, he attacked and broke through the
centre of the enemy. The Duke of Brunswick and Prince
William of Prussia again led the cavalry back to the charge;
but in vain ; nothing could shake the firmness of the
French. A last effort to retrieve the fortune of the day
was made by the king in person, with no better success.
The centre being broken, the retreat of the wings became
inevitable; and, as almost all the Prussian generals had
been severely wounded, the troops, left in a great mea¬
sure to themselves, fell into a state of the most frightful
disorder. No rallying point had been fixed in the rear;
no provision made for the contingency of a defeat. In
fact, the idea of an eccentric retreat, that is, withdrawing
on diverging lines, at this time possessed the Prussian
tactitians ; and the destruction which so rapidly overtook
the remains of the Prussian army may in a great mea¬
sure be ascribed to the circumstance of this absurdity
being now reduced to practice. The extent of the disas¬
ter which had befallen the Prussian arms was only known
when the troops defeated at lena and Auerstadt mingled
in their flight towards WTeimar. In killed, wounded, and
prisoners, the Prussians, including their Saxon auxiliaries,
lost more than forty-five thousand men; whilst a hundred
and sixty pieces of cannon, with immense magazines of
provisions, fell into the hands of the conquerors. At lena
and Auerstadt the French had about twelve thousand
men put hors de combat.
Frederick-William, in his flight, sent to demand an ar-Conse-
mistice, which was refused; and the following day, Er-quences of
furth, containinga hundredpiecesof cannon, fourteen thou-these bal_
sand men, and numerous magazines, was surrendered to tles>
Murat. The French now pushed on without intermission
for Berlin, which Napoleon entered at the head of his guard
on the 2/th of October, amidst the silence and tears of the
people. He had spent the 25th at Potsdam, in the apart-
144 FRA
History, ments of Frederick II. for whose character and memory,
v—both as a warrior and a sovereign, he professed the greatest
1U06. veneration ; but this feeling did not prevent him from tak¬
ing away the sword and the order of the black eagle worn by
Frederick, and sending them, with the colours of his guard,
to the Hotel des Invalides at Paris. Meanwhile the king
of Prussia retired behind the Oder, in the hope of col¬
lecting the scattered remains of his army, and making a
stand under cover of the strong places by which that line
was defended. But fortress after fortress, though power¬
fully garrisoned and well supplied with ammunition and
provisions, surrendered with a rapidity inexplicable on
any supposition except that of treachery or infatuation.
Spandau yielded almost without resistance ; Magdeburg,
the bulwark of the kingdom, capitulated after a short and
irregular siege; Glogau, the strongest place on the Oder,
likewise surrendered ; and other places imitated their ex¬
ample. Blucher alone supported the national character
amidst all these calamities. He executed a daring and
masterly retreat amongst the French divisions, which pur¬
sued and frequently crossed his line of march ; and, when
at length obliged to take shelter in the free town of Lu-
beck, the desperate resistance which he opposed to the
overwhelming masses of the enemy made them pay dear for
the advantage they gained in storming the place. Thus,
by two simultaneous battles, in which both parties fought
on wrong principles and erroneous information, was the
Prussian monarchy not only shaken, but destroyed. Na¬
poleon had not only avenged the defeat of the French at
Rosbach, but also the peril in which he had himself been
placed by Prussia during the campaign of Austerlitz, and
he now wreaked his vengeance with unsparing severity.
Proceed- At Berlin Napoleon had once more to enter upon the
ings of Na-j.ask 0f organizing a new empire. The smaller states of
Berlin de Germany were compelled to join the confederation of the
cree.m 0 Rhine; Saxony was treated with politic leniency ; Hesse-
Cassel and Brunswick were doomed to expiate their loy¬
alty by rigorous contributions ; and the electorate of Ha¬
nover was seized in the name of France. I he occupation
of the free city of Hamburg, against which the emperor
Napoleon had no assignable cause of war, immediately
followed. On the 19th of November, Mortier took posses¬
sion of the town in name of the French government, and
the same day issued an order, enjoining the inhabitants to
make known all funds and merchandise belonging to the
English. This was part of his system. To strike a free
commercial port with nullity, and thus to ruin a great city,
gave him no concern, provided it was closed against Eng¬
land. A measure of a still more extraordinary character
followed. On the 21st of November was issued an impe¬
rial decree, dated at Berlin, in which the British islands
were declared in a state of blockade. By this decree all
commerce and correspondence were interdicted ; every
subject of England, of whatever state or condition, who
should be found in the countries occupied by the French
or their allies, was to be made prisoner of war; the com¬
merce in English merchandise was prohibited, and all mer¬
chandise, of whatsoever kind, proceeding from England,
was declared lawful prize; lastly, all vessels coming direct¬
ly from England or from English colonies, or having been
there since the publication of the decree, were not to be
received into any port. Such was the decree by which
Bonaparte endeavoured to exclude England from the
Continent at the expense of neutral and independent na¬
tions, and which he intended to enforce in all the harbours
of Europe, from St Petersburg to Constantinople. But
this scheme, although it no doubt occasioned, in the first
instance, much mischief to British commerce, and tended
to throw the principal carrying trade of Europe into the
hands of the Americans, yet, like all prohibitory systems,
NCR
it eventually recoiled on its author. For, in the first place, History,
nothing tended so much as the severities of the continen-
tal system to alienate from Bonaparte the affections both
of his subjects and his allies. Even the exhausting de¬
mands of the conscription were borne with less impatience
than the rigours of a code which crippled one great branch
of industry, and deprived all persons possessing only mo¬
derate fortunes of the customary luxuries of life. But,
on the other hand, whilst the price of sugar, coffee, and
other articles, rose to an exorbitant height, the contraband
trade flourished ; and whilst the vexations of the excise
excited that state of chronic war between the government
and the people which is the fruitful sources of disaffection,
the object aimed at was in a great measure defeated. In
spite of all restrictions, enforced by armies of douaniers,
English merchandise found its way into the Continent; the
smugglers were enriched, the regular traders ruined, and
the people forced to pay many prices for articles which
habit had rendered indispensable.
Towards the close of November, Russia declared war War be-
against France. About the same time the king of Prus- tween
sia, who had retired to Konigsberg, made an attempt t°R^s^an^
negotiate ; but as Napoleon demanded the cession of the XU1 e-v'
whole country between the Rhine and the Elbe, Frede-
rick-William, hoping that the power of Russia might yet
give a check to that of France, refused to accept terms
less severe than those which he was afterwards under the
necessity of submitting to. But, unfortunately for this hope,
war broke out at the same moment between Russia and
Turkey. In a few days of successful intrigue, Sebastian!,
whom Napoleon had sent to Constantinople, succeeded in
putting an end to the amicable relations subsisting not
only between Russia and Turkey, but also between Eng¬
land and the Porte ; the invasion of Egypt by France, and
its deliverance by England, were forgotten ; French offi¬
cers were seen directing works for strengthening the bat¬
teries of the Dardanelles, as well as training the Turks to
serve the guns with which they were armed; and a war
followed on the Danube, which occasioned a powerful di¬
version in favour of Napoleon, and crippled the exertions
of Russia in the approaching struggle.
Napoleon now advanced in pursuit of the Prussian mo- Poland,
narch, and at Posen, the capital of that part of Poland
acquired by Prussia, he, on the 11th of December, con¬
cluded a treaty of peace and alliance with the elector of
Saxony, who acceded to the confederation of the Rhine,
and assumed the title of king. From Posen he proceeded
to Warsaw, which was evacuated on his approach. At the
sight of the Russian and Prussian eagles retiring from the
capital of their country, the Poles were in exultation. Their
patriotism and national spirit revived ; the youth crowded
into the Polish regiments which were now formed to act
in concert with the French; and the throne of Sobieski
seemed already re-established. But Napoleon, though
resolved to make use of their zeal, had no intention to
reward it with that independence which they so ardently
desired. “ Quoique Napoleon, que sa mefiance et les dis¬
positions de 1’Autriche rendraient ties circonspect, ne
leur eut fait aucune promesse,” says General Dumas ; “ il
les avait pourtant excites a s’avancer pour reconquerer
leur liberte et leur independance. II leur avait donne un
gouvernement provisoire cree des autorites civiles et mi-
litaires prises dans leur sein. Les Polonnais se flattaient
avec raison que la restauration de la nation serait le juste
prix du sang qu’elle avait verse pour la cause de la France,
depuis ies premieres campagnes dTtalie jusqu’aux der-
nieres batailles, dans lesquelles ils avaientvaillammentcom-
battu. Devaient-ils croire que maitre de reparer le scan-
dale des demembremens de leur patrie, de venger la plus
manifeste violation du droit des gens, le vainqueur laisseruit
FRANCE.
History, fletrir dans ses mains le plus beau fruit de sa victoire?”1
With Napoleon these just expectations went for nothing.
1806. |n his view all interests and all wills were to yield to his,
as all resistance had yielded to his arms; but he lived to
repent of his injustice to Poland, and discovered in adver¬
sity the extent of the error as well as of the wrong he had
committed.
Rapid pro- By the first of December all northern Germany, except-
French.1 ing K5nigsl?erg> with the fortresses of Stralsund and Col-
berg, was either under the direct domination or under the
immediate influence of Napoleon. Hesse, Brunswick, Ha¬
nover, the duchies of Oldenburg and Mecklenburg, and
the Hanseatic Towns, were in his power. Prussia, which
for half a century had been gradually rising to the highest
rank amongst military powers, was overturned at the first
shock. Hostilities commenced on the 9th of October, and
on the 14th she received a mortal blow. In seventeen
days, the French soldiers, having traversed the forests and
defiles of Franconia, the Saale, and the Elbe, reached Ber¬
lin ; and by the end of November they were beyond the
Vistula. The overthrow of the Prussian monarchy in a
campaign of six weeks, is one of those events the reality
of which will hardly be credited by posterity. But the
season of combats having reached its term, an able and
prudent general, Frederick II. for example, would have
stopped on the Oder, at least until spring, and employed
the winter in establishing himself in a solid manner in
Germany ; in securing the immobility of Austria ; in mak--
ing himself master of the strong places in Silesia; in
taking possession of Dantzick and Colberg before the arri¬
val ot the Bussians ; in reducing Stralsund, and recruiting,
clothing, and re-arming his troops at the expense of the
conquered countries ; in forming a German army, which
would have been an useful auxiliary; in negotiating with
his enemies, in order to divide, deceive, or intimidate them ;
and, above all, in masking his ulterior projects. The his¬
tory of the following years shows that the independence of
Europe would have been destroyed, if Napoleon, yielding
to the most obvious suggestions of prudence, had retarded
a little his precipitate advance, in order to attain his grand
object, the subjugation of Europe. But he did nothing
which he could and ought to have done in order to conso¬
lidate his power, and he was ultimately ruined even by his
own successes.
Hostilities recommenced at Czarnovo, near the con¬
fluence of the Bug and the Wrka, on the 23d of Decem-
bei , but the Russians, though numerous and advanta¬
geously posted, were dislodged by the division of Morand
of the corps of Marshal Davoust. A more important combat
took place at Mohrungen, sixteen leagues south of Elbing,
on the 25th. 'Ihe Russian generals, observing that the
T rench army had suspended its march, and was preparing
to go into cantonments on the Vistula, came to the deter¬
mination of attempting to cut off the left wing; and their
design would probably have succeeded if Bernadotte had
servilely executed the orders he had re<?ei,ved the evening
before to retire to Little Strasburg, seven or eight miles
from Thorn. But having received information of the move¬
ment of the Russian columns, and foreseeing the disasters
which would result from the execution of the orders he had
received, he suspended his march; assembled his corps on the
plains of Mohrungen, where the Russian column of attack
arrived about noon ; checked its advance, and, after a se¬
vere action, forced it to retire with considerable loss be¬
hind the Passarge. The determination of Bernadotte saved
the head-quarters of Napoleon and the division of Ney,
perhaps the French army itself, which, if the Russians had
succeeded in their attack, would have been completely com-
145
Re-com-
mence-
ment of
hostilities
promised. Alarmed at this bold movement, Napoleon, who History,
intended to pass the winter on the Vistula, pressing the
siege of Dantzick, and awaiting the arrival of eighty thou- 1807.
sand conscripts of the year 1807, judged it necessary to
clear his front, and, if possible, so to intimidate the Rus¬
sians as to prevent a repetition of such enterprises. With
this view Lannes, reinforced by a division of the corps of
Davoust, attacked Beningsen at Pultusk, near the conflu¬
ence of the Narew and the Orzye, on the 26th of Decem-
bei. A murderous conflict ensued, but the action remain¬
ed undecided. Ihe slaughter of the French was great, Be¬
ningsen having manoeuvred so as to expose them through¬
out the day to a destructive fire of artillery. The Russians
retired unmolested during the night. On the same day ano¬
ther action took place at Golymin, eight leagues north of War¬
saw, between the corps of Augereau, supported by part of
that of Davoust, with the cavalry of Murat, and a strong
Russian division under General Buxhowden. This combat
was maintained with equal tenacity; but the French, though
dieadfully maltreated, ultimately succeeded in forcing their
adversaries to retire. The extreme rigour of the season
now determined the belligerent armies on the Vistula to
take some repose, which both so much required. But this
was destined to be of short duration.
Beningsen having leisurely retired from the field of bat- Battle of
tie at Pultusk, followed but not harassed by the French, Eylau.
moved northward, determined, after a short interval of
rest, and concentrating all his disposable means, to resume
offensive operations. Accordingly, having mustered his
forces, and rallied the remains of the Prussian army under
Lestoeq, he formed the project of penetrating between the
main body of the French and their left wing, which bor¬
dered-on the Baltic, raising the siege of Dantzick, and thus
turning all the positions of the enemy. In the end of Ja¬
nuary, Napoleon, having become aware of this design, as¬
sembled his army and marched northward, in the hope of
anticipating Beningsen, and attacking him in the midst of
his movement. But an intercepted letter addressed to Berna¬
dotte apprised Beningsen of his danger, and he immediately
fell back. Both projects thus failed ; but nevertheless the
French had the advantage of obtaining the lead. Napo¬
leon, therefore, continuing his movement northward, came
up with Beningsen at Willenberg, whence the two armies,
the one retiring and the other advancing, traversed ra¬
pidly the country between the Alle and the Passarge. Ir¬
ritated by the close pursuit, and the privations to which
his soldiers were exposed, Beningsen resolved to turn on
the enemy, and make a stand at the little town of Preus-
sisch-Eylau, twelve leagues south of Konigsberg. He first
endeavoured to defend the place, and, during the evening
of the 7th of February, Prince Bagration and General Bar¬
clay de Tolly made the most gallant efforts to keep back the
enemy ; nor were they dislodged from a cemetery in which
they had intrenched themselves until late at night, and af¬
ter a most sanguinary combat. On the morning of the 8th,
the Russians, under cover of a tremendous fire of artillery,
attacked with the greatest fury the French in Eylau and
its vicinity. Divisions belonging to the corps of Davoust,
Soult, and Ney, and the entire corps of Augereau, with¬
stood the efforts, equally impetuous and unexpected, of the
Russians, whose force was estimated at between sixty and
seventy thousand men. The approaches to and the interior
of the village of Eylau exhibited a terrible scene of carnage.
The aim of each general was the same, namely, to over¬
throw his adversary’s left. But Bonaparte having, in addi¬
tion, sent strong columns against the Russian centre, these,
during a heavy fall of snow, missed the proper direc¬
tion, and penetrating between the centre and right of the
VOL. x.
1 Precis dcs Evcncmens Militaires, tome xix. p. 78.
T
146
FRANCE.
History, enemy, were attacked on both flanks, whilst the Russian
v—reserve charged them with great impetuosity in front. A
1807- dreadful scene of confusion and slaughter ensued ; several
generals were killed or wounded; and the twenty-fourth
regiment of the line, three thousand six hundred strong,
was annihilated. To extricate the troops thus compro¬
mised, Napoleon was obliged to order the cavalry, sup¬
ported by his reserves, to charge ; which increased the
fury and indecision of the battle. Davoust having made
a considerable detour, now arrived on the left flank of the
Russians, which was refused as he advanced, and about
to fall back in good order, when the Prussians under Les-
tocq came up, and this terrible battle was renewed. Da¬
voust retreated in his turn ; but Ney having by this time
arrived with his division at the other extremity of the
Russian line, the fury of the conflict was transported thi¬
ther, where mutual charges were executed with headlong
impetuosity. Order there was no longer any ; masses
alone, impelled by the instinct of combat, continued the
desperate struggle. The Russians, though huddled toge¬
ther in a small space, determinedly maintained their ground ;
whilst the French, in equal confusion, were unable to bring
up a force sufficient to decide the fate of the battle. The
loss on both sides was enormous. That of the Russians
was, by their own account, seven thousand nine hundred
men killed and twelve thousand wounded; but Napoleon
only acknowledged a loss of one thousand nine hundred
men killed on the field of battle, and five thousand seven
hundred wounded ; an admission evidently as far below the
truth as that of Ruschel, who stated the French loss at
thirty thousand killed and twelve thousand wounded, was
above it. The Russians remained on the field of battle ;
but as they had been dreadfully cut up, and as Bernadotte
was advancing with his corps to reinforce Napoleon, Be-
ningsen withdrew next morning, and retired behind the
Pregel. Had he remained a little longer, the French
would have left him indisputed master of the field. Na¬
poleon had also contemplated a retreat; but, on the dis¬
appearance of the Russians, he kept his ground, remained
an entire week at Eylau, and then retired to occupy the
line of the Passarge, establishing his head-quarters at Os-
terode. This was the only circumstance which gave him
a pretence for claiming a victory which most certainly he
had not won.1
Results of The tidings of a drawm battle, fought at the northern
the battle; extremity of Prussia, filled the Parisians with apprehension
thtMxuu anc^ a^arm* The good fortune of Napoleon had hitherto
pa- n. * been so constant that people looked on the battle of Eylau
as the breaking of the spell, and began to consider reverses
as probable. Nor wTas this feeling confined to Paris, where
it occasioned a considerable fall in the funds, and even
shook public confidence. It prevailed also in the army,
where more than one general officer counselled a retreat
behind the Vistula. But Napoleon persisted in remaining
on the Passarge, where he continued until the month of
May, when Dantzick surrendered after a gallant defence.
1307.
Reinforcements had in the meanwhile reached both armies, History,
which were consequently soon in a condition to take the
field. Napoleon, however, determined to leave as little as
possible to chance, had opened negotiations, evidently with
no other object than to gain time, and retard the com¬
mencement of operations until his utmost available means
were collected for the decisive struggle. Accordingly,
wdien all w'as ready, the negotiations were broken oft'; and,
on the 5th of June, two Russian columns attempted to
force the passage of the Passarge at Spanden, three leagues
north-east of Guttstadt; but, after an obstinate combat, in
which Bernadotte was severely wounded, they were re¬
pulsed. Another encounter took place at Heilsberg on the
10th, between the principal mass of the Russian army and
the corps of Soult and Lannes, supported by the cavalry
under Murat. The Russians disputed the ground inch by
inch, whilst their artillery tore up the ranks of the French,
who had several generals killed or wounded, and maintain¬
ed themselves in close columns in their intrenchments,
which they did not evacuate until the 12th. Both armies
now moved northward, the Russians on the east, and the
French on the wTest, of the AUe. But as Beningsen’s ob¬
ject was to cover Konigsberg, it became necessary to pass
the river by the bridge at Friedland, on the road leading to
the ancient capital of Prussia, and sixteen leagues distant
therefrom.
As the French had but one division (that of Ney) im-Battle of
mediately opposite Friedland, Beningsen brought up forces Fried land,
to attack it. Bonaparte was at Eylau, eight leagues distant,
whence he hurried with the rest of his army to Friedland,
where he found Ney making what resistance he could. It
was the 14th of June, the anniversary of the battle of Ma¬
rengo, and welcomed by the French emperor as betokening
good fortune. Forming his columns in the woods, he allow¬
ed Beningsen to cross the bridge with the greater part of
his army. When the Russian general thus heedlessly advan¬
ced, he little suspected that the wdiole French army were
lying in wait for him ; but dense columns issuing from the
woods, and getting their cannon into position for the at¬
tack, soon convinced him that he would have to fight at a
disadvantage, and without even the possibility of retreating
in the event of sustaining a reverse. He drew out his
line, however, with his left resting on the bridge, and pre¬
pared to receive the shock which was now inevitable. A
considerable time passed in manoeuvres, skirmishes, and
partial combats; and it was not until five in the evening
that the battle became general along the whole line. The
principal attack, led by Ney, wTas of course directed against
the bridge of Friedland, by which alone the Russians could
retreat; but in his ardour to carry it he w^as repulsed, and
the head of his column was broken. Supported by Dupont,
however, he rallied his troops, and was preparing to renew
the attack, when Napoleon, who had acquired some expe¬
rience of Russian firmness and tenacity, judged it best to
achieve the victory by means of his artillery. A battery
of thirty pieces, commanded by General Senarmont, ad-
1 This horrible massacre, represented by Napoleon as a victory won by Murat, whose cavalry did not appear until towards the
close ol the engagement, produced great discontentment amongst some of the marshals, particularly Augereau and Lannes, who were
disgraced for denying to Murat the credit which Napoleon had chosen to give him on this occasion. They disputed not Napoleon’s
title to order matters as he pleased on the field of battle, but they contended that he had no right to treat truth with the same con¬
tempt which he showed for mankind, or to dictate his sovereign orders to fame. Besides, they were sick of prosecuting war in such
distant and inhospitable regions. Lannes, when asked by his chief if, with such soldiers as those who fought at Lylau, the conquest
of 1 oland could be doubtful, replied, “ All this country is not worth the loss of the humblest corporal in the army.” In the sixty-
fourth bulletin Napoleon thus describes the scene presented by the field of battle: “ Qu’on se figure, sur un espace d’une lieue car-
ree, neuf cu dix mille cadavres, quatre ou cinq mille chevaux tue's. Tout cela avait plus de relief sur tm fund de neige." What a picture
is presented in these few words ? “ Ce spectacle (the bulletin continues) est fait pour inspirer aux princes 1’amour de la paix et I’hor-
reur de la guerre; ’ a natural reflection, certainly, however hypocritical and disgusting, as emanating from one who “ commanded the
bloody fray to rise,” and who seems even to have contemplated, with something approaching to pleasure, the horribly picturesque
spectacle presented by the blood-stained snow of this field of carnage. Napoleon’s tactics made no account of human life. If the
battle was gained, however dearly purchased, he felt no regret, provided enough of men remained for future consumption. He was,
to use Kleber’s expression, “ a general of six thousand men a day.”
FRANCE.
147
History, vancing four hundred yards a head of the columns, opened
a destructive fire of grape on the Russian masses, huddled
1807. Up as it were in a corner ; heavy charges of cavalry filled
up the intervals of the cannonade, breaking many of their
squares; and towards evening the French infantry again
advanced to complete the victory. The Russians had suf¬
fered much ; retreat was inevitable; and as the bridge
was swept by the enfilading fire of the enemy’s artillery,
they threw themselves into the river, where thousands pe¬
rished in addition to those who had fallen in the field of
battle. Such was the decisive victory of Friedland, which
re-established the superiority of the French arms, which
the battle of Eylau had brought into question, and which
Napoleon had long desired, as the means of disposing Alex¬
ander to an accommodation. In this battle the Russians
lost seventeen thousand men killed, drowned, or wounded,
nearly as many prisoners, and seventy pieces of cannon.
The loss sustained by the French was also great, and in¬
cluded a number of generals killed as well as wounded.
Results. But the results were eminently decisive. Konigsberg
surrendered to Soult. The last hope of Prussia was anni¬
hilated. Beningsen retired beyond the Niemen,1 on the
banks of which the French soon afterwards arrived. At
Friedland was terminated the series of operations com¬
menced at Spanden on the 5th ; and in this campaign of
ten days the Russian army had experienced enormous losses,
and been forced to retreat within its own frontiers. The
Emperor Alexander having now joined the army, an ar¬
mistice was demanded and agreed to on the 21st of June;
and, on the 25th, an interview took place between the em¬
perors, in a tent raised on a raft in the Niemen, at Tilsitt, an
open place of small importance on the left bank of the river.
The meeting had as much apparent cordiality as if not a
drop of blood had been shed or a life lost in their quarrel.
One of the first words of Alexander expressed his resent¬
ment against England. This was politic, and eminently
calculated to conciliate the conqueror, who in fact is said
to have replied that, such being his sentiments, the terms
of accommodation would be easily arranged. Besides, Eng¬
land had departed from the Pitt system of subsidizing largely,
and the autocrat no doubt thought it hard that he should
not be liberally paid for defending himself. At the second
interview, which took place the following day, the king of
Prussia was admitted, on the urgent entreaty of Alexan¬
der ; and the half of the town of Tilsitt being neutralized,
the two emperors established themselves there, and were
soon upon terms of the greatest familiarity, if not friendship.
Not so the unfortunate king of Prussia, wdio, having arriv¬
ed as a suppliant, was treated with disrespect and severity.
Even the czar, won by the attentions of Napoleon, or over¬
awed by the ascendency of his genius and fortune, soon
evinced a diminished sympathy for his unfortunate ally;
nor could the presence of the beautiful queen of Prussia,
with all her fascinations, overcome this influence, or soften
the premeditated rigour of the French emperor. The latter History,
had many grounds of resentment against Prussia. At
Austerlitz she had held his destiny in her hands, and acted Hto?.
with perfidy, without, however, reaping the reward of her
bad faith. She had besides deranged his favourite system
of policy, which required the alliance of one of the three
great powers of the north and east, especially of Prussia,
whose central position gave to her peculiar advantages in
this respect. He felt it as a great political evil that he had
been reduced to the necessity of destroying a power which
it was his interest to support, nay even to aggrandize ; and
as he knew that reconcilement could never grow up where
wounds of deadly hate had pierced so deep, he resolved to
avail himself to the fullest extent of the advantages which
victory had given him, and to prevent Prussia from ever
having the power to decide the fate of any future coalition.
The terms granted to the king of Prussia were equally Treaties of
severe and humiliating, and were made to appear as con-Tilsitt.
cessions to Alexander rather than stipulations with Frede-
rick-\\ illiam. He was deprived of all his territories be¬
tween the Rhine and the Elbe, and forced to abandon to
Saxony almost the whole of Prussian Poland, which was
erected into the duchy of Warsaw, as well as the circle
of Cotbus, in Lusatia. Several military roads were also
to be opened through the Prussian state, to form commu¬
nications between the kingdom of Saxony and the duchy
of Warsaw; all the countries which remained to Prussia
were to be shut against the navigation and commerce of
England ; and these provinces were to be evacuated before
the first of October 1807, provided the war contributions
were discharged, which they were to be held to be when¬
ever the intendant of the French army should have certified
the validity of the securities offered. Under cover of this
last provision, the fortresses of Custrin, Stettin, and Glo-
gau were retained by the French long after the period
stipulated for their restoration. The totality of the con¬
tributions imposed upon Prussia was fixed at 513,744,410
francs, or L.20,551,776, and of this enormous amount
there had been collected, by the end of 1808, “ tant en
especes qu’en fournitures,” the sum of 474,352,650 francs,
or L.19,174,106, leaving to be recovered even then a ba¬
lance of rather more than L.1,500,000. These numbers
show the frightful severity with which the law of the con¬
queror was applied to Prussia.2 By the present treaty,
that power lost more than the half of her territory, and
nearly the half of her population; instead of ten millions
and a half, which she possessed before the disastrous day
of lena, only six millions remained to her ; whilst her terri¬
tory, dismantled and laid open on all its frontiers, formed
a long parallelogram, extending abouta hundred and eighty
leagues from west to east, but reduced to a breadth not ex¬
ceeding forty. Modern history presents no other example
of a power descending to such a degree of abasement and
humiliation by means of a conquest so rapidly executed.3
1 the Russians showed much more firmness at Friedland than they had done at Austerlitz (2d December 1805); and their retro¬
grade march, though performed under every disadvantage, can in no respect be assimilated to the deroute of the Prussians after the
battles of lena and Auerstadt (14th October 1800), to which, in fact, there is nothing in the annals of modern tactics that can be com¬
pared in point of ignominy. Beningsen was no mean adept in his art; and if he had been cordially seconded, instead of being
thwarted, as he often was, by the native Russian generals (he was a Hanoverian), the result of the campaign might have been differ^
ent. At all events, Napoleon had yet met with no antagonist who made him pay so terrible a price for victory.
2 Dumas, Precis des Evcnemens Militaires, tome xix. p 85.
s Ihe queen of Prussia begged hard for Magdeburg, but in vain. Napoleon, on one occasion, condescended to present her with a
rose ; she accepted it, saying with a winning smile, “ at least with Magdeburg.” “ Madame,” said Napoleon, assuming a look of great
severity, “ it is for me to give ; you have only the trouble of accepting.” Nor even when the sacrifice was consummated did he relax
in his sarcasms and severities against the Prussian court; and whenever a deputation of Prussians presented themselves, he recurred
to the painful theme of their monarch’s imbecility and ingratitude. For all this, however, there is the apology either of resentment
or policy. But none whatever can be imagined for the scandalous statements to which he gave currency at the time, and afterwards
repeated to many persons at St Helena, respecting certain alleged improprieties in the conduct of the queen of Prussia. If true, it
was undignified and unmanly to blazon such frailties ; if false, detestable. It is but just to add, that, as far as we have been able to
discover, the character of this beautiful and unfortunate woman was impeached by none except the deadly foe of her family; his
statements and insinuations are unsupported by any other authority that we can find, and hence the fair presumption is that they
are false and slanderous.
148 FRA
History. But the primary stipulations at Tilsitt were between
'***-'f~*mJ Napoleon and Alexander, lords of the old world, the one
1807. from Atlantic to the Niemen, the other from the Nie-
men to the Pacific. If the half of his dominions was re¬
stored to the king of Prussia, it was from regard to the
Emperor Alexander; and the latter, equally complaisant,
consented that the greater part of the ancient Polish ter¬
ritories should pass under the sovereignty of Saxony, and
that Dantzick, with a radius of two leagues, should be de¬
clared independent, but with a garrison of French troops.
Napoleon accepted, for form’s sake, the mediation of Alex¬
ander with England; whilst Alexander, in return,recognis¬
ed the confederation of the Rhine, and the three brothers
of his conqueror, Joseph, Louis, and Jerome, as the kings
of Naples, Holland, and Westphalia. The Russian troops
were also to evacuate the principalities of Moldavia and
Wallachia. The old barriers of Europe were thus broken
down, and all the other powers plunged into a state of
humiliating vassalage and uncertainty. In the policy of
Napoleon we always find something gigantic, hazardous,
incoherent, and unfinished; vast but ill-defined concep¬
tions, bold experiments, and wildly capricious assortments.
On this occasion, for instance, the Polish nation was most
ungenerously sacrificed; whereas, by re-establishing the
throne of Sobieski, with a better system of monarchy, he
would have formed a stronger barrier against the ambi¬
tion of Russia, and more effectually preserved Germany
from the influence of Austria and Prussia, than by creat¬
ing two feebles states under the denominations of the king¬
doms of Westphalia and Saxony. But the grand object at
present was spoliation. In the treaty of Tilsitt continental
Europe was sacrificed to the ambition of the two emperors,
who parcelled it out at their pleasure ; the one adjudging
to himself the south and the west, the other the east and
the north. It appears, also, that, by a secret article, the
expulsion of the Turks beyond the Bosphorus had been
determined on. But if such a convention was actually
agreed to, the Emperor Napoleon could not have seen far
before him in politics, whatever may have been the ex¬
tent of his genius in military and administrative affairs.
For, to permit Russia to dismember the Ottoman empire,
that is, to establish herself in a given time at Constanti¬
nople, was, in effect, to deliver up to her in a given time
Italy and the Mediterranean, and, by a necessary conse¬
quence, to abandon Europe, before the lapse of a century,
to the barbarians of the north. But the two emperors
were mutually endeavouring to deceive each other ; and
although soon after the peace of Tilsitt Alexander prided
himself on the friendship of Napoleon, as a gift of the
gods, the latter repaid the compliment by observing of
his imperial brother, “ He is as fair and false as a Greek,
thereby showing that he understood his man.
Attack on Be this as it may, however, the stipulations, whether
Copenha- avowed or secret, of the treaty of Tilsitt, were nothing
8en- less than a league to enchain the world. Prussia was
annihilated ; Spain and Sweden were directly menaced;
Austria and Turkey were prospectively endangered; Eng¬
land was of course devoted to ruin. Denmark preserved
a nominal neutrality; but, irritated by the violent and ar¬
bitrary nautical maxims of Britain, particularly in regard
to the right of search claimed by her, and, moreover,
placed in nearly the same relative situation to trance as
Holland had formerly been, that northern power was, by
the force of circumstances, induced to adopt a line of po¬
licy adverse to the interests of England. But latterly her
position had changed for the worse. The exigencies of
Napoleon’s continental system required that Denmark
should be obliged to shut her ports against the commerce
of Britain, and Holstein was already menaced by the French
troops which occupied Hamburg and Lubeck ; whilst, on
the other hand, information received by the British govern-
N C E.
ment of what had secretly passed at Tilsitt gave them History,
reason to suspect that an attempt would be made on the
part of the French to occupy Denmark, and to appropri 18°7*
ate its fleet. To prevent such a contingency, an expedi¬
tion which had been fitted out for a different purpose was
dispatched to the Sound, and, on the refusal of the Danish
government to discontinue its relations with France, Co¬
penhagen was attacked on the 7th of September. After
a bombardment of three days, and the burning of six
hundred houses, a capitulation was entered into, and the
Danish fleet seized as a deposit, to be restored at the
conclusion of the war. This proceeding upon the part
of England was strongly censured at the time, and still
merits severe reprobation. In point of injustice, it equal¬
led the worst deeds with which Napoleon was reproached;
and, in point of impolicy, it was not surpassed by the
most stupid act of violence ever before committed. Den¬
mark immediately closed her ports against England, de¬
clared war against that country, and soon afterwards (16th
October) concluded a treaty of alliance with France.
Russia, also, availed herself of the favourable opportunity
thus afforded to announce publicly her adoption of the
continental system, to which she had already secretly ac¬
ceded, to break off all intercourse with England, to annul
the convention of the 17th June, and to proclaim of new
the principles of the armed neutrality.
Napoleon was now in the zenith of his glory, victorious Relative
on every side, and possessed of a power by land which situations
nothing seemed capable of withstanding. Against Bri-^J^ce
tain, on the other hand, the whole civilized world was
now arrayed in hostility. Russia, Austria, Prussia, France,
Italy, Spain, were all in arms against her; even Turkey,
her ancient ally, had proved ungrateful; and, except¬
ing Sweden, which was misruled by a madman, and Por¬
tugal, which was governed by a fool, all Europe was
forbidden ground. Even the new world was hostile from
north to south; and, what was worst of all, a deep shade
had been cast on the justice of her cause by the ill-timed
attack on Copenhagen. At this time, too, the charac¬
ter of Napoleon stood fair; he had not misused victory
beyond what the morality of the world indulges to a con¬
queror ; and if he had abstained from aggression on the
Peninsula, his power might, in a very few years, have ac¬
quired a stability which would at length have compelled
England, however reluctantly, to sue for peace. His
decline may be dated from the moment when he inter¬
meddled with the affairs of Spain and Portugal, and en¬
deavoured to convert these ancient and independent king¬
doms into dependencies of France. The unjustifiable na¬
ture of the aggression, and the unexampled perfidy and
profligacy with which it was prefaced and accompanied,
destroyed him in the opinion of Europe; whilst the con¬
test in which he soon became involved in the Peninsula
preyed like an inveterate and daily spreading gangrene
on the very vitals of his power.
The first object of attack was Portugal. On the 17th Attack on
October, an army of about twenty-seven thousand men, Portugal
under the orders of Junot, marched from Bayonne for Por¬
tugal. The professed object of this invasion was to en¬
force in that country the adoption of the continental sys¬
tem. But, on the 27th of the same month, a secret treaty
was concluded at Fontainebleau, between the Emperor
Napoleon and the minister of Spain, by which Portugal
was to be conquered, and the province of Entre-Minho-e-
Douro given to the king of Etruria in exchange for Tus¬
cany ; whilst the Algarves and the Alemtejo were to be be¬
stowed in sovereignty upon Godoy, prince of the Peace,
and favourite of the queen of Spain, and the remainder, in¬
cluding Lisbon, was to be retained in reserve until a gene¬
ral peace. This rapacious and unprincipled scheme, how¬
ever, formed but a small part of Napoleon’s design, which
FRANCE.
149
laoy.
Milan de
cree
History, was to seize and occupy the entire Peninsula. Accord-
ingly, another corps of forty thousand men was ordered
to assemble at Bayonne, at latest by the 30th of Novem¬
ber, to be in readiness to support Junot in case the Eng¬
lish should send assistance to Portugal, or even menace
an attack. Meanwhile that general continued his march
to Lisbon, which he entered with his advanced guard on
the 30th of November. After much irresolution, the court
had at length determined to shut its ports against the
English, in the hope that this concession would stop the
march of Junot; but, as might have been expected, it
proved wholly unavailing. Conquest, not concession, was
the object aimed at; the Moniteur announced that the
house of Braganza had ceased to reign; and the royal fa¬
mily hastened to fulfil the declaration, by abandoning the
country which they were incapable of defending. The
invaders had advanced with such rapidity along difficult
roads, and were in consequence so greatly harassed and
disorganized, that a few thousand resolute troops would
have knocked them all on the head ; but the court thought
only of flight, not resistance, and the country was meanly
surrendered to a parcel of toil-worn conscripts, without a
single blow being struck in its defence. The escape of the
family of Braganza, however, may nevertheless be consi¬
dered as the first check which the fortune of Napoleon
received on the Continent. The odious nature of this en¬
terprise exceeded even the iniquity of the invasions of
Switzerland and Egypt; two acts of aggression executed
without any previous declaration, and directly contrary to
the faith of treaties.
We have already noticed Napoleon’s Berlin decree.
Another dated from Milan, the 17th of December, contain¬
ed new measures against the commerce and maritime sys¬
tem of Great Britain. After reference to certain orders
in council, issued by the British government, in virtue of
which the vessels of neutral powers were not only sub¬
jected to search by the English cruisers, but also made
liable to detention and to an arbitrary impost, it decreed,
first, that every vessel, of whatsoever nation, which should
have undergone search by any English cruiser, or per¬
formed a voyage to England, or paid a duty to the Eng¬
lish government, became thereby denationalised, in other
words, lost the protection of its flag, and became Eng¬
lish property; secondly, that all such vessels were good
and lawful prize of war; and, thirdly, that the British
islands were in a state of blockade by sea as well as by
land, and that every vessel, of whatsoever nation, which had
cleared out from ports in England, or entered into any of
these, might be lawfully captured. It was added, that the
dispositions contained in this decree would become null
whenever England adopted as the rule of her conduct
the principles of the law of nations, which were also those
of justice and humanity. It must be confessed that this
decree embodied a measure of retaliation which, in the
circumstances, was allowable. In discarding the maxim
that neutral bottoms make neutral goods, England could
appeal to no other sanction but that of force. In the
law of nations, the maritime sovereignty, which she seems
to have considered as an acquired and incontestible right,
found no support; and the code which she adopted was
viewed by other countries as a system of organized pi¬
racy, differing but little in principle from that exercised
by the buccaneers and the Algerines. It was never
before maintained that the law of war, and the right of
conquest thence derived, extended to peaceable and un¬
armed citizens, to private habitations and properties, to
merchandise of commerce and the warehouses which con¬
tained or the vehicles which transported it, to unarmed
vessels which plied upon the rivers or navigated the seas ;
in a word, to the persons and properties of private indi¬
viduals. But in giving it this unprecedented and unjust
extension, Great Britain necesfearilyexposed herself to re- History,
taliation, and the avowed principles of her maritime policy
left her without the smallest right to complain of such
measures as those embodied in the Berlin and Milan de-
1808.
Napoleon had now realised one part of his scheme re-lnvasioiv
specting the Peninsula. Portugal was occupied by his°lSpain'
troops, and it now remained to complete his design by
seizing on Spain. With this view a second army, under
Dupont, crossed the Pyrenees about the same time that
Junot entered Portugal, and a third followed on the first
days of 1808. In fact, all the disposable troops of France
were secretly pouring into Spain. In a short time San
Sebastian, Pampeluna, Figueras, and even the forts of
Barcelona, were in the hands of the French ; who, by a
mixture of artifice and audacity, easily contrived to dis¬
possess the imbecile governors and invalid garrisons to
whom these fortresses had been confided. As if by ma¬
gic, the whole line of defence which covered the Pyre¬
nean frontier fell into the hands of the French. The im¬
becility, not to say profligacy, of the rulers of Spain, had
afforded not only a pretext, but an occasion for this un¬
exampled aggression. The prince of Asturias, indignant
at the influence possessed by Godoy, had secretly ad¬
dressed himself to Napoleon, and, as a pledge of his sin¬
cerity, solicited a wife of the Bonaparte family; whilst,
on the other hand, Charles IV., on discovering the machi¬
nations of his son, complained to the French imperial
court of his undutiful conduct. Napoleon, thus consti¬
tuted a sort of umpire in the quarrel, gave promises to
both parties, sent a splendid present to the king, and at
the same time issued orders to his generals to seize the
principal fortresses in the north of Spain. This last pro¬
ceeding opened the eyes of Charles, and even of Godoy;
but it was already too late. The keys of the kingdom
were in the hands of the French; and those worthless
personages who, only a few months before, had plotted
with Napoleon the dethronement of the house of Braganza,
were now, by a righteous retribution, reduced to seek
safety in flight. Preparations were accordingly made for
retiring to Cadiz, and the royal party were ready to com¬
mence the journey to that port, when the population of
Aranjuez, raised by the partisans of Ferdinand, stopped
the carriages, and prevented the flight. But matters did
not rest here. The tumult thus excited swelled into an
insurrection; Godoy’s house was attacked, in the hope of
sacrificing the hated favourite as a victim to popular ven¬
geance ; and Charles was compelled to abdicate in favour
of his son, who was proclaimed king by the style and title
of Ferdinand VII. Charles, however, protested against
the act as void, because compulsory, and sent his protest
to Napoleon, accompanied by a letter from the queen;
but as this letter passed through the hands of Murat, who,
with a body of troops, had advanced as far as Burgos, that
officer immediately marched upon Madrid. The affair now
became complicated. Ferdinand reckoned on the support
of the French ; the abdicated monarch did the same ; whilst
the people, delighted with the fall of Godoy, hailed the
new king as the deliverer of his country, and as a sove¬
reign destined to revive its ancient splendour. Raised to
the throne by an insurrection, the popularity of Ferdi¬
nand was unbounded. Nothing, in fact, could exceed
the favour and enthusiasm with which he was regarded
by the nation, except the innate worthlessness of the ob¬
ject on which it was lavished. But, in every view,
Ferdinand was not a monarch suited to the purposes of
Napoleon, or calculated, even as a tributary, to advance
his views. It became necessary, therefore, to remove
him from Madrid, where the loyal frenzy of the popula¬
tion gave him force, and then to decide according to cir¬
cumstances in what way he and the other members of
]50 FRA
History, his family should be disposed of. With this view Savary
was sent to entice him to Bayonne; and Ferdinand, more
1C08. willing to rely on the French emperor than on the Spa¬
nish nation, resolved to propitiate Napoleon by giving him
the meeting, which, he was led to believe, would take
place within the Spanish territory. In this, however, he
was deceived. Filled with hopes of meeting Napoleon at
every post, he was enticed on until he had crossed the
Bidassoa, when his eyes were at last opened. Napoleon did
not receive him as king of Spain. But he was now in the
snare, and escape impossible. Charles and his queen also
arrived at Bayonne, where Napoleon was about to decide
the quarrel of the Spanish royal family in his own favour.
Their mutual recriminations were alike disgusting and
disgraceful; the queen impeached the legitimacy of her
son in the presence of her husband; and Ferdinand re¬
torted by applying to his mother epithets which her un¬
blushing immoralities but too well merited. All this had
probably been foreseen and calculated on. At all events,
pretending to identify the nation with its rulers, Napo¬
leon, taking advantage of the degrading exhibition made
by the latter, resolved to set aside the reigning house, and
to substitute a newr one of his own in its stead. But in
the mean while the news of the insurrection of Madrid,
on the 2d of May, had reached Bayonne, and the French
emperor saw that no time was to be lost. Through the in¬
fluence of Godoy, Charles was induced to resign his crown
in favour of Napoleon; threats overcame the stubborn¬
ness of Ferdinand; and the Spanish royal family having
played the part required of them, were sent off, the old
king and queen to Fontainebleau, and the princes to Va-
len^ay. A hundred and fifty Spanish nobles, who had
been mostly gained over to the French interest, were
then summoned to assemble at Bayonne, where they met
in June, assumed the name of the Spanish Cortes, and
submissively received Joseph Bonaparte as king of Spain
and the Indies. The events which followed the consum¬
mation of this detestable juggle belong partly to the his¬
tory of Spain and partly to that of Britain, to which heads,
accordingly, the reader is referred. The nation had been
no party to these infamous transactions, by which its ho¬
nour was insulted, and its independence assailed, if not
destroyed. A patriotic spirit burst forth; the insurrec¬
tion of Madrid produced similar movements all over the
country; the nation roused itself from the lethargy in
w hich it had been long sunk; the aid of Britain w as soli-
N C E.
cited and obtained ; and in a little time that contest com- Iliflory.
menced, which was destined to terminate in the deliver-
ance of the Peninsula, and the overthrow of Napoleon 1808-
himself. See the articles Britain and Spain.
The invasion of Spain, wild and desperate as it at first Character
appeared,1 soon assumed a shape which left no doubt that an<l Pr<)-
it would operate as a serious drain upon France. The ?Fess
proclamation of the intrusive King Joseph was the signal tion> c'
for the general outbreaking of the spirit ’of resistance,
which, as in almost all popular commotions, displayed it¬
self in acts of sanguinary vengeance. The French were
assailed and massacred in most of the towns ; the soldiers
made common cause with the people ; and those com¬
manders who sought to resist the general will were mer¬
cilessly sacrificed. The flower of the Spanish army had
been marched to the north of Europe; but the void was
soon filled up, and in a few weeks insurgent armies made
their appearance in all parts of the Peninsula. In the first
encounters, indeed in most general actions, the French,
as might have been expected, wTere successful; and the
defeat of Blake and Cuesta at Rio Seco seemed the bat¬
tle of Almanza to the new dynasty. But Lefebvre, though
successful in the field, was repulsed from Zaragoza; and
Dupont, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach Cadiz,
was intercepted in his retreat across the Sierra Morena,
and obliged to surrender at Baylen. These successes
kept alive the national spirit, and encouraged the Spa¬
niards to hope that their efforts would ultimately be crown¬
ed with success. Meanwhile the flame of insurrection
had spread to Portugal, where the inhabitants rose against
Junot, and united with the Spaniards in asserting their
independence. The British government availed them¬
selves of the opportunity thus offered. In the end of July
1808, Sir Arthur Wellesley landed at the mouth of the
Mondego, to the north of Lisbon, with about fifteen thou¬
sand men ; and, after a short but brilliant campaign, termi¬
nating in the battle and victory of Vimiero (21st August),
Portugal was, in virtue of the convention of Cintra, cleared
of the enemy.
The court of Vienna now began to show signs of re-Austria,
turning spirit, and, encouraged by the events in Spain and
Portugal, armed, increased the regular force, and orga¬
nized a landwehr. At a public levee held in August, Na¬
poleon took the opportunity to reproach Metternich, the
Austrian envoy, with these preparations; but the intelli¬
gence received from the Peninsula, together with certain
1 The spirit of a people is often shown in their pasquils. Soon after the affair of the 2d of May, the following epigram was at¬
tached to a proclamation affixed by the French to the walls of Madrid, and addressed to the Spaniards :
En la plaza hai un cartel,
Que nos dice en Castellano,
Q,ue Joseph, rey Itaiiano,
Muda a Madrid su dosel.
Y a leer esa cartel,
Dice un maja a su majo,
Manolo ponlo mas abajo
Que me cage en en esa ley
Que no sabe deck carajo.
It is not necessary to subjoin any translation of this national epigram; but, to give our readers some idea of the means employed to
stimulate and perpetuate a hatred of the French, we shall give in English an excerpt from a catechism generally circulated in Spain about
this time, and which parents were enjoined to teach their children. “ Tell me, my dear child, who are you ? A Spaniard, by the grace
ot God. What do you mean by that ? A person of respectability. Who is the enemy of our happiness ? The emperor of the French.
Who is he ? A wicked man, the source of all that is evil, the destroyer of all that is good, and the centre of every vice. How many na¬
tures has he ? Two, the human and the diabolical. How many emperors of the French are there ? One Veritable, in three de¬
ceitful persons. What are the names of these persons ? Napoleon, Murat, and Manuel Godoy. Which of the three is the most
wicked? They are all equally so. Of whom is Napoleon derived ? Of Sin. Murat? Of Napoleon. And Godoy ? Ofthefornica-
tion of the other two. What is the spirit of the first ? Pride and despotism. Of the second? llapine and cruelty. Of the third?
Cupidity, treachery, and ignorance. Who are the French ? Men once Christians, who have become heretics. What punishment
does the Spaniard deserve who fails in performing his duty ? The death and infamy of traitors. How ought the Spaniards to con¬
duct themselves ? According to the maxims of our Lord Jesus Christ. Who will deliver us from our enemies ? Mutual confi¬
dence and arms. Is it a sin to put a Frenchman to death ? No, father ; he will gain heaven who shall kill one of these dogs of he¬
retics.” A people who would teach their children such a manual of doctrine as this might easily be expected to begin by exemplify¬
ing in their own actions the precepts which are here inculcated.
FRANCE.
151
^ :
itioy.
History, appearances of the commencement of a re-action, gave
^ hardihood to German independence. Resolved openly
to insult, if not to menace Austria, Napoleon, in Septem¬
ber, held a meeting with the emperor of Russia at Er-
furth, where, as at lilsitt, great European interests were
discussed, and Austria was again excluded as a secondary
power. On the part of the French emperor this was
the consummation of that foolish insolence which is be¬
gotten of success. Being thus insulted, trampled on, and
despised, Austria determined, though alone, and opposed
instead of being supported by Russia, to renew the strug¬
gle with France ; but her effort was reserved for the year
1809. Napoleon foresaw the storm which was gathering,
and, that he might be prepared to meet it with undivid¬
ed means, made preparations to extinguish by one grand
effort the insurrection in Spain, and to settle the govern¬
ment of that country. From Erfurth he issued orders to
his veterans to march to the Pyrenees, and by the begin¬
ning of November he had himself crossed these moun¬
tains, and established himself at Vittoria. Napoleon was
now in the midst of the Spanish armies, with a greatly
superior force ; and as they were disseminated on a length¬
ened and irregular line, so as to be incapable of acting in
concert or affording mutual support, his plan waste crush
them one after another, by means of rapid movements
executed with overwhelming masses. Accordingly, from
the central position of Vittoria, he attacked and defeated
Blake at Espinosa, overthrew Belvedere near Burgos, and
totally routed Castahos at Tudela ; so that whilst the Eng¬
lish were slowly advancing into Spain, one column by a
circuitous route, the armies with which they had expected
to co-operate were completely swept from the field. Na¬
poleon now pushed forward to Madrid, which, after a vain
stand made in the passes of the Somosierra, and a show
of resistance when he approached the walls, he entered in
the beginning of December. Here, however, he remained
but a short time. Having passed some decrees intended
to conciliate the liberal Spaniards, having abolished the
Inquisition, suppressed the convents, and made a variety
of judicious and salutary regulations, he turned his arms
against the English, whose principal force was assem¬
bled in the neighbourhood of Salamanca; crossed the
Guadarama range in the depth of winter at the head of
eighty thousand men ; and advanced with incredible velo¬
city upon Astorga, the strategic point, in order to cut off
their retreat. But his skilful combinations and rapid exe¬
cution were defeated by the masterly retreat of the Eng¬
lish general Sir John Moore; and Napoleon, finding that
the enemy had escaped him, left Soult to continue the
pursuit, galloped back to Burgos, and thence hurried to
Paris. The preparations of Austria, of which he had
received fresh intelligence whilst proceeding against the
British, required his immediate presence in the capital to
watch the movements of that power.
A fifth continental coalition had already been formed.
Availing herself of the diversion occasioned by the events
in the Peninsula, Austria had armed; whilst in France
new conscriptions were ordered, and the imperial guard,
hastily recalled from the pursuit of the British, marched
against the Austrians on the Danube. The war seemed
interminable ; and Talleyrand’s prediction was in course of
being realised. The court of Vienna had made incredible
exertions, and an army of nearly two hundred thousand
Fifth coa
lition ;
successes
of the
French.
men, commanded by the Archduke Charles, menaced History.
France and Italy ; whilst another, in Gallicia, was intended
to oppose whatever forces Russia might bring into the 18U9.
field to support her new ally. On the 9th of April the
Austrians crossed the Inn at Brunnau and at Scharding,
and the Salza at Burghausen ; the Archduke Charles de¬
claring to the commandant of the French troops stationed
in Bavaria that he was about to advance, and would treat
as enemies all who should resist him. On the 15th hos¬
tilities also commenced in Italy, and the following day
the French under Eugene Beauharnais were completely
defeated at Pordenone, on the Tagliamento. Napoleon, on
receiving the first tidings of the advance of the Austrians,
hurried from Paris, and atDillingen met the king of Bava¬
ria, who had been forced to abandon his capital. The French,
in fact, were quite unprepared for the adoption of such a
vigorous offensive on the part of the Austrians; and the
corps of Davoust, which Berthier had stationed at Ratis-
bon, was so much in advance as to be seriously compro¬
mised. But Davoust took upon himself the responsibility
of executing a flank march from that city upon Abensberg;
checked the advance of the Austrian army at Tann; gave
his hand (as the military phrase is) to the Bavarians; and
thus prepared for Napoleon, who was on the point of arriv¬
ing, the means of penetrating the enemy’s line, and beat¬
ing in succession the two great Austrian corps under the
Archdukes Louis and Charles. Upon the 20th Napoleon
defeated, at Abensberg, the corps under the orders of the
Archduke Louis and General Hiller, after an engagement
of only an hour and a half. Great advantages resulted
from this success, which, upon the following day, forced
the Austrians to abandon nine thousand prisoners, thirty
pieces of cannon, six hundred ammunition waggons, three
thousand vehicles of various sorts, and three pontoon trains.
On the 22d, the archduke directed his efforts against Da¬
voust, who was in position at Eckmuhl; but the portion
of the army under Napoleon, which had followed to Land-
shut the corps defeated at Abensberg, rapidly counter¬
marched, and having appeared on the left flank of the Aus¬
trians, compelled the archduke to abandon his position
and cross the Danube. Thus, after a campaign of a week,
on almost every day of which a victory had been gained,
the French emperor was enabled to send forth one of his
astounding proclamations, announcing the capture of a
hundred pieces of cannon, fifty thousand prisoners, and
forty stand of colours. Davoust, to whom the last success
had been mainly owing, was created Prince of Eckmuhl on
the field of battle.
The archduke having crossed the Danube at Ratisbon, Affair of
retreated into Bohemia, no doubt in the hope of drawing Ebersberg;
the French after him in pursuit; but Napoleon preferredoccuPation
marching along the right bank towards Vienna. This, how- °* ^enn£u
ever, was not effected without opposition. At Ebersberg,
a large town situated upon the right bank of the Traun,
three leagues from Lintz, there occurred, on the 4th of
May, one of the most sanguinary combats on record. The
French generals, acting under the eye of their chief, at¬
tempted to carry this strong position at the first onset,
and without hesitation sacrificed five thousand men, who
were either drowned in the torrent, destroyed by the mus¬
ketry, overwhelmed amidst the rubbish, or consumed by
the flames of the houses, to which the enemy set fire on
beating a retreat ) a carnage as useless as it was horrible,
“ 1‘ igure to yourself,” says an eye-witness of this horrid spectacle, “ all these dead, baked by the fire, trodden under the feet of
the cavalry and the wheels of the artillery, all forming a mass of mud, which, as it was removed by shovels, emitted an undescribable
odour of burned human flesh, and caused a sensation horrible even amongst the every-day horrors of war.” In passing Cohorn’s
Corsican regiment, which had headed the attack, Napoleon inquired respecting its loss. “ We have just one more charge left,” re¬
plied the officer, pointing to the surviving half of the regiment. “ A ce jour,” says the Abbd Montgaillard, “ 1’espoir d’un grade,
d une dotation, fait depasser toutes les homes de I’audace guerriere, et me'connaitre aussi les inspirations de I’humanitd ” (Hint. <ie
France, tome vi- p. 391 ) v
152
History.
1809.
Rattle of
Essling.
Results.
FRANCE.
seeing that Marshal Lannes had already turned the posi¬
tion, and rendered the retreat of the enemy inevitable.
On the 13th of May, exactly a month after the Austrians
had commenced the war, Vienna was occupied for the se¬
cond time by the French army, though not until it had
stood a bombardment of thirty-six hours. The resources
in munitions of war found in the Austrian capital were
sufficient for a campaign. The imperial family and the
court had, as before, abandoned the city to its fate. Mean¬
while the Archduke Charles had, by a circuitous march
through Bohemia, reached the left bank of the Danube
opposite Vienna. More prudent than in 1805, the Aus¬
trians had destroyed every bridge on the river; and, on
the other hand, it became necessary to the French to
cross the stream and put an end to the war by victory,
ere insurrections could be organized in their rear, or the
want of subsistence should compel them to retreat. But
how was this to be effected in presence of an active and
vigilant enemy ?
The river Danube, which now separated the hostile ar¬
mies, is divided below Vienna into three unequal arms or
branches. From the right bank to the first island, which
is about a mile in circumference, the distance is two hun¬
dred and forty toises; and from this to the great island,
where is the principal current, the canal is in width about
eighty toises. The great island, called In-der-Lobau, is
about seven miles in circumference, and the canal which
separates it from the left bank is nearly eighty toises in
breadth. Napoleon having thrown bridges, by means of
which his troops were enabled to pass from the right
bank into the islands, and thence to the left bank, attack¬
ed the Archduke Charles in position behind the villages
of Gross-Aspern and Essling, about three leagues north of
Vienna. After several murderous attempts in a confined
space, where the French maintained an obstinate struggle
against superior forces and a formidable artillery, the as¬
sailants were repulsed ; and about the same moment the
bridges were carried away by a sudden rise of the river,
thus leaving them without ammunition, or the means of
sheltering themselves from the fire of the enemy, which
now plunged incessantly into their disordered ranks. But
the tenacity of Massena saved the wrecks of the French ar¬
my, which in the night operated its retreat into the island
of Lobau, the bridge between which and the left bank had
been temporarily repaired. This terrible battle, which last¬
ed during the greater part of two days, was fought on the
21st and 22d of May. The loss of the French was enor¬
mous. Lannes was mortally wounded; three generals
fell, a hundred and twenty-eight officers and six thousand
soldiers were killed; thirteen generals, seven hundred
officers, and eighteen thousand soldiers, were wounded;
fourteen officers and three thousand soldiers were made
prisoners. The loss sustained by the Austrians was by
no means so great.
After the battle of Essling the reputation of Napoleon
as a general and a man of resolution was much diminish¬
ed ; for he had not taken any adequate precaution against
the contingency of retreat, and at the moment when the
danger was most imminent he quitted the left bank of the
Danube in a miserable barque, accompanied by Berthier,
and Czernicheff, aide-de-camp to the emperor of Russia,
in order to get under cover on the right bank. The news
of his defeat also spread the flames of insurrection, and
gave the first impulse to that spirit of resistance by which
he was a few years afterwards overthrown. The Tyrolese
rose against the Bavarians ; associations, under the deno¬
mination of the Tugenbund, were formed for working out
the independence of Germany; and the adventurous en¬
terprises of the young Duke of Brunswick and of Major
Schill afforded abundant evidence of the hostile disposi¬
tion by which the people of the north and east were ani¬
mated towards their oppressors; although the climate of History.
Germany, and the character of its inhabitants, as well as
the force and centralization of government, rendered the 1{i09-
Spanish system of resistance impracticable in that coun-
try.
The French, forced back to the right bank of the Da-Battle of
nube by their defeat at Essling, established themselves V agnim.
in the great island of Lobau; and both armies, separated
only by the northern branch of the Danube, sixty yards
wide, remained in observation during six weeks, carefully
retrenching their respective positions. At length, on the
night between the 4th and 5th of July, the French having
constructed bridges lower down the stream, crossed to
the left bank, where a warm combat ensued with the left
wing of the Austrian army, posted near the small town of
Enzersdorff, which was reduced to ashes. The archduke
had fortified his position and made preparations to oppose
the French, on the supposition that they would attempt
to cross by the original bridge opposite Essling, which
Napoleon had ordered to be repaired. But these repairs
had only been made by Napoleon to deceive his anta¬
gonist ; and by crossing lower down the river he rendered
all the preparations and batteries of the archduke unavail¬
ing; for, instead of fronting the Danube, the latter was
now obliged to extend his line perpendicularly to the river,
from Aspern to Wagram, a village situated five leagues
north-north-east of Vienna, and thence to a small river on
his extreme left. The 5th was spent in manoeuvring, and
in fruitless attempts to dislodge the French from the vil¬
lage of Enzersdorff. Both armies slept on the field, and
on the 6th at day-break commenced the famous battle of
Wagram. The Austrian centre was posted on the high
ground near the village, which the archduke believed to
be too strong to be forced; and accordingly he threw the
greater part of his force into his wings. This error lost him
the battle. The Austrian right attacked and overthrew
Massena, who commanded the French left, driving him
back with such fury that his four divisions were crowded
into one. Davoust opposed a firmer resistance to the Aus¬
trian left; but still he had great difficulty in maintaining
his ground. In this situation Napoleon resolved to allow
his wings to resist as they might, and to bring the whole
of his disposable force to bear upon the Austrian centre
at Wagram. Lauriston accordingly advanced against it
with a hundred pieces of cannon; Macdonald followed
Lauriston with the infantry; and Bessieres supported the
attack with the cavalry of the imperial guard. This com¬
bined effort succeeded. The artillery made breaches in
the Austrian line; the French, aided by a diversion on
the extreme right, rushed into the openings; the centre
was forced; and the corps victorious over Massena, being
now taken in flank, was also obliged to retire. The differ¬
ent portions of the Austrian army being thus separated
from one another, the archduke withdrew from the field;
but the French had suffered far too much to follow him.
In fact, the battle of Essling had damped the courage of
the French; and at Wagram they fought faintly, except
when urged on by some bold and determined leader. The
loss on both sides was enormous; that of the French ex¬
ceeding thirty-five thousand men killed and wounded.
Wagram was therefore a victory, but not such a victory
as that of Marengo or Austerlitz. The hostile army was
defeated, but neither destroyed nor intercepted ; and the
Archduke Charles, still formidable in force, withdrew into
Moravia to await the arrival of his brother’s army, repair
his losses, and prolong the campaign.
Napoleon therefore deemed it prudent to make peace. Peace.
His power was in fact shaken. Most of the veterans of
the Italian wars had perished; the army of Essling and
Wagram was no longer that of Austerlitz ; and this alarm¬
ing truth had been spoken out even at the imperial head-
FRANCE.
153
History, quarters. Accordingly an armistice was concluded about
v,-,the middle of July, and conferences with a view to peace
18‘a having soon afterwards commenced at the palace of Schon-
brunn, near Vienna, were continued until the 14th of Octo¬
ber, when a treaty was signed, by which Austria ceded, in
favour of the sovereigns of the confederation of the Rhine,
Saltzburg, Bergtolsgaden, and part of Upper Austria; to
the French, Gorice, Montefalcone, Trieste, the circle of
Villach in Carinthia, and all the countries situated on the
right of the Saave, as far as the frontier of Turkish Croatia ;
to the grand duchy of Warsaw, all western Gallicia, with
Cracow, as well as the circle of Zamosc in eastern Gallicia ;
and to Russia, a small territory in the most eastern part
of Gallicia, containing a population of four hundred souls.
The emperor of Austria also recognised all the changes
which had already been made or might subsequently take
place in Spain and Portugal; he adhered to the prohibi¬
tive system adopted by France and Russia against Eng¬
land ; and he engaged to discontinue all commercial re¬
lations with “ the enemy of the Continent.” The memoir
w riters of the day are pleased to imagine that Napoleon
was terrified into making peace by the discovery of a de-
sign upon the part of a fanatical young German to assas¬
sinate him. But his views were at once more manly and
more profound. Even in his proudest day of power he
had acknowledged the necessity of having one great ally
attached to his interests; and this was what he now
sought to obtain. Prussia had played him false, and for¬
ced him to destroy her; Russia was evidently not to be
depended upon; Austria yet remained to be tried, and
this trial was now made. Napoleon had no heir of his
body; an adopted son of his brother Louis had died; and
his proposal to a Russian princess had been received with
a coldness amounting to disdain, which proved to him
the insincerity of Russian alliance. At Schonbrunn the
same idea was now suggested with respect to Austria;
and the Emperor Francis, appreciating the advantage of
such a copnection, acceded to the proposal. According¬
ly Josephine was divorced to make way for a bride of the
house of. Hapsburg, and, on the 10th of March 1810, the
Archduchess Maria Louisa became the new empress of
the French.
Events of in what remains of the history of France we must con¬
fine ourselves to a mere abridgment of events which are
not of very great importance, this branch of the general
article having already exceeded its due proportion; but
what is omitted here will be found under the other heads
to which reference is made. The occurrences of 1810
and 1811 are chiefly important with reference to an ap¬
proaching struggle with Russia. On the 6th of January
1810 a treaty of peace between France and Sweden was
signed at Paris. On the 7th of February the convention
of marriage between the Emperor Napoleon and the Arch¬
duchess Maria Louisa, daughter of Francis L, emperor of
Austria, was concluded. On the 17th the Roman states
were, by a decree of the senate, incorporated with the
French empire. On the 19th April the provinces of Ca-
raccas, Cumana, Barinas, Margarita, Barcelona, Merida,
and Truxillo, in Spanish South America, formed a fede¬
rative government under the name of the American Con¬
federation of Venezuela, but without separating them¬
selves from the mother country, although this first step
necessarily led eventually to such a result. Early in
July, Napoleon, having made a declaration against the
government of Holland, which he accused of having con¬
verted the Dutch por*s into entrepots of English com-
nierce, recalled his brother Louis, and, by an imperial
decree, ordained the incorporation of Holland with France.
On the 21st of August, Bernadotte, prince of Ponte Cor-
vo, was named hereditary prince royal of Sweden, by the
states-general of the kingdom, convoked in an extraordi-
vol. x.
nary diet for the election of a successor to the throne, to History,
which, upon the abdication or rather expulsion of Gusta-
vus IV. the Duke of Sudermania had been raised by the 1811.
title of Charles XIII. Towards the latter end of Septem¬
ber Sicily was threatened with invasion by a force under
the orders of Murat, the new king of Naples; but the
threat ended in a mere demonstration, having for its al¬
leged object to draw English troops into the island. On
the 13th of December a hundred and sixty thousand men
of the conscription of 1811 were placed at the disposal of
the government. The relations of France with Russia
had, in the opinion of Napoleon, rendered this measure
necessary. On the 29th of December the state renoun¬
ced the successions of the emigrants which had devolved
to it during so many years ; and thus the revolutionary
laws of the 28th March 1793 and the 28th April 1795
were abrogated. Tor the events which occurred in Spain
during the years 1809, 1810, 1811, and the following years,
the reader is referred to the articles Buitain and Spain
Napoleon, when in St Helena, asserted that the origin Events o?
of his quarrel with Alexander, which led to the invasion 1811.
of Russia in 1812, was his opposition to the czar’s views
upon Turkey ; views, it maybe added, which the autocrat
of all the Russias had been led to entertain at Tilsitt;
and Bignon confirms the statement of Napoleon. “ From
the conferences of 1807,” says that historian, “ sprung the
germ that was to be fatal to Napoleon. To force England
to make peace conformably to the alliance of Tilsitt, Rus¬
sia was to act against Sweden, and France against Portu¬
gal ; or, to translate more freely the ideas of the two em¬
perors, Russia left to Napoleon full liberty of action over
the south of Europe, France abandoning to Alexander
similar liberty in the north with respect to Sweden, and
moreover allowing him a certain measure of tolerance on
the side of Turkey. In consequence of these reciprocal
concessions, France found herself engaged in the horrible
Spanish war ; Russia in one of which the dangers were in¬
significant, the acquisition being Finland. Napoleon then
imagined that Finland might content Alexander; but he
was deceived. For a moment Napoleon had admitted
the possibility of partitioning the Ottoman empire. This
contingency Alexander assumed as a certainty; and his
constant demands were on the subject of this partition.
But Napoleon constantly refused, and from a double mo¬
tive ; the first political, because the lot of France, mag¬
nificent as it appeared, was but a source of peril and em¬
barrassment, whilst that of Russia had proved all substan¬
tial and positive value; the second military, because he
looked on the Turkish empire as a morass which prevent¬
ed Russia attacking him on his right.” And hence, it is
said, arose the gradual coolness between the two empe¬
rors. But there were other sources of grievance. In the
campaign of Wagram, Napoleon had perceived the luke¬
warmness of Russia; whilst the aggrandisement of the
duchy of Warsaw, which might swell out into an inde¬
pendent kingdom of Poland, made Alexander tremble for
Lithuania. The occupation of the duchy of Oldenburg,
belonging to a prince nearly allied to the emperor of Rus¬
sia, formed another cause of complaint and recrimination.
On the other hand, Alexander, who had already relaxed
in his observance of the continental system, which had
destroyed the trade of his subjects, abrogated it in part
towards the close of 1810, and thereby snapt asunder the
last remaining tie between France and Russia.
The seeds of war being thus freely sown, preparations Prepara-
were made on both sides for the struggle which had now tions of
become inevitable. Those of Napoleon were immense.Napoleon.
From France he drew every soldier the utmost rigour of
the conscription laws would supply; Italy on the one side,
and Holland on the other, were required to contribute
their legions ; the contingents of the confederated states
u
154 FRA
History, of the Rhine were ordered to be in readiness; Austria
consented to furnish forty thousand men ; and Prussia,
1812. however willing to throw her remaining strength into the
scale of Russia, was forced by dire necessity to yield up
the remains of her army, her fortresses, and even her very
capital, to the French forces. All continental Europe in
arms seemed about to pour upon Russia; whilst Poland, ex¬
pecting her independence, was calling upon Lithuania, the
spoil of Catharine, to welcome the host of invaders. On
the other hand, by the mismanagement of Napoleon, Swe¬
den, though smarting under the loss of her fairest pro¬
vince, Finland, was thrown into the arms of Russia ; and,
through his neglect, British influence so far prevailed at
Constantinople, that the sultan was induced to abandon
the tempting opportunity, of which he might have taken
advantage, when Russia was hard pressed by a powerful
antagonist, and even to conclude a peace with the ancient
and inveterate foe of the Ottoman name. The fact is,
that about this time Napoleon began to be very ill served
in the civil and diplomatic branches of affairs. Talleyrand
and Fouche were both in disgrace, and he in vain endea¬
voured to supply their places with statesmen of his own
creation. Men of their approved talents and experience,
with clear heads, penetrating discernment, and cool sa¬
gacity, were not every-day productions. In diplomacy,
where the essential requisites are knowledge of mankind
and of courts, together with superiority of address, and
an almost intuitive insight into affairs, Napoleon felt and
lamented this deficiency; and he himself owned, that had
he retained Talleyrand in his service, the Russian (he
might have also added the Spanish) war would have been
avoided. In high views of policy, and conceptions worthy
the head of a great state, Napoleon was alike eminent;
he also foresaw the perils of an insurrection in the Penin¬
sula, should it become general, and the unseasonableness
as well as necessity, circumstanced as he was, of a war
with Russia; but want of tact in his subordinate agents
hurried on both these calamities. The rashness and pre¬
cipitation of Murat, whilst at Madrid, embroiled Spain;
and negotiations carried on through generals and aides-
de-camp marred all hopes of reconciliation with Russia.
Sensible of this, Napoleon made choice of the Count de
Narbonne, a noble and a liberal emigrant, to proceed on a
mission to Russia; and with the same feeling, probably,
he selected and sent to Warsaw the Abbe de Pradt,
archbishop of Malines. But men qualified for such high
and responsible diplomatic situations cannot be produced
even by an imperial improvisation ; and it would be difficult
to say which proved the more unsatisfactory envoy, the
archbishop or the aide-de-camp.
Declara- After two years of preparation, the rupture became im-
tion of minent. On the 24th of March 1812, a treaty of alliance
wan was concluded between Russia and Sweden, by which
Norway was promised to the latter, and the prince-royal,
Bernadotte, agreed to take the field with a Russian corps
under his orders ; and to this treaty Great Britain acceded
in the beginning of May. On the 24th of April the empe¬
ror of Russia left St Petersburg to join his army, then in
position upon the western frontier of Lithuania ; and on
the 9th of May Napoleon set out from Paris for Dresden,
which had been fixed upon as the rendezvous of his allies.
Professions of peace, as usual, preceded the commence¬
ment of hostilities; and at the same time that Napoleon
quitted Paris for Germany, the Count de Narbonne was sent
to the head-quarters of the Emperor Alexander. Mean¬
while, the court assembled at Dresden was such as Europe
had never before witnessed. The emperor of Austria and the
king of Prussia were amongst those who, on this occasion,
waited upon Napoleon ; whilst kings and princes of infe¬
rior rank crowded the antechambers, and jostled one ano¬
ther in the saloons of the conqueror. Here the represen-
N C E.
tative of the French Revolution found in attendance at History,
his levees those sovereigns who had combined to crush it;
and the new Charlemagne, whose title to the imperial 1812,
purple had been consecrated by victory, seemed in a fair
way of realizing his own prediction, that his family would
soon be the oldest of Europe. It appears as if fortune,
before abandoning him, had indulged her spoiled favourite
with this parting pageant. Napoleon awaited at Dresden
the return of the Count de Narbonne, who arrived on the
28th of May. The latter had seen the Emperor Alexan¬
der, and had found him inflexible, but neither elated nor
despondent. The czar considered the cause as that of
the independence of his nation, and conceived that in
maintaining it defeat would not be inglorious. On receiv¬
ing these tidings, Napoleon quitted Dresden, proceeded
to join the army, and, on the 22d of June, declared war
against Russia, from his head-quarters at Wilkowiski, near
Gumbinen, in Eastern Prussia. “ Soldiers,” said he, “ the
second war of Poland has commenced. The first termi¬
nated at Tilsitt. At Tilsitt Russia swore eternal alliance
with France, and eternal war against England. She has
now violated her oaths. Russia is hurried on by a fatali¬
ty ; her destiny must be accomplished. Does she sup¬
pose us degenerated? Let us advance, cross the Niemen,
and carry the war into her own territory. The second
war of Poland will be as glorious to the French arms as
the first.”
The army of Napoleon, at once the finest and most for- Forces of
midable which France had ever sent beyond her own ter-France and
ritory, amounted to nearly five hundred thousand comba-^uss!a re~
tants, with about twelve hundred pieces of artillery. Thiss*)ec lve^
army was divided into ten corps. The first corps, com¬
posed of five fine divisions of infantry and one of cavalry,
was under Marshal Davoust; the second was command¬
ed by Marshal Oudinot; the third was under the orders
of Marshal Ney ; the fourth, known under the name of
the army of Italy, was commanded by Eugene Beauhar-
nais; the fifth consisted of the Poles, under Prince Poni-
atowski; the sixth was composed of the Bavarians, under
General Gouvion-Saint-Cyr ; the Saxons formed the se¬
venth, under General Reynier; the eight consisted of the
Westphalians, effectively commanded by Junot, who had
been placed as the Mentor of Jerome Bonaparte, a young
man without talents and consideration; the ninth, not
yet completed, but with a division twenty thousand strong,
was allotted to Marshal Victor; and the tenth, composed
of the auxiliary contingent Prussians, with a reserve of
a division and some companies of artillery, was under the
orders of Marshal Macdonald. The old guard was com¬
manded by Marshal Lefebvre, and the young guard by
Marshal Mortier. The reserve of cavalry, under the or¬
ders of the king of Naples, Murat, formed four corps un¬
der Generals Nansouty, Montbrun, Grouchy, and Latour-
Maubourg. The cavalry of the guard acted apart, and
an Austrian corps under Schwartzenberg marched sepa¬
rately. The grand total did not therefore fall short of
four hundred and fifty thousand combatants, of whom
twenty thousand were Italians, eighty thousand belonged
to the confederation of the Rhine, thirty thousand were
Poles, thirty thousand Austrians, and twenty thousand
Prussians; so that the French alone formed an effective
force of about two hundred and seventy thousand bay¬
onets or sabres. On the other hand, the Russian troops
were divided into the first and second armies of the West,
under Generals Barclay de Tolly and Bagration, and the
army of reserve under Tormasof; making altogether, in¬
cluding different detached corps of irregular cavalry, about
three hundred and sixty thousand combatants. But two
other corps were formed ; one in Lithuania, from Mozyr
to Bobenisk on the Berezina; and the other at Riga and
at Dwinaburg; whilst reserves were established on the
FRA
History. Willia, and between Wilna and Swentziany ; and a vast
intrenched camp was formed before Drissa, in a sinuosity
1812. 0f ^0 Dwina.
Invasion of On the 24th of June the French army crossed the Nie-
Itussia. men, and on the 25th the emperor of Russia issued a pro¬
clamation announcing the commencement of hostilities,
invoking the name of God, the protector of the Greek
faith, in whom dwells truth, and calling upon his serfs to
defend liberty -and their country. In crossing the Nie-
men, the French met with no opposition ; a solitary officer
of Cossacks being the only enemy who appeared to chal¬
lenge them. The plan of the Russians was to retreat with¬
in their own territory, to avoid a decisive battle, to draw
on the French as far as possible from their resources, and
at last to fall on them when famine, fatigue, and the
rigours of a northern climate, had abated their enthusiasm
and exhausted their strength ; a plan devised by Barclay
de Tolly, the commander-in-chief, and executed with an
ability and determination which eventually proved the sal¬
vation of the Russian empire. On the 28th of June the
French troops made their entry into Wilna, the ancient ca¬
pital of Lithuania. The Russians fell back at all points.
After having exchanged some cannon shots, they repassed
the Willia, burned the wooden bridge at Wilna, and set fire
to the immense magazines of provision, clothing, arms, and
munitions of war, which had been collected at that place.
On the same day the diet which had assembled at Warsaw
proclaimed the re-establishment of the kingdom of Poland.
This generous nation ardently desired and invoked the re¬
composition of its dismembered provinces ; it implored the
assistance of France ; and, for twenty years, its warriors
had shed their blood for the interests of that country in
Italy, in Germany, in Spain, wherever, in short, their ser¬
vices were needed or required. Since the peace of Til-
sitt, which had consummated the humiliation of Prussia,
the policy of France required the reconstitution of the
monarchy of Sigismond and Sobieski; and powerful con¬
siderations should have determined Napoleon to sanction
a measure which, independently altogether of its political
justice, would have raised up a formidable barrier between
Russia and Germany, attached to his interests a brave
and generous nation, strengthened his hands in the actual
contest with Russia, and, in the event of reverses, rallied
a whole people to cover his retreat. But, either from
an apprehension of exciting the jealousy of Austria, who
would no doubt have readily accepted an indemnity for
Gallicia on the side of Italy, or, which is more probable,
from a desire to keep the door open for an accommoda¬
tion with Russia, Napoleon evaded the recognition which
was so earnestly solicited of him by a deputation from the
diet, and thus lost an opportunity of strengthening his
power which could never be recalled.1
Advance of When Napoleon advanced upon Wilna with the main
the French, body of the army, Macdonald with a strong corps moved
along the Baltic, and formed the left; whilst the Aus¬
trians, under Schwartzenberg, entered Volhynia, and pro¬
tected the right flank of the French. Immediately before
Napoleon, the Russians, as already stated, composed two
armies; the principal of which, under General Barclay de
Tolly, had retired from Wilna, to Drissa on the Dwina,
N c E. J55
where an intrenched camp defended the road leading to St History.
Petersburg ; whilst the other, under Prince Bagration, re-
mained at Grodno, and was consequently separated, by the 1812*
advance of the French, from the main army under Barclay.
This was a great, and might have proved a fatal blunder.
But, happily for the Russians, Napoleon, who saw the full
extent of the error, and did every thing in his power to take
advantage of it, was, on the present occasion, ill served
by his lieutenants. Some were tardy, others inapt; Ju-
not was incapacitated for command by the effects of for¬
mer wounds; Davoust was paralysed by the obstinacy
and stupidity of King Jerome ; jealousies and misunder¬
standings prevailed among others. Precious time was thus
lost; Bagration made good his retreat; and Barclay, warned
by the peril which he had just escaped, took good care
to afford the enemy no second opportunity of beating him
in detail. From Wilna Napoleon advanced to Witepsk,
which he entered on the 28th of July, being still in hopes
of preventing the junction of the two Russian armies,
which, by a masterly movement, he had disunited. Lithu¬
ania was now conquered, and the end of the war seemed
already attained ; but in the estimation of Napoleon,
whom ordinary advantages did not satisfy, it had scarcely
commenced. His eye was fixed upon Moscow, and, calcu¬
lating on the faults of the Russians, he was eager to strike
a blow commensurate in magnitude with the enterprise in
which he had embarked. In vain, therefore, did Berthier,
Lobau, Caulaincourt, Duroc, and Daru, demonstrate the
necessity of stopping at Witepsk, more especially as hence¬
forward the favourable dispositions of the inhabitants
could not be reckoned on. Murat and Davoust gave op¬
posite counsel, and Napoleon resolved to advance.
Whilst Napoleon remained at Witepsk, where he spent Smolensk,
the first two weeks of August, the Russian armies had
united at Smolensk, a large town situated on the Dnieper,
surrounued with ancient and massive constructions, to
which had recently been added works fortified with ex¬
treme care, and forming the bulwark of Russia upon the
frontier of Poland. In this strong position Barclay re¬
solved to make a stand. It had formed part of the plan
of Napoleon to get to Smolensk before the enemy, inter¬
cept their retreat, and thus force them to accept battle at
a disadvantage ; but, owing to innumerable faults of exe¬
cution, and the unaccountable though perhaps necessary
delay at Witepsk, this project had failed. It now only
remained, therefore, to carry the place by main force ;
and for this purpose the French, with Napoleon himself
at their head, advanced to the attack, which was made at
all points and with unimaginable fury. The Russians, pro¬
tected by the ramparts, held out during the day; but on
the approach of night they abandoned all their positions,
after having set fire to the town, which contained immense
magazines. They retired in solid squares, with such ad¬
mirable steadiness and order, that the utmost efforts of
Murat, at the head of his fine cavalry, proved unavailing
against the stability of their formation ; in fact, each
square seemed a blazing ball of fire. The Russians lost
about twelve thousand men in killed, wounded, and pri¬
soners; the French somewhat less than half that number.
But the system of defence adopted by the Russians had
1 The deputation, which appeared at the head-quarters of Napoleon at Wilna, said to him, “ the general diet has constituted it¬
self into a confederation of Poland. Say, sire, that the kingdom of Poland exists, and this decree will to the world be equivalent to
the reality.” But, persisting in the idea of not sacrificing Austrian Gallicia, in order not to be under the necessity of giving up Illy¬
ria, which the cabinet of Vienna anxiously desired to recover, Napoleon replied, “ Poles, I would have thought like you in the as¬
sembly of Warsaw ; the love of one’s country is the first duty of civilized man. In my situation 1 have many interests to conciliate,
many duties to fulfil. If I had reigned during the first, the second, and the third dismemberment of Poland, I would have armed my
people to defend that country. I love your nation. I authorize the efforts which you desire to make. It is only in the unanimity
of the population that you can hope for success. I ought to add, that I have guaranteed to the emperor of Austria the integrity of
his dominions.” This language was not misunderstood. But if the hopes of the Poles were blasted, their disappointment was speedily
avenged.
156 FRA
History, deprived the French of nearly all the advantages which
they might otherwise have derived from their victory ;
1812. ant] w]iere they expected to meet with good quarters and
the sight of human habitations, they found only a heap of
smoking ruins. Still, even amidst these ruins Napoleon
might have halted, brought up provisions and reinforce¬
ments, reorganized his army, and waited to complete the
subjugation of Russia in another campaign. This was
what almost all his generals counselled, including even
Murat; and the results of the campaign completely vin¬
dicated the prudence of this advice. But to stop short in
the month of August within eighty leagues of Moscow,
the term of his enterprise, and without having achieved
any thing calculated to maintain the illusion in favour of
his invincible and overwhelming power, was too much for
Napoleon. The principles of his strategy were fully de¬
veloped in this campaign. He was not insensible to the
difficulties and even dangers attending an advance, or of
the advantages which would result from placing his army
in cantonments at Smolensk, and there preparing for an¬
other and decisive campaign ; with him every thing, even
audacity itself, was matter of calculation ; but, having es¬
timated all the chances, he concluded that as the Russians
would certainly risk a battle to save the ancient capital
of their empire, he would gain the battle, penetrate to
Moscow, and thus conclude the war in Russia as he had
twice before done in Germany. For these, and other rea¬
sons which appeared to him equally cogent, Napoleon de¬
termined to advance.
Further Nor was he wrong in two main points of his calculation.
advance. Although the Fabian tactics of Barclay had unquestion¬
ably saved the Russian army, and with it the empire, all
voices, amongst which that of Prince Bagration was loud¬
est, clamoured for battle ; and, in obedience to this cry, the
able tactician was superseded by the old Muscovite gene¬
ral Kutusof, the same who lost the battle of Austerlitz.
Before quitting the command, however, Barclay signalized
himself by a brilliant feat of arms. Resolving to leave no
trophies to the enemy, he made a stand at Valoutina, to
preserve some baggage and cannon ; and as Junot, who
should have taken the Russians in flank, hesitated at the
critical moment, he succeeded in repulsing Ney with con¬
siderable loss. It was not thus that Napoleon had been
served in Italy and Germany ; but, mindful of former
times, and unwilling to disgrace his earliest protege in the
face of the army, he still continued Junot in the command
of his division. The vanguard, commanded by Murat and
Davoust, was continually in contact with the enemy; but
as the overboiling and impetuous valour of the former as¬
sorted ill with the stern methodical genius of Davoust,
who blamed his colleague severely for sacrificing the ca¬
valry in encounters which led to no result, these officers
were at open variance, and their quarrel contributed in no
slight degree to increase the difficulties and embarrassments
of Napoleon. The accession of Kutusof to the command
of the Russian army, in the room of Barclay, was equiva¬
lent to an announcement of a determination to fight. This
was known to the French, who, accordingly, on the 6th
of September, came in sight of the Russian army posted
upon a series of eminences extending southward from the
village of Borodino, on the Moskwa; the position selectr
ed by Kutusof whereon to fight a battle in defence of the
capital, which he had solemnly promised to cover, and at
the same time to annihilate the French army. This posi¬
tion was covered by redoubts and intrenchments, announ¬
ced in the official reports as inexpugnable ; and the Rus¬
sians were animated by the predictions of their priests,
and by the sight of a miraculous image of the Virgin,
which was carried through their ranks. Kutusof also pro-
phecied victory. “ God,” said he, “ is about to combat
the enemy with the sword of St Michael, and before the
N C E.
sun of to-morrow shall have descended below the hori- History,
zon, you will have written your faith and your fidelity, in
the fields of your country, with the blood of the aggressor 1812*
and his legions.” On reaching the ground, Napoleon drove
the Russians from an advanced redoubt, established his
line opposite to theirs, and made the necessary prepara¬
tions for the conflict of the morrow. But he refused to
manoeuvre on the enemy’s flank, or make any movement
to intercept them, lest such an operation should induce
them to withdraw, and thus put off the long-wished-for
battle.
The sun of the 7th September rose in peaceful splendour Battle of
on the mighty hosts arrayed for conflict, and was hailed by Borodino.,
the French as the sun of Austerlitz, an omen of victory.
Before daybreak Napoleon was on horseback, and with the
first light of day the following address was read at the head
of each regiment in the French army. “ Soldiers, here is
the battle you have so much desired. Victory must now'
depend upon you. It will secure you abundance, good
quarters, and a speedy return to your native country.
Conduct yourselves as at Austerlitz, at Friedland, and at
Smolensk. Let people say of each of you with pride, ‘ He
was at the great battle fought on the plains of Moscow.’ ”
The corps present were, besides the old and new guard,
those of Marshals Davoust and Ney, of the viceroy of Italy,
Eugene Beauharnais, and of Prince Poniatowski; and the
four large corps of cavalry, commanded respectively by Ge¬
nerals Nansouty, Montbrun, Grouchy, and Latour-Mau-
bourg, were all under the superior direction of the king of
Naples. In the Russian army, Barclay de Tolly, disposses¬
sed of his functions as general-in-chief, commanded the
right, Beningsen held the centre, and Bagration commanded
the left. Redoubts strongly armed, and numerous batte¬
ries, covered the front and the wings. The respective nu¬
merical force of the hostile armies has not been satisfac¬
torily ascertained. It appears, however, that the French
army exceeded one hundred and thirty thousand combatants
of all arms, and that the Russians were even more nume¬
rous. The latter had also the advantage of position, and
were animated both by religious and patriotic feelings ;
but they were about to contend with soldiers equally intel¬
ligent and brave, led on by consummate generals, and all
under the direction of the greatest master in the art of war
whom modern times had produced. At six in the morn¬
ing the fire of a French battery gave the signal of battle ;
and General Compans, belonging to the corps of Marshal
Davoust, commenced the attack. The intention of Napo¬
leon was to carry the first batteries on the Russian left, and
then to take in flank and reverse a great redoubt in the cen¬
tre. Hence, although the action commenced along the whole
line, the weight of the attack was directed against the bat¬
teries just mentioned. But, as might have been anticipat¬
ed, the assailants were met by a gallant and determined re¬
sistance. Compans, who commanded the leading division,
was wounded; Rapp, who succeeded him, was also wound¬
ed ; and Davoust himself received a hurt from the fall of
his horse, which was killed under him. For a moment the
attack faltered ; but victory came from a quarter where it
was least expected. Instead of holding back, according to
his orders, the viceroy of Italy, perceiving the relaxation
in the attack, pushed forward to the village of Borodino,
which he carried in the most gallant manner ; and improv¬
ing his advantage, he dashed across the river to attack the
great redoubt. The corps of Davoust now redoubled its
efforts, drove Bagration from his batteries, and before mid¬
day, after more than four hours close combat maintained
with extraordinary tenacity, three redoubts had been car¬
ried by Prince Eugene and Marshals Davoust and Ney,
whose corps formed the right wing, and were prolonged to¬
wards the centre. The road to victory being thus opened,
it was necessary to follow it up; but Murat, Ney, and Da-
FRA
History, voust, exhausted by their exertions, stopped, rallied their
troops, and sent to Napoleon to demand reinforcements.
1812. Segur, who describes this celebrated battle in a pompous
and alfected style, gives long details respecting the alleged
hesitation and uncertainty of Napoleon, as well as the or¬
ders and counter orders which he is said to have issued to
his generals. It is certain, however, that he retained the
young guard in a state of inaction, not thinking it neces¬
sary to order it-to advance, notwithstanding the urgent so¬
licitations of Murat to that elfect. To those who pressed
him to accede to the instances of the king of Naples, he
replied, that he wished to see better how matters stood;
that his battle was not yet commenced; that it was neces¬
sary to wait; that time entered into every thing; that it
was the element of which all things were composed; that
nothing had as yet been sufficiently cleared up. Then he
asked the hour, and being told it, added, “ That of the bat¬
tle has not yet come. In two hours hence it will commence.”
The event proved that Napoleon judged more wisely than
his impetuous lieutenant. To have ordered up his guard
and brought forward his reserves whilst the state of the bat¬
tle remained uncertain, would have been to risk all upon
one throw of the die. Accordingly, in the afternoon, a se¬
cond, or, as Baron Fain calls it, a third battle commenced ;
all the Russian batteries were successively attacked and
taken; the most formidable of their redoubts, that in the
centre, was carried by a charge of cuirassiers; and the Rus¬
sians, defeated at all points, were forced to abandon the field.
The result of this day was such as might have been ex¬
pected from an army like that commanded by Napoleon.
Notwithstanding the boasting of the Russian generals, their
army, with all its advantages of position, had been totally
defeated; and the shades of night, which descended too
late for the vanquished, but too soon for the victors, in
this bloody field, concealed the retrograde movements of
Kutusof, who now took the direction of Moscow.
Occupa- At the same time this battle was, without contradiction,
bun?” of one of the most obstinate and bloody recorded in military
Moscow. anna^s* The loss of the Russians exceeded thirty thousand
men killed, wounded, or prisoners ; that of the French was
considerably above twenty thousand. On the side of the
Russians, Prince Bagration fell in the battle, and fifty gene¬
ral officers were either killed or wounded; on that of the
French, two generals of division and six generals of bri¬
gade were killed, whilst Compans, Nansouty, Grouchy,
Latour-Maubourg, Rapp, Morand, Friand, and La Hous-
saye, were more or less severely wounded. But although
the victory remained with Napoleon, his prospects were still
sufficiently gloomy; and in the bivouacs of the army dis¬
couragement prevailed. Seven or eight hundred prisoners,
and about a score of broken cannon, were all the trophies
he had won. Subsistence also began to fail, and to the tor¬
ments of hunger were joined the rigours of a cold and rainy
night. But with the return of day the natural vivacity of
the French revived; preparations were made for pursuing
the enemy, who had been suffered to retire unmolested from
the field of battle ; and on the 14th the inhabitants of Mos¬
cow, whom Kutusof had taught to believe that he had just
gained a great victory, beheld the Russian columns in full
retreat, and the French advancing to occupy their city. But
the governor, Rostopschin, had taken measures for rendering
the possession of Moscow useless to the French. When the
latter entered, on the 14th of September, the ancient capital
of Russia remained in all its original splendour ; and Napo¬
leon took up his abode in the Kremlin, anciently the resi¬
dence of the czars. But a new and unlooked-for enemy
suddenly appeared. On the very day of occupation fires ap¬
peared in different quarters of the city; but, in the bustle
and confusion incident to the arrival of a great army, they
were neglected. On the 15th and 16th vigorous measures
were taken to arrest the progress of the flames, which,
however, were incessantly renewed; on the 17th the
N C E. 157
conflagration, fanned by a high wind, spread rapidly; on History,
the I8th the city presented the sublime and appalling spec-
tacle of a vast ocean of flame; and by the evening of the 1812.
20th nine tenths of Moscow had been reduced to ashes.
I he Russians, with their habitual duplicity, endeavoured
to cast on the French the odium of an act unexampled in
history, and one too which the latter had every imaginable
interest, it possible, to prevent; but there no longer re¬
mains a vestige of doubt that the burning of Moscow was
the result of a premeditated plan, and that it was effected
by incendiaries, employed for the purpose by the Russian
authorities, acting, no doubt, under the sanction of the
Emperor Alexander himself. Of this the proof is abun¬
dant and conclusive. Inflammable materials, deposited in
a great number of deserted houses, were fired at the same
instant; to all the public establishments, nay even to the
hospitals, the torch of the incendiary was likewise appli¬
ed ; the flames broke out in many different places at once ;
and, independently of all testimony to the fact, every cir¬
cumstance connected with the conflagration showed de¬
sign and premeditation. On the other hand, it must be
equally evident that no officer in the empire, however ele¬
vated in rank, would, without positive orders, have taken
on himself the responsibility of such an act; that, in short,
the terrible resolution to destroy the ancient capital of
the empire must have formed part of the defensive policy
of the philanthropic autocrat of all the Russias, and that
Rostopschin was merely an executive instrument in car-
rying this resolution into effect. We may add, as illustra¬
tive of this desperate and unwarrantable sacrifice, that no
provision whatever had been made for sheltering the mi¬
serable population, who were driven to seek an asylum in
the neighbouring woods, and that more than twenty thou¬
sand sick and wounded perished in the flames.
The grand object of the mighty expedition against Russia Position
had been attained; the country had been overrun; a great and plans
battle had been fought and gained; and Moscow, or ra-Napo-
ther its ashes, had been occupied by the French. But yet^eon'
no messenger of peace came to the head-quarters of Na¬
poleon ; no sign of submission appeared ; no sinking of
confidence showed itself. The Russians were evidently
prepared to sacrifice all that is most esteemed or valued
by a nation; and when the campaign was considered as
terminated, peace had yet to be conquered. By the de¬
struction of Moscow, Napoleon had been deprived of the
fruits of the victory which he had so dearly purchased,
namely, winter quarters for his army, and a position where
he might at once collect means for further aggression, and
assume the language of a conqueror. His situation had be¬
come eminently critical. What course ought he to have
followed ? His instant conception was to march to St Pe¬
tersburg, cut off Wittgenstein, and then effect a junction
with Macdonald. The project was a magnificent one ; and
though it would have required gigantic efforts to carry it
into execution, success would, in all probability, have
crowned the daring enterprise. There was, in reality, no
time for hesitation. Prudence counselled immediate re¬
treat, which, however, had many disadvantages, particu-
larljr from the influence it would exert upon public opinion.
Genius suggested a bolder scheme, which, if successful,
would have ensured, not only safety, but victory; and, in
extreme peril, the excess of audacity often becomes a dic¬
tate of wisdom. But without the concurrence of the chiefs
such an enterprise was impossible; what Napoleon might
plan, they alone could execute. These men, however,
were no longer the devoted and enthusiastic soldiers of
the Republic. War had enriched them ; and from the en¬
joyment of riches they had become tired of campaigns.
Throughout the whole of the expedition they had been
churlish, discontented, and quarrelsome ; and hence, in¬
stead of seconding the bold proposition of the emperor,
they counselled retreat by a new and circuitous route to
158
FRANCE.
1812.
Retreat
History, the south. Napoleon could not persist in a project which
his officers refused to execute ; their plan was equally ob¬
noxious to him; and between these conflicting opinions pre¬
cious time was irrecoverably lost. This was the fatality
which ruined all. Instead of deciding either on immediate
retreat, or on following out the emperor’s splendid pro¬
ject, they loitered in a state of indecision at Moscow, as
if waiting to be devoured by a Russian winter. In these
circumstances, Napoleon had recourse to the only expe¬
dient left him ; he sent Lauriston with proposals of peace,
and vainly waited in the Kremlin, which the conflagration
had spared, an answer never to return. The course of events
had so far changed as to justify Alexander in declining to ne¬
gotiate with an enemy in the heart of his dominions. The
destruction of Moscow, and the inactivity of the French,
had rendered their retreat matter of absolute certainty;
whilst the re-establishment of peace with the Ottoman
Porte having enabled the army of the Danube to quit Mol¬
davia, and effect a junction at Lutsk in Volhynia with the
army of reserve under General Tormasof, a powerful force
was thus accumulated upon their only line of retreat. In
consequence of the treaty with Sweden, the troops employ¬
ed in Finland had also been withdrawn, and disembarked
at Riga to join the force destined to act against Macdo¬
nald. In a word, every day was improving the situation
of the Russians; every hour was adding to the embarrass¬
ments which beset the invaders. At length the affair of
Winkowo decided Napoleon. On the 18th October, Kutu-
sof, desirous to prevent the junction of Marshal Victor, who
had set out from Smolensk, attacked the king of Naples,
who covered Moscow with the advanced guard of the ar¬
my, and completely defeated him.
On the 19th of October, after an occupation of forty
from Mos- days, Napoleon evacuated Moscow with the main body of
his army, leaving Marshal Mortier, with the rear-guard, to
blow up the arsenal, the magazines, and the Kremlin. In
ordinary seasons the frost did not set in until after the
middle of November, and hence a month of open weather
might still be reckoned on. Sufficient time, therefore, re¬
mained to enable the French army to arrive at Smolensk,
and there establish itself in winter-quarters; further re¬
treat was not contemplated. But instead of choosing the
direct road, Napoleon now adopted the plan originally pro¬
posed by his officers, and retired by the southern or old Ka-
louga road. Flis reasons were, that a retrograde movement
along this route had not the appearance of retreat; that it
led through provinces which had been wasted neither by
the Russian system of defence nor by the actual presence
of war; and that this circuit would afford time to the rear¬
guard to evacuate Moscow. He therefore manoeuvred, in
the hope of concealing his design from Kutusof, and then
suddenly advanced in order to anticipate the enemy, and
occupy the important town of Kalouga. But the Russians
somehow received information of his intention, and reach¬
ed Malojaroslawitz, thirty leagues south of Moscow and
fourteen north of Kalouga, in time to oppose the march of
the French. A sanguinary engagement now ensued (20th
October) between the advanced guard, seventeen thou¬
sand strong, under Prince Eugene Beauharnais, and the
Russians, about four times that number, under Kutusof;
but the success of the French was decided and confirmed
by the arrival of Generals Gerard and Compans, belonging
to the corps of Marshal Davoust. The Russian general, in
his official report of the battle, admits that,he was repuls¬
ed, but states that the town was taken and retaken eight
times. I he action, which lasted from five o’clock in the
morning until ten at night, cost the Russians from eight
to ten thousand, and the French more than five thousand
men Ilots de combat. This unexpected rencontre, and the
violent efforts made by the enemy, convinced Napoleon
that his enemies were far from being enfeebled or discou¬
raged ; he therefore abandoned his project of retiring on History.
Smolensk by the old Kalouga road, and fell back on the
direct route leading through a ravaged and deserted coun- 1812-
try. It is not a little singular that Kutusof, afraid of a re¬
newed attack, had also at nearly the same moment issued
orders for a retreat. At Wiasma, fifty-six leagues west of
Moscow, the French rear-guard, on the 3d of November,
repulsed the enemy after an obstinate and bloody action,
supported by Prince Eugene, Marshals Davoust and Ney,
and General Compans. The French ranks were thinned
to the extent of four thousand killed and wounded, and,
in continuing their retreat, they were obliged to abandon
several broken cannon, and nearly all their baggage. On
the 7th of November the French army, which had been
fifteen days in full retreat, and continually harassed on its
flanks by parties of Russians, reached Smolensk.
The cold had already set in with excessive severity. Retreat
The fluid in the thermometer of Reaumur, which during^01" Smo-
the first days of November had stood at eight or ten de- ensk‘
grees below zero, now descended to eighteen ; sombre
vapours obscured the sun ; and violent tempests of wind
drifted the snow which, covering the soil, filled up all the
inequalities of its surface, and thus added new dangers to
the horrors of this dreadful winter. The horses, perish¬
ing by thousands in the bivouacs, were no longer sufficient
to drag the artillery. Nor was the condition of the troops
in any respect less disastrous. After the affair of Malo¬
jaroslawitz, the strength of the men utterly failed. Their
privations, painful at Moscow, became every day more
cruel. Destitute of biscuit, and provisions of every kind,
the army had traversed about a hundred leagues of country
entirely ruined, in which it had never fought except by
the light of conflagrations ; the horrors of devastation ex¬
tended six leagues on either side ; and it was incessantly
assailed by clouds of Cossacks. Its disasters augmented
at each step, and in frightful progression; and all were
attributable to its head, who, by an inconceivable blind¬
ness, had foreseen nothing, calculated nothing, employed
none of the most ordinary precautions which a general is
bound to take for the support of his troops, and whose im¬
providence devoted them to still more deplorable calami¬
ties. The magazines nearest Moscow were at Smolensk;
but these afforded only a momentary relief, and all trans¬
port had become impossible. Nor was this all. Wittgen¬
stein, reinforced by new levies, had defeated Saint-Cyr on
the Dwina, and taken Witepsk, thus cutting off the retreat
to Wilna; whilst Tschitchagof, commanding the army of
the Danube, had orders to advance from the south, seize
upon Minsk, and thus bar the only other practicable road
to the westward. To remain at Smolensk was therefore
out of the question. The least retardation of the retreat
would inevitably have led to a general battle, which the
army was not in a condition to risk, owing to the impos¬
sibility of connecting the centre with the wings. The
excessive cold which set in on the 6th had disabled and
destroyed a great number of men and horses. The army
could neither procure information nor defend itself; its
only resource, therefore, consisted in marching without
intermission in order to reach Minsk (the great depot of
munitions and provisions), or at least the Berezina, before
the enemy, who, being master of the country, was now ad¬
vancing in the opposite direction, and extending his corps
on the flanks. Yet in these frightful circumstances, when
the French were simultaneously assailed by famine, dis¬
ease, winter, and hostile armies, Napoleon tarried seven
days at Smolensk, which was only evacuated on the 14th
November. Nevertheless he took one good measure, in
rallying under a single officer the wrecks of the cavalry.
Of thirty-seven thousand horsemen present at the passage
of the Niemen, there now remained little more than eight
hundred mounted, the command of whom was given to La-
FRA
History. tour-Maubourg. The old and young guard had no more
than ten thousand bayonets, with two thousand horses
1812. mounted ; Davoust had under his orders nine thousand
men, Ney five thousand, Prince Eugene five hundred, Po-
niatowski from eight to nine hundred, Junot seven hun¬
dred, Latour-Mauhourg (including the remains of the ca¬
valry) fifteen hundred, with about a thousand light horse,
and five hundred dismounted dragoons; in all thirty-six
thousand men, the miserable remnant of about four hun¬
dred thousand combatants, French, Poles, Italians, and
Germans, who had crossed the Niemen at Kowno.
Affair at With the retreat from Smolensk commenced a new se-
Krasnoi. ries of disasters. On the 16th November, Minsk, with all
its magazines, having been uncovered by Schwartzenberg,
who suddenly retired behind the Bug, fell into the hands
of General Lambert, commanding the advanced guard of
the army from Moldavia; and the only refuge of the French
was thus cut off. Upon the same day Kutusof attempted
at Krasnoi, ten leagues west of Smolensk, to intersect the
French columns on the great road leading from Smolensk
to the Berezina. He advanced with seventy thousand in¬
fantry and thirty thousand cavalry; the French mustered
only twenty-five thousand effective combatants, who had
lost many of their cannon, and three-fourths of their horses.
But Prince Eugene and Marshal Davoust stood their
ground with admirable firmness; whilst General Roguet,
commanding a division of the young guard, charged the
Russians with such fury that he drove them back at the
point of the bayonet into their camp, which he entered
pell-mell along with them, scarcely allowing them time to
throw their arms into a neighbouring lake, and set fire to
their huts. This shock suspended the movement of the
Russian army for twenty-four hours. On the 19th, Mar¬
shal Ney, left in command of the extreme rear-guard, with
six thousand combatants, found himself attacked by enor¬
mous masses of the enemy, which intercepted his march.
Finding himself unable to break through, he retired before
them, surprised the passage of the Dnieper, forced his way
amidst clouds of Cossacks, and rejoined the main body of
the army, from which he had been two days separated.
On the 21st the Russian generals Lambert and Langeron
took possession of Borisow on the Berezina, and by the
occupation of this point cut off the body of the French
army, which was still five or six marches to the eastward.
But on the 23d Marshal Oudinot, who, since the aban¬
donment of the positions upon the Dwina, immediately
preceded the army in retreat, retook this important post,
and maintained it in spite of every effort that could be
made to dislodge him.
Passage of At Borisow, which had thus been regained by Otidinot,
the Passage of the Berezina, the principal difficulty in the
march of the French towards the Niemen, could alone be
effected. But their situation was perilous, not to say des¬
perate. The line of the Dwina had been forced ; Schwart¬
zenberg, whose defection was no longer disguised, had re¬
tired behind the Bug; no difficulty of position arrested the
enemy in his decisive operations; the whole country was in
his hands, whilst the French had only the narrow line upon
which they retreated. The former lived in abundance, the
latter suffered almost every privation. The teams of the
Russian artillery were in good condition ; the horses of
the French were dying of cold and hunger, or, from being
unfrosted, could not support themselves on a soil entirely
congealed. In a word, the remains of the French army
seemed about to find a grave in the marshes of the Bere¬
zina, the ice of which had suddenly thawed, as if to swal¬
low them up. Kutusof pursued them with a fury aug¬
mented by each humiliation inflicted on his unskilful pur¬
suit. Pressed on their right flank by Wittgenstein, and
on their left by Tschitchagof, who also took them in re¬
verse ; with an artillery and a cavalry greatly reduced ; ex-
N C E. 159
tenuated by hunger and fatigue, as well as benumbed by History,
cold ; they held out only in the hope of at length reach-
ing the term of so much evil and suffering. A last effort of 1812.
their courage was therefore their last resource. The dif¬
ferent corps of tile French army which assembled at Borisow
from the 26th to the 28th of November still presented a
mass of about eighty thousand men, with a tolerably nume¬
rous artillery. They were not yet disorganized. The sol-
dery, at least that part which came from Moscow, though
exhausted by the fatigues of forty days’ march over a devas¬
tated country, assailed by swarms of Cossacks, overwhelm¬
ed with privations, and suffering half-naked the excessive
rigours of the climate, recovered their ardour at the sight
of the enemy, who now awaited them in the presumption of
victory. The corps coming from Moscow also saw them¬
selves supported by those of Marshals Victor and Oudi¬
not, and by the Polish division, which had suffered but
little from want of provisions and the rigour of the cold.
But it was necessary, first of all, to overthrow sixteen
thousand Russians advantageously posted in the debouche
of Borisow, on the right bank, and belonging to the army
of Tschitchagof, before the junction of Wittgenstein, who
closely followed the rear-guard of Victor upon the left
bank above Borisow ; and also before Kutusof, who march¬
ed with the main body of the Russians upon the left flank
of the French head-quarters, had time to recover three
marches which had been gained on him. Two bridges
were accordingly thrown at Weselowo, a village four
leagues and a half above Borisow, whilst dispositions were
made which seemed to indicate that the passage was to
be effected by the bridge of Borisow. The rapid con¬
struction of these two bridges, in such terrible circum¬
stances, presents a marvellous instance of what may be
effected by the union of bravery and science. At Wese¬
lowo, the Berezina, at this time covered with ice, is two
hundred and fifty toises broad, and the opposite side ex¬
tends into marshes, which are traversed by a long and
narrow jetty; but, on the other hand, the Weselowo bank
is elevated; and hence the difficulty of throwing bridges
across such a river would, under any circumstances, have
been very great.
On the 28th the intrepid Oudinot, who commanded the
rear-guard, having been wounded in repulsing Tschitcha¬
gof, whose forces were grouped on the right bank, Marshal
Ney assumed the command in the midst of the action, and,
at the head of the second, third, and fifth corps, compelled
Tschitchagof to renounce the combat. On this occasion,
so important for the general safety, Ney, already sur-
named the bravest of the brave, displayed a courage which
astonished even the most valiant soldiers ; and all acknow¬
ledged that their safety was due to his invincible tenacity,
as well as to the extreme promptitude of his dispositions.
Upon the same day, Marshal Victor, who had been left
with the rear-guard on the left bank, supported with great
firmness the attack of the army of Wittgenstein, and
maintained a prolonged resistance, notwithstanding the
extreme disproportion of numbers ; for, after the capture
of the division of Parthouneaux, which on the preceding
day had been surrounded and taken, the French had only
twelve thousand men, whilst the Russians had upwards
of forty thousand. The ninth corps was then obliged to
repass the bridges, which were immediately blown up;
the artillery, the baggage, and a great number of unfor¬
tunates, almost all non-combatants, who had not been able
to pass, being abandoned on the other bank. The plain
before Weselowo, which is one of considerable extent,
presented in the evening a spectacle the horrors of which
exceed all description. It was covered with carriages, the
greater part overturned and broken, and thickly strewed
with the dead bodies of non-military individuals, amongst
which were those of many women and children, who hav-
FRANCE
]G0
History, ing followed the army to Moscow, had also accompanied it
in its retreat, and now met with death in different ways.
1 ' The fate of these unfortunate creatures, in the midst of the
melee of the two armies, was either to be crushed under the
wheels of the carriages or the feet of the horses*, struck
by the balls and bullets of both parties ; drowned in at¬
tempting to pass the bridges with the troops; or stripped
by the Russian soldiers, and thrown naked on the snow,
where the cold soon terminated their sufferings. Besides,
the Russians made nearly twenty thousand prisoners, took
a hundred and fifty pieces of cannon, being all the artil¬
lery that remained except a few pieces, and captured the
baggage, amongst which were found the riches and the
trophies carried away from Moscow.
Retreat From the Berezina the country is a wooded plateau,
continued, converted by the waters into a vast marsh, which the army
now traversed on three consecutive bridges three hun¬
dred toises in length, astonished that the enemy had not
destroyed them, constructed as they were of resinous
pines. By accelerated marches the troops reached Ma-
lodetchno on the 3d of December, and on the 5th ar¬
rived at Smorgoni, twelve leagues west of Willika, where
Napoleon conferred on the king of Naples the command
of the remains of the army, and set out furtively for Peris,
accompanied by Caulaincourt, duke of Vicenza. His ap¬
parition at Warsaw is related in lively terms by the Abbe
de Pradt. In this capital his conversation was a sort of
lengthened discourse, in which he represented his reverses
as still capable of being repaired ; but by often repeating
the maxim, “ From the sublime to the ridiculous there is
only a step,” he showed how deeply sensible he was of the
magnitude of his fall. On the 18th of December Napoleon
arrived in Paris, where, for many reasons, his presence
had become indispensably necessary.
Immediately after his departure from the army the disor ¬
der became general; the flight of the chief proved the sig¬
nal for dispersion; and the greater part of the corps, which
had hitherto maintained an appearance of organization, now
altogether disbanded themselves. Meanwhile, as t’ne cold
continued about twenty-five degrees below the zero of
Reaumur’s thermometer, a great number of soldiers had
their hands and feet frost-bitten ; and the horses of the
artillery having perished in their harness, the pieces were
abandoned. Sixty thousand men had crossed the Berezina,
and twenty thousand recruits had since joined ; but of
these eighty thousand men, nearly the half perished in the
four days between Malodetchno and Wilna. The immense
magazines collected at Wilna were abandoned for want of
means of transport, and the deplorable situation to which
the cold had reduced the army prevented it from there tak¬
ing up a position. The retreat was therefore continued on
the 16th, Marshal Ney as usual being the last to retire ;
indeed, his conduct throughout, in the command of the
rear-guard, where he continually exposed himself to pro¬
tect the life and cover the retreat of the last soldier in a
condition to march, displayed an heroic fortitude and ge¬
nerous self-devotion, which, considering all the circum¬
stances, has no parallel either in ancient or modern times.
We shall not, however, prolong these painful details, but
content ourselves with simply observing, what indeed
must be sufficiently obvious, that the disasters sustained
by the trench in this retreat were mainly caused by the
climate, not by the Russians, who have nevertheless taken
credit for results in producing which their talents and
bravery had no share. The elements did almost every¬
thing; and, as is vulgarly said, even in Russia, “ It was
not General Kutusof who killed or dispersed the French;
it was General Morosow (Frost).”
Aspect of aspect which affairs presented to Napoleon on his
affairs. return to Paris was not altogether discouraging. Welling¬
ton, victorious at Salamanca, had failed before Burgos, and
Madrid remained in the hands of the French. The army, History,
which he had left at Smorgoni, might rally on the Niemen,
and, supplied from the unexhausted resources of East Prus- 1813.
sia, check the advance of its pursuers. At home a daring
conspiracy, which had nearly succeeded when the emperor
was believed to have perished in Russia, fell to the ground
of itself as soon as the falsehood of the report was discover¬
ed. The senate, the court, and the capital, though dis¬
mayed by the reverses sustained in the Russian campaign,
still appeared loyal and obsequious. The conscription of
1813 had been called out; the powerful artillery of the
marine was placed at his disposal; and he calculated on
speedily taking the field at the head of a formidable army,
sufficient at least to check the advance of the Russians.
But this was only a momentary and delusive brightening;
a faint gleam of sunshine in winter, which was quickly ab¬
sorbed in the dark clouds that suddenly collected in all
parts of the political horizon. Tidings of evil came crowd¬
ing in thick and fast. Macdonald having been deserted
in presence of the enemy by the Prussian auxiliary corps
under Yorck, which constituted his principal force, had
with great difficulty, and after a most painful retreat, reach¬
ed Dantzic, where his troops were left with the governor
General Rapp. To think of maintaining the line of the
Niemen was therefore out of the question; and even the
position upon the Vistula, occupied by the corps composing
the grand army, or rather the wrecks of these, confusedly
distributed, was menaced by the defection of the Prus¬
sians, and also by the conduct, so perfidiously equivocal,
of the Austrians under Schwartzenberg, who, having re¬
treated as soon as he received intelligence that the French
army had reached the Berezina, had re-entered Gallicia,
where his doubtful attitude excited the distrust and ap¬
prehensions of the French. Murat, commanding in chief,
was little capable of remedying so great disasters, or of
warding off so imminent dangers; his military merit con¬
sisted in a chivalrous bravery worthy the ages of romance ;
in the talents and moral tenacity of purpose requisite in
situations of extreme difficulty he was entirely deficient.
Poland was evacuated, and Germany destined to become
the theatre of war. Abandoning the line of the Vistula, as
they had previously done that of the Niemen, the French
now fell back as far as the Warta and the Oder. Instant¬
ly the tocsin of insurrection resounded from the Oder to
the Rhine, and from the Baltic to the Julian Alps; and
the whole tribe of secondary sovereigns, awakened from
their lethargy by the patriotism of their subjects, and dis¬
possessed of the royal delirium generated by their own
cupidity and the poisoned gifts of Napoleon, now crowd¬
ed to join its standards, and to have each a bite at the
sick lion. By a proclamation dated from Warsaw, 10th
February 1813, the Emperor Alexander invited the Ger¬
mans, particularly the members of the confederation of
the Rhine, to throw off the yoke of France ; and, by ano¬
ther dated the 22d February, he called upon the people of
Germany to rise en masse against Napoleon. In the un¬
calculating enthusiasm of the hour, when despotism had
the art or the good fortune to rally on its side the feel¬
ings of nationality and patriotism, the call was obeyed,
and the defection became universal. Austria, indeed, still
preserved an equivocal and suspicious neutrality, waiting
merely until events had more fully declared themselves.
But Prussia, taking a more decided part, signalized her
defection by the flight of Frederick-William from Potts-
dam to meet the Emperor Alexander at Breslau, and still
more by concluding at Kalisch (on the 1st of March) a
treaty of alliance with Russia, the initial act of a sixth
continental coalition against France. The line of the
Oder having thus become indefensible, was abandoned by
the french for that of the Elbe, where, by great exertions,
they still hoped to maintain themselves against all their
FRANCE.
161
History, enemies. Amongst these must now be included Berna-
dotte, who, by a treaty concluded with England at Stock¬
holm, on the 3d of March, engaged to raise his banner
against the country of his birth, and to take the field
against his former chief with a corps of national troops at
least thirty thousand strong.
Prepara- The efforts of Napoleon were commensurate to the cri-
Napoleon S*8 !1a<^ arrive(h A decree of the senate, dated the
P ' 3d of April, placed at the disposal of the government a
hundred and eighty thousand combatants, viz. ten thousand
horse-guards of honour, equipped and mounted at their
own expense; eighty thousand men, called from the first
ban of the national guards of the years 1807, 1808, 1809,
1810, 1811, and 1812, and destined to reinforce the hun¬
dred cohorts levied in execution of the decree of the se¬
nate of 13th March 1812 ; and eighty thousand conscripts
of 1814, exclusive of the hundred and fifty thousand grant¬
ed to government by the decree of the 11th of January,
and destined for the defence of the frontiers and the coasts.
An imperial decree of the 5th April also instituted thirty-
seven urban cohorts for the particular defence of maritime
places. Decrees, however, though they called forth men,
could not create soldiers, who are only formed by disci¬
pline and experience.
Campaign On the 15th of April Napoleon left the capital to join
many1" army *n Germany, and on the 28th removed his head-
* quarters from Erfurth to Ekhartsberg. His army, more
formidable from the mass than the quality of troops com¬
posing it, exhibited an incomplete organization. On the
29th the two French armies formed a junction between
Naumburg and Merseburg; that under Napoleon amount¬
ing to a hundred and twenty thousand men, including the
imperial guard; whilst Prince Eugene Beauharnais had
under his orders about forty thousand combatants. It was
on the banks of the Saale, where the French eagles had
triumphed in 1806, that the veterans of Moscow gave their
hands to the young conscripts who had been sent to defend
their country in Germany; and on the very day when the
junction was effected, Napoleon assumed the offensive.
At Weissenfels, five leagues south-west of Leipsic, some
Prussian corps were attacked by the divisions of Souham,
Gerard, and Marchand, under the orders of Marshal Ney,
supported by the emperor in person. Twelve pieces of
the guard were placed in line, and, under the orders of
General Drouot, opened a close fire of grape, which soon
thinned the ranks of the enemy, and forced them to re¬
tire ; thus rendering unnecessary the reinforcements de¬
tached from the army of Prince Eugene as soon as the
noise of the cannonade was heard. To prevent Napoleon
following up this advantage, and occupying Leipsic, the
allies advanced, on the 1st of May, with the intention of
giving him battle, and on the 2d the hostile armies met
at Gross-Goerschen, near Lutzen, the scene of the last
victory and of the death of Gustavus Adolphus.
Battle of Napoleon did not wait to be attacked in the position
Lutzen. which he occupied, but advanced from Lutzen to Gross-
Goerschen, where the conflict actually took place. The
general dispositions made at the commencement of the
action were bad; but their defects were speedily repair¬
ed by the promptitude, intrepidity, and experience of
Prince Eugene, Marshals Ney, Mortier, Macdonald, Mar-
mont, and Generals Compans, Ricard, Souham, Drouot,
and Latour-Maubourg. In checking the impetuosity of
the Prussians, and, as it were, compelling fortune to de¬
clare in his favour, Napoleon performed prodigies. His
unexpected appearance on the field of battle produced an
effect equally rapid and extraordinary upon the troops.
In an instant the enthusiasm of glory animated the fea¬
tures of the young conscripts, who had been somewhat
astonished by their first interview with the enemy; the
action recommenced with the greatest fury ; and for more
VOL. x.
than four hours the troops on both sides fought under the History,
eyes of their respective sovereigns. Marshal Macdonald -v-'w'
and General Bertrand now arrived with their corps, which, 1813
having formed a junction, entered into line. Perceiving
that the crisis of the battle had arrived, Napoleon advan¬
ced sixteen battalions of the young guard, ranged in a se¬
cond line six battalions of the old guard, and established
a battery of eighty pieces of cannon. The infantry imme¬
diately attacked ; the artillery thundered on the formi¬
dable position of Kaya, on which depended the fortune of
the day; and victory, which had long hovered with doubt¬
ful pinions over this field of carnage, at length settled on
the standards of her ancient favourite. The battle of
Lutzen was gained principally by artillery, in which arm
the French had a great superiority ; but success was dear¬
ly purchased, the victors having, by their own account,
lost in killed and wounded about ten thousand men. Nor
was the victory productive of any brilliant or important
results. The want of cavalry prevented Napoleon from
pursuing the enemy while in disorder, and the fruits of
success were therefore confined to the possession of that
part of Saxony which is situated on the left of the Elbe.
Still the battle of Lutzen deserves to be considered as one
of the greatest achievements of Napoleon. With a mass
of raw and scarcely half-disciplined conscripts, the greater
part of them mere boys, aided by a few thousand expe¬
rienced troops, he had defeated the whole Prussian army,
assisted by a corps of Russians, and protected by a nume¬
rous and greatly superior cavalry.
Instead of confining his views to Leipsic, Napoleon now Battle of
occupied Dresden, and prepared to pursue the allies across Bautzen,
the Elbe. Having thrown a bridge across that river, he
accordingly marched to attack the Austrians and Prussians
at Bautzen, where they were drawn up in a position of great
strength, upon the range of hills forming the natural boun¬
dary of Silesia. Napoleon forced the passage of the Spree
in their front, and occupied Bautzen. The whole of the
20th May was spent in manoeuvres and partial combats, the
object of which was to enable him to get within reach of
the enemy. On the 21st the battle was fought. It com¬
menced by simultaneous attacks directed against both flanks
of the enemy ; but, owing to the great development of their
line, which extended along many leagues, and was intersect¬
ed by hills, Napoleon found it alike impossible to watch these
movements, or, until assured of their success, to order the
troops under his own immediate command to advance.
He therefore held back the centre, in the midst of which
he remained during the cannonade, and being overcome
by fatigue, fell fast asleep. At length, upon hearing fresh
sounds of artillery in the distance, his attendants awoke
him. By the direction of the sound he knew that his
wings were victorious, and instantly ordered forward his
centre, supported by the imperial guard. This attack
proved decisive of the fate of the battle. The allies were
beaten, and obliged to abandon their line of defence, which
covered Silesia, and to retire into Bohemia. But, as at
Lutzen, they retreated without precipitation or disorder,
leaving neither cannon nor prisoners in the hands of the
conquerors. This negative advantage they owed partly to
their superiority in cavalry, and partly also to their posi¬
tion. At Bautzen the Prussians fought well, the Russians
indifferently. With the former the quarrel had long be¬
come national; the latter were far from their homes, and
careless whether they advanced or retreated. The victory
of Bautzen uncovered Silesia, and opened to the French a
passage to the Oder. Glogau was relieved, Breslau occu¬
pied, and Berlin itself menaced. The Russian and Prus¬
sian armies were obviously unable to cope with the young
soldiers of France; and hence, in retiring into Bohemia,
the allies renewed their instances with Austria, to induce
her to join the coalition. Accordingly, on the day after
x
162
History.
1813^
Subse¬
quent ope
rations.
FRANCE.
Negotia¬
tions ;
Austrian
perfidy.
the battle of Bautzen, a message reached the French head¬
quarters, proposing an armistice. We shall immediately
see how Napoleon was first deceived, and then insulted, by
a power on whose neutrality he had too hastily calculated.
At Goerlitz, in Lusatia, the French were severely han-
■dled, and lost several cannon. This affair took place on
the 22d of May. The enemy, however, continued their
retreat towards the Oder, followed by Napoleon, who had
astonished Europe by the spontaneous creation of a new
army, and whose late success had re-established his renown.
On the 30th Hamburg was retaken by Marshal Davoust
and General Yandamme, who thus recovered the territory
situated on the right bank of the Lower Elbe, which had
been annexed to the French empire by a decree of the
senate dated the 13th December 1810. On the 4th of
June an armistice was concluded at Plesswitz in Silesia,
between Napoleon and his enemies. The French were
only to occupy a small part, and that the least fertile, of
Silesia; their line was not to extend to the Oder, except
in a space extremely confined; and Breslau was to remain
free between the two armies ; so that the French were, in
some sort, pressed into a country devastated, burned, ex¬
hausted, and menaced with famine. In subscribing condi¬
tions so extremely disadvantageous, Napoleon was no doubt
influenced by the hope of seducing his enemies, or disunit¬
ing their formidable coalition, and also by the desire to
gain time in order to repair his losses by means of very con¬
siderable reinforcements which he expected from France,
and by means of which he would be enabled to actwith larger
masses. Victory had again returned to his standards, and
he confided in the power of his genius for repairing every
disaster, and obtaining new triumphs. The enemy were
also guided by the same desire of augmenting their forces,
without wishing, however, that the armistice should be fol¬
lowed by a peace. They reckoned on a general rising in
Germany ; on the defection of the confederation of the
Rhine; on popular movements in Holland, Switzerland,
the Tyrol, Italy, Dalmatia ; on the progress of Wellington
in the south of France, since the departure for Germany
of part of the troops who had been opposed to him. They
also calculated upon disturbances in France ; and, above
all, they hoped to see Austria, already under arms, take an
active part in this war, which, even from the geographical
position of the theatre of operations, could scarcely fail, if
she took part in the contest, to become fatal to the French.
Napoleon, therefore, could not disguise from himself
that the politics of all the continental powers seemed on
the eve of experiencing great alterations ; but still he en¬
deavoured to persuade himself of the contrary. On the
14th of June a treaty was concluded at Reichenbach,
twelve leagues from Breslau, by which England agreed
to grant Prussia a subsidy of L.666,666 sterling, to enable
her to continue the war; and, by the same treaty, a subsi¬
dy of L.1,333,334 sterling was also granted to Russia for
the same purpose. Austria now offered her mediation,
which, by a convention signed at Dresden upon the 30th
June, was accepted by Napoleon. The professed object of
this mediation was the accomplishment of a general peace,
or, if that could not be effected, a continental pacification.
With this view a congress was to be opened at Prague
on the 5th of July; and, in the mean time, the armistice
of Plesswitz was prolonged until the 10th of August. In
signing this preliminary act, Metternich commenced that
course of duplicity for which he has since become so de¬
servedly famous in Europe, and Austria remained faithful
to her oblique system of policy, even more so indeed than
to that of temporising, which she has at all times followed.
At this moment her only aim was to profit by all the chan¬
ces ; in transporting, or rather hawking, her alliance from
camp to camp, she had but one view, namely, to be always
<on the side which should obtain the division of the spoil.
As Russia desired Poland, and Prussia Saxony, so Aus- History,
tria had her eye continually fixed on Italy. Her media-
tion, therefore, was neither more nor less than a manoeuvre 1813.
to gain time and enable her to watch events. The peace
was altogether a pretext of the allied cabinets, to mask
their real views. The opening of the congress of Prague
on the 12th of July, to which day it had been postponed,
clearly indicated the objects which were aimed at. In
the absence of one of the two French envoys, the minis¬
ters of Austria, Prussia, and Russia, commenced the con¬
ferences, and promptly decided that Germany should re¬
main independent; they, however, consented to leave Na¬
poleon in possession of the French empire, with the boun¬
daries of the Rhine and the Alps. This was not negotia¬
tion, but dictation ; not an attempt to conciliate or adjust
interests, but to give the law. Italy was disposed of by
an implication, in the absence of the principal French ne¬
gotiator ; the confederation of the Rhine was annihilat¬
ed ; and Napoleon, though victorious, was called upon to
accept of terms which would have been sufficiently harsh
and humiliating after defeat. But this was merely in¬
sulting. Perfidy followed. The armistice expired upon
the 10th of August; and it was not until the 7th of that
month that the Austrian minister at Prague brought for¬
ward the conditions definitively fixed by his court as ne¬
cessary to the pacification of the Continent. He demand¬
ed, first, the dissolution of the duchy of Warsaw, and its
partition between Russia, Austria, and Prussia ; second¬
ly, the re-establishment of the towns of Hamburg, Lubeck,
&c. in their independence ; thirdly, the re-construction
of Prussia, with a frontier on the Elbe ; fourthly, the ces¬
sion to Austria of all the Illyrian provinces, including
Trieste; fifthly, a guarantee that the state of the powers,
great and small, such as it might be fixed by the peace,
should not be altered except by common consent. The
question of the independence of Holland and Spain was
at the same time brought forward ; but the plenipotenti¬
aries of the allied powers seemed inclined to consent that
it should be adjourned until a general peace. The answer
of Napoleon, containing certain proposed modifications,
was promptly returned, and, by incredible expedition, it
reached Prague in the night between the 10th and 11th;
but the confederate powers, impatient to appeal to arms,
broke up the congress on the very hour when the armis¬
tice expired on the 10th, and absolutely refused to re¬
ceive or consider the answer which had been returned.
On the 12th of August Austria declared war against
France, and notified officially her adhesion to the alliance
of Russia and Prussia.
The allies had derived great advantages from the ar-Resump-
mistice. By maintaining themselves in Silesia, they had tion of hos-
secured time for the arrival of the Swedish army under Ubties.
Bernadotte, and the Russian corps under Sacken, as well
as for the organization of the Prussian troops, and the for¬
mation of the army of Beningsen in Poland. The armis¬
tice had covered Berlin ; it had also been of great use to
Austria, in enabling her to complete her armaments, as
well as to render more active her negotiations with the
states of the confederation ; whilst Napoleon derived from
it no real advantage except that of fortifying his line of
operations on the Elbe, which it was his object to main¬
tain. Placed d cheval on that river, with the head of his
army at Dresden, and the rear at Hamburg, he supported
himself on all the fortified points which secure the posses¬
sion of that large and beautiful valley, namely, Konigstein,
Dresden, Torgan, Wittenberg, Magdeburg, and Hamburg,
with its dependencies on the Elbe, and Merseburg, Er-
furth, and Wurtzburg, which connect the Rhine with the
Elbe. But he lost upon the Oder the garrisons of Kustrin,
Stettin, and Glogau, and upon the Vistula those of Modlin,
Thorn, and Dantzick; garrisons which absorbed more than
FRANCE.
1813.
Prelimi¬
nary ope
rations.
History, sixty thousand men. The grand French army, divided in-
fourteen corps, in which the Italian, German, and Polish
auxiliaries were incorporated, was inferior to that of the
allies with which it was now about to contend, in the pro-
portion of two to five. These corps were generally weak¬
er than during the preceding campaigns, and, united, they
did not exceed two hundred and eighty thousand effective
combatants, of whom the half were recruits who had never
been in fire. The allies, on the other hand, had under
arms five hundred and twenty thousand men, of whom
about four hundred and fifty thousand were on the princi¬
pal theatre of operations, viz. Austria, a hundred and twen¬
ty thousand men, including the forces sent to Italy, and
the reserves; Russia, a hundred and thirty thousand ;
Prussia, a hundred and eighty thousand, exclusive of the
landsturm or levy en masse; and Sweden, thirty thousand,
including the Mecklenburg and Hanseatic troops ; making
the total as above mentioned. The French army was
therefore inferior to that of the allies by two hundred and
twenty thousand men ; yet, notwithstanding this inferiori¬
ty of force, Napoleon resolved to maintain his position at
Dresden, and to try the fortune of arms upon the Elbe.
On the 11th the Austrians effected a junction with the
Prussians, in the hope of anticipating Napoleon ; but, as we
shall immediately see, they were themselves anticipated.
Having divined the plan of the allies, which was to di-
• rect their forces from three points upon Dresden (viz. from
Berlin on the north, Silesia on the east, and Prague on
the south), and there concentrate them to make a com¬
bined attack on that position, Napoleon calculated that be¬
fore their grand army, debouching from Bohemia, could
arrive under the fire of the redoubts constructed around
Dresden, he would have time to execute a combined ope¬
ration by simultaneously attacking Berlin on the north, and
projecting his army of Silesia towards Breslau on the east.
M ith this design, he first executed a military march in
Lusatia on the 16th of August; on the 18th he advanced
as far as Gbrlitz, near the frontier of Silesia, threatening to
throw himself upon Blucher, who commanded a powerful
army; then, abruptly changing his direction, he turned
towards Bohemia, in order to ascertain if it might still be
possible to prevent the junction of the forces in Silesia with
the Austiians. But, although Napoleon was still ignorant
of the fact, neither of them had waited till the 16th to com¬
mence the development of their hostile manoeuvres. He
however marched with the second and eighth corps under
Victor and Poniatowski, supported by the first and fourth
corps of cavalry under Lefebvre-Desnouettes and Keller-
man. Debouching from the environs of Zittau, these
troops passed the frontier, advanced by the defiles, and oc-
cuped Reichemberg on the Neisse, and Friedland on the
Wilhch. But having received information that the enemy,
apprised of his departure from Dresden, were pouring their
masses in that direction, Napoleon, calculating that they
would require eight days to assemble under the walls of
that place, countermarched, and, like an arrow shot from a
bow, flew to attack Blucher, and drive him beyond the Bo-
bei. On the 21st of August he crossed the Bober, on the
22d he repulsed the enemy on the bank opposite to Katz-
bach, and again defeated them on the 24th. Three days
had sufficed to inflict two defeats on the enemy, and to re¬
establish his eagles in advance in Silesia. But as it was
now time to return to Saxony, into which the great mass
of the allied army had, on the 20th, descended from the
mountains of Bohemia, he faced about, and leaving seven¬
ty-five thousand men under Macdonald to keep Blucher
in check, he arrived at Dresden on the 26th. But the ef-
cct produced by this bold and brilliant operation was in
a great measure lost by the failure of Oudinot, who was
charged with the execution of one of the three great parts
of the campaign, namely, the attack upon Berlin. Brave
163
1813.
in the advanced guard, Oudinot was deficient in the strate- History,
gic ability necessary for conducting great operations. In-
stead of advancing promptly, he hesitated, lost precious
time, and allowed the enemy to penetrate his design, and
also deprive him of the lead. He was beaten at Gross-
Beeien ; Berlin was saved ; and the combined armies had
now the facility of advancing into the heart of Germany,
and operating their junction in the plains of Leipsic.
Wherever Napoleon appeared personally, his ascen-Ascen¬
dency was instantly manifest. But his lieutenants had dency of
neither his genius nor his foresight, and were as infe-^P0100*1’3
rior to him in activity and energy as in talent and capa-^enius;
oif-rr i)m ^ . reverses.
city. Near the Bober, a tributary of the Oder, and the
Queiss, a tributary of the Bober, Marshal Macdonald,
in full retreat from Silesia after his defeat on the Katz-
bach (26th of August), was again, from the 27th to the
29th, discomfited in a series of actions at the passage
of these two rivers, which the rains had swollen and con¬
verted into rapid torrents. By the results of this iso¬
lated and accessory campaign of a few days, the French
aimy lost fifteen thousand men, and a hundred pieces of
cannon. The defeat and surrender of Vandamme follow¬
ed. Wishing to drive the allied army which had fled
from Dresden into the defiles of Bohemia, Napoleon sent
eastward, by circuitous roads, the first, sixth, and four¬
teenth corps, with a numerous cavalry, to threaten their
flank, and force them back into the mountains. Vandamme
commanded the column on the left, Saint-Cyr and Mar-
mont that of the centre, whilst the king of Naples, with
the cavalry, formed the right. On the evening of the
28th the imperial head-quarters had scarcely been esta¬
blished at Pirna, when Napoleon was suddenly seized
with violent shivering, followed by vomiting. The per¬
sons around him were seriously alarmed, but he himself felt
more disquieted by the consequences which might result
from an accident so unexpected, than even by his illness,
which was the effect of exposure to cold and rain during
the late battle. Profuse perspiration, induced during the
night, afforded him immediate relief, and in the morning
he found himself almost entirely recovered; but, unable
from weakness to continue with the troops, he returned to
Dresden. This accident detained the guard at Pirna ;
whilst the two corps forming the columns of the centre,
having experienced great difficulties in ascending the
mountains and penetrating the defiles, made little progress
during three days. But Vandamme having on the 28th dis¬
lodged an enemy’s corps from the position of Peterswalde,
descended next day as far as Kulm, and advanced into
that deep valley, in the hope of seizing Toplitz, the ren¬
dezvous of all the enemy’s columns scattered in the moun¬
tains. His advanced guard had approached within half a
league of Toplitz, and he only waited for his reserves to
force (he last obstacles, when all of a sudden the enemy,
ceasing to give way before him, stood firm, and made the
most determined resistance. The enterprise being thus
checked, Vandamme, instead of persisting, ought to have
renounced it, and, profiting by the night, regained the po¬
sition of Peterswalde. He did the contrary ; and the ene¬
my being powerfully reinforced, he was soon attacked both
in front and flank, by at least sixty thousand Austrians
and Russians. For several hours, however, he resisted
all their efforts, retrograded without being broken, eva¬
cuated Kulm, and prepared to ascend to Peterswalde ;
but Kleist and his Prussians having escaped from Saint-
Cyr, and found the position evacuated, had just occupied it.
In vain did the French, by the most gallant efforts, endea¬
vour to break through the enemy, which now cut off their
retreat; in vain did the cavalry, clearing their way with
their swords to the very crest of the escarpment, seize
the whole artillery of Kleist; the cannon were promptly
abandoned, and. overwhelmed by hosts of enemies before
164 FRA
History, and behind, the greater part were either taken or dis-
V—-n—w' persed in the mountains. Vandamme, severely wounded,
1813. was made prisoner, dragged in triumph to Prague, and
subjected to every species of insult, in retaliation of cer¬
tain acts alleged to have been committed by him in the
countries conquered by the French. Nor did the mis¬
fortunes of Napoleon’s lieutenants stop here. On the 6th
of September, Ney, who had been sent against Berlin,
with his own corps and those of Oudinot, Ileynier, and
Bertrand, was defeated at Dennewitz by Bernadotte, and
lost two thirds of his artillery, his ammunition, his bag¬
gage, and more than twelve thousand men. This disaster
was occasioned by the misconduct of two Saxon divisions,
whose fidelity had already been shaken.
Position Although the victory of Dresden had disconcerted the
and views first plan of offensive operations adopted by the allies, it
of Napo- no longer exercised any influence on the campaign. The
leon’ anterior defeat of Oudinot at Gross-Beeren on the 23d of
August, that of Vandamme at Kulm on the 30th, and the
grave checks"received by Macdonald on the Katzbach and
the Bober from the 26th to the 29th, enabled the allies
to pour three hundred thousand men into Saxony. The
route of Ney rendered the position of the French army
still more critical, inasmuch as the right wing of the ene¬
my, arriving on the Elbe, was in a situation to intersect
its communications with Leipsic and Franconia. Imme¬
diately after the battle of the 27th, Napoleon had marched
with the old and young guard, and other reinforcements,
to succour Macdonald ; but the news of this disaster re¬
called him to Dresden. From this central position, which
certainly had many advantages, he hoped to direct his
operations in such a manner as to repair all the faults
committed by his lieutenants ; he confided in the power
of his own genius, and never perhaps was its ascendency
more conspicuously displayed. Every thing, in fact, gave
way before him. Blucher, who had defeated Macdonald,
durst not commit himself against Napoleon ; Wittgen¬
stein, who had made an irruption into Saxony, was driven
back into Bohemia ; and similar attempts repeated by
each of those generals met with the same fate. In fact, the
operations around Dresden resembled what Homer re¬
counts of the siege of Troy. When Achilles rushed forth,
the enemy were instantly routed and put to flight; when
he retired, they took courage, and failed not to gain some
advantage. The plan of Napoleon was magnificent, and
though bold even to temerity, he had fully estimated all
the chances. So far from entertaining any apprehension
of being cut off from France, he waited at Dresden until the
allies had so far committed themselves as to be no longer
able to avoid a general and decisive battle. His delight
was to be surrounded by enemies, with his army, which
he knew so well how to direct, compact and in hand. But
his generals shrunk from such daring warfare. Brave and
skilful as lieutenants, they had none of that boldness and
grasp of mind which distinguished their illustrious chief.
But the expected crisis was now approaching. On the
7th of October Napoleon quitted Dresden, leaving in that
place Saint-Cyr with about thirty thousand men under
liis orders. After having manoeuvred on the banks of the
Mulde, so as to intercept the communications of the ar¬
mies of the north and of Silesia, he attacked them on the
11th, 12th, and 13th, and forced them to retreat. It is
even said that he proposed allowing the allies to place
themselves in the interval between the Elbe and the Saale,
and, covering himself by the fortified places on the Elbe,
of which he was master from Dresden to Hamburg, to
establish the war between that river and the Oder. On
the 14th the imperial head-quarters were still at Duben
on the Mulde, when Napoleon received intelligence of
the defection of Bavaria, and of the treaty of Ried con¬
cluded on the 8th ; but on the 15th they were removed
N C E.
to Leipsic, where Napoleon arrived early in the day, History,
hoping that he would only have to do with Schwartzen-
berg. In this, however, he miscalculated. 1813*
On the 16th of October the allies approached ; Berna- Battle of
dotte and Blucher from the north, and Schwartzenberg Leipsic.
from the south. Napoleon opposed himself to Schwartzen¬
berg, and during the entire day kept him in check upon the
verge of the hills which border the plain of Leipsic. Ney
was less fortunate on the north, where the Prussians under
Blucher fought desperately, and at length obliged him to
retire with loss behind the Partha. But on the western
side of Leipsic Bertrand drove back General Giulay, and
thus cleared the road towards France. During the 17th the
allies, notwithstanding their superiority in numbers, hung
back, awaiting the arrival of Beningsen’s army; the day
was accordingly spent in partial combats, and in prepara¬
tions on both sides for the inevitable conflict of the mor¬
row. On the 18th the battle commenced to the north,
east, and south of Leipsic, in the vast plain extending be¬
yond Lutzen and Weissenfels, villages celebrated as the
scenes of mighty deeds in arms. Leipsic is surrounded
with suburbs, excepting in the part towards the west,
contiguous to hollows, and facing a plain watered by the
Pleiss and the Elster, which are divided into canals, and
several times intermingle before their definitive junction.
Haifa million of men, crowded together on a surface of
three square leagues, now engaged with extreme fury in the
work of mutual destruction. The disproportion of num¬
bers, however, was enormous. Those of the confederate ar¬
mies were as follow : Army of Bohemia, Schwartzenberg,
140,000 men ; army of the north, Bernadotte, 65,000;
army of Silesia, Blucher, 85,000 ; army of Poland, Bening-
sen, 40,000; total 330,000 men. The French army was
composed of the second corps, Victor; the third, Ney;
the fourth, Bertrand ; the fifth, Lauriston ; the sixth,
Marmont; the seventh, Reynier ; the eighth, Poniatowski;
and the eleventh, Macdonald ; together with the imperial
guard and the cavalry. Its numbers were as follow: In¬
fantry of the line, 130,000; imperial guard, 30,000; ca¬
valry, 15,000 ; total 175,000. In numbers, therefore, the
allied army exceeded that under Napoleon by no less
than a hundred and fifty-five thousand men ; and this
unprecedented advantage was still further increased by
the bad condition of the French squadrons, which pre¬
cluded the possibility of committing them against even
equal numbers of the enemy’s cavalry. Napoleon was there¬
fore obliged to rely principally on his artillery; but,pressed
on all sides by overwhelming masses, he in vain exhausted
his ammunition ; the artillery of the enemy was as formi¬
dable as his, and latterly better served. Still the French
soldiers fought with astonishing courage, and, notwith¬
standing every effort, maintained their ground. Ponia¬
towski and his gallant Poles kept Schwartzenberg in
check. Macdonald was opposed to the Prussians, and,
when hard pressed, Napoleon at the head of the guard
marched to his assistance, and drove back the enemy, lo
the north of this attack, Bernadotte, with the army of the
north, advanced against Reynier, whose corps consisted
chiefly of Saxon and Wurtemberg troops. Eager to en¬
counter the Prussians and Swedes, Reynier ordered these
troops to move forward. They obeyed, but it was only
to desert and join the enemy. Seven battalions of Saxon
infantry, two regiments of Saxon cavalry, and several Wur-
temberg regiments, making in all twenty-six battalions
and ten squadrons, together with three Saxon batteries
of twenty-six guns, passed over to the enemy, and ranging
themselves under the colours of Bernadotte, instantly
attacked their brothers in arms; in fact, before arriving
at any distance, the three batteries were turned against
the division of Durutte, forming part of the seventh corps,
and swept away entire files by a raking fire. Neverthe-
FRA
History, less, the emperor, undismayed by tins disaster, caused
his reserves instantly to advance, and succeeded in check-
1813. jng tile enemy, who were now pouring down upon Leipsic.
But the army could not long maintain its positions without
exposing itself to total ruin. It had neither been broken
nor defeated ; yet, after its enormous losses, it was evident
that want of time alone had prevented the enemy from ob¬
taining complete success. Napoleon was sensible of this;
and, on the approach of night, he issued orders for retreat.
j Next day, the 19th, Leipsic was taken. The emperor
of Russia, the king of Prussia, and Bernadotte, entered by
three different gates, and the king of Saxony was made
prisoner. Encumbered with the dead and the dying, with
fugitives and equipages, this city presented a horrible scene
of route and carnage; but the spectacle exhibited by the
approaches to the suburb of Lutzen was most appaling ; it
was a sort of gulf into which the French precipitated them¬
selves, as into a haven of safety. Nevertheless, the com¬
bat and the fusillade continued for two hours, during which
sixty pieces of cannon horsed, and twelve thousand brave
men, were saved : the enemy, master of Leipsic, feared to
push to extremity warriors who might set it on fire, and
still more to oppose column to column in a confined space.
The retreat of the French could only be operated in brav¬
ing the greatest difficulties. Their route lay through a
defile of more than two thousand toises, between marshes,
and along five or six bridges ; nevertheless the retreat
was being executed without very great disorder, when some
Russian tirailleurs, gliding along the Elster, arrived near
the principal bridge on that river, which had been mined
in the night. No sooner were they perceived than the
bridge was blown up by the chief of the post of sappers
stationed there, who, disregarding the safety of the empe¬
ror and of all those on the western bank, fired the train.
This accident, occasioned by the absence of the colonel of
engineers, to whom the charge of the post had been com¬
mitted, having cut off the retreat of all those who were
still in the boulevards and suburbs, the bravest, those old
soldiers who had escaped the casualties of twenty cam¬
paigns, only thought of selling their lives as dearly as pos¬
sible, and perished under the ruins of the houses, which
they defended to the last extremity; whilst the greater
number believing resistance to be hopeless, fled towards the
Pleiss and the Elster. The first of these rivers presented
few obstacles ; but the other, whose bed is deep and mud¬
dy, and whose banks are marshy, swallowed up all those who
could not swim. In this number was Prince Poniatowski,
who had been created a marshal of France on the 16th,
and who on this same day had been wounded whilst per¬
forming prodigies of valour on the field of Liebertwolkwitz.
Having failed to clear his way through the ranks of the
enemies who surrounded and pressed on him, and believing
at this extreme moment, when the hands of the Russians
were extended to seize his person, that he might find a
way to safety through the waters of the Elster, he dashed
into the river, and was drowned. Marshal Macdonald,
more fortunate, succeeded in clearing the muddy stream.
The carnage finally ceased about two in the afternoon.
Two hundred pieces of cannon and nine hundred caissons
or waggons remained in the hands of the allies. The loss
of the French in these two days was immense, being esti¬
mated at upwards of sixty thousand men killed, taken, or
lost by desertion, exclusively of the wounded. The number
killed or mortally wounded on the field of battle did not
fall much short of thirty-seven thousand. But the allies
paid dear for their success, having lost in killed and wound¬
ed nearly eighty thousand men. This is explained by the
circumstance that, although their artillery was more nume¬
rous than that of the French, the latter played on columns
of greater depth and density, and was thus proportionally
more destructive. Napoleon arrived in the evening at
Marc-Rerstaedt, and there rallied the remains of his army.
NCR 165
Such was the terrible battle of Leipsic, the battle of na- History,
tions, as the Germans call it, in which the numbers of the
combatants arrayed in the field, and the extent of the car- 1813-
nage, exceeded any thing which Europe had witnessed ^emar^s-
since the use of artillery, and the results of which fixed for
a time the fate of the Continent. It is, however, difficult to
conceive how a great captain like Napoleon, who had fought
thirty pitched battles and gained them all, and who had at¬
tained the very summit of military glory, by availing himself
with rare ability of the great talents of a crowd of French
generals, should have concentrated his army in a position
so unfavourable, and accepted a decisive battle in the
eastern part of the plains of Leipsic, having in his rear the
city, the marshes, and the waters of the" Pleiss and the
Elster, divided into numerous canals, on which there are
but few bridges. The only explanation seems to be, that
it no longer depended upon him to choose the position of his
army ; for, if he had established himself beyond the Par-
tha, the Elster, the Pleiss, and the Luppa, he would have
extended his army in a level country, where the enemy’s
cavalry, in all respects superior to his, wmuld have inter¬
rupted and paralysed all his movements. He could not avoid
fighting on the 16th, in order to force back the Austrian
army from Leipsic, and pass the marshy defile which leads
from that city to Lindenau, on the road towards France.
But his determination to deliver battle on the 18th cannot
be so easily justified. Since the combats of the 16th pro¬
duced no decided results, how- could he flatter himself
with being more successful on the 18th, when the enemy,
more concentrated, were in a condition to bring into ac¬
tion a still greater amount of force ? Instead of engaging
anew, he should during the night have made dispositions
for retreat, which his army was still in a condition to effect,
if not without embarrassment, at least without disorder,
and without encountering any serious obstacles.
On the 23d of October the wrecks of the army defeated Battle of
at Leipsic on the 18th reached Erfurth, where were supplies Hanau-
of ammunitions, provisions, and clothing. All that remain¬
ed of the German troops had deserted since the battle of
Leipsic. On the 26th Wrede, commanding the Austro-
Bavarian army, took possession of Wurtzburg, and follow¬
ed the course of the Mayn. The same day, the troops of
Wurtemberg marched to join those of Bavaria, against the
French. On the 30th the Austro-Bavarian army, amount¬
ing to about sixty thousand men, was found posted at Ha-
nau, on the line which the French had followed from Er¬
furth, no doubt in the hope of arresting their progress, and
thus affording time to Blucher to attack them in the rear,
whilst the grand army of Bohemia turned their left flank,
and that under the orders of the prince royal of Sweden
(Bernadotte) extended itself beyond their right. Placed
under the necessity of breaking through this mass of fresh
troops, the French fell upon them with incredible fury,
and cleared a way by crushing all that opposed them.
General Curial at the head of two battalions of the old
guard, General Nansouty with the cavalry of the old guard,
and General Drouot with fifty pieces of artillery, carried all
before them, and not only saved the remains of a brave
army, but illustrated its retreat by a brilliant victory.
Wrede, who imagined that he had learned the art of war
by serving under the French colours, was wounded ; whilst
the loss of twelve thousand men in killed, wounded, and
prisoners, punished the temerity of the general and the in¬
gratitude of his country. Napoleon repassed the Rhine on
the 1st of November with the remains of the guard and
six corps d’armee, the numerical force of which had been
reduced nearly two thirds; and on the 9th he arrived at
the palace of Saint-Cloud.
The second overthrow of the French was necessarily pro-Results of
ductive of more decisive results than the first; Leipsicth? cam”
completed what the disastrous fate of the Russian expedi- palgn"
tion had only commenced. Germany regained its indepen-
166
History.
1813.
State of
affairs.
FRANCE.
dence, by which we mean that it disengaged itself from all
connection with France. The confederation of the Rhine
was dissolved. Hanover resumed its allegiance to Eng¬
land. Ferdinand VII. was released from Valen^ay, and
acknowledged as king of Spain. Holland, evacuated by
the French troops, recalled the stadtholder. Denmark
concluded an armistice with Russia, by which Napoleon
lost his only ally in the north ; and Davoust was isolated in
Hamburg, without the possibility of disengaging himself.
Naples and Sweden alone remained under men of the Re¬
volution, who both retained their regal stations by betray¬
ing at once the chief whom they had served, and the coun¬
try which gave them birth. The exterior frame-work of
Napoleon’s power had been shattered to pieces by the rude
shocks of adverse fortune ; and all the changes produced
on the Continent, whether directly by the Revolution, or
through the instrumentality of the extraordinary person who
had been constituted its representative, were obliterated.
Nor were his enemies confined to the provinces beyond the
Rhine. The royalists stirred in the provinces, the repub¬
licans in the capital; and, feeling the compression of des¬
potism removed, the constitutionalists of the first National
Assembly began to raise their heads, and to build hopes of
re-establishing a representative government. In the legis¬
lative body itself, purified as it had been of all those who
were conceived to be friendly to free institutions, there
were men who still retained their attachment to the prin¬
ciples which they had originally professed ; and five of its
members, intrusted with drawing up an address, to be pre¬
sented on the 1st of January 1814, ventured to allude to
the liberty of the subject, the necessity of reforming abuses,
and the urgent expediency of accepting peace, and being
contented with the frontiers of the Rhine and the Alps.
This manifestation of independent opinion excited the asto¬
nishment and indignation of Napoleon, who, after replying
in a style worthy of a disciple of Cagliostro, adjourned the
meeting of the legislative body, and shut up its hall.
The situation of Napoleon had now become worse than
critical. All Europe in arms was arrayed against France,
whose active means of defence had been nearly annihilated
in two campaigns terminating in unparalleled disasters.
When Napoleon recrossed the Rhine on the 1st of Novem¬
ber 1813, he had not more than thirty-five thousand men
in a condition to face the enemy; and even towards the
close of the year, when three hundred thousand conscripts
had been placed at the disposal of the government, his to¬
tal numerical force did not exceed three hundred and sixty
thousand men, whilst eleven hundred thousand enemies
w7ere advancing from various points to pour their invading
torrents upon France. On the 11th November, Dresden
capitulated on honourable terms, which, however, Schwart-
zenberg refused to ratify, and the French troops were
marched as prisoners into Austria ; on the 1st of January
1814, Dantzick surrendered in virtue of a convention,
which the Russians in like manner refused to execute;
and the other fortresses occupied by the French in Ger¬
many speedily shared the same fate. It has been said that
the allies ottered Napoleon France, imperial France, with
the Rhine for its boundary, and that this fair, this gene¬
rous offer, was madly refused by him. But this charge
is without foundation. On the 2d of December 1813, the
Duke of Vicenza, in a note addressed to the minister of
Austria, declared that the Emperor Napoleon adhered to
the general and summary bases proposed in the name of
the allied powers at Franckfort, and also agreed that nego¬
tiations should immediately ensue in a congress to be as¬
sembled at Manheim. The bases proposed were, France
confined within her natural limits between the Rhine, the
Alps, and the Pyrenees ; Spain replaced under its ancient
dynasty; and Italy, Germany, and Holland, re-established
as states independent of France, and of every preponder¬
ating power. To these preliminaries Napoleon now de-
1814.
dared his unqualified adherence. The allied powers, how- History
ever, were bent upon conquest, not conciliation ; their ar- '
mies were preparing to pass the Rhine for the purpose of
invading France ; and their insincerity was proved by the
evasions which they practised when the bases proposed by
themselves had been unreservedly acceded to. Meanwhile
the tide of war continued to roll on towards France. On
the 21st of December, six divisions of the enemy under
Schwartzenberg, amounting to more than a hundred thou¬
sand men, crossed the Rhine between Basle and SchafFhau-
sen, and ten days thereafter occupied Geneva. On the 31st,
the army of Silesia under Blucher crossed the Rhine between
Manheim and Coblentz ; Bulow, advancing from Holland,
passed still more to the north ; and Wellington, descending
tfom the Pyrenees, was preparing to invade the south of
France. On the 25th of January 1814, Napoleon left Paris
to join the army, and give new proofs of transcendent mili¬
tary genius in maintaining to the last a hopeless contest.
Schwartzenberg, having advanced throxigh Upper Bur-Battles of
gundy, had come upon the Seine, the course of which he Brienne
intended to pursue towards Paris. Blucher, having pass-
ed the Vosges Mountains, had established himself on the
Marne, at Saint-Dizier and at Joinville. Between these
two rivers was the principal mass of the enemy, amount¬
ing at least to a hundred and fifty thousand men. Napo¬
leon could not muster half that number, and the greater
part of his army consisted of raw levies who had never
been in fire. Advancing from Chalons-sur-Marne, and
throwing himself between Schwartzenberg and Blucher, he
directed his first blow at the latter. The Prussian com¬
mander now (29th January) occupied Brienne, with the Rus¬
sian corps of Sacken and Alsufiew, belonging to the army of
Silesia, and was at dinner in the castle when the French
under Ney drove in his outposts. The chateau, the town,
and its approaches, now became the scene of fierce com¬
bats, in all of which the French were victorious. The cas¬
tle was taken ; and Blucher, who had barely time to effect
his escape, was compelled to fall back, take up a position,
and wait for reinforcements. The audacity of Napoleon
increased in proportion to the immobility of his enemies,
who, in tact, durst not execute any movement in his pre¬
sence except in overwhelming masses. But as the battle of
Brienne had failed in its object of preventing the junction
of Blucher and Schwartzenberg, he should have returned
in all haste to the town of Troyes, where Marshal Mortier
would have given him a considerable augmentation of force,
instead of waiting to measure himself a second time with
an enemy so greatly superior. On the 1st of February,
Blucher, reinforced by the corps under Giulay, Wrede,
the Prince of Wurtemberg, and the Grand Duke Constan¬
tine of Russia, which carried the force under his command
to about a hundred and ten thousand combatants, became
the assailant in his turn, and attacked the French at La
Rothiere, a village situated in the plain bounded by the
Aube and its tributary the Voire, and distant about two
leagues and a half north of Brienne. Napoleon, though he
had scarcely forty thousand men present under arms, did not
hesitate to accept battle. The engagement commenced at
one o’clock in the afternoon, and did not terminate until
midnight. Attacked along their whole line, the French
stood their ground with great firmness, and towards even¬
ing the Russians in the centre began to waver ; but a vi¬
gorous charge executed by Blucher secured him the advan¬
tage. In the battle of La Rothiere the French lost about six
thousand men, of whom two thousand five hundred were
prisoners, and more than fifty pieces of cannon. The loss of
the allies in killed and wounded was nearly as great, but it
little atf'ected their mass. In the night the French retreat¬
ed to Troyes, w ithout being pursued in any direction; a proof
of the incapacity or timidity of the Prussian commander. Congress
Elated with his advantage, and eager to push on to Pa-0f Chatil-
ris, Blucher, being joined by two fresh divisions, now se- Ion.
FRANCE.
History
1814.
Battles of
Champau-
bert,
Alontmi-
rail, &c.
• parated himself from Schwartzenberg and the Austrians,
tardy in their operations, both from character and from poli¬
cy, and persisted in advancing along the Marne. Meanwhile
a congress was opened at Chatillon between the four great
allied powers and France. It was composed of Count Sta-
dion, Baron Humboldt, and Count Rasumowski, plenipo¬
tentiaries of Austria, Prussia, and Russia; England was
represented by Lords Aberdeen, Cathcart, and Castlereagh ;
and Caulaincourt, duke of Vicenza, appeared as the envoy
of France. The result of the battle of La Rothiere had
decided Napoleon to treat conformably to the bases pro¬
posed at Franckfort; and the congress accordingly met on
the 4th of February. But whilst occupied with the con¬
gress ot Chatillon, Napoleon had his eye upon Blucher,
■whose rash advance along the Marne now inspired him with
the idea of surprising and defeating the Prussians. Full of
this idea, and finding that the allies rose daily in their de¬
mands, and refused to leave even Belgium to France, Na-
poleon recalled the carte-blanche which a few days pre-
viously he had given to Caulaincourt, and, on the 9th of
r ebruary, refused to ratify the conditions transmitted to
mm by his minister from Chatillon. An opportunity of
striking a blow had now presented itself, and he resolved
once more to commit all to the fortune of a battle.
Having abandoned Troyes, Napoleon transferred his ar¬
my, by cross roads and forced marches, from the Seine to
the Marne, along which Blucher was confidently advan¬
cing towards Paris, under the impression that the battle of
La Rothiere was the last serious effort of the French. Of
this notion he was speedily and severely disabused. On
the 10th of February Napoleon threw himself on the Rus¬
sian corps of Alsufiew, which formed the left flank of the
Piussian army, and occupied a position near Sezanne in or¬
der to connect the two allied armies. The attack was made
with such rapidity and impetuosity, that, of six thousand Rus¬
sians, scarcely fifteen hundred escaped. Alsufiew, two other
generals, forty-five officers, eighteen hundred soldiers, and
twenty-one pieces of cannon, were the trophies of the day of
Champaubert. On the 11th, at Montmirail, Napoleon came
up with the corps under General Sacken, at the moment
when he was endeavouring to operate his junction with the
Prussian general Yorck, and defeated both with the loss of
three thousand men killed and wounded, a number of pri¬
soners, twenty-one pieces of cannon, and nearly all their
baggage. In two days, three of Blucher’s lieutenants had
been defeated, and the wrecks of their corps driven beyond
the Marne. On the 14th the emperor, after gaining some
advantages at Chateau-Thierry, on the 12th and 13th at¬
tacked Blucher himself at Vaucamp, a league and a half
west of Montmirail, and defeated him with the loss of seven
thousand killed and wounded, three thousand prisoners, and
eighteen pieces of cannon. Leaving Blucher thus humi¬
liated to await the arrival of the Russians under Winzin-
gerode, who were advancing from Belgium to support him,
Napoleon now turned towards the Seine, where the grand
army of the allies was manoeuvring separately, with its ad¬
vanced posts beyond Moret and Provins, whilst parties ex¬
tended to the south of Fontainebleau, and spread alarm even
to the gates of Orleans. Supported by Marshals Victor,
Oudinot, and Macdonald, commanding the remains of the
corps, conducting himself the old and young guard, and rein¬
forced by troops which had arrived from Spain, Napoleon
advanced on the 15th against the flank of the enemy dis¬
seminated upon the right bank of the Seine. The French
army presented a mass of about fifty thousand men. On the
17th several strong Austro-Russian divisions, in full march
on Pans, were completely defeated near Nangis, by the em¬
peror, who on the 15th had left Montmirail with his guard
and the corps of Marshal Ney, and marched twenty-eight
leagues in two days. In this action the enemy lost five
thousand men, as many prisoners, and a dozen cannon.
1814.
But its result would have been more considerable if Victor
had acted with greater decision. The combat of Montereau
on the 18th was merely a continuation of that of the preced¬
ing day. The Prince of Wurtemberg being impetuously
attacked, lost seven thousand men. Generals Gerard and Pa-
jol had the greatest share in the success of the day. It was
dming this affair that Napoleon said gaily to his soldiers, who
murmured at seeing him expose himself, “ Ne craignez rien,
mes arms ; le boulet qui me tuera n’est pas encore fondu.”
Ihese successes revived the confidence of Napoleon in Effect of
and fortune, and blinded him to the dangers by these sue-
which he was menaced. After crushing Alsufiew at Champ- cesses on
aubert, he wrote to his plenipotentiaries at Chatillon to as- NaPoleon*
sume a prouder attitude. The victory of Montmirail con¬
firmed him in the belief that every thing might yet be re¬
paired ; and this conviction was strengthened by the sub¬
sequent successes at Nangis and Montereau. To an Aus¬
trian officer, who came to propose an armistice, and urge
his acceptance of the conditions of Chatillon, he returned
for answer that he would accede to those of Franckfort, but
would on no account consent to yield up Belgium. “ Re¬
collect,” said he, “ that I am nearer to Munich than my
enemies are to Paris. 4 he conditions now offered were
no doubt severe and humiliating. Departing from the bases
founded on the natural limits of France, which they had
themselves proposed at Franckfort, the allies now propos¬
ed that the emperor of the French should renounce all
the acquisitions made by France since the beginning of
1792, and all constitutional influence beyond her ancient
limits ; that he should recognise in the allied powers the
right of determining, conformably to the treaties they had
entered into among themselves, the limits and relations
of the countries ceded by France, as well as of their own
states, without interfering therein in any manner of way;
that all the colonies of France should be restored to her,
excepting Tobago, and the isles of Bourbon and France j
that all the fortresses of the ceded countries, and all those’
still occupied by French troops in Holland, Belgium, Ger-
many, and Italy, should be given up without exception,
and with the least possible delay; and that, under the
denomination of depots, the strong places of Besancon,
Befort, and Huningen, should be occupied by the allied
armies until the ratification of a definitive peace. Such
were the humiliating conditions agreed to at Chatillon,
and which Austria now strenuously urged Napoleon to
accept. “ The peace,” observed some one, “ will be good
enough, if it is time enough.” “ It will come too soon,”'
replied Napoleon, “ if it bring disgrace.”
On the 24th February, the French, after several affairs Battles of
with the rear-guard of the allied army, now in retreat, re- Craonne
occupied Troyes. Some manifestations of royalism were Laon.
exhibited at this place, and one unfortunate individual lost
his life. At Troyes a flag of truce arrived from the Austrian
head-quarters proposing an armistice, which, however, Na¬
poleon refused except on the condition of its extending to
the whole line. The urgent remonstrances of the king of
Prussia having roused Schwartzenberg from the state of
inaction in which he had for some time remained, an at¬
tack was resolved upon, and, on the 27th, forty thousand
Austro-Russians advanced against fifteen thousand French
under the orders of Oudinot and Gerard. Oudinot allowed
himself to be surprised, and was only saved by the admi¬
rable dispositions of Gerard, and by a rapid and vigorous
charge of cavalry executed by Kellerman. The assailants
gained nothing but the field of battle. On the 2d of March
Soissons was occupied by Bulow, the commandant of the
city having opened the gates without making an attempt
to defend it, although he had a sufficient garrison under his
ciders, and the sound ot the cannon already announced
the approach of the French. On the 4th Marshal Mac¬
donald assumed the command of all the troops in presence
168 FRA
History, of the grand allied army, amounting to about thirty thou-
sand; and having evacuated Iroyes and abandoned the
1814- basin of the Yonne, he retired to establish his line of de¬
fence from Nogent to Montereau. On the 7th Napoleon at¬
tacked Blucher at Craonne, about three leagues south-east
of Laon. The French had only thirty thousand men, the
Prussians upwards of a hundred thousand ; but the force
of the attack was principally directed against twenty-two
thousand Russians under Generals Woronsow and Sacken.
The action was long and obstinate; during the day the
Russians maintained their ground against the furious and
reiterated onsets of the French, and retreated in the night
towards Laon, where they formed a junction with the
Prussians. In the critical situation of Napoleon this vic¬
tory was equivalent to a defeat. Laon, a place which serv¬
ed as an entrepot to the allied army, was next attacked,
but without success. In the night of the 9th, Marmont,
advancing to support Napoleon in the approaching attack,
suffered himself to be surprised by Blucher, and lost two
thousand five hundred prisoners, with forty pieces of can¬
non. The consequences of this check were fatal to Napo¬
leon. On the following day he persisted in his design of
endeavouring to carry Laon by main force, but all his ef¬
forts failed, chiefly from the want of artillery.
Hopeless At Laon had vanished Napoleon’s last hope of retriev-
situation ofing his fortunes in the field. He therefore dispatched
Napoleon, orders to Caulaincourt to treat with the allies upon any
terms ; but the time fixed for receiving his answer to the
conditions proposed had elapsed, and, taking advantage
of the change of circumstances, the allied plenipotenti¬
aries refused to enlarge it. Caulaincourt now gave in a
counter project, by which the emperor consented to re¬
strict his domination within the boundaries of ancient
France, with Savoy, Nice, and the island of Elba, on
condition that the crown of the kingdom of Italy, with
the frontier of the Adige on the side of Austria, should
be given to Eugene Beauharnais; but this the allied ple¬
nipotentiaries rejected, and the congress broke up. Disas¬
ters now thickened around Napoleon. Encouraged by the
presence of the English army under Wellington, Bordeaux
declared in favour of the Bourbons ; and intriguing states¬
men of the Revolution, at the head of whom was Talley¬
rand, were preparing a similar re-action in the capital, in
the hope of establishing a constitutional government under
the auspices of a restoration. Hitherto the allies had
carefully abstained from openly espousing the cause of the
exiled princes ; but the manifestations of royalism in the
provinces, and intimation of the intrigues carried on in
the capital, emboldened them not only to advance upon
Paris, but to declare in favour of a restoration.
Manceu- Meanwhile Napoleon, having left Mortier and Marmont
vres on the with nearly twenty thousand men, and given orders to the
Aube; commandants of places on the Moselle, the Meurthe, and
battle of Meusej pUSh strong parties in the rear of the enemy,
marched on the 17 th from Reims, at the head of about
eighteen thousand men, with the intention of effecting a
junction with Macdonald, who was advancing with thirty
thousand; and, on the 20th, he moved on the Aube against
Schwartzenberg, who had under his command a hundred
thousand effective combatants. During this day and the
following one, Napoleon displayed the talents of a great
captain with the sang-froid of a brave soldier, manoeuvring
with transcendent skill, and fighting with the most deter¬
mined bravery. With the loss of about four thousand
men the proposed junction was effected, and Napoleon re¬
tired on Saint-Dizier and Joinville without being pursued.
In thus operating on the right bank of the Upper Marne, the
emperor no doubt hoped to draw the enemy out of their po¬
sitions on the Aube, and cause them renounce their direc¬
tion on Paris, as well as to rally some reinforcements which
had been sent to Metz. It has been commonly supposed
N C E.
that his intention was, at the risk of uncovering Paris, to History,
manoeuvre in their rear, and intercept their communica-
tions with the Rhine ; but his troops were too feeble, par- 1814-
ticularly in cavalry, to enable him to flatter himself with at¬
taining such a result. Napoleon made every possible effort
to retard their advance, and, on the 26th, defeated with great
loss ten thousand Russian cavalry belonging to the army
of Winzingerode, who had been sent in pursuit of him.
On the 27th he marched to succour the capital, and reach- Fall of IV
ed Montierender, five leagues south of Saint-Dizier. On the a?d al^
29th Mortier and Marmont occupied Saint-Mande, Yin- j^poTeon.
cennes, and Charonne, and established themselves before p
the barriers of Paris adjoining to these villages. On the
30th the allied troops commenced the attack of the several
heights, occupied by about twenty-five thousand soldiers
of all arms. The French assumed the offensive on the prin¬
cipal points, and the villages of Pantin and Romainville
were taken and retaken several times. The battle com¬
menced at sunrise, and at eleven o’clock in the forenoon
the Austrians and Russians were still in complete check.
But at that moment the Prussians appeared, entered into
line, and proceeded to arrange their attacks. Seized with
terror, Joseph Bonaparte, who acted as generalissimo, now
only thought of providing for his own personal safety; and
having intimated to Mortier and Marmont that he autho¬
rized them to capitulate, he fled with all the precipitation
of a Thersites. A capitulation was accordingly concluded,
and on the last day of March the emperor of Russia and the
king of Prussia entered the French capital at the head of
their troops. When Napoleon, who had reached Fontaine¬
bleau on the 30th, encountered, in the evening of that day,
while advancing towards the capital, some of the troops of
Marmont retiring by virtue of the capitulation, he refused
to give credit to the tidings ; and it was only by persuasion,
amounting to force, that he was induced to return to Fon¬
tainebleau. No wonder his astonishment was great. If the
minister Clarke had delivered twenty thousand new mus¬
kets to the national guard, to those robust workmen who
loudly demanded arms, the heights would not in all pro¬
bability have been carried on the 30th ; and the sudden
apparition of Napoleon in the centre of such immense re¬
sources as Paris presented, might have suddenly changed
the fortune of the war, and led to a very different result;
whilst a check sustained by the allies before Paris would
have inevitably led to their destruction, by rousing all
France to crush the invaders. But treason deprived Na¬
poleon of the last great resource on which he had all along
calculated, and completed the subjugation of France. A
provisional government was appointed, with Talleyrand at
its head ; and a proclamation was issued by the allied so¬
vereigns, refusing to treat with Napoleon as sovereign of
France. In these circumstances, finding himself deserted
by his marshals, officers, and dependents, from Berthier,
prince of Neufchatel, down to the Mamluke Rustan, this
wonderful man, who had never appeared greater than
during the late struggle, signed an unconditional abdica¬
tion, and, on the 11th of April 1814, his dynasty expired.
A provisional government, was formed, and M. Lambrecht Formation
drew up an article in which it was said that the Frenchofa Provi'
people freely called to the throne Louis Stanislas Xavier,
the brother of the late king, but the Abbe Montesquieuv
maintained that the king had never lost his rights, and that
he succeeded as uncle of Louis XVII. “ Do you take no
account,” asked M. de Tracy, “of what passed since 1789?”
“ Facts,” rejoined the Abbe, “are impotent against right.”1
An inconvenient discussion might have arisen between the
senate and the Abbe, if M. de Nesselrode had not appeared
announcing the arrival of the plenipotentiaries charged to
treat in the name of the regency. A compromise was the
consequence, when it was agreed that Louis should be called
by the French people to the throne as Louis Stanislas
1 YTaulabelle, tom. 2.
FRA
History. Xavier of France, brother of the late king. But though
this was voted by 66 senators in the name of the French
1814. people, we know from the notes and despatches of the Abbe
Montesquiou, found in the Tuileries after the 20th March
1815, that this agent and adviser of the monarch counselled
his sovereign to publish an edict in which he would style
himself King of France and Navarre, and announce the
privileges he would accord of his own mere motion to the
French nation.
On the 11 th April the provisional government addressed
the army, stating that the new constitution would assure to
them their honours, their grades, and their pensions. Sum¬
moned to Paris by Talleyrand and the Abbe de Montes¬
quiou, the Count d’Artois reached Livry on the 11th April
preparatory to his entry into the capital on the following day.
He had assumed the title of Lieutenant-General, but the
senate and Talleyrand declined to recognise this title,
more especially as the prince refused to acknowledge the
constitution agreed on. But the difficulty was got over by
Talleyrand, who welcomed the prince, not as Lieutenant-
G*m era], but as Monsieur. The count made his public
entry accordingly, and was met by the marshals, Ney at
their head, in full uniform. On the following day the pro¬
visional government substituted the white flag for the tri¬
color, and the senate conferred the provisional government
of the kingdom on the Count d’Artois. In his address to
the senate the provisional governor declared that he was
not authorized by his brother to accept the constitution, but
that he knew the king’s opinions sufficiently well to declare
that its fundamental principles would be acknowledged by
him. Meanwhile Louis had set out to occupy the throne
of his ancestors. He was received enthusiastically in Lon¬
don by the Prince Regent, and accompanied to Dover by
His Royal Highness. His Most Christian Majesty was con¬
veyed to France by a squadron commanded by H.R.H. the
Duke of Clarence, afterwards William IV. Louis XVIII.,
in company with the Duchess d’Angouleme, entered Paris
on the 3d May amidst a concourse of cosmopolitan specta¬
tors composed of all the nations of the earth. Fie was well
but not enthusiastically received. While the sovereign of
France was making preparations to leave Hartwell, the ex¬
empress Maria Louisa was at Blois. Her courtiers and the
brothers of the ex-emperor deserted her, so that it was not
difficult for her father to induce her to proceed with her
son to Vienna. Nine days after his abdication, namely on
the 20th April, the very day of Louis XVIII.’s triumphant
entry into London, the ex-emperor, her husband, proceeded
to take his departure for Elba. With much emotion he
bade farewell to his old guard, saying, “ Adieu, my children.
I would press you all to my heart if possible, but I will at
least press your eagles.” On the 23d April the convention
signed at Paris between the Count d’Artois and the allied
powers was agreed to, and on the 27th the treaty of Paris,
by which the emperors of Austria and of Russia, and the
king of Prussia, acknowledge the sovereignty of the isle of
Elba in the person of Bonaparte. On the 2d of May Louis
issued the declaration of St Ouen. By this instniment
representative government was to be maintained by a senate
and a chamber of deputies—taxes were to be freely con¬
sented to, public and individual liberty to be secured, pro¬
perty to be inviolable and sacred, and the sale of national
property to be irrevocable. Ministers were, moreover, to
be responsible and impeachable ; judges to be irremovable
and independent; the public debt to be secured ; French¬
men to be admissible to all employments ; the legion of
honour to be maintained ; and no individual to be molested
for his votes or opinions. This declaration gave general
satisfaction, and the day after it was issued the monarch
entered Paris. The Duchess d’Angouleme was by the
king’s side, dressed in the English fashion, and on the op¬
posite seat of the royal coach sate the Prince of Conde and
VOL. x.
N C E. 169
the Duke of Bourbon, dressed in a full court suit of 1789. History.
This clinging' to obsolete custom in dress, abolished for a '
quarter of a century, was unfortunate, to say the least. On 1814.
the 13th of May the king named his first ministry. D’Am- First mi-
bray was chancellor and minister of justice ; Talleyrand, nistry of
minister of foreign affairs; the Abbe Montesquiou, of the n°^is
interior; General Dupont, of war; Baron Malouet,of marine;
Blacas, of the household : whilst the ministry of the police
was confided to Beugnot. Two of these men were un¬
doubtedly eminently capable, M. Talleyrand and Baron
Louis. M. d’Ambray, too, had been distinguished in the
olden time in the parliament of Paris, and M. Montesquiou
was not without a certain species of ability; but none of
them, except the two first named, were generally known
except Dupont, unpopular with the army, and disgraced by
Napoleon for his surrender of Baylen. The ministry of
police, at a time of most unexampled difficulty, was placed
in inexperienced, if not in incapable hands, and the minis¬
try of the king’s household was handed over to a favourite,
Blacas, who sought to render the monarch inaccessible.
On the day the ministry was appointed, the Count d’Artois
was created Colonel-General of all the national guards of
the kingdom ; and immediately afterwards an ordonnance
of the king authorized the conscripts of 1815 to return to
their families. A few days after the publication of this
ordonnance, the articles of the Treaty of Paris between
France and the allied powers became known. The limits
of France, as they existed on the 1st January 1792, were
restored to her, with the addition of some cantons in the
departments of the Ardennes, the Moselle, the Ain, and the
lower Rhine. A part of Savoy, as well as of Avignon and
the Cantal de Venaissin, was annexed to the French terri¬
tory.
The charter signed by Louis XVIII., and counter-signed
by the Abbe de Montesquiou and the Chancellor d’Ambray,
which the monarch accorded to the French people, con¬
sisted of a great number of articles. It is not necessary we
should here enumerate any of these articles, with the excep¬
tion of such as have reference to the public right of French¬
men. All Frenchmen were declared equal before the law,
as well as admissible to civil and military employments—
their individual and religious liberties were guaranteed, as
well as perfect freedom of conscience. Frenchmen were
declared to have the right to print and publish their opinions
with no restraints excepting those imposed by the laws.
Property of all kinds, whether that called national or other¬
wise, was declared to be inviolable, and the conscription was
abolished. Other articles regulated the form of the king’s
government, the constitution of the chamber of peers and
of deputies, the judicial and military services, &c. The
article of the charter on the subject of electoral right limited
it to those who paid 300 francs taxes. The power of pro¬
posing laws was denied to either chamber, and reserved for
the king, who, independently of his executive functions,
was to make rules and issue ordinances necessary for the
execution of the laws and the safety of the state.
The legislative chambers were soon constituted. The
Chamber of Peers consisted of 152 members named for life,
among whom there were 86 senators, several marshals and
generals, three prelates, the dukes and peers acknowledged
under Louis XVI., and some nobles of the ancien regime
who enjoyed the favour of the restored princes.
By a wise ordonnance of the king, it was provided that
from the day of the publication of the charter the names
still existing on the list of emigrants should be effaced. In
April 1802 the list of emigrants amounted to 150,000,
filling no less than nine large volumes.
After the treaty of May 30th, the allied sovereigns with¬
drew their troops from Paris. The Emperor Alexander
and the King of Prussia proceeded to England, and the
Emperor of Austria to his own capital.
Y
FRANCE.
170
History. The Chamber of Peers was summoned for the 14th June
'v'~/ to hear the charter read. Fifty-four of the senators were
1814. omitted to be summoned, some of them, as Fouche, Gregoire,
Cambaceres, Chaptal, and Garat, because they had been
regicides. The full complement of peers was eked out by
a selection from the ancient nobility. A popular measure to
the great body of the nation was the making ten of the
marshals peers; among these were Ney, Berthier, Suchet,
Massena, Oudinot, Mortier, and Soult. The peers and
deputies assembled on the 4th June in the Palais Bourbon,
to which the king, attended by all the princes of his family,
proceeded.
In his address, his Majesty observed that the glory of
the French army had received no stain, and that the peace
concluded was general. In conclusion, his Majesty stated that,
penetrated with the sentiments that dictated the immortal
testament of Louis XVI., he had caused to be drawn out the
constitutional charter which they were about to hear read.
The speech of the king was received with considerable
applause ; but when the chancellor referred to his Majesty
as in ftill possession of his hereditary rights, and when it
was perceived that the charter was dated in the nineteenth
year of our reign, the general feeling of satisfaction became
greatly abated. Sensible and moderate men, however,
considered that its leading articles contained the essen¬
tials of freedom. It was true the electoral qualification
restricted the franchise to 80,000 souls, out of a popu¬
lation of 30 millions ; but it was possible by degrees to
extend the right of voting. As a universal amnesty was
proclaimed, and the Code Napoleon continued, men hoped
, that time would bring healing on its wings, as well as better
measures. It was a most difficult thing, however, to calm
the passions and satisfy the expectations of a nation dis¬
tinguished by great mobility of disposition, and which had
known within a few years the extreme of military success
and the bitterness of unbounded humiliation. A great
party of the defeated army was disbanded, and now wanted
bread ; many of the holders of national property were uneasy
lest the lands which they had purchased should be resumed
by the original owners. Several functionaries too had
been discharged and were without employment or the means
of subsistence. The revenue of the country had during
the last two years been allowed to run into more than fifty
millions arrears, whilst the expenditure exceeded the receipts
by at least twelve millions. Here alone were abundant
elements of dissatisfaction and discontent; and when in
addition it is stated that the Swiss Guards were employed
at a time when many Frenchmen, officers and soldiers, were
suffering poignant distress, it is no marvel that public feel¬
ing became exacerbated.
Law on the Nothing more provoked the ire of republican or imperial
press. Frenchmen during a quarter of a century than ceremonies
in which priests and clergy paraded. The pomp of a daily
military mass at the Tuileries, during the course of 1814,
and the celebration of a funeral service in memory of Louis
XVI., gave some colour to the cry that the pristine power
of the clergy was to be restored.
The law relative to the liberty of the press, brought for¬
ward on the 21st October, increased the general excite¬
ment. Every writing of more than twenty sheets might
be published freely, whilst MSS. of twenty sheets and under
were to be subject to a previous censorship. Newspapers
and periodical writings could only appear with the permission
of the king, and none could be a printer or publisher unless
a person who had taken the oaths and received a royal licence.
I he debate on the press was the first that excited general
attention. It lasted for several days. The reporter of the
commission chiefly addressed his objections against the
censorship ; but on this head the minister of the interior
would make no concession, except that the duration of the
law should be temporary, extending only to the opening of
the session in 1816. The measure passed by a majority of History.
157, in a chamber composed of 317 votes. In the Cham-
her of Peers, where the question was moreablyand eloquently 1814.
debated, it was carried by a much smaller majority.
A budget for 1815 was proposed amounting to 618,000,000f.,
about L.25,000,000 sterling of our money in round num¬
bers. The interest of the debt and the arrears were pro¬
vided for by an allotment of 4 millions. Government bills,
payable in three years, carrying an interest of 8 per cent.,
were issued to meet the arrears. The law that was intro¬
duced into the chamber for the purpose of restoring to the
Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Conde such of the
palaces and forests as had escaped sale, might have silently
passed, had it not been for the imprudent language of M.
Ferrand, which aroused opposition. The overheated zeal
of the clergy at this time did more disservice to the king
than the imprudent language of some of his ministers.
When ultramontanism first began to show itself in 1814,
when acts of expiation were called for, and the public ways
and cross roads became encumbered with calvaires andjone
Dieus, the people seemed more amazed than indignant.
At the funeral of Mademoiselle Rancourt, the actress, in
January 1815, they exhibited more vehement feelings. 1815.
When the body of this lady w7as brought to the church of
St Roch, the priests refused to receive it or to recite prayers
over the body of an actress. While the friends and funeral
cortege w'ere expostulating a crowd collected. The mob
becoming violent soon broke down the grating, entered the
body of the church, and required the priest to perform the
funeral ceremony. The king, who had heard of the tumult,
sent a priest of his household to read the prayers, and the
discontent was then quelled. Circumstances of this kind,
when taken in conjunction with the ordonnance of M.
Beugnot, prefect of police, forbidding the passing of car¬
riages from eight to three during the procession of the Saint
Sacrement, were sure to excite an ill feeling., A proces¬
sion which soon afterwards took place in honour of the Virgin
excited the contemptuous sneers of the population, and more
especially of the army. The officers of the line were still
further alienated by finding the ancient system of educa¬
tion for military orphans overturned. Proofs of nobility
were now, as before 1789, demanded for admission into the
school St Denis. This proceeding had excited so much
discontent in military circles, that Dupont had been re¬
moved from the war-office at the end of 1814, to give place
to the more vigorous Soult. Soult had rendered himself
zealous as commandant of the thirteenth military division
at Rennes, and had also signalized himself by subscribing
to the monument proposed to be raised on the beach of
Quiberon.
After having passed a law relative to the debts contracted
in foreign countries by the king and the princes of the royal
family, and agreed to provide for the debts of the monarch
as state obligations, to the amount of thirty millions, the
legislative chambers adjourned on the 30th December 1814
to the 1st May 1815.
The exhumation of what were supposed to be remains of
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, on the 18th and 19th
January, still further disquieted the Parisians. Only calcined
fragments of bones had been extracted from the lime in
which they were enveloped, so that it was doubtful whether
what was dug out were really the remains of the distin¬
guished victims. None of the ordinary municipal or judi¬
cial functionaries had been present at the exhumation, and
the signature of De Blacas appended to the official docu¬
ments induced men to look on the whole proceedings with
suspicion and dislike, as it was well known that M. de
Blacas wished to return to all the habitudes and traditions
of the old monarchy.
Napoleon had been carefully informed at Elba of the
silly and unpopular conduct of the Bourbons and their
FRA
History, partisans. A constant communication was kept up between
anfl certain members of his family and friends, among
1815. whom Hortense, the mother of the present Emperor of the
French, was conspicuous, as well as the Dukes of Bassano
and Rovigo, and Count Lavalette. In the month of Febru¬
ary Maret, Duke of Bassano, had despatched a trusty emis¬
sary to Elba in the person of M. Fleury de Chaboulon ;
Embarka- and in consequence of information conveyed by this gentle-
tion of Na- man, Napoleon resolved to set out for France, more espe-
Cannes °r c’a^y as was ^ie opinion of his old secretary Maret that
he should attempt to do so. On the evening of the 26th
February he embarked with 900 men in a few small vessels,
and landed in the Gulf of Juan, which lies between Cannes
and Antibes, on the afternoon of the 1st March. In a MS.
address, distributed to the soldiers on his landing, and which
was printed at Digne, he stated he heard their voice in his
exile, and hastened to it through every peril. He called
on the men whose votes had raised him to the throne, and
who had borne him aloft on their shields, to come and join
his standard, to tear down the white cockade and mount
the tricolor, to resume the eagles of Ulm, Austerlitz, Jena,
La Moskowa, and Montmirail. Then, said he, victory will
march cm pas de charge, and the eagle will fly from steeple
to steeple to the towers of Notre Dame. In conclusion,
he called on all Frenchmen to wash out from Paris the stain
incurred by treason and the presence of the enemy. This
address did wonders. Napoleon traversed Grasse and Digne
without molestation, and was enabled to pass the Durance
under the fortress of Sisteron. It was not till he had been
a week in France, and had made a march of 72 leagues or
150 miles in a mountainous and difficult country, "that he
. found himself opposed by the troops of the king’s govern¬
ment. It was at Vizille, a few leagues from Grenoble, that
an officer sent out by the emperor "met a hostile demonstra¬
tion. The emperor, informed of the fact, dismounted, and
taking off his hat said in a calm, distinct voice, “ So'diers of
the 5th, if there be one amongst you who desires to kill
his old general, his emperor, he may do so.. Behold me, I
am here. ’ Loud shouts of Vive VEmpereur were the
answer to this artful appeal.
On the 8th the emperor entered Grenoble amidst cries
of “A has les BourhonsV His march to Burgoin was a
triumph. It was from Lyons, on the 5th March, that the
first news of Napoleon’s disembarkation was sent by the
telegraph to Paris. On the 6th an ordonnance of the king
convoked immediately the Chambers, and another ordon¬
nance declared Bonaparte a traitor and a rebel. Napoleon
entered Lyons on the 10th at the head of 8000 troops, and
Progress of with 30 pieces of cannon. The majority of the people re-
“poleon. Ceived him with enthusiasm in a city from which the Count
d Artois and the Duke of Orleans, sent to combat the
traitor from Paris, had been obliged to make a precipi¬
tate retreat a few hours previously. Napoleon remained
during the 11th and 12th at Lyons, and there resumed the
exercise of sovereign power. Master of the second city of
the empire, and of eight or ten regiments, saluted every¬
where on his passage as emperor, the reign of the Bourbons
appeared to Napoleon finished, and his own about to re¬
commence. He signalized his resumption of power by the
issuing of nine decrees, among which was one for the re¬
sumption of the tricolor, one for the re-establishment of the
Imperial Guard, one for the abolition of the Swiss regiments
and mousquetaires, one for the sequestration of the property
of the Bourbons, and one for the abolition of the noblesse
and feudal titles. This looked like an appeal to the extreme
party, which Napoleon always detested. Through Bur¬
gundy, though not received with enthusiasm by the people,
the passage of the emperor was a triumph—an ovation, at
least with the army. At Auxerre he was joined by Ney,
whom he embraced, calling him le brave des braves—that
very same Ney who, a few days before, kissed the royal
N C E. i7i
hand, exclaiming that he would bring back Bonaparte to History,
his Majesty in an iron cage. Nor was Marshal Soult less \ r
enthusiastic in his professions to the king than his brother 1815
marshal. In an order of the day, as Minister of War, just
before he had been removed to make way for the Duke of
Jeltre, he called Napoleon an adventurer, yet within a very
short time afterwards he was again in the service of this
adventurer as his trusted lieutenant.
It is said by a recent historian that Ney had no personal
attachment to Napoleon, but that the glory of the army and
the cause of Franee touched his heart. This may have been
so. But wTe confess we incline to the opinion of M. Ville-
main,that l\ey was persuaded his soldiers were for Napoleon,
and that he had no chance of being able to master them.
He therefore resolved to go with the tide, deeming the cause
of the Bourbons to be irrecoverably lost.
On the 12th March the king called on the troops to
defend liberty, and promised that the officers of the army
should be taken from the ranks, and on the 15th it was inti¬
mated that the half-pay officers were to be raised to whole
pay, and that the arrears of the Legion of Honour were
to be liquidated. On the 16th the king and his brother
Monsieur, with other princes of the family, sought to excite
popular enthusiasm by swearing to the charter before the
united legislative chambers ; but all these attempts having
failed, and the prestige and success of Bonaparte having
increased daily, the king left the Tuileries after midnight j)epart
on the 19th, or rather in the early morning of the 20th 0f Louis
March. The intention of the monarch was kept secret XVIII. and
till the moment of his departure. Napoleon, at 9 o’clock arrival of
of the evening of the 20th, was borne into the Tuileries Napoleon.
on the shoulders of an immense and generally an enthu¬
siastic population. He had left Fontainbleau in the day
after receiving a courier from Lavalette (who had taken
possession of the post office), but he could only advance
slowly to the capital, in consequence of the immense crowd
of villagers and peasantry who flocked from the surround¬
ing country tor several leagues round to greet him with
their acclamations. His carriage was preceded by a nume¬
rous group of generals, and about a hundred cavaliers of
all branches of the service; and when the vehicle at length
reached the court-yard of the palace, each man of the
immense mass disputed the honour of giving an arm to the
emperor. In this wise it was that he was borne up the
staircase, his feet never touching the ground. Though a
smile played on his features, yet his countenance exhibited
some traces of anxiety. Cries of Vive 1’Empereur rent the
air, but even according to the testimony of Vaulabelle
these were not marked either by the wonderful unanimity
or the frenzied enthusiasm which had greeted him on his
landing at the Gulf of St Juan.
Meanwhile the courageous and determined efforts of the
Duchess of Angouleme to rouse the loyalty of the troops
at Bordeaux were unsuccessful. General Clausel had
arrived on the banks of the Garonne with a handful of
soldiers, bearing tbe tricolored flag. The troops sent
against Clausel joined him, and when the Duchess called
on General Decaen to march against Clausel, the com¬
mander of the town intimated he could not rely on the
garrison. After the entry of Napoleon into Paris, the
Duke of Angouleme hastened to take the command of the
troops in the department of the Gard. He exhibited some
capacity—more, indeed, than was expected of him—and
proved himself not deficient in courage, defeating General
Debelle and the National Guards ; but Grouchy advanced
against him in great force, and having fallen back on St
Esprit, he was obliged to surrender.
Though Napoleon thus resumed the imperial purple with
more than the facility of a stage emperor or king, yet on
the morrow of his arrival he found no eager anxiety for
office among his adherents and partisans. It was with
FRANCE.
172
History, difficulty Cambaceres could be prevailed on to accept the
v portfolio of Justice, and Caulaincourt at first positively re-
1815. fused the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which was next
offered to and refused by Mole, and afterwards forced on
Caulaincourt. Carnot, however, accepted the Ministry of
the Interior, and Fouche that of the Police, affecting to be
mightily pleased with the republican tendencies of the
emperor. Before the additional act to the constitution of
the empire was presented to the acceptance of the nation,
the Duke of Bourbon, having failed to excite an insurrec¬
tion in La Vendee, embarked on the 1st April at Paim-
bceuf on board an English vessel; on the following day the
Duchess of Angouleme embarked at Bordeaux; and the Duke
of Angouleme, who had given himself up a prisoner, was
Additional aM°wecl t° embark at Cette. On the 22d, the supplemen-
act to the tary or tidditional act was presented to the acceptance of
constitu- the nation. It acknowledged two legislative chambers,
tion. an hereditary chamber of peers, a chamber of representa¬
tives elected by the people, according to two degrees of
election. The second chamber was to be composed of
629 members, and the minimum of age was to be 25
years. By the last article the French people divested
itself of the right of establishing the Bourbons under
any pretence, or the ancient feudal nobility, or feudal
seignorial prerogatives, tithes, or a religion which should be
privileged or dominant. This additional act to the constitu¬
tion was not very warmly received. The people saw war
and a great struggle in the not distant perspective- Na¬
poleon, however, ordered that the new constitution should
be submitted to universal suffrage, and the result made
known in the Assembly of the Champ de Mai, which
took place on the 1st June. At this assembly there were
present the Archbishop of Tours (Barral), assisted by
Cardinal Bayane, Marshals Soult, Jourdan, and Oudinot,
and Cambaceres the chancellor, who proclaimed that the
constitution was accepted by 1,300,000 voters, and re¬
jected by only 4206. The emperor appeared on this
occasion in great pomp. He said that as emperor, consul,
and soldier, he owed everything to the people, and after
calling on them to support him, he took the oath to the
new constitution. The dignitaries present followed Ins
example. The eagles were then delivered to the regi¬
ments amidst vociferous cheering. On the day following
this ceremony Bonaparte named 118 peers, among whom
were Carnot, Fouche, Quinette, Roger Ducos, Sieyes,
Boissy, D’Auglas, &c.
Oppningof The opening of the legislative assemblies by the emperor
legislative jn person took place on the 7th June. The peers named
assemblies, py showed themselves sufficiently supple and comply¬
ing, but there were many friends of liberty, many men of
extreme opinions, many Jacobins, among the deputies, and
they evinced their feelings by electing Lanjuinais as pre¬
sident, in the worst of times celebrated by his resistance to
injustice, and by his unalterable adhesion to the principles
of liberty. This selection was not pleasing to Bonaparte,
who was aware of Lanjuinais’s independence, and who
desired an instrument in the person of Merlin de Douai.
But though Merlin only obtained 49 votes against the 189
registered for Lanjuinais, yet Napoleon would have re¬
fused to receive Lanjuinais as president, had he not been
warned of the danger by Regnault de Saint Jean d’Angely
and Carnot. Lafayette, Dupont de 1’Eure, General Grenier,
and Flaugenques were significantly elected vice-presidents.
These circumstances doubtless induced the emperor to state
that the fondest wish of his heart w7as accomplished in com¬
mencing a constitutional monarchy. “ I desire,” said he, “ to
see France enjoy all possible liberty.” “ The liberty of the
press,” he continued, is inherent to the actual constitution.
I he sacred cause of the country will triumph.” The con¬
stitutionals and liberals of the chamber received these
advances of the emperor with mistrust, having no faith in
their sincerity. The congress of Vienna had meanwhile History,
declared Napoleon the enemy and disturber of the world,
and placed him under the ban of Europe, which might he 1815.
said almost to be in battalion against him. On the 25th Treaty of
March a treaty was concluded, by which the four powers March
bound themselves to furnish 180,000 men each, making a1815-
total of 600,000 men. Napoleon exhibited his usual acti¬
vity and vigour; but the man who used to devote 12 mil¬
lions sterling annually to the providing of materials of w7ar,
exclusive of his war budget, had now scarcely two millions
to refit his army. The contractor, Ouvrard, advanced the
emperor two millions; but these, even with the bills of the
receiver-general, were but feeble resources; yet at the com¬
mencement of June Bonaparte had nearly 300,000 soldiers,
exclusive of 200 battalions of National Guards. Three
battalions were added to each regiment of infantry, and
two squadrons to those of cavalry. Arms and all munitions
of war w7ere manufactured with the greatest rapidity, and
the prodigious efforts of the Committee of Public Safety in '
1797 were rivalled, if not surpassed. The administration
of the artillery took effective measures to double the sup¬
plies formerly produced. From the commencement of
June 3000 firelocks per day were manufactured, and 4000
were to be delivered from the 1st of July. On the 15th Napoleon’s
June Napoleon entered Belgium, his army advancing in march to
three columns from Maubeuge, Beaumont, Philippeville, to Belgium,
debouche by Marchiennes, Charleroi, and Chatelet. It is
not our purpose, however, to go over at any length the
history of events comprised between the 15th and the 18th
June, commencing with an affair of outposts, and ending
with the battle of Waterloo.
It is indispensable, however, in the most succinct account
of this memorable battle, to state that the emperor was at
the head of an army of about 125,000 men, for the most
part seasoned troops, of w hom about 25,000 were cavalry.
On the 15th June he advanced on Charleroi. At the head
of this force, with 350 pieces of cannon, having under him
Ney, Soult, Mortier, Grouchy, Gerard, &c. Ney was or¬
dered to seize the position of Quatre Bras, which he omitted
to do. Napoleon on the 16th found thatBlucher had con¬
centrated three divisions of the Prussian army at Ligny,
numbering between 80,000 and 90,000 men before him.
These the emperor attacked, driving back Blucher with
great loss. Ney he sent against a portion of the English
army at Quatre Bras. But though the French marshal
successively charged our troops with cavalry, in which, as
w'ell as in artillery, he was superior, yet the English main¬
tained their ground. On the 17th, in consequence of
Blucher’s retreat, Wellington fell back to the position of
Waterloo. He wras followed by Napoleon, who had already Waterloo,
despatched Grouchy with 30,000 men to follow the retreat¬
ing Prussians. On the 18th, the great and memorable en¬
gagement of Waterloo was fought. As Napoleon gained
the eminence of La Belle Alliance, he exclaimed, “ I have
these English at last.” But in this he counted without his
host. Between 10 and 11 o’clock, the emperor gave the
signal for the attack on Hougomont. The position was
several times taken and retaken ; but although the French
made several desperate, brilliant, and furious attacks both
with infantry and cavalry, they could not break the solid
and compact masses of the British squares, and while they
vainly attempted to do so, Bulow’s corps of 30,000 Prus¬
sians were seen in the distance. Ney’s first attack at one
o’clock w'as unsuccessful. While the French columns were
deploying to return fire with effect, they were charged by
the English cavalry and dragoons, and more especially by
the Scotch Greys, who cut the traces of Ney’s artillery and
upset the carriages. At half-past two the attack of Ney
was repulsed. He commenced a second attack at half-past •
three with masses of cavalry. At the first onset he was
successful, but after a little while it became apparent, to use
FRA
History, the graphic language of General Foy, who was on the field,
that tlie English were rooted to the earth on which they
1815. stood. No cavalry could make any impression on such solid
and steady troops as the English, and the attempt resulted
almost in the destruction of the French cavalry. Mean¬
time the Prussians under Bulow, and other Prussian divi¬
sions under Blucher, had joined the English on the left.
Ney was rallying his men about the farm-house at La Haye
Sainte. In a third attack, in which the emperor had de¬
termined to support him with the reserve and a portion of
the old Guard, Wellington assumed the offensive. The
decisive words, “Up Guards and at them,” were now
uttered; and the British troops, who had sustained an eight
hours’ attack with passive courage and unflinching con¬
stancy, rushed on the enemy with resistless fury and bore
him down. The old guard attempted to deploy, but became
confused and at length gave way. Napoleon turned pale,
and, exclaiming “ Ils sont meles ensemble,” mounted his
horse and left the field. It is a difficult thing for even a
professional soldier to write an account of a battle. We do
not profess here to give more than an outline of an engage¬
ment which we find simply and unostentatiously described
in the Duke’s own words in the Wellington Despatches, vol.
xii. p. 609. The letter is addressed to Mr Croker, and is
in the following words :—
“ The battle began, I believe, at eleven. It is impossible
to say when each important occurrence took place, or in
what order. We were attacked first with infantry only,
then with cavalry only, lastly and principally with cavalry
and infantry mixed. No houses were possessed by the
enemy on Mont St Jean, excepting the farm in front of the
left of our centre, on the road to Genappe, can be called
one,—this they got, I think, at about two o’clock, from a
circumstance (want of ammunition) attributable to the ne¬
glect of the officer commanding on the spot. The French
cavalry were on the plateau in the centre between the two
high roads for nearly three quarters of an hour, riding about
among our squares of infantry, all firing having ceased on
both sides. I moved our squares forward to the guns; and
our cavalry, which had been detached by Lord Uxbridge
to the flanks, were brought back to the centre ; the French
cavalry were then driven off. After that circumstance re¬
peated attacks were made along the whole front of the cen¬
tre of the position by cavalry and infantry till seven at
night. How many I cannot tell. When the enemy at¬
tacked Sir Thomas Picton I was there, and they got as far
as the hedge on the cross-road, behind which the (Belgians)
had been formed. The latter had run away, and our troops
were on one side of the hedge. The French were driven
off with immense loss. This was the first principal attack.
At about two in the afternoon they got possession of the
farm-house on the high road, which defended this part of
the position, and then they took possession of a small mound
on the left of the high road going from Brussels, imme¬
diately opposite the gate of the farm ; and they were never
removed from thence till I commenced the attack in the
evening, but they never advanced farther on this side.”
Waterloo, however, was not merely a battle, but the over¬
throw of the whole system of one of the greatest military
generals, and one of the most remarkable governors and
administrators the world has ever produced. Up to nearly
the last moment, Napoleon preserved his calm imperturba¬
bility, but when he perceived that the day was irretrievably
lost, he fled as fast as his horse could carry him from the
field, and reached Charleroi at six in the morning of the
19th. His carriage and private papers were taken near
Genappe. The loss of the French had been more than
40,000, and it is doubtful whether more than that number
crossed the Sambre. On the 21st, at four in the afternoon,
N C E. 173
the defeated emperor reached Paris—bringing the first in- History,
telligence of his own disaster.
In the Chamber of Deputies all were agitated with con- 1815.
flicting emotions. The home minister, Carnot, and Lucien
recommended a dictatorship in the person of Napoleon, but
the constitutionalists and independent members had joined
with Fouche (who was shrewd enough from the first mo¬
ment of the return from Elba to see that the power of
Bonaparte would be short-lived, and who had for some time
opened communications with Talleyrand and Metternich at
Vienna), and the chamber, on the motion of Lafayette, de¬
clared that the independence of the nation w'as menaced,
that the members would sit in permanence, and that every
attempt to dissolve them would be a crime of high treason.
The chamber also passed a resolution to the effect that the
army of the line which had fought and were still fighting to
defend the liberty and independence of the French terri¬
tory had deserved well of the country.
But while this feeling for the army and the country per¬
vaded every breast, cries were generally uttered calling for
an abdication. Lucien counselled his brother to assume a
dictatorship, and to dismiss the chambers; while Bonaparte’s
old secretary, Maret, Duke of Bassano, and his faithful
friend Caulaincourt, suggested an abdication. To Lucien,
who again and again insisted on a dictatorship, the emperor
said, “Nous ne sommes plus au 18 Brumaire.”1 It now
came to the ears of the emperor that deposition and de¬
thronement were openly spoken of by Lafayette, a measure
certain to be proposed by him in case Bonaparte did not
immediately decide to abdicate; so, making a virtue of
necessity, he signed his abdication in favour of his son, re¬
tiring because, to use the words of Villemain, in a recent
publication, “his part was finished and the tragedy played out.”
But the deputies would not hear of an imperial prince of
the Bonaparte dynasty. Abdication, says Villemain, is
civil death, and the monarch who abdicates has no right to
name his successor. Labedoyere, however, and other par¬
tisans of the imperial regime, made strenuous efforts in
favour of Napoleon II., but the proposition was opposed by
Dupin, Boissy d’Auglas, and indeed by the general sense
of the Chamber, which named a provisional executive legis¬
lative commission, composed of Fouche, Carnot, Caulain¬
court, Quenet, and Grenier, to carry on the government.
The government of Napoleon lasted exactly a hundred
days, during which period he expended 600 millions of francs
and the lives of 60,000 soldiers. It may be here remarked,
as a commentary on the Napoleonic system, that the news
of the abdication caused the French five per cents to rise
from 55 to 60 francs.
On the 23d June foreign troops entered the department
of the Moselle by Forbach. Napoleon remained at Mai
maison for six days after his abdication, during which period
he tendered his services to the government as generalissimo
of the forces. But this offer was declined. On the 29th
of June he set out for Rochefort, with the design of em¬
barking for America. He reached Rochefort on the 3d of
July. But the coast was so strictly blockaded by British
cruisers that he found it impossible to accomplish his de¬
sign; and fearing at length to fall into the hands of the
royalists, he caused himself to be conducted aboard the
Bellerophon, having first announced to Captain Maitland
that he threw himself on the generosity of the Prince Re¬
gent. In a letter addressed to his Royal Highness, written in
an antique fashion, he stated that he claimed the protection of
the British laws from the most powerful, the most constant,
and the most generous of his enemies. On the 24th of
June the Bellerophon entered Torbay, and it was commu¬
nicated to the captive (for such he was) by Lord Keith and
Sir Henry Bunbury, Under Secretary of State, that St
1 Villemain, Souvenirs les Cent Jours.
174
FRANCE.
1815.
Military
and
Davoust,
History. Helena was to be his future residence. On the 7th of
August, Bonaparte, notwithstanding his earnest remon¬
strances, was transferred aboard the Northumberland, Sir
George Cockburn’s flag ship, which was appointed to carry
him to St Helena. The remonstrances and complaints
uttered by him on this occasion, to use the words of Ville-
main, were more dramatic than sincere.
Louis XVIII., who on the 20th of March had retired in
the first instance to Lille, and subsequently to Ghent, now
addressed a moderate proclamation, dated from Cambrai, to
the French nation. Much more important and significant
than this proclamation was the advance of Wellington and
Blucher. Cambrai was stormed by the British on the 24th,
and Peronne on the 26th. On the 28th the rear-guard of
Grouchy was defeated by Blucher at Villers-Cotteret, with the
loss of six guns and more than 1000 men. On the 29th the
British crossed the Oise, and established themselves in the
forest of Bondy, close to Paris. In order to approach Paris
on the south, on which side the fortifications had been
erected, Blucher crossed the Seine at St Germain’s, fixed
his right at Plessis, and his left at St Cloud. The home
minister, Carnot, a distinguished engineer, and the organ¬
izer of victory under the Republic, wished to defend the
capital; but Massena, Soult, Davoust, Oudinot, and other
marshals, declared a defence difficult if not impossible. On
convention the 3d of July, therefore, a military convention was signed
between at St Cloud, between Marshal Davoust, commanding the
Wellington French army, on one part, and Wellington and Blucher
commanders of the English and Prussian armies, on the other
part. By this instrument it was agreed that the French
army should retire behind the Loire, carrying its material,
its field artillery, &c. This armistice preserved Paris from
the horrors of a siege, and the French army from the cer¬
tainty of a struggle with victorious troops ten times more
numerous. On the 6th of July the allied troops entered
Paris, and on the following day the commission of the pro¬
visional government ceased its functions. On the 8th,
during the night, and in the absence of the members, the
halls of the Legislative Assembly were closed by armed
Prussians. Before the convention had been signed, Fouche,
the minister of police, had opened negotiations through
Vitrolles, whom he released from prison, with Louis XVIII.,
and it is also certain that he kept up a regular correspond¬
ence with the Allied Powers and with the Duke of Wel-
lington. There can be little doubt that the Emperor Alex¬
ander and Prince Metternich would not have been averse
to a regency in the interest of Napoleon II., but the Duke
of Wellington saw no satisfactory guarantee for permanency
unless in the restoration of Louis XVIII., remarking, when
the Duke of Orleans was proposed, “ Nous ne pouvons
done pas en Jinir dans trois mois par une usurpation mime
honnete et de bonne maison.” 1 From the Duke of Wel¬
lington’s headquarters at Neuilly, Fouche proceeded with
the English commander and Talleyrand to the Chateau of
Arnouville, near Gonesse, where the king, after a slight
pause, addressed the Duke of Otranto in civil terms, assur¬
ing him he had determined to have him as minister of
police. On the following day, the 8th, the king entered
Paris, and on the 9th the names of a new ministry, which
had been for some days agreed on, were published. Tal¬
leyrand was president of the council, with the portfolio of
foreign affairs, the Duke of Otranto had the police, Pasquier
was made keeper of the seals, Gouvion St Cyr minister of
war, Count de Jaucourtof marine, the Baron Louis of finance,
and the Duke de Richlieu was named minister of the king’s
household. Davoust, who was commander-in-chief beyond
the Loire, in nine days after the entry of the king called on
his soldiers to resume the white flag and cockade. Although
Paris was soon alter the entry of the king crowded by
strangers, yet the inhabitants, and indeed the great body History,
of the nation, felt themselves profoundly humiliated. The ^ v-
capital of France was garrisoned—“ taming thought to 1815.
human pride ”—by strong bodies of Prussians, and the
bearing of Blucher and his soldiers was harsh, exacting, and
brutal to a degree. The oppressions and exactions of the
Prussians are recorded in burning words by M. Vaulabelle
and other historians of the Restoration. Indeed, had not
the ferocity of the Prussian general been tempered bv the
calmness, equity, and sense of justice of the Duke of Wel¬
lington, the bridges of Jena and Austerlitz would have been
blown up. The Prussian general required his men to be
maintained, not as soldiers, but as persons accustomed to
luxuries and indulgence. He ordered the municipality of
Paris to pay him a contribution of a hundred millions of
francs, which was afterwards diminished to 100,000. The
king was aware of these exactions, and of the attempt to
blow up the bridges, and behaved like a prince of courage,
feeling, and spirit. He intimated to the Duke of Welling- ‘
ton that he would take his station on the bridge of Jena if
Blucher persisted in his attempts. The people of Paris and
of France also deeply felt the humiliation of being obliged to
restore to the various states the works of art that had been
taken in the victorious career of Napoleon. But it is one
of the conditions of hostilities and of war, that what is gained
in one campaign may be lost in another.
Louis XVIII. had been recommended by more than one
counsellor to govern with clemency and moderation, and
to throw a veil over the past. Before the month of July
had passed, however, an ordonnance of the king directed
that nineteen generals and officers who were named should
be arrested, and brought before a council of war. Thirty-
eight persons also were commanded to reside under sur¬
veillance in places fixed by the police, till the chambers
should determine which should leave the kingdom, or be
prosecuted by the tribunals. It is true that those who
would be compelled to leave the kingdom were to have
the power of selling and disposing of their property, but a
measure may be unwise and inexpedient, without being
violent or tyrannical. On the 1st August, Marshal Mac¬
donald, who had been instructed by the king to disband the
old army, succeeded Davoust, who had kept up a rigorous
discipline since the convention of the 3d of July. Thus,
within the space of four months, an army of more than
100,000 men was dispersed amongst the body of the people.
During the month of August a deplorable and reactionary
spirit was exhibited by the populace of the south. Bands
of ultramontane and ultra-royalist fanatics paraded the
towns, maltreating all opposed to them in political and reli¬
gious opinions. Of these sanguinary monsters Generals
Brune and Ramel became the victims, both being murdered
in cold blood in broad day—the one at Avignon, the other
at Toulouse, in the presence of thousands of citizens, passive
spectators, if not actors in these cowardly assassinations.
These excesses in the south were followed, not by the trial
and judgment of the offenders, but by an ordonnance con¬
cerning the formation of the royal guard, the force of which
in peace was to be 25,000 men, irrespective of a force of
1800 men attached to the personal service of the king, of
whom 1400 were to be gardes du corps.
The ministry which the king had appointed, or which
was arranged by and for him, was by no means a strong
one. The Ministry of the Interior had been originally
intended for the Corsican Pozzo di Borgo, and the Ministry
of the King’s Household for the Duke of Richlieu, both of
whom had been in the service of Russia. But the Empe¬
ror Alexander, who had been consulted, advised Pozzo to
decline the appointment, and the Duke of Richlieu re¬
fused the Ministry of the Household on the ground that
1 Villemain, Souvenirs les Cent Jours, Paris, 1855.
FRANCE.
Richlieu
cabinet.
History, private affairs rendered his presence at Odessa neces-
1815. ' Talleyrand was unpopular with, and Fouche odious to,
the ultra-royalists, who ranged themselves around the
Count d’Artois. Some, and among others Talleyrand, sup¬
posed that Fouche would rally to the government sections
of the national independent liberal and ultra-liberal party,
but it appeared that no portion of the community had con¬
fidence in a man called le fourbe des fourbes. The first
act of the ancient Jacobin was to forbid the publication of
journals without the permission of the police ; his second to
appoint a commission of censorship. While these measures
were put in force at Paris, it is not wonderful that the spirit
of religious and political reaction revived at Nismes and in
the south. One of the laws most strictly enforced by
Napoleon was to prevent the Roman Catholic clergy from
forming processions in the open air, or celebrating, their
pompous melo-dramatic parades and ceremonies in the
streets, more especially in districts in which there were Pro¬
testants. At Nismes, where there were many Huguenots,
the ultramontane rabble of fanatics formed processions to
demonstrate their gratitude to Heaven for the fall of Bona¬
parte. As those professing the Reformed faith did not join
in these processions, they were insulted, and their churches
broken open. The furious and fanatical rabble was led by
a man of the name of Trestaillon, a miscreant of the most
ferocious nature. Huguenot women were ill-treated,
stripped, and even flogged ; and at Uzes, not far from
Nismes, were brought into the market-place and shot.
Scenes such as these, which continued for two months,
were a disgrace to the government which permitted them.
Talleyrand now sought to get rid of Fouche, who had be¬
come somewhat disagreeable to the king, with whom he
expostulated as to the necessity of conciliating the party of
the revolution and the empire. Fouche had also become
disagreeable to the majority of the chamber. Talleyrand
sounded the Duke of Otranto as to accepting the embassy
to America ; but the only reply of Fouche was, “ Est ce
que Ton veut se debarrasser de moi ?” Talleyrand was
silent.
Two days later, M. Pasquier represented to Talleyrand
that Laine, the President of the Chamber, had intimated
that the presence of Fouche in the ministry would be fatal
to its existence. Talleyrand, alarmed, sought an interview
with his colleague, and a negotiation was entered on, the
result of which was that Fouche placed his resignation in
the hands of the prime minister the 19th September, in
exchange for the embassy to the small court of Dresden.
Five days later he left Paris in disgrace, dreading to find
the arm either of a victim or an avenger raised against him.
Villemain, in his recent history of the Hundred Days, looks
upon the employment of Fouche as a reproach and a shame
to France, and would trace his nomination to the Duke of
Wellington ; but the truth is, that Fouche had rendered
himself indispensable to all parties, and all that the Duke
of Wellington did was to counsel the king to avail himself
of the services of a man capable of doing such immense
mischief out of office. Having got rid of Fouche, Talley¬
rand hoped to be enabled to meet the chamber, and to
obtain the particular support of the king against all enemies,
by threatening a resignation. But his Majesty did not like
the threat, became irritated, and a resignation of the minis¬
try was the consequence.
The Duke of Richlieu was named head of the new
cabinet. Descended of a distinguished historic family, a
stranger to all domestic parties and factions in France, M.
de Richlieu had yet another title to the favour of the king.
As governor of Odessa, he had gained the confidence and
esteem of the Emperor Alexander, and it was considered
that he would exhibit equal administrative ability in France.
But M. de Richlieu mistrusted his own powers, and at
first declined the honour intended for him. Overcome,
however, by royal persuasions and the importunities of
friends, he accepted the Presidency of the Council, with
the portfolio of foreign affairs. M. Barbe Marbois became
keeper of the seals, M. Vaublanc minister of the interior,
Clarke duke of Feltre minister of war, M. Dubouchage of
marine, and M. Corvetto of finance. Decazes, prefect of
police, was promoted to the ministry of police. It is a re¬
markable coincidence, that on the same day on which the
Richlieu ministry was constituted, the treaty of the Holy
Alliance between the Emperors of Austria, Russia, and
Prussia was signed at Paris.
I he Legislative Chambers opened their ordinary session
on the 7th October. The king, in his speech, stated that
in the frank and loyal union of the Chambers with the
monarch, and in respect for the constitutional charter to
which the sovereign was by reflection more and more
attached, was to be found the fundamental basis of the
happiness of the state. “ But in pledging myself to this
charter,” said Louis XVIIL, “and which I have sworn to
maintain, and which you all, commencing with my family,
will also swear to obey, you will bear in mind that though
it is, like all human institutions, susceptible of improvement,
yet that the advantage of amendment is not far removed
from the danger of innovation.” The Count d’Artois, and
all the princes present, among whom was the venerable
Prince of Conde, took the oaths to the charter.
On the 2d of November the bar and the general public
of France were startled by the opening discourse of M. Se-
guier, President de la Cour de Paris. This magistrate main¬
tained that all authority came from God, and that it was
unlawful for the people to have a voice in the disposal of it.
Sir Robert Filmer had maintained such doctrines in Eng¬
land in 1646, more than a century and a half before, doc¬
trines triumphantly refuted by Locke in his Treatise on
Government. A few days afterwards a bill was brought for¬
ward in the Chambers for the repression of seditious cries
and provocations to revolt. By this law it was provided,
that whoever provoked directly or indirectly the overthrow
of the government, or the order of succession to the throne,
even though these attempts should be followed by no overt
act, and connected with no plot, should be punished with
deportation. Some articles of this bill introduced new and
obscure definitions, subjecting condemned persons to the
surveillance de la haute police. The bill was, however, car¬
ried by a majority of 69. De Serre, deputy for the IJaut
Rhin, prophesied that this law, like all laws dictated by pas¬
sion and cruelty, would be disregarded by judges and juries
in practice.
The violent and fanatical spirit prevailing in the south of
France still continued. On the 12th November General
Lagarde, commanding at Nismes, was assassinated while at¬
tending in the exercise of his functions the opening of the
Reformed place of worship. The king gave directions that
the authors and accomplices of this crime should be punished,
but they eluded the authorities.
M. de Talleyrand, in the last note which he transmitted
to the conference of the Allied Powers, before the fall of his
ministry had consented to a territorial cession, limiting the
frontiers of France to what they were in 1790, and to an
occupation of the French territories by an army of 150,000
men for a term of seven years, had also agreed to the
payment of an indemnity fixed by the allies at 800 millions.
M. de Richlieu, soon after his accession to power, obtained
an alleviation of these conditions. The allies consented to
leave to France the strong towns of Conde, Givet, Charle-
mont, the forts of Joux, and I’Ecluse. They further re-
175
History.
1815.
Vaulabelle, tom. iii., p. 388.
176
Treaty of
Paris.
Trial of
Ney.
F RANG E.
duced the figure of the war contribution to 700 millions, civil judges, selected from among the members of the tri- History.
The arrangement was also come to, to fix the maximum pe- bunals ot first instance, and of a prevot chosen among t e
riod of the occupation at five years, making three years the officers having at least the rank of colonel, iheinteiioga- igig.
limit if the French territory could be so speedily evacuated, tory of the person arraigned was to take place within twenty-
The Duke of Richlieu was under the impression that four hours; the information or indictment was to be bet,
these would be the only sacrifices required. In this he was, and the hearing of witnesses was also to take place on the
however, mistaken. The different powers sought to be re- shortest delay. I he sentences of the prevotal courts v\eie
imbursed the damages occasioned by the French armies to be without appeal, or, to use the term ot trench law,
since 1792, which were 735,500,000 francs, or nearly sans recours en cassation, and were to be executed within
L.30,000,000. The duke was about to resign in despair, twenty-four hours. Judgment and execution were thus to
when Louis XVIII. made a last effort with Alexander, who follow almost as quickly on each other as m the case of a
induced Austria and Prussia to moderate their pretensions.1 military court martial.
On the 20th November, the treaty of peace of Paris be- The law of amnesty, passed early in January ..olb, con- 816.
tween France on the one part, and Austria, Great Britain, tained some curious provisions. I he ascendants and de- awo am-
Prussia, and Russia, on the other, was concluded. France, scendants of Napoleon Bonaparte, his uncles, his aunts, ns
by this treaty, was deprived of the fortresses of Philipeville, nephews, his nieces, his brothers, their wives, and their de-
Marienbourg, Sarre Louis, and Landau. A part of the scendants, his sisters and their husbands, are, by this in-
Pays de Gex was ceded to Switzerland ; and the part of the strument, excluded for ever from the kingdom, and aie di-
department of Mont Blanc which remained to France in rected to leave France within a month undei pain ot ceati.
virtue of the treaty of May 1814, was given to the king of They can enjoy no civil rights, possess no property, titles,
Sardinia, as well as the principality of Monaco. The forti- pensions, and it is made obligatory on them to sel wit nn
fications of Fluningen were to be demolished, and the French six months all property they possess of whatsoever 'in.
government were not to reconstruct them hereafter, nor to The 7th article declared such of the regicides as voted lor
replace them by other fortifications at a distance less than the Acte additionnel of Bonaparte, passed on hie z-d pn
three leagues from the city of Bale. The pecuniary indem- 1815, or who accepted office or employment under the
nity, as we have stated, was to be 700 millions, to be paid usurper, irreconcileable enemies of Franee and of legitimate
in equal portions at the end of five years : 150,000 allied government, and as such excluded them from the king! om,
troops were to occupy the military positions along the Iron- from which they were bound to withdraw within a mont i
tiers of France in the departments of the Pas de Calais, le on pain of banishment. A few days aftei the passing o
Nord, les Ardennes, la Meuse, la Moselle, and the Upper this law, a measure was introduced fixing a general mourn-
and Lower Rhine. French writers in general consider this ing on the 21st January, in commemoration ot the death ot
treaty as one of the most disastrous in the annals of the Louis XVI. .... . ,
country: the publicists of other nations do not, however, In the commencement of April, public opinion received
share in this opinion. As to the pecuniary mulcts, though a shock from a royal ordonnance, disbanding the Polytechnic
heavy, they were not so severe as France herself had im- School. The budget for the year 1816 was brought tor-
posed on poorer countries. The Duke of Richlieu did all ward on the 28th April, and the session of t ie egis ativ^
that was possible for a statesman to do in contending for chambers closed immediately afterwards.
better terms, but the allies were inexorable. The friend of Early in May an insurrection occurred at Grenoble. A Insurree-
Richlieu, the Emperor Alexander, gave him a map on which person of the name of Paul Duller, who had been an emi- txo° at
were marked provinces which Austria, Prussia, and the grant, and who was appointed a maitre des requetes after
Netherlands had wished to obtain from France, telling him the first restoration, was the chief actor and promoter of
to keep it as a proof of his own influence, and as a testi- this movement. Didier’s watchword was National Inde-
mony of Alexander’s friendship, both for himself and his pendence; but he induced his followers, who were not satis-
country. A little more than a month after the entry of fied with this vague watchword, to rally to the cry ot Napo-
Louis XVIII. into Paris, Labedoyere had paid with his life leon II. The truth however was, that Didier really had at
the penalty of having joined Napoleon at Vizille : a more heart the interests of the Duke of Orleans (afterwards Louis
illustrious victim was to suffer in the month of December. Philippe), and purposed to substitute him for the elder Bour-
An accusation of high treason had been preferred against bons. The plot failed, but all those concerned in it were
Ney for joining Napoleon, and bringing over with him the punished with prompt severity. Twenty-one persons, all,
troops under his command. Fie was tried by the Chamber with the exception of Didier, obscure, were sent to the scaf-
of Peers for this crime, and, in a house of 161 who were pre- fold, and about a hundred were killed by the hands of the
sent, was condemned by 136, who voted, to capital punish- troops sent into the insurgent villages in the neighbour-
ment. This is not the place to excuse the faithlessness and hood of Grenoble. Didier, after wandering for some time
treason of Ney, but it must be recorded that he died as he in the frontiers of Savoy, was taken in consequence of in-
had lived, a brave soldier—refusing to have his eyes covered, formation afforded by one Balmain, an innkeeper, in whose
and exclaiming, that for five-and-twenty years he had faced house he had taken refuge. He was tried and executed and
death without finding it on the field of battle. The sacri- met his fate courageously. Decazes, the minister ot police,
fice of such a victim at such a time, though he was not led him to hope for a commutation of his sentence, it He
covered by the capitulation of Paris, was not indispensable, would make disclosures. But all Didier would say was, that
It awakened the feelings of the nation on behalf of the the only proof of gratitude he could offer to Louis XV Hi.
victim, and palliated and excused where it did not hallow for the benefits he had received of him was, that he would
his crime in the opinion of great bodies of the nation. Ney advise his Majesty, as soon as possible, to send out ot t ranee
had always been looked on as the bravest of the brave by the Duke of Orleans and the ex-minister Talleyrand.'
the army; and it was not a wise or expedient thing, as a po- On the 11 th June, a few days after the last execution at
litical act, even though justified by strict military law, to Grenoble, the Duke de Berry, second son ot the Count
shoot a soldier who had excited the admiration of his D’Artois, married at Notre Dame Mary Caroline, a princess
countrymen in every battle-field of Europe. °f ^ie Iwo Sicilies. Ihese nuptials were inaugurate by
On the 20th December, a law was passed re-establishing numerous fetes and festivities ; but not one single pardon
prevotal jurisdictions, which were to be composed of five was granted to the numerous body ot political pnsoners m
1 Vaulabelle, tom. iii., p. 398.
Ibid., tom. iv., p. 162.
FRA
History, course of trial by the prevotal courts throughout the
county.1
1816. By an ordonnance of September 4, the Polytechnic
School was re-established, though its organization was al¬
tered. The suspension of this establishment was traceable
to M. de Vaublanc, who had been dismissed from the
ministry of the interior in the month of May. Any mo¬
mentary popularity which the king may have reaped from
this measure was destroyed by an ordonnance w'hich ap¬
peared three weeks afterwards, authorizing the society
“ des Pretres des Missions.” The intelligent people of
France are well aware that their priests have ever been
the servile instruments of any existing authority. In the
time of the league the priests flung themselves at the feet
of Philip II.; when Napoleon became emperor they hailed
his presence as they did the return of the Bourbons. As
soon as the Revolution of 1830 was consolidated they
fawned on Louis Philippe. In 1848 they prostrated them¬
selves to the republic, planting and blessing trees ofliberty;
and in 1852 they most servilely saluted the autocracy of
Louis Napoleon with the loudest acclaim.
By an ordonnance of the 5th September, the Chamber
of Deputies was dissolved. The discussion on the law of
elections exhibited the ultra materials of which it was
composed. The majoi’ity affected to be more royalist than
the king himself. Whilst the accounts of the abortive in¬
surrection at Grenoble were still ringing in men’s ears,
Plaignier, Carbonneau, and Tolleron were tried for distri¬
buting three-cornered cards with the words Honour and
Liberty upon them, and issuing a proclamation telling the
people they were about to save the country. It was sought
to be proved on this trial that attempts were made to intro¬
duce barrels of gunpow'der into a sewer that communicated
between the river and the palace, but the accused asserted
that no one made this proposal but a person named Schol-
tein, who was connected with the police. The three men
whose names we have mentioned were condemned to the
penalty of parricides, to walk to the scaffold in their shirts,
and to have their hands cut off before they were executed.
Nor were these the only political trials calculated to excite
disgust. The courts martial and prevotal courts in several
provincial towns shocked by their severity when they did
not excite indignation by their injustice. At the trial of
General Debelle at Lyons, and of General Travot at Rennes,
the presiding military authorities exhibited an open con¬
tempt for impartial justice. Advocates were interrupted, in¬
sulted, and attempted to be intimidated. Abundant details of
these disgraceful scenes are to be found in the History of
Vaulabelle, where the proceedings against Admiral Duran de
Linois, Colonel Boyer, Generals Drouet, Cambronne, and
Bonnaire, Lefebvre, Desnouettes, Rigot, Gilly, &c., may be
found set forth at a considerable length, and with a detail of
which it is impossible here to give even a summary. The
conduct of the government after the events of Grenoble in¬
deed appeared marked by a spirit of vengeance and exacerba¬
tion. General Mouton Duvernet, who had accepted the office
of governor of Lyons in 1815, after remaining nearly a year
at the house of a friend, gave himself voluntarily up, was
tried by a council of war, and executed on the 19th July.
Madame Duvernet gained access to the Tuileries, and
presented petitions for pardon to the Count d’Artois and
the Duke of Berri, both of whom declined to receive them.
She ultimately threw herself at the feet of the king, implor¬
ing his clemency. But Louis XVIII. passed on without
heeding her.2 Several generals who escaped capital punish¬
ment were condemned as contumacious, and their names
erased from the army list.
On the 4th November the ordinary session of the Cham¬
bers was opened by the king in person. His Majesty in his
N C E. 177
speech, among other things, said,—“ Be attached to the History,
charter. I will never permit any infraction of that funda-
mental law.” In conclusion, the king said,—“ Count on 1816.
my unalterable firmness in curbing the attempts of malevo¬
lence, and in repressing the efforts of a too ardent zeal.”
These latter words conveyed a covert censure on the violent
conduct of the majority during the last session, and were
meant to prove that the king intended to pursue mode¬
rate courses, and not be guided or overborne by fanatical
royalists or ultra-royalists. The minister in his political
tactics now sought the support of the liberal politician to
check the vehemence of the ultra-royalists, and of the
royalists, in turn, to stem the violence of the liberals. This
system of balance was not without its advantages. The
too arbitrary laws against the liberty of the person and the
press were mitigated. On the 14th November M. Cor-
vetto made his financial statement. It was referred to a
commission, which did not make its report till January. In¬
stead of devoting 150,000 hectares offered to the support of
the sinking fund, the commission proposed to assign all
the forests of the state for that purpose, thus throwing down
the gauntlet to the ultramontane party, who were desirous
of dedicating the property of the state forests to the endow¬
ment ot the church. The 5 per cent, obligations suggested
to the government by M. Ouvrard were denounced as
improvident and ruinous ; but when the Duke of Richelieu
announced that the allies had consented to withdraw one-
fifth of their armies, the ministry recovered its position.
But the bigoted and ultramontane party continued to in¬
veigh, in the Chamber, in journals, and in pamphlets,
against the proposal to devote the forests to the sinking
fund as a measure levelled against the church. By these
means some impression was produced on the Chamber, and
the proposal of the commission was sent back to that body
for amendment. An ultra-royalist speaker having declared
that the church had a right to the restoration of its property,
for that religion, like the emigrants, had returned, M.
Laine, the minister of the interior, replied, that religion had
not shifted or changed place, but had always remained in
the hearts of the French. The law was at length voted,
and the principle of the budget sanctioned. A further
struggle took place on the new law of election. The chief
change proposed in this law was the substitution of direct
for indirect election, by which a large share of political in¬
fluence would be given to the middle and commercial classes.
The royalist opposition proposed an amendment, substi¬
tuting the greatest tax-payers, up to a certain number, in¬
stead of all paying 300 francs. But this attempt failed, and
the law was passed without a division. The summer and
autumn of 1816, cold, rainy, and ungenial in every part of
Europe, was peculiarly so in France. Constant rains fell
during the months of July, August, and September. The
low grounds became flooded, the crops were destroyed, and
even on the higher lands the harvest was seriously injured.
But for an abundant potato crop, famine with all its horrors
would have been the lot of France. Prices suddenly rose
in all the markets; and the holders of grain, anticipating
greater gains, hoarded their stock, and sent insufficient sup¬
plies to market. The minister of the interior established
granaries generally throughout the kingdom, where corn
was sold to the destitute at a reduced price. But notwith¬
standing these efforts, prices rose to more than double, and
hundreds perished of actual want.
On the 19th January M. Pasquier, President of the 1817.
Chamber, was appointed keeper of the seals; and M. de
Serre, one of the ablest of the deputies, was named Presi¬
dent of the Chamber. The law on individual liberty brought
forward in February was perhaps at the moment necessary,
and less severe in its enactments than that of October 1815.
VOL. x.
1 Vaulabelle, tom. iv., p. 214.
2 Ibid., tom. iv., p. 208.
z
178
FRANCE.
Death of
Massena.
Death of
Madame de
Stael.
It. should also be remembered that it was a temporary
measure, expiring on the 1st January 1818. The law on
public journals, enacting that no journals or periodical writ¬
ings could appear without the permission of the king, was
also temporary in its nature, being limited to the 1st Janu¬
ary 1818.
On the 4th April Marshal Massena died in his fifty-ninth
year. Among Napoleon’s marshals none was distinguished
by a greater military capacity, or by rarer energy on deci¬
sive or unforeseen occasions. The sound of guns, said
Napoleon at St Helena, cleared his ideas, and gave him un¬
derstanding and penetration. His talents seemed to in¬
crease wherever danger was most imminent. He was supe¬
rior to every marshal of France in comprehensiveness of
view, and in the formation of those varied combinations on
which the fate of battles depends. But his character was
sullied by insatiable avarice and rapacity.
During the spring of this year the price of bread in the
provinces had greatly increased, whilst employment was
slack and scanty. Bread riots were frequent, and several
persons were executed; among others a woman for disorders
produced by hunger. This scarcity of food also produced
discontent and emeutes in the neighbourhood of Lyons.
These popular movements, represented to the government
as part of a vast conspiracy, were speedily repressed. The
ministry certainly exhibited no clemency towards the offen¬
ders. There were 140 condemnations, and 28 sentences
of death, one being a boy of sixteen. The commissary of
police averred, and the nation re-echoed, that there was no
plot; and the government indicated its doubts if not its
disbelief, by sending down Marshal Marmont on a com¬
mission of inquiry.
The marshal’s report was in harmony with the general
opinion of the public, and the consequence was that the
prefect and general, as well as the mayor, were dismissed,
and the remaining prisoners set free.
On the 14th July died the illustrious Madame de Stael,
one of the greatest glories of French literature, at the early
age of fifty-three. Towards the close of August an or-
donnance of the king was published concerning the insti¬
tution of majorats, by which it was provided that no one
should be created a peer unless he had instituted a majorat.
The majorat for a duke was fixed at 30,000 francs of
net revenue, for a marquess and count not less than 20,000,
for a viscount and baron not less than 10,000 ; the
majorat as well as the title to be transmissible to the eldest
son.
The reunion of the electoral colleges for the first time
under the law of the 5th February, proceeded with wonder¬
ful quiet and regularity, and on the 5th November the or¬
dinary session was opened by the king in person.
In the royal speech satisfaction was expressed that it
would not be necessary to keep the prevotal courts in action
beyond the term fixed for their existence ; a law of recruit¬
ment was announced according to the charter, giving free
scope to the talents and services of the soldier.
On the 22d a concordat on ecclesiastical affairs was laid
before the Chamber, by which it was provided that all acts
emanating from the court of Rome (excepting penitential in¬
dulgences) could only be received, published, and executed
with the authority of the king. It was also provided that
papal bulls could only be received and published in cases
in which they did not conflict with the public rights guaran¬
teed by the charter, and by the franchises, maxims, and
liberties of the Gallican Church. But though the provisions
of this law seemed fair enough on the surface, yet the exag¬
gerated opinions and vehement expressions contained in
papal bulls excited a general feeling of indignation in the
breasts of intelligent Frenchmen. In truth, no party was
thoroughly satisfied with the new concordat. The liberals
looked on it with suspicion, and the ultra-royalists were dis¬
satisfied because they looked for a law endowing the church History,
with land, and leaving its prelates almost independent of
civil authority, and free from ministerial influence.
Gouvion St Cyr had now succeeded the incompetent 1818.
Clarke, Duke of Feltre, as minister of war, and he it was
who drew up and introduced the plan of military recruit¬
ment promised in the king’s speech. He performed this
task with ability, and carried it with success through the
Chamber. The projet de loi provided that the army should
be recruited by voluntary engagements, or in case of insuffi¬
ciency of “par des appels” that every soldier should be a
Frenchmen enjoying civil rights, and that the army should
consist of 240,000 men. The duration of service was to
be six years, with a power of re-engagement. No one could
be an officer if he had not served two years as a sous-officer,
or attended a complete course at the military schools. Two-
thirds of the sous-lieutenancies were to be given to sous-
officers, and two-thirds of the grades of inferior officers to
seniority men, to rise not by selection, but by years. The
announcement of these conditions was received by the royal¬
ist party with violent indignation. Ever since the return of
the king the army had been filled by officers who had not
seen service, and who had not studied at the military school.
The great objection to the bill by the nation, however, was
that it went to create a species of army of the Faith officered
by ultras and men of exaggerated royalist opinions, or
feigning such.
Villele, a royalist, but of sound and sagacious views, in¬
dicated the danger of organizing military institutions in a
country in which there were no other institutions whatever.
His conclusions were certainly far-sighted ; for we have seen
in 1855 an army democratically organized and selected,
sustaining autocracy and absolute power.
Notwithstanding the objections of Villele and Chauteau-
briand, however, the project of law passed both Chambers,
and the result is, as a recent historian of the Restoration
judiciously remarks, that the army is rendered more an im¬
perial than a royalist institution.
At the close of the month of April a convention was Treaty-
signed at Paris between France on the one side, and Austria, between
England, Prussia, and Russia, on the other, by which the France and
former agreed to inscribe a rente of 12,040,000 francs, re-the Four
presenting a capital of 240,800,000, with a view to the total Powers-
extinction of debts contracted by France out of its territory,
payment of which was obligatory by the treaties of the 30th
May 1814 and the 20th November 1815.
A convention wras also signed between France and Eng- Convention
land for the entire liquidation of the debts due to the sub- between
jects of his Britannic Majesty, payment of which was re- France and
quired in virtue of the treaties of 1814, and the 20th No-EnSland-
vember 1815. To this end there was to be inscribed, on
the great book of the public debt of France, a rent of three
millions representing a capital of 60 millions of francs.
After passing the law on the finances on the 15th May
fixing the budget for 1818, the session closed on the fol¬
lowing day. The credit of the government at this epoch
stood high. The finance minister estimated the receipts at
L.30,710,000 of our money (767,778,000 francs), and the
expenditure at L.39,700,000, so that the deficit to be pro¬
vided for by loan was L.9,018,000. Native capitalists
being unable to raise so large a sum, the English houses of
Baring and Hope lent their welcome aid. The loan was
obtained on more favourable terms than that of the preced-
ing year. During the course of it the various parties in
the Chamber became more distinctly apparent. There
were the ultras of the right, sticklers for absolute power and
passive obedience, the ministerialists of the centre, without
any fixed ideas but the complaisant tools of power; Sdh/,
the friends of constitutional liberty, or as some called them,
the doctrinaires, not factiously resisting the government on
all occasions, but only opposing it when they believed it to
P KANG E.
History, be entering on a wrong and mischievous course ; and, Athly,
the gauche or liberals calling for the entire and immediate
1818. execution of the charter, and almost uniformly opposing the
measures of the ministry frankly and vigorously. In this
session the debating talent and public education of France
made immense progress, and although a great many members
read their written speeches, yet almost all the leading men
in the Chamber possessed the power of improvising. Con¬
stitutional principles also made a slow but a steady advance,
and public credit became re-established with a rapidity
almost without example. The most remarkable speakers
among the deputies of this session were D’Argenson of the
Haut Rhin, Becquey (Marne), Beugnot (Seine Inferieure),
Chauvelin (Cote D’Or), Corbiere (He et Vilaine), Camille
Jordan (Ain), Martin de Garay (Haute Saone), Roy (Seine),
Royer Collard (Marne), Villele (Haute Garonne). The
President of the Chamber, De Serre, was distinguished by
dignity and impartiality, and by a nervous and facile style.
Congress of On the last day of September the conferences at the
179
Aix-la-
Chapelle.
1819.
Change of
uinistry.
congress of Aix-la-Chapelle were opened. At the third
meeting of the representatives of the five great powers the
evacuation of the French territory by the army of occupa¬
tion was unanimously decided on almost without discussion,
the event to take place on the 30th November. It was
agreed that France, according to the stipulations of the
treaty of the 20th November 1815, should pay to the allied
Session of powers a sum of 265 millions. On the 10th December the
1818 and legislative session of 1818-19 was opened by the king in
person. The speech delivered on this occasion was vague
and general in its terms. “ In seconding my efforts,” said
his Majesty, “ you will not forget that the charter, in de¬
livering France from despotism, has placed a term to revo¬
lutions. I count on your co-operation to repress those per¬
nicious principles which, under the mask of liberty, attack
social order and lead by anarchy to despotism.” Each party
interpreted these doubtful words according to its wishes and
desires. On the 29th December the ministry was almost
wholly changed. The Dukeof Richelieu was succeeded in
the ministry of foreign affairs by General Dessolles, the
Baron Pasquier in the seals by De Serre, Laine in the in¬
terior by Decazes, Mole in the marine by Portal, and Roy
at the finance by Baron Louis. Marshal Gouvion St Cyr
remained at the war office, and was the only minister who
retained his place. The ultra-royalist party were deeply
annoyed that the credit of putting an end to the military
occupation of France should fall to the lot of Richelieu and
Decazes: for on the 30th November 1818 the fortresses
occupied by the allies were everywhere evacuated by their
troops, and transferred to the French corps under the Due
d’Angouleme; and they even went the length of getting up
a conspiracy in favour of their views. A scheme hatched
at the Cafe Valois and the Terrasse a Bords I’Eau, haunts
frequented by the ultras, was set on foot to seize the minis¬
ters by the troops of the guard, to carry them to Vincennes,
and to compel Louis XVIII. to resign in favour of his brother
the Count d’Artois, afterwards Charles X. The minister
of the interior, Laine, issued his warrant to arrest Generals
Canuel and Donnadieu, the former of whom fled to avoid
onspxracy the consequences. Such was the foolish conspiracy called
Bords de PEau, from the terrace by the river side where
the parties met. It was at the period of the congress of
Aix-la-Chapelle that Vitrolles, an active and zealous agent
of the ultra-royalists, drew up his secret note advocating a
change of ministers and of policy to be effected by foremn
powers. It was suggested in the note that if the allies re¬
fused to withdraw their armies they might compel the king
to a change of system. The Dukeof Richelieu for a while
listened to the views of this party, though not willing to go
the full lengths they required. lie was prepared to satisfy
the congress by somewhat modifying the politics of the
cabinet of the Tuileries, but he found himself unable to
f the
ords de
Eau.
accomplish his views, partly owing to the composition of History,
the Chamber produced by the elections of 1818, partly owing
to the peculiar position of Decazes. After the congress of 1818.
Aix-la-Chapelle the Emperor Alexander paid a visit as a
private individual to the French monarch. Louis the XVIII.
experienced the greatest satisfaction in receiving the Rus¬
sian emperor, a satisfaction which he records in his memoirs
in a few brief words—“ Un des moments,” he writes, “ le
plus heureux de ma vie a ete celui qui a suivi la visite de
1’Empereur de Russie.”
A financial crisis occurred in December 1818, the proxi- Financial
mate, if not the promoting, cause of which was the immense crisis,
sums which the contractors for the loans borrowed by the
French government had to raise to make good their en¬
gagements. The crisis was aggravated by its being known
that the English government intended, in the following
session, to resort to a system of cash pavments. In the
month of November the French funds fell ten per cent.,
and credit in the capital of France was at the lowest ebb.
Jhe French minister, at the suggestion of Messrs Baring
and Hope, made a proposal to the allied powers to extend
over a period of eighteen months the payments which were
to be made in nine, according to the convention agreed to
in October.
On the 29th December 1818 the Duke of RichelieuRetirfiment
retired from office; and even his rivals, for he had no per- of Richelieu,
sonal enemies, allowed that his career was distinguished by
the most estimable qualities, by a rare disinterestedness,
and the most stainless honour. But it must be admitted,
notwithstanding his accomplishments and his knowledge of
foreign courts, that he lacked the qualities of a statesman,
and had an imperfect knowledge of France.
For a moment, but only for a moment, the king talked Ministry of
of applying to Talleyrand to form a ministry. Fie soon, Decazes.
however, fell back on Decazes, his personal favourite, who
was prepared, to use the words of the king, to plant his flag
upon the ordonnance of the 5th September 1815, and who
was willing to be the disciple and instrument of the monarch
as minister of the interior, prepared to accept the support
of the liberals, and not to reject that of the moderate royalists.
A minister of foreign affairs, not unacceptable to the Em¬
peror of Russia, was, however, needed, and such a one was
found in the person of General Dessoles.
On the last day of December 1818, the new ministry
appeared in the Chamber, in which proposals were made
for bestowing on the Duke of Richelieu a national recom¬
pense. On the 11th January 1819 that recompense was de¬
creed in the shape of a majorat of 50,000 francs as a national
reward for his successful negotiations with foreign powers.
Installed in the ministry of the interior, Decazes applied 1819*
himself to the task of conciliating the liberal party. He
determined on two concessions, one a law of ministerial re¬
sponsibility, the other a law admitting the liberty of the press.
He also promised a law on municipal liberties; and M.
Guizot, who had been appointed to a department in the
home office or ministry of the interior, undertook to draw
up that law. Prefects, sous-prefets, receivers-general, pro¬
vincial attorneys-general, and juges de paix, were now ap¬
pointed for their liberal opinions, and the war office was
managed in the same spirit. The decrees against some of
the surviving members of the National Convention were
also mitigated, and Tallien and Cambaceres were permitted
to return to France.
A party in the Chamber of Peers was determined to
avenge the fall of M. de Richelieu. On the 20th February
the Marquis Barthelemy made a motion for altering the con¬
stitution of the electoral colleges, contending that the fran¬
chise, which was the exclusive privilege of owners of land
and houses, was usurped. Decazes, who had been created
a peer, spoke on the question, but he was replied to by one
of the party of the Count d’Artois (afterwards Charles X.),
180 FRA
History. 3. p3rty whichj voting in 3 body, set 3side the order of the
dsy by 3 large majority, and voted for taking the motion
1819. into consideration.
Laffitte, on the following day, brought forward a counter
proposition in the Chamber of Deputies, and exposed the
folly of considering as too democratic a law which only con¬
ferred the elective franchise upon 100,000 persons out of
29 millions. Menaced by a hostile majority in the Upper
Chamber, Decazes proposed to the king to restore to the
Chamber the peers eliminated in 1815; but his Majesty
preferred creating a new batch of peers, and the minister
presented him with a list of 70, among whom were six of
Bonaparte’s marshals hitherto excluded. By these new
creations the number of peers was raised from 208 to 270.
In speaking on the electoral law, Decazes vindicated the
intelligence and wealth of the great towns representing
manufacturing and commercial interests.
M. Barthelemy’s proposition was, however, adopted by a
majority of 45, the numbers being 98 to 53. The minis¬
try had determined, and the Chamber of Deputies had
agreed, to make a change in the financial year There was
but one method to accomplish this, namely, by voting the
supplies for eighteen months. Flushed with their victory,
the peers refused to adopt the change sanctioned by the
deputies by a majority of 39. It was this vote which jus¬
tified a creation of peers, a fact announced in the Moniteur,
published the day after the vote. This decisive measure
obtained ministers a majority of 56. Almost all those en¬
gaged in the conspiracy of the Hundred Days received at
this period permission to return to France, and among them
the chief conspirator Maret, Duke of Bassano, a man who
so long held the pen for Napoleon as secretary and minister.
But notwithstanding the clemency of the king and the mo¬
deration of the government, the monarch was unpopular,
and the people discontented. In the three elections made
to complete the last renewal of the chamber, Daunou Saint
Aignan and Benjamin Constant, all leaders of the extreme
democratic party, were chosen. Opposition in the chamber
was generally systematic, often violent.
Law on the The preparation of the three projects of law on the free-
press. dom of the press was entrusted by the ministry to M. de
Serre. By the main provisions of this law outrages on
public morality and religion were subjected to penalty as
well as offences against the person of the king, royal family,
members of the chamber, or foreign sovereigns, and defa¬
mation of public functionaries and foreign ambassadors.
The third of these projects liberated the journals from the
censorship, as also from the necessity of a royal permission.
The proprietors, however, were obliged to furnish a secu¬
rity of 10,000 francs. Libels against individuals were to
be tried by judges, juries being only admitted when public
interests or establishments were attacked.
Budget of The budget of 1819 favourably contrasted with those
1819. that preceded it. The estimated expenses of the year were
889,200,000 francs; those of 1818 being 1,154,000,000
francs. The diminution was in great part owing to the re¬
lief afforded by the withdrawal of the allied armies and the
evacuation of the French territory.
In the autumn of 1819 the re-election of one-fifth of the
members of the Chamber of Deputies took place. T he roy¬
alists, who were discontented with Decazes, called on their
supporters to return rather Jacobines than ministerialists. The
advice was notably followed in the election of the Isere, where
the recollection of Didier’s insurrection and its sanguinary
repression had rendered the electors vehement. They chose
as their candidate the Abbe Gregoire, whose name was
identified with some of the extreme measures of the con¬
vention,1 knowing that his election would displease the
N C E.
king. On the news of the Abbe’s return, the Count d’Ar- History,
tois solicited an interview with his brother to whom he had
not spoken for some time. “ Sire,” said he, “ behold whither 1819.
they are leading you.” “ I see,” replied the king, “ and will
provide against the danger.”2 How vain this royal confidence
was will appear from the results of the elections ; five-and-
thirty extreme liberals, among whom was General Foy, vvere
returned, fifteen ministerialists, and only one royalist. The
left, which commenced the struggle with two votes, now
mustered more than eighty. Louis XVIII. was so dis¬
couraged at the election of Gregoire, that he cordially and
confidentially listened to his brother, and it was agreed be¬
tween them that the electoral law required alteration. That
very evening the minister Decazes was summoned to the
royal closet, and received orders to prepare a new law of
elections, to which he at once agreed. When, however,
the matter was broached in council, it was found that there
were dissensions in the cabinet. De Serres and Portal fell
into the views of Decazes, but the president of the council,
General Dessolles, St Cyr, minister of war, and Louis,
minister of finance, were in favour of the existing system.
A change in the ministry was the consequence. Decazes Change of
was made president of the council and minister of the in- ministry,
terior, a post for which his habits and talents peculiarly
qualified him ; Pasquier was appointed minister of foreign
affairs ; Latour Maubourg of war, and Foy finance mini¬
ster. In consequence of these changes, the opening of the
Chamber was adjourned till the 29th November. But in
the interval the president of the council was virulently as¬
sailed by the press and in pamphlets. The new cabinet,
however, was supported by the doctrinaires, who required
for their party two portfolios—one to be given to Mr Royer
Collard—the other to Mole, De Broglie, or M. de Barante.
The king’s speech at the opening of the Chamber explicitly
announced a change of policy. “ The moment is come,”
said his Majesty, “when it is necessary to fortify the Chamber
of Deputies, and withdraw it from the annual action of party
by securing it a longer endurance. To the devotion and
energy of the two chambers I look for the means of saving
the public liberties from licence, confirming the monarchy,
and giving to all the interests guaranteed by the charter
the entire security which we owe it.”
In the division for the president, Laffitte, representing
the extreme liberals, had only 65 votes; while M. Ravez,
supported by the centre, had 105; and M. Villele supported
by the right, 75. The majority, however, could not be re¬
lied on to support any change in the electoral law. In the
division on the address the ministers were defeated by a
majority of one. The address drawn up by the Commis¬
sion which the majority had nominated, announced that a
vague disquiet had taken possession of the public mind, and
that the factions endeavoured to corrupt public opinion. It Secret
was true that at this period secret societies abounded, and societies,
that associations were formed to defend liberty of thought
and opinion. In the mansion of Lafayette secret commit¬
tees were held and a secret correspondence was established
between the malcontents in Brussels and Paris. The new New elec-
electoral law proposed by the government was to the effect, toral la«.
Istly, That the Chamber should be renewed every five or
seven years, and not a fifth every year. 2dlt/, That the
number of the members should be augmented ; and, 2>dli/,
That the colleges of arrondissement should be broken into
smaller divisions. It was agreed that the Chamber should
be composed of 430 instead of 260 members—258 being
returned by the colleges of arrondissements and 172 by
the colleges of departments. The important change intro¬
duced into the new law was that a different class of electors
was introduced,—persons paying 1000 francs instead of 300.
1 Gregoire is generally denominated a regicide; but he did not actually vote for the death of the king, having been absent at the
time on a mission. 2 Lamartine, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. vi., p. 187.
F R A
History. During the month of January and the first part of Feb-
v—/ ruary of this year nothing very important occurred in the
1820. Chambers. On Sunday night the 13th February, however,
Assassina- Paris was startled by a sad event. On that evening, just
tion of the preceding the close of the carnival, there was, as is usual,
Iten-i 0f a rePresentat‘on at opera. The Duke and Duchess of
Berri were among the audience. About eleven o’clock the
duke conducted the duchess, who wished to retire to her
carriage, intending to return for the ballet. As he stood at
the door of the carriage, a man of the name of Louvel, a
journeyman saddler, whose boyhood had been passed amidst
the worst scenes of the Revolution, rudely thrust aside the
aide-de-camp, struck a dagger into the right breast of his
victim, and leaving the weapon in the wound, escaped round
the corner of the Place Louvois into the Rue Richelieu. The
duchess hearing her husband exclaim that he was assassi¬
nated, rushed from the carriage, and followed him as he was
borne bleeding to the little room behind his box. The Duke
felt that the blow was mortal, and called for his wife that
he might die in her arms. The best medical skill was had
recourse to, but in vain. The blood escaping from the wound
into the chest threatened suffocation, when the Prince re¬
quested to be turned on his left side ; no sooner was this
demand complied with than he expired.
The assassin was taken near the royal library in the Rue
Richelieu. When pressed as to what could have instigated
him to commit such an act, he replied, that the Bourbons
were the tyrants and enemies of France, and that he had
singled out the Duke of Berri as the youngest of his race.
Before the duke breathed his last sigh the king arrived.
When the monarch approached, the first words of the duke
were, “ My uncle, give me your hand that I may kiss it for
the last time and he then earnestly added, “ I entreat the
life of that man. I beseech that I may die in peace, and
that my dying moments may be softened.” These words
paint the generous, noble, and placable prince whose days
had been so untimely shortened.
The death of the prince excited general regret amongst
all parties ; and amongst the royalists it excited consterna¬
tion. It was determined by the government that the opera
house should be removed from the spot where the crime
had been committed, and that a monument should be erected
on the site.
The suspicions and dislike of the royalists had been long
concentrated upon M. Decazes, and they now sought to fix
on him the guilt and infamy of this crime. “ Party,” said
Louis XVIII, to his favourite minister and pupil, “ will seek
to turn this event to its purposes. The ultras, who hate me
as much as you, will accuse me of blindness and indifference
if I support you. But I will resist, and you shall not quit
office ; I insist, my child, upon your remaining ; they shall
not separate you from me.” When the Chamber opened,
the zealous ultra-royalists accused M. Decazes of being an
accomplice of the assassin. Villele in vain endeavoured to
restrain these furious zealots; La Bourdonnaye proposed an
address to the king praying his Majesty to put down revolu¬
tionary doctrines; General Foy supported the proposal of an
address, but suggested that it should merely express the grief
of the Chamber ; a sentiment in which all were unanimous.
“ To no party,” said Foy, “ can this event be so deplorable
as to the friends of freedom ; for the antagonists of freedom
will turn this conjuncture to their advantage in seeking to
deprive the country of those liberties which the king had
granted.” The Chamber adopted the motion of Foy.
It was agreed by the monarch and his minister that the
Chamber of Peers should be summoned as a supreme court
to try the assassin, and that stringent laws against the press,
modifying the electoral law, and giving the government
N C E. 181
extraordinary powers, should be introduced into the Cham- History,
ber of Deputies. Though Louis XVIII. was determined *
to support M. Decazes, yet public feeling appeared too 1820.
strong for him. Chauteaubriand attacked the favourite, say¬
ing his feet had slipped in blood. The Count d’Artois,
too, as well as the Duchess d’Angouleme, demanded his
dismissal. It is impossible for me, said the father of the
murdered prince, to remain at the Tuileries when M. De¬
cazes, accused of that crime, sits at the council. I beseech
your Majesty to allow me to retire to Compiegne.1 When
M. Decazes heard of these events, he tendered his resigna¬
tion. The king felt obliged to accept it. It is not against
you, he said, but against me that the stroke is directed.
The Pavilion Marsan are trying to overbear me. I will
not have M. de Talleyrand; the Duke de Richelieu alone
shall replace you. I will show the world that you have not
lost my confidence.
The Duke of Richelieu, though he evinced tiie utmost Second
distaste for the task, at the earnest solicitation of the king, ministry of
undertook to form a ministry. M. Simeon was made mi-
nister of the interior, M, Portalis under-secretary to the Klc ieu'
minister of justice, but no other changes were made in the
cabinet. M. Decazes was appointed ambassador to London,
with a salary of L. 12,000 a-year, was loaded with presents
by the monarch, and he was so far from losing his influence
by the change, that the king corresponded with him almost
daily. The French proverb, however, says les absens ont
toujours tort; and while M. Decazes was in London an in¬
trigue was hatched which destroyed his ascendancy.
Though the king was at this period advanced in life, and Madame
addicted to the pleasures of the table, yet he was not insen- du Ca)la>
sible to beauty, and was above all delighted with the con¬
versation of the refined and sensible of the fair sex. The
royalists, aware of this disposition, fixed on a young and
beautiful woman possessing a graceful exterior and winning
address, great powers of conversation, and exquisite tact;
and it was contrived that this lady should solicit the favour
and protection of the monarch in reference to her family
affairs, thus win his confidence, and insensibly draw the
king more and more from M. Decazes, and of course nearer
to the ultra-royalists and clique of the Pavilion Marsan.
Such was the origin of the secret influence of Madame
du Cayla. The management of the delicate negotiation
was entrusted to the Viscount de la Rochefoucauld, and he,
aided by the Jesuits, impressed on the fair lady the service
she would render to religion, to royalty, to the family of the
Bourbons, and to France, if she would lead back the sove¬
reign into the right way. The history of the plot is gra¬
phically, minutely, and apparently from most accurate
sources, told in the recent volumes of Lamartine’s History
of the Restoration, to which we must refer the reader curious
of more copious details than can be here given.2
The result of the first interview was entirely successful.
Dazzled and captivated by her beauty, her grace, her tact,
and her charm of manner, the king invited Madame
du Cayla to a second interview. Her ascendancy grew
apace, and so necessary did her presence become to the
monarch, that he passed several days in her society, and no
longer thought of the male favourite whom for years pre¬
viously he had called by the endearing term of “ mo?i
enfant"
It is a remarkable fact that from the period of Madame
du Cayla’s ascendancy, the career of Decazes as a public
man closed. He never again formed a part of any ministry,
and his influence ceased when no longer in office. He
was a man of great tact, of considerable ability, and of
most serviceable suppleness. The ascendancy he gained
over the mind of the monarch was partly due to his suavity
1 Vaulabelle, Histoire de la Restauration, tom. iv., p. 486.
2 See Hist, de la Rcstauration, par Lamartine, tom. vi., pp, 230, 244.
182
FRANCE.
History. an[{ moderation—partly to his studying the dispositions and
designs of the monarch, and making himself the exponent, in-
1820. terpreter, and executor of the royal wishes, projects, and plans.
Decazes, like the king, was a temporizer, a moderator.
His policy was to disarm and mitigate opposition, but he
was a man of just views, of clear judgment, joining to con¬
siderable powers of speech the art of adroitly conciliating
and managing men. The doctrinaires went out of office
with M. Decazes, but the elite of the party, comprising
MM. Guizot, de Stael, de Barante, and St Aulaire, voted
generally with the new ministry. It should be stated to
the credit of this minister, that Guizot, Villemain, and Cousin
all owed their rise to him. He was the first minister who
gave to France direct election and the freedom of the press.
Funeral of The murdered Duke of Berri was buried with all pos-
the Duke p0mp in the vaults of St Denis. The king, accompa-
°f Berri. njet| ^ tjie j)uke anc[ Duchess d’Angouleme, attended the
ceremony. The murderer was brought to trial in due
course. He was condemned on the clearest evidence, con¬
fessed his guilt, but maintained that his crime was justifiable
on public grounds.
After the fall of Decazes, the electoral law was the first
upon which the fortune of parties turned. The existing law,
giving the franchise to all who paid 300 francs taxes, was
sure to produce a liberal majority, for the simple reason that
the ultra-royalists were a minority in the nation. But the
murder of the Duke of Berri produced a universal panic,
appalled the royalists, and was not without an influence on
the mind of the king himself.
His Majesty heard from all sides, at home and abroad,
that the law should be altered so as to produce a royalist
majority, and the Duke de Richelieu was willing to go
these lengths. The duke, however, refused to enter the
ministry unless the Count d’Artois would promise his sup¬
port, a support which the latter was ready to give, as the
great object of the ultra-royalists was to obtain the repeal
of the electoral law. To conciliate the ultra party, the un¬
der-secretaryships of both the home ministry and ministry
of justice were given to two ultras, the Barons Portalis and
Capelle; and the latter, who had been a kind of private
councillor and secretary of the Count d’Artois, was en¬
trusted with the management of the employes of the home
office, thus giving him unlimited power over the appoint¬
ment of prefects and functionaries. Thus the duke gave
up the patronage and management of the departments and
of the elections to the Count d’Artois.
It was by a compromise, brought about by the efforts of
Simeon, Pasquier, and Mounier, that this was effected. It
was agreed that there were to be two classes of colleges of
electors—one of the departments, the other of the arron-
dissements. The electoral college of each department w as
to consist of a fifth part of the whole electors paying the
highest taxes ; the electoral colleges of the arrondissements
were to consist of the remainder of the electors having their
domicile within the limits. The electoral colleges of the
arrondissements named by a simple majority as many can¬
didates as the department was entitled to elect, and the
college of the department chose from among the deputies
to send to the Chamber. To the government project an
amendment was proposed by M. Camille Jordan, which re¬
ceived the support of the liberal party, and was carried
against the government by a majority of one. This majority
was produced by the vote of M. Chauvelin, who, seriously
ill, was carried into the Chamber on a couch to decide the
question. An appeal was now made to the doctrinaires, and
a new amendment was proposed by MM. Boin and Cour-
voisier, which was supported by the government, the right,
and their adherents in the centre.
It was to this effect, that the Chamber of Deputies was
to consist of two hundred and fifty-eight members chosen History,
by the arrondissements, and a hundred and seventy-two by
the departments; the latter being chosen, not by the whole 1820.
electors, but by a fourth of their number, composed of those
who paid the highest amount of taxes.
M. de Boin’s amendment was carried by a majority of
five. It is a remarkable circumstance that only five mem¬
bers were absent from the division, a plain proof that the
question excited the most palpitating interest. As soon as
the news of the decisive vote in favour of the new law be¬
came known, there wyas considerable excitement in the ca¬
pital. Crowds collected in the streets, seditious cries were
heard, and the military were called on to disperse the mob.
In the tumult a law student named Lallemand was shot.
This event increased the excitement and augmented the
discontent. Mobs collected in greater force, and procla¬
mations were issued forbidding assemblages even to the
number of three. The proclamation of the government
produced a counter one from the democratic and liberal
committees, calling on the students to avenge their compa¬
nion. The students met and marched two by two, but
were dispersed by the gendarmerie d cheval. A suppressed
insurrection generally strengthens the hands of government,
and at the funeral of Lallemand, which occurred on the 9th
June, the capital was tranquil.
The budget for the year was voted with little opposi- The
tion. The gross revenue was 741,087,000 francs, the net budget,
income 739,712,000 francs. The expenditure, exclusive of
the interest of the debt, was estimated at 511,317,000 francs.
It was at a period when the revenue was thus flourishing,
and when the country was generally prosperous, that mili¬
tary conspiracies became rife. Lamartine, who had access
to good sources of information, states that Lafayette de¬
clared to his friends that open force could alone overthrow
a government which declared against the equality of classes.
Conspirators and carbonari, as they were then called, tried
to seduce the military ; to surprise the fortress of Vincennes;
to tamper with the regiments in Paris; to excite the schools of
law and medicine, and to rouse the faubourgs. Such were the
affairs in which Nantil, Sauzet, and Mazaire were implicated.
Many general officers were also at this time mixed up in
conspiracies. So long as Gouvion St Cyr, as minister of
war, and Decazes, had made attempts to allay the discontent
of the old Napoleonist officers by giving them a share of
promotions and honours, though there was secret discontent
there was no conspiracy ; but now that the new war minister
closed the career of promotion and honour to officers with
imperial sympathies and predilections, military conspii’ators
became more numerous. They assembled together in the
Rue Cadet, and their schemes were communicated to La¬
fayette, who had formed a species of council composed of
Voyer d’Argenson and Koechlin, both deputies having im¬
mense influence in the Rhenane departments, to Manuel,
one of the orators of the Chamber, to Dupont de 1’Eure,
an ancient magistrate, to Merilliou, a rising barrister, to
Corcelles, a deputy, and others. Several generals, and
among others, Pajol, Bachelu, Maransin, and Merlin ; the
colonels Ordner, Combe. Caron, Ferrari, and others, wrere
also mixed up in these plots. The day on which a simul¬
taneous demonstration was to take place was fixed for the
19th August, but circumstances prevented the outbreak.
Towards the end of July the legion of the Meurthe, of
the Cotes du Nord, and of the first legion of the North
were all affiliated. But accidental circumstances prevented
the rising at the appointed time, though Colonel Sauzet
started for Vitry, Colonel Mazian for Amiens, Lafayette
for his chateau of Lagrange, Voyer d’Argenson for the
Upper Rhine, Corcelles for Lyons, and Saint Aignan for
Nantes.1 Lafayette, according to Lamartine, wished to
1 Vaulabelle, tom. iv., p. 561.
FRANCE.
History
1820.
Birth of
the Duke
de Bor¬
deaux.
Royalist
’eaction.
d. de
illele in
he Cabi-
let.
jaw of
eclesiasti-
dendow-
lents.
postpone the enterprise to some days later, in order to keep
the anniversary of the death of his wife, and on the night of
the 18th or 19th August an explosion took place in the
castle of V incennes, and this caused military and gens
d armes to be assembled in the fortress. The presence of
the troops led the conspirators erroneously to suppose that
their designs were discovered.1 * Some vague information had,
however, been given to ministers, and they assembled on
the 19th at the Duke de Richelieu’s. Lists of the persons
implicated in these plots were then in the hands of the
cabinet, and among them were many of the foremost men
among the liberals, among others Lafayette and Manuel.
The cabinet recoiled from the task of grappling with the
leaders who were strong in the chambers, and proceeded
only against the inferior agents.
A month subsequent to the threatened outbreak, the
Duchess de Berri was safely delivered of a son, who was
christened Henri Duke de Bordeaux. Suchet Duke d’Al-
bufera and several of the guard were eye-witnesses to the
birth.3 The royalists were delighted at this auspicious
event, nor could the liberals resist the general enthusiasm.
The Duke d’Orleans, afterwards Louis Philippe, asked the
Duke d’Albufera whether the Duchess de Berri his niece
was really the mother of a bov. “ As certainly as your
Royal Highness is the father of‘the Duke de Chartres,” re¬
plied the marshal.3 J he duke, with his duchess, afterwards
Maiie Amelie, queen of the French, went to congratulate
his royal relative on the birth of a prince who might one
day be his king. The military conspiracy, which was to
have broken out on the 19th August, had ramifications in
many of the provinces, and disturbances took place which
had to be put down by open force. At Brest M. Ballart,
a deputy, was insulted by the populace. The national
guard in the town, exhibiting symptoms of disaffection, was
dissolved. Benjamin Constant was threatened by the scho¬
lars of the military school of cavalry at Saumur. There
were also conspiracies in the east and west, at Saumur, Be-
fort, and La Rochelle, during the course of 1820 and 1821.
In these conspiracies Generals Berton, and Thouars, Bories,'
Armand Carrel, and Lafayette were implicated. Lafayette
set out from Paris for Befort, and only turned back when
he heard on reaching the place that the plot had failed.
The attitude of the Doctrinaires at this epoch was almost
hostile to the ministry, and the Duke de Richelieu exas¬
perated the party at the close of the session by striking the
names of Royer Collard, Guizot, Barante, Camile, Jourdan,
and Mirbel, from the members of the council of state. In
consequence of the reaction which had taken place in the
public mind after the birth of the Duke de Bordeaux, the
elections were favourable to the royalists. They had now
for the first time since the Restoration obtained a prepon¬
derance, and the consequence was that De Villele was
admitted without office into the Cabinet; that De Corbiere
was appointed minister of public instruction, and M. de Cha-
teaubriand appointed to the embassy to Berlin.4
The Chambers met on the 20th December, and the kino-
addressed them in a moderate tone. “ Whatever,” said he'
“ adds to the consideration and influence of the legislature’
adds to the authority and dignity of my crown.” The ad¬
dress and answer echoed the strong feelings of the majority
and suggested the necessity of fortifying the authority of
religion, purifying morals, and giving to the armed force
the organization which would secure tranquillity within and
peace without. The strength of the royalists induced the
ministers to introduce a law for additional ecclesiastical
endowments. It was proposed to establish twelve new
bishopricks, and to raise the salaries of the clergy. The
project met with a violent opposition from the liberal party,
1 Lamartine, Histoire de la Restauration, tom. vii., p. 26.
Memoires d'Outre Tombe, tom. vii., 276, 279, 131 and 132.
but it was carried by a majority of more than two to one.
Some modifications were introduced in the French corn
laws by limiting the number of places to which foreign
grain might be imported.
A law was also passed for an indemnity to the marshals,
generals, and others, whom Napoleon had endowed out of
the revenues of Italy, Germany, and other countries over
w wch he had extended his sway. The indignation of the
royalists knew no bounds when they heard the names of
these Napoleon ists.
I he minister of the interior brought forward a project
for continuing the censorship, contending that it had been
so gently exercised that no legitimate and proper discussion
had ever been interfered with, but that abuse and scandal
had been checked. Shortly before the session closed Villele
and Corbiere resigned their places, and Chateaubriand re¬
tired from the embassy at Berlin. After the session of the
legislature had terminated, the difficulties of the ministry
greatly increased. The ultra-royalists, with the Count
d Artois at their head, were discontented that they had not
a majoiity in the Cabinet as well as in the Chamber, and
that Polignac, the favourite of the prince, and Peyronnet,
the spokesman if not the orator of the extreme party, had
not portfolios as ministers.
I he ultra-royalists had no objection to M. de Richelieu
as premier, and they commenced negotiations on this basis,
demanding the ministry of the interior in a new cabinet for
M. de Villdle, and the creation of a ministry of public in-
straction tor M. de Corbiere, the English embassy for M. de
Chateaubriand, and another embassy for M. de Vitrolles.
I he Cabinet offered the ministry of marine to this small
party, but insisted on maintaining M. Mounier in the minis-
tiy of the interior, by far the most influential office connected
with the government. On this point negotiations broke off,
and the old ministers, without the support of the right,
opened a new session. The elections of 1821, however’
had increased the royalist majority, already great, and which
was victorious by a large majority on the first division. On
the 13th December, M. de Richelieu, finding the Chamber
hostile to him, and there being no possibility of coming to
an understanding with the Count d’Artois, resigned the
seals of office. All his colleagues followed his example.
M; de Richelieu advised the monarch to send for M. de
Villele, who accepted the place of president of the council
and minister of finance. M. de Peyronnet was appointed
minister of justice, M. de Montmorency of foreign affairs,
M. de Corbiere of the interior, Marshal Victor of war, and
M. Clermont Tonnere of marine, whilst Chateaubriand was
sent to London as ambassador. This was a complete ultra¬
royalist or Carlist Cabinet, to which the monarch would not
have consented had he possessed his ordinary health and
strength. But he was frail and feeble, and in such a state
of debility that his mind had lost its tone. In truth, Louis
XVIII. now considered his reign as almost terminated.
“ Now that M. Villele triumphs,” he exclaimed, “ I regard
myself as annihilated.5 Hitherto I have preserved the
crown, and defended the charter; if my brother imperils
both, it is his affair.”
There cannot be a doubt that the change introduced into
the electoral law under the Duke de Richelieu’s administra¬
tion contributed to placing the government in the hands
of the ultra-royalists. The principle of giving the depart¬
mental electors representatives of their own, chosen by a
fourth of their number who paid the highest amount of
taxes, completely altered the character of the Chamber, and
gave to the Carlists, the seigneurs, proprietors, and parti
pretre an undue ascendancy. Indeed this last party, with
its Jesuits of the long and short robe, and its congrega-
2 Ibid., tom. vi., 277. 3 Ibid ) tom vi ; p 278<
Vaulabelle, Hist, dc Id Restdurdtion^ tom. v., p. 262,
183
History.
1820.
Indemnity
to mar¬
shals.
The censor¬
ship.
1821.
Elections
of 1821.
Resigna¬
tion of M.
de Riche¬
lieu.
Villele
ministry.
FRANCE.
184
History, tionists now assumed a dangerous prominence, obtained
'''—-vmany employments in every department, and urged on its
1821. instruments without any regard to consequences. Embassies,
prefectures, places in the council of state and in the ministry
of public instruction, rained on them. It is no pait ot oui
duty in this place to refer to the congresses of Carlsbad,
Troppau, and Laybach, or to the insurrection in Naples,
Piedmont, and Greece, all of which had more 01 less an effect
on France; but whilst the ultra-royalists were making
such rapid strides towards a monopoly of place and power,
H-ath of the Emperor Napoleon departed this life at St-Helena on
Napoleon. t]ie 4th May in his fifty-second year. (See Napoleon
Bonaparte.) His demise, strange as it may appear, ex¬
cited a greater sensation in England than in France. Thus
passed away the man who for twenty years had disposed of
the destinies of nations after a fashion recalling the times
of Alexander, Caesar, and Charlemagne. Alas! to use the
words of Burke, “ what shadows we are, and what shadows
we pursue.”
It may be supposed that a man of the keen common sense
of Louis XVIII. deeply felt the humiliation of his present
position. It is true he was still king, but his brother was
viceroy over him. It was the Count d’Artois appointed the
new ministry, every one of whom, says Vaulabelle, with the
exception of Victor duke de Belluno, belonged to the con¬
gregation ; and from the date of that appointment the
Count d’Artois was the real king of France.2
The first difficulty of the new ministry arose from the
laws regarding the press. It was necessary to do something
to check the boldness, daring, and what the ultra-royalists
called the licentiousness of the journals, and yet this was
difficult in a ministry in which M. de Chateaubriand—who
had been himself a writer in the press held a distinguished
Law on the place. A law was brought forward by M. 1 eyronnet pro-
press. fessing to be based on the charter, but yet tending seriously
to abridge the liberty of the press. By this it was enacted
that no journal could appear without the kings authority,
excepting such as were in existence on the 1st January
1822. 1822. Offences of the press were declared to fall exclu¬
sively under the jurisdiction of the royal courts which de¬
cided without a jury. Ihe authorities were authorised to
suspend or even suppress journals which published a series
of articles against religion and the monarchy. Ihe plead¬
ings were to be with closed doors, in cases in which the
authorities considered publicity dangerous to morality or to
order. When the Chamber was not sitting, the king was
authorised by ordonnance countersigned by three ministeis
to re-establish the censure. This law was received by the
left with a storm of indignation, and even M. de Serres so
recently filling a high office in the king’s government, made
an eloquent speech against the project. I he law was, hovy-
ever, carried in both houses, and by a greater majority in
the Chamber of Deputies than in the Peers. After the dis¬
cussion on the press, the budget was the only question that
Revenue excited general interest. The revenue for the year 1823
for 1823. was estimated at 909,130,000 francs (L.36,450,000), and the
expenditure at 900,475,000 francs (L.36,025,000); leaving a
surplus of 8,000,000 francs, or L.320,000. Ihe vote for
80,000 in the army was the theme of indignant remark to
the opposition. The revenue of 1822 was 915,591,000
francs (L.36,600,000), the expenditure 882,321,000 francs
(L.35,960,000); leaving a surplus of 33,270,000 francs
(L.1,320,000) in the hands of government. The sums voted
for the army amounted to 250,000,000 francs.
French in- Villele was a man of sound sense, shrewdness, and
tervention sagacity, and entered into office with views directed to the
in Spain. peace and prosperity of the country. But circumstances
and events overmastered him and disturbed all his plans of
domestic government. He had not been long in office
when revolution reared its head beyond the Pyrenees. The History,
examples of Naples and Piedmont had now extended to
Spain, and the French ultra-royalists were for measures of 1822.
repression by armed interference. They were determined
in fact to put down the Spanish revolution by force. Al¬
ready during the administration of the Duke de Richelieu
a body of troops called a Cordon Sanitaire had been col¬
lected on the French side of the Pyrenees, under the pre¬
text of preventing the yellow fever, then raging at Barcelona,
from penetrating into France, and now a congress was
summoned at Verona to take into consideration the question
of Spain, and the progress of the Spanish revolutionists.
The directions which M. de Villele drew up for the pleni- Congress of
potentiaries whom he proposed to send to Verona were skil- Verona,
fully and moderately framed. He required that France should
be left independent to deal with Spain according to the exi-
o-encies of the case, and that the other powers should recall
their ambassadors when France recalled hers. But these
were the views of the minister, not of the majority of the
Chamber. The views of the majority were expressed by
M. de Montmorency, who required that the great powers
should recall their ambassadors simultaneously with I’ranee,
and afford material support in the certain event of war.
To counteract these views of M. de Montmorency, M.
de Chateaubriand left the London embassy and proceeded
to Verona.
M. de Montmorency was the representative of the ex¬
treme-royalists, and the object of the French premier was
to curb and check him by a man of more liberal opinions
and of more brilliant reputation. M. de Montmorency re¬
turned from Verona with the draft of the despatches which
the allied governments proposed sending to Madrid, and
bearing one from France to the same purport. But he was
coldly received by the monarch and M. de Villele to whose
instructions he had paid so little regard, and the notes which
he brought from Verona were not despatched; a more con¬
ciliatory one drawn up by the king and Villele being sub¬
stituted. The result was the resignation of M. de Mont¬
morency. M. de Chateaubriand was appointed in M. de
Montmorency’s place as minister for foreign affairs, the
premier Villele believing Chateaubriand to be imbued with
his own moderate views. But Chateaubriand, as soon as M.
de Montmorency had left Verona, suddenly embraced with
zeal and ardour the views of the ultra-royalists, and by
every diplomatic effort sought to force his country into an
invasion of Spain. Placed in the ministry of foreign affairs,
he carried out these views with all the energy of an anxious
mind, making himself the exponent of the opinions of the
ultra party. In his memoirs he extenuates this passage
in his public life, on the ground that it was necessary for
the grandeur of France and the consolidation of the throne
of the Bourbons. His object, he maintains, was “ to re¬
place France in the rank of military powers; to restore
the white cockade in a war almost without danger, to which
the opinions of the royalists and the army strongly inclined.
Louis XVIII. and Villele, however, were apprehensive ot
the consequences of this French intervention. I hey feared
a war of opinion, and that the French troops marching
under the white flag might rally to the Spanish marching
under the tricolor. These misgivings were much strength¬
ened by the Duke of Wellington, who on his return from
Verona had a confidential interview with Louis X\ HE,
and represented to his Majesty, in the words ot Mr Can¬
ning’s note, that the English government had always been
opposed to any foreign intervention in the internal affairs of
Spain.
The arguments of the Duke had great weight with the
sovereign. But in the French Cabinet Peyronnet, Clermont
Tonnere, and the Duke de Belluno strongly counselled in-
1 Lacretelle, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. iii., p- 198.
2 Vaulabelle, tom.v., 263.
FRANCE.
1822.
1823.
History, tervention, the latter, who was war minister, insisted that the
example of the Spanish revolution was prejudicial to the
throne of France, and that the impression it produced on
the military might be dangerous. The Duke de Belluno
further stated that the army would in a campaign be¬
come devoted to the Bourbons, but that it was dan¬
gerous to leave it inactive on the frontier. Nothing, he
truly added, is so dangerous as a body of troops in a state
of inaction.
W" arlike preparations wrere not suspended, and the march
of troops to the Pyrenees continued. Public opinion in
P ranee, it must be confessed, was in favour of the war. The
war party in the legislature was augmented by the result of
the annual election of one-fifth of the Chamber, and it now
comprehended an immense majority in the Chamber. The
royalists and the army panted for the contest, and the
liberals and democrats in secret hoped that the French
troops would fraternise with the Spanish revolutionists.
I he French Chambers met on the 28th January, and
the speech of the king was eminently warlike. “ I have
tried, said his Majesty, ‘‘everything to secure the peace
of my people, and to preserve Spain, but in vain. 100,000
men, commanded by a prince of my family, are ready to
march to preserve the throne of Spain to a descendant
of Henry IV., and to save that fine kingdom from ruin.
Let Ferdinand VII. be free to give to his people the
institutions which they can never hold but of him,
and which in assuring the repose will dissipate the just
uneasiness of P"ranee. From that moment hostilities shall
cease.”
Chateaubriand, the minister for foreign affairs, made an
eloquent and well-reasoned speech in favour of the inter¬
ference which he had promoted and provoked. Admitting
that no government has a right to interfere in the affairs of
another, except in the case where the security and immediate
interests of the first government are compromised, he pro¬
ceeded to show that there was a moral contagion which was
the most serious and alarming of all the dangers—that the re¬
volutionists of Spain were in correspondence with the revolu¬
tionists of France, and excited French soldiers to revolt.
1 hese circumstances, he urged, compromised the essential
interests of France. 1 his speech made a prodigious im¬
pression ; for it expressed with force, felicity, and eloquence,
not merely the feelings of the ultra-royalists and Carlists,
but of the royalists and many men of moderate opinions.
The adhesion of the Chamber to M. de Chateaubriand’s
views was proved by a substantial vote. A supplementary
credit of 100,000,000 francs (four millions sterling) was
placed at the disposal of the minister to carry on the war.
It was in the course of the debate on this grant that
Manuel, the orator of the opposition, rose to answer
Chateaubriand, He described the government of Fer¬
dinand as atrocious, alluded more than once to the fate of
Louis XVL, and endeavoured to show that it was the pro¬
tection given to the Stuart family by France which led to
the destruction of those princes. The royal dynasty of
France, he continued, owed its most serious danger to the
same cause, the invasion of the soil of the country by foreign
armies, and it was then that revolutionary France, feeling
the necessity of defending herself with fresh energy -
The speaker was not allowed to finish his sentence. They
185
History.
1823.
Manuel,
his expul¬
sion from
the Cham¬
ber.
hastened to interrupt him, says Lamartine, in order to have
the right to execrate him.
The cote droit exclaimed that Manuel had apologised
for regicide, and with loud imprecations they called on the
president to put him down, to expel him". Expulsion !
expulsion ! let us drive him from our benches, exclaimed
eighty or a hundred voices. M. Ravez, the president, re¬
marked with dignity that the speaker had been interrupted
in the middle of a sentence. The vociferators, heedless of
these remarks, surrounded the rostrum on which Manuel
stood; and one of them, bolder than the rest, dragging
Manuel from the eminence on which he stood, demanded
a signal vengeance on the advocate of assassins. Manuel
wrote a letter to the president, contending for his right to
finish his sentence, and to allow his meaning to be judged.
But M. Forbin des Issarts demanded his expulsion, and a
formal motion to that effect was prepared by M. de la
Labourdonnaye, the leader of the ultra-royalists, which was
carried by a majority of two to one. The liberals resolved
to resist this unwise act of the government. Guards were
placed at the doors of the Chamber to prevent the entrance
of Manuel. He entered, however, unperceived. The pre¬
sident then summoned him to withdraw. “I announced
yesteiday, said Manuel, “ that I would yield only to force,
and I shall keep my word.” After some delay the huis-
siers, or officers of the Chamber, read to him a written
older that he should withdraw. Fie maintained that
the order Was illegal, whereupon the huissiers returned
with a piquet of National Guards in uniform. The cries
of the libeial deputies induced the National Guard to
waver, and amidst the applause of Lafayette, Foy, Laffitte,
and others, the Sergeant Mercier hesitated to act the
gendarme. But in a few minutes thirty gendarmes, under
M. Foucault, made their appearance, and Manuel was re¬
moved by force. Sixty-nine deputies, among whom were
Lafayette, Foy, Laffitte, &c., of the liberal party, followed
him to the house of M. Gevandau, where a protest was
drawn up against his expulsion, declaring that the Cham¬
ber had exceeded the limits of its mandate.
On the 15th March the Duke d’Angouleme set out to Duked’An-
take the command of the army that was to enter Spain, gouleme
At first there was a difficulty in provisioning the troops, the Seneralis*
commissariat being badly arranged, but M. Ouvrard, tosimo-
whom the contract was given, soon placed the supplies on
the most satisfactory footing. The French army mustered
91,000 men. It was divided into four corps, under Mar¬
shals Oudinot, Molitor, Moncey, and Prince Hohenlohe.
The Spanish force consisted of 123,000 men, under Ballas-
teros, Mina, and O’Donnell, Conde d’Abisbal. On the 5th
April the French were ranged along the Bidassoa, and it
was evident that a passage would be attempted on the fol¬
lowing day. A considerable force of Spaniards was also
drawn up on the Spanish side of the river, but the corps that
attracted most attention was a body of French and Italian
refugees, ranged under the tricolor flag, and commanded
by Colonel Fabvier, an officer of the Empire. Fabvier had
been promised a corps of 800 of these men, but only 200
made their appearance. As the French advanced post ap¬
proached, the corps of Fabvier chanted the Marseillaise.
The moment was critical. General Vallin, who com¬
manded the advanced .guard, ordered a gun to be dis¬
charged along the bridge. The first round was fired over
the heads of the enemy in order to induce them to retire,
whereupon the refugees cried vice Vartillerie. General
Vallin then ordered a point blank discharge, which killed
several. A third round completed the dispersion of the
group. When Louis XVIII. saw General Vallin after the
campaign, he said, “ General, votre coup de canon a sauve
1’Europe.” This may have been an exaggeration of the
monarch, but it is certain that the act had a most prodi¬
gious influence on the campaign. The French army effected Operations
its passage without difficulty, drove back the garrison of St of the
Sebastian, and established the blockade of that place, while French in
the French centre and reserve moved rapidly on the great sPain-
road to Madrid. The invaders were generally well, often
enthusiastically, received. They observed an exact disci¬
pline, and paid for everything they required, so that no
von. x.
Vaulabelle, Hist, de la Restauration. tom. v. Lamartine, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. vii., p. 153.
2 A
186 F il A
History, serious difficulty was experienced from Irun to Madrid.
v O’Donnell, Conde d’Abisbal, and the municipality of
1823. Madrid agreed to capitulate on favourable terms—terms
to which the Duke d’Angouleme at once acceded; and
on the 24th May he entered Madrid. Two columns,
one commanded by General Bordesoult, the other by
General Bourmont, marched immediately in pursuit of
the revolutionary forces, which were carrying the king
a prisoner by forced marches towards Seville. But the
enemy retreated as soon as the French troops appeared in
sight. The Cortes had established themselves at Seville,
whither the English ambassador had followed the captive
monarch. On hearing of the approach of the French, the
Cortes proposed to the king to move with them to Cadiz,
but Ferdinand, who witnessed the want of success and
growing unpopularity of the revolutionary government, re¬
fused to leave Seville. The Cortes then declared the king
deposed, appointed a provisional regency, and forced Ferdi¬
nand to Cadiz, where he arrived on the 12th June. Sir W.
A’Court, the English ambassador, refused to accompany
the deposed monarch. A royalist reaction took place at
Seville on the evening of the king’s departure, and on the
18th June, General Bourmont entered Seville, where he
permanently established the royal authority. The forces
of the Cortes abandoning Andalusia, took refuge within
Cadiz, where 20,000 men, partisans of the revolutionary
party, were assembled. Murillo, who commanded at Va¬
lencia, passed over with half his forces to the royalists, and
Ballasteros, defeated at Carabil with 7000 men, delivered
over to the French Carthagena, Tarragona, and all the
fortresses, with the exception of Barcelona. Corunna and
Ferroll opened their gates to the French. Mina, indeed,
continued the struggle in the mountains of Catalonia, so
favourable to guerilla warfare, and Cadiz still held out.
Resolved that the city should fall, the Duke d’Angouleme
left Madrid on the 18th July, taking with him the guards
and reserve, and leaving only 4000 men to garrison the
capital. On the 8th of August, his royal highness pub¬
lished at Andujar a proclamation by which it was, among
other things, declared that the commanders-in-chief of the
corps under the orders of his royal highness were to set at
liberty all persons who had been imprisoned for political
causes. Meantime the siege of Cadiz had been undertaken.
On August the 17th the Duke d’Angouleme sent a letter
to the president of the Cortes expressing the wish of the
French government that the king of Spain should be re¬
stored to liberty, that he should grant to his people a gene¬
ral amnesty, and by the convocation of the Cortes give a
guarantee for the reign of justice and order. The Cortes
returned a haughty answer, telling his royal highness that
if he abused the power he possessed he would be respon¬
sible for all the evils he might draw down on the person of
the king. Thus all hope of adjustment having failed,
the assault of the Trocadero, the outwork of Cadiz, situ¬
ated on the land side, was directed. So energetically were
the approaches made, that on the 24th August the first
parallel had been drawn to within sixty yards of the ditch.
An incessant fire was kept up from the batteries of the
assailants from the 24th to the 31st. On the morning of
the 31st, the assaulting column rushed into the ditch, with
the water up to their armpits, and ascending the opposite
side under a shower of balls, mounted the ramparts. By
nine o’clock the conquest was complete, the entire penin¬
sula with all its forts having fallen into the hands of the
victors. By the middle of September the Cortes were
convinced of the hopelessness of the contest, and they
induced Ferdinand YU. to sign a letter to the Duke
d’Angouleme, in which he requested a suspension of arms.
L he duke replied that as soon as the king was set at liberty
he would entreat his Majesty to grant an amnesty, and to
promise suitable institutions.
MCE.
On the 28th September the Cortes declared that their History,
means of defence were exhausted, and dissolved themselves,
On the same day the king sent a message to the Duke 1824.
d’Angouleme that he was at liberty, and on the 1st October
he embarked at Port St Mary’s for his capital.
Judged by its immediate result, the French expedition
was successful. In less than six months, with the loss of
only 400 men, and at an expense of 200,000,000 francs, the
French troops had delivered the king of Spain, and had
prevented Spanish factions from tearing each other to
pieces. On the 2d December the Duke d’Angouleme
made his triumphal entry into Paris, surrounded by his
staff. The municipality of Paris met the prince at the
barrier, and warmly congratulated him. He replied that
he w'as happy in accomplishing the mission confided to
him, and in showing that nothing was impossible to a
French army.
It was not with feelings of pleasure that Mr Canning be¬
held the successful progress of the French in Spain. In
the triumph of the French arms he saw not merely
the Bourbons strengthened, but the influence of France
on the Continent greatly augmented. To use his own
words, he therefore determined on calling a new world
into existence to redress the balance of the old, and re¬
solved on recognising the independence of the republics of
South America. It appears, however, from a statement
published in Chateaubriand’s posthumous memoirs, that
Canning only forestalled the designs of the French states¬
man, who projected placing Bourbon princes on South
American thrones.
The elections that took place for the renewal of the fifth
of the Chamber, in the autumn of 1823, were nearly all in
favour of the royalists, who were now enabled to cope with,
if not to vanquish, the union of the liberals and the centre.
Places and honours were bestowed on the members of
the majority to the exclusion of all other candidates. Pub¬
lic affairs, indeed, appeared to proceed most prosperously,
and under these circumstances it was that M. de Villele
contracted a loan with the house of Rotheschild and Com- New loan,
pany, to the amount of L.16,400,000, at 89*55. These
favourable terms produced great confidence in the public
mind, and enabled the government to clear off the debts
and engagements connected with the Spanish war. A dis¬
solution of the Chamber was under these circumstances re¬
solved on, and it was effected by ordonnance on the 24th
December. The result of the elections which took place
in February and March were most favourable to the ultra¬
royalists. Even in the capital in which the liberal party
had hitherto obtained all the seats, they now only suc¬
ceeded in returning Foy, Perrier, and Benjamin Constant,
while in the provinces, out of 434 elections, the extreme
party gained only fifteen seats in the colleges of arron-
dissements, and two in those of departments. The effect
on the public funds was surprising. In the beginning
of March the public funds reached the extraordinary
figure of 104*80, a price not attained for more than half
a century.
On the 23d March the Chambers met. The king con¬
gratulated the country on the discipline and bravery of the
French army, conducted, said Louis XVIII., by my son,
with as much wisdom as valour. There were here loud
cries of Vive le Roi, Vive le Due eVA ngouleme. After allud¬
ing to the inconvenience that resulted from the annual election
of the fifth of the Chamber, the speech proceeded to state,
that a bill would be introduced for extending the duration Septennial
of the legislature to seven years, subject to the royal prero- law.
gative of dissolution. Another bill was presented for the
purpose of providing the means of repaying the holders of
government annuities, or converting their rights into a claim Conversion
for sums more in accordance with the actual value of money, of 5 to 3
A measure for reducing the interest on loans from 5 to 3 Per cents*
FRA
History, per cent., in a country in which there are so many small
rentiers, as in France, can never be popular. Lamartine,
1824. *n ^ie seventh volume of his History of the Restoration, con¬
tends that a conversion was retroactive and dishonest, in¬
asmuch as the state constituted these funds as rentes perpe-
tuelles,1 and in this opinion he is supported by Alison.2
It was argued in favour of the septennial law, that the
great want of the government was the absence of a fixed
majority, and that the annual renewal of a fifth of the Cham¬
ber kept up a perpetual excitement and agitation, and aug¬
mented corruption. On the other hand it was urged, that
the septennial law repealed a vital part of the charter, and
tended to make the king independent of the popular voice.
The debate in the Chamber of Deputies on the law was
continued for several days. The most remarkable speech
on the occasion was delivered by M. Royer Collard, who
urged that the annual renewal of a certain portion of the
national representatives could alone suit the country, for in
a time of general election the people felt themselves so¬
vereign. The speaker clearly demonstrated, in the course
of his remarks, that the power of election and representa¬
tion had passed from the nation and centred in the class
of functionaries. Arguments such as these fell, of course,
unheeded on an assembly of functionaries; and indepen¬
dently of this, a newly elected Chamber in any country, or
under any circumstances, would feel pleased in prolonging
its existence to seven years instead of three. The septen¬
nial bill passed by 292 votes to 87.
The measure of Villele for the conversion of the 5 per
cent, to a 3 per cent, stock met with many opponents. The
functionaries, the shopkeepers, and the clergy in the capital
were all opposed to any change which affected their in¬
comes. The clergy, in particular, much as they approved
of the general march of the government, were rancorous on
this question. It is, however, quite legitimate in any state to
profit by its own prosperity, and to liberate itself from an
undue burden of interest, by offering back the principal at
par. Another reason why the conversion was unpopular
was, that it was publicly known that the amount saved was
to be applied to indemnifying the emigrants. A project of
this kind pleased the Count d’Artois and the ultra-royalists,
but was sure to displease the great body of the nation. The
bill was brought forward on the 5th April, when it was pro¬
posed to reduce the 5 into 3 per cents, taking the latter
at 75. It was calculated that this would effect a reduc¬
tion in the annual charge of the debt of 30,000,000 francs
(L. 1,200,000), and would establish the credit of the go¬
vernment on a solid foundation. As, however, there were
250,000 persons holders of these annuities, of whom a ma¬
jority held only 500 francs, the excitement and opposition
were very great. Such, however, was the overpowering
influence of the government, that the law passed by a
majority of 238 to 145. In the Chamber of Peers the
result was different. The bill was there thrown out by a
majority of 34; and it was observed that M. de Chateau¬
briand did not speak in favour of the measure, and that
several of his party voted against it. The rejection of the
law gave unbounded satisfaction in Paris, and was cele¬
brated by the most signal demonstrations of joy, and led to
one important measure, the dismissal of the minister for
foreign affairs.
Dls®i®sal The day after the discussion on the law in the Peers, 5th
teaubriand "f-Une 1824, tle Chateaubriand received an unceremo-
mnd. nious announcement from M. de Villele, that his services
were dispensed with at the foreign office. To make this
communication more uncourteous, if not contemptuous, it
was forwarded by a common messenger, and in the absence
of the minister was received by his secretary, who found
N C E. 187
that his princinal, unconscious of his dismissal, had already History,
proceeded on his way to the Tuileries. It was only by v/-—•'
hurrying after the dismissed minister that the private secre- 1824.
tary could communicate to his principal the fact of his dis¬
grace in time to spare him the affront of finding the council
chamber closed against them.3 Nor was Chateaubriand the
only dismissal. Victor duke de Belluno, who had been ob¬
noxious to the Dauphin, was removed from the war depart¬
ment, to which M. de Tonnerre was appointed. The port¬
folio of foreign aifairs was given to M. de Damas, a creature
of the Duke d’Angouleme.
1 hus was ungraciously dismissed from office the minister
who had matured and given life and spirit to the invasion
of Spain, who had restored to the throne the representative
of the Spanish Bourbons, who had rallied to the French
Bourbons the army of France, who had defended the foreign
policy of the government in the Chamber with uncommon
eloquence, and who, in addition to these services, was re¬
nowned throughout Europe by his genius. But M. de
Chateaubriand was not a member of the congregation, did
not go all lengths with the parti pretre, and on these grounds
was obnoxious to the Duchess d’Angouleme and the clerical
camarilla about the court. Fie was, moreover, no favourite
with Louis XVIII., and it must also be admitted that in
his dealings with M. de Villele and M. de Montmorency he
did not always exhibit straightforwardness, honesty, can¬
dour, or high political honour. Inordinate vanity and in¬
ordinate ambition were the failings of Chateaubriand ; and
notwithstanding the attempts of his brother poet Lamartine
to make a defence for him, we fear it must be admitted that
he was in the gravest national affairs always looking for the
opportunity to create a sensation about himself. Such a
minister may occasionally be a bold and brilliant statesman,
but is not always safe or trustworthy as a colleague. Never¬
theless, there was something harsh, if not brutal, in the
manner of Chateaubriand’s dismissal. To use his own in¬
dignant words, he was driven out of the councils of the
king comme un laquais qui aurait vole la montre du roi
sur sa cheminze. This was indeed a grievous error; for it
deprived the ministry of M. de Villele of the support of the
Journal des Debats, the principal organ of the Parisian
press, and of the sympathy of men of letters in general.
Nothing memorable occurred in the remainder of the parlia¬
mentary session.
The health of the king, for some time infirm, now com¬
pletely gave way. Suffering from a complication of dis¬
orders, the monarch became daily more lethargic, and took
little part in business or in the council. The small effort
of reading or writing one of those notes which he daily
forwarded to Madame du Cayla produced somnolency, and
Lamartine tells us, in the minute account he gives of the
monarch’s illness, that the continual dropping of the royal
head on the bronze table had produced an abrasion of the
skin. The only pleasure or excitement the king had at
this period was in excursions in the royal carriage drawn
by eight horses, proceeding at the top of their speed. Louis
XVIII. felt the same gratification in these exercises, says
Lamartine, that a captive does in the glare of the sun. The
royal patient knew he was sinking, but he bore his doom
with philosophical indifference if not with stoicism. The
direction of affairs was now transferred to the Count d’Ar¬
tois, so soon to be Charles X. The high hand of the Count
might be traced in an edict suspending the liberty of the
press, and re-establishing the censure, and in an ordonnance
creating a new ministry, the ministry of ecclesiastical affairs,
an office which was bestowed on M. Frassinons, bishop of
Hermopolis and Grand Master of the University. No
doubt M. Frassinons was an able, eloquent, and moderate
1 Lamartine, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. vii., p. 229.
3 Lamartine, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. vii., p. 234.
History of Europe from the Fall of Napoleon, vol- ii., p. 727.
188 FRA
History. man, but he was a churchman, and although not going the
lengths of the parti pretre, yet he dared not publicly
1824. discourage their pretensions.
While suffering great agony and weakness of body, the
king went through public and official receptions, and sub¬
mitted to all the formal etiquette incident to his rank and
station. When no longer able to get into the royal carri¬
age, he ordered his gentlemen and equerries to occupy his
place so that the Parisian public might be deceived, and, to
use the language of Lamartine, re-assured.1 As his birth¬
day approached, his physicians feared the fatigue of a public
reception of all the great corps of dignitaries of the state,
and implored him to postpone this royal ceremony. His
Majesty energetically refused. “ A king,” said he, “ should
never be ill in the interests of his people.” After this pub¬
lic reception he was carried in a comatose state to the royal
apartments, and by his obstinate desire to appear in public
aggravated the alarms he had intended to allay.
But on the following day his Majesty resumed his wonted
habits, rose at the usual hour, was attended by all the great
officers of his court, and went through the ceremonies and
observances of that etiquette which he had re-established.
One of the fancies of the monarch was to be transported to
Versailles, in the old palace of which he caused his ancient
apartment to be furnished as it had been previous to the
revolution. Another of his fancies was to be wheeled round
a garden which he had caused to be laid out in the English
fashion—a souvenir of Hartwell.
As the end of the monarch approached he expressed no
wash to receive the ceremonious consolations of the Romish
Church. This circumstance gave great uneasiness to the
Countd’Artois to the Duchess d’Angouleme, and to the priest
party generally throughout the kingdom. It was remem¬
bered that the monarch had in his youth associated with the
wits and philosophers of the epoch—that in his middle and
mature age he had never yielded to superstitious practices,
and that he had ridiculed even w'ithin a few years the de¬
vout observances of his brother, who had become a mere
instrument in the hands of the clergy. Unlike Louis XIV.
he did not surrender his conscience to a Le Tellier; for
though there was a confessor gazetted as of the household,
yet this individual never'appeared at court, and the king
was in nowise under the dominion of an humble and ob¬
scure priest, chosen by Louis XVIII. for the piety of his life
and for his exemplary character. All these circumstances
disquieted the royal family and the high clerical camarilla
by which they were surrounded. Cardinal Latil, M. de
Frayssinous, and others, held a council on the subject of
the king’s abstaining from confession, and it was resolved
that M. de Frayssinous should seek an interview with
his sovereign, and delicately warn him of the danger of
delaying the succours of the church. The king, who
esteemed the bishop, liked his moderation, and heard the
prelate patiently, but persisted in refusing to receive the
last sacraments, fearing, he said, to alarm the public.2 In
this difficulty of the parti pretre, the young Viscount de
la Rochefoucauld, who originally introduced Madame du
Cayla into the private cabinet of the king, appeared on the
scene, and proposed to the royal family and to the clerical
camarilla of cardinals and bishops to convey to Louis XVIII.
their united hopes and wishes. The functions of the viscount
gave him a ready access to royalty, and as he was one of
the congregation, and attached by conscience and connection
to the priest party, he proposed to his sovereign to see once
more Madame du Cayla, who had retired to Saint Ouen,
and who it was believed would induce the monarch to re¬
ceive the sacraments. The king, seriously regarding him,
said to M. de Rochefoucauld—“ Vousle voulez, eh bien, allez
dire a Madame du Cayla que je la recevrai.”3 Madame du
N C E.
Cayla, after some hesitation, consented to render this service History,
to the parti pretre and the congregation, and after opening
the subject to the monarch with that delicacy and tact of qg24.
which she was so capable, Louis replied, you only Madame
could venture thus to address me. I hear your words, and
shall do what I ought to do. Then holding out his hand,
which the lady tearfully kissed, the king, with a suppressed
sigh, said, “ Adieu, et a revoir dans 1’autre vie.” No sooner
had Madame du Cayla departed, than the king sent for the
humble priest who filled the office of confessor. Soon after
the visit of the latter, the grand almoner, the cardinals, and
the bishops assembled, and the funeral pomps and cere¬
monies of what is called I'ayonie des Rois were gone through.
The last hour of the monarch was now approaching. The
extremities of the king were cold, and symptoms of morti¬
fication began to appear. The family of the sovereign and
theforeign diplomatists were introduced. “ Loveeach other,”
said the expiring monarch, addressing his family, “and by
your affection console yourselves for tne misfortunes of our
house.” “ The charter,” said he, “ is my best inheritance.
Preserve it, my brother, for me, for your subjects, for your¬
self”—then raising his hand to bless the Duke de Bordeaux
(whom his mother placed in the foreground), he added—
“ and for this child to whom you should transmit the throne
after my daughter and my son” (he thus affectionately called
the Duke and Duchess d’Angouleme). Looking at the child,
he said, “ May you be wiser and happier than your parents.”
The king received extreme unction, thanked his attend¬
ants, and bade an eternal farewell to his former minister,
M. Decazes, whom he was wont to call his child, and whose
sobs reached his ear. On the 16th September 1824, the
day he had fixed on as his last, all that was mortal of Louis
XVIII. had passed away. At early dawn on that morning M.
Portal drew the curtains of the bed to feel the royal pulse.
The pulse had erased to beat, though the hand was not yet
cold. “ Gentlemen,” said M. Portal, turning to the attend¬
ants, “the king is dead;” and then respectfully inclining
towards Charles X., he exclaimed “ Vive le Roi.”
The last words the deceased sovereign addressed to his
brother were remarkable. “ I have tacked,” said he, “ be¬
tween parties, like Henri IV., and unlike him I die in my
bed, and in the Tuilleries. Do as I have done and your
reign will end in peace.” It was indeed one of the greatest
triumphs of Louis XVIII. to die in his bed, and in the pa¬
lace of his ancestors. He had contrived to sit for ten years
on the throne of France during one of the most difficult
periods of French history, and he maintained his position
without any war more serious than the mere military pro¬
menade into Spain. He was no ordinary king—we may
say, indeed, no ordinary man—who could succeed in such
a career. The great secret of the success of Louis XVIII.
was, that he was moderate and passionless, and that he al¬
together suited himself to the temper of the times. He
was a man of clear intellect, great observation, exquisite
tact and discretion, and consummate judgment. Well
read in ancient and modern history, thoroughly knowing
the world and its ways, he was very capable of forming
a sound and sagacious opinion on public affairs. Yet with
all his lights from nature, reading, and experience, he
was not wedded to his own views. Open to conviction,
calm and unprejudiced, he yielded to superior sense or ar¬
gument, or whenever circumstances rendered it imperative
to do so. Though learned in an eminent degree, he recog¬
nised the superior sense and sagacity of M. de Villele, a
man without any pretension to letters, and trusted and con¬
fided to his moderation and masculine sense. “ His natural
talent,” says Lamartine, “ cultivated, reflective, and quick,
full of recollections, rich in anecdotes, nourished by philo¬
sophy, enriched by quotations, never deformed by pedantry,
1 Hist, de la Ilestauration. tom. vii., p. 308.
Ibid., tom. vii., p. 317.
Ibid., tom. vii., p. 320.
FRA
History, rendered him equal in conversation to the most renowned
literary characters of his age. M. de Chateaubriand had
1824. not more elegance, M. de Talleyrand more wit, Madame
de Stael more brilliancy. Never inferior, always equal, often
superior to those with whom he conversed on every sub¬
ject ; yet with more tact and address than they, he changed
his tone and subject of conversation with those he addressed,
and yet was never exhausted by any one. History, contem¬
porary events, things, men, theatres, books, poetry, the arts,
the incidents of the day, formed the varied text of his con¬
versations. Since the suppers of Potsdam, where the genius
of Voltaire met the capacity of Frederick the Great, never
had the cabinet of a prince been the sanctuary of more
philosophy, literature, talent, and taste.”
Louis XVIII. was humane and benevolent, as well as
moderate and wise. The few examples of severity which
his reign affords were forced on him either by the violence
of party spirit, or the reactionary vehemence of a rank ultra¬
royalist majority, which became too powerful in his latter
days. But for years antecedent to his death he had kept
the ultramontane, ultra-royalist, and Jesuitical parties within
proper bounds. He also restrained and moderated the mon¬
archical and aristocratic party to which he himself belonged.
His conduct in exile was exemplary. Never did man suffer
with more dignity, constancy, and patience, or await with
more calm certainty his restoration.
The eyes of Louis XVIII. were scarcely closed in death
ere the brother of the king (now reigning Charles X.), and
the party which used Madame du Cayla for what they called
the edification of the kingdom and the honour of religion,
sought to efface all traces of her influence. Letters, papers,
and everything relating to the intercourse of the late mo¬
narch with Madame du Cayla, had disappeared from the
cabinet of the king before her friends could take any step in
the business. Charles X., however, paid Madame du Cayla
during his life an annuity of 25,000 francs. She at once re¬
tired from the court, to what M. de Lamartine calls a “ splen¬
did obscurity.”
Charles X. The Count d’Artois, who succeeded his brother under
the title of Charles X., made no change in the ministry.
M. de Villele had long been acting on the Count d’Artois’
views as the minister of his elder brother, and he possessed
the entire confidence of Charles X. Everything seemed
to smile on the new sovereign.1 The Spanish peninsula
and Italy were tranquil—there was a majority in the Cham¬
ber of Deputies in harmony with the Peers, and there was
great internal prosperity, every branch of domestic industry
being flourishing. The external influence of France was
also great, and her power respected abroad.
The personal appearance and demeanour and many of the
qualities of the new monarch were greatly in his favour.
His figure was tall and majestic, his manners frank and open,
his air eminently courtly and ehivalric; excelling in all bodily
exercises, he rode with skill and boldness, and either in
passing a review or in following the chase, to which he was
passionately addicted, won all hearts by the charm and fas¬
cination of his manner. He walked as erect, and was as
graceful in his demeanour, on the day of his accession as in
his early youth. Fond of popularity, he was warm-hearted,
benevolent, and solicitous for the happiness of his people.
There was nothing he more desired than to make a favour¬
able impression on the nation which he governed. His first
care was to restore the ancient ranks and titles to his family.
The Duke d’Angouleme, turned of fifty, was created Dauphin,
and his duchess Dauphiness. Charles X. also conferred the
title of royal highness on the Duke d’Orleans, accompanying
it with the ancient appanages of the house, consisting of
crown forests which had not been sold at the Revolution,
and which rendered the duke one of the wealthiest of
N C E. is9
French proprietors. The Duke de Charles, the eldest son History,
of the Duke d’Orleans, was promoted to the command of J
a regiment. The new king also received with a chivalrous 1824.
cordiality the marshals and generals of the empire. Grouchy
was favourably noticed, and to Excelmans the king said,
“ I remember not the past, but I am sure, general, I can
count upon you for the future.” Speeches such as these
were of the happiest augury.
The king made his entry into Paris on the 27th Sep¬
tember. There were not wanting those who suggested
precautions ; to which the monarch replied,—“ People who
don’t know me cannot hate me, and I am confident those
who know me do not hate me.” The archbishop of Paris,
who awaited the king at the head of his clergy, addressed
a maladroit speech to his majesty, to which the monarch
listened with apparent disrelish. The king was perfectly
well received by the people, and bore himself inimitably
on this occasion. To the Duke d’Augouleme his father
had confided the supreme direction of the army. The king
proposed to his ministers to abolish the censorship of the
journals, an odious and unpopular measure impatiently suo-
mitted to during the last months of the previous reign. The
editors of newspapers responded to this measure of the
king in transports of gratitude. But notwithstanding this
temporary effervescence, it was soon perceived that there
was a back-stairs influence exercised by a sacerdotal cama¬
rilla. Lamartine states, that in a confidential communica¬
tion with himself Charles X. disavowed being governed by
priests and Jesuits, whose God he adored without loving
the sect; but the poet historian admits that the king might
have deceived himself without deceiving others, and we
every day see in every rank oflife men denying the exis¬
tence of an influence to which they unconsciously and al¬
most unawares are slavishly subject. Among this secret
council, whose power the monarch concealed from himself,
were Cardinals Latil, Lafare, Clermont Tonnere, Lambrus-
chini the pope’s legate, and M. de Quelen, archbishop of
Paris, a man of piety and worth, but profoundly devoted
to the interests of mother church. Latil, according to La-
cretelle,'2 was born a courtier, and ever had been a zealous
partizan of the Jesuits. The ultra-royalist chiefs joined
their councils with these churchmen. Among these were
the Duke de Riviere, M. de Polignac, and M. de Vau-
blanc, who, once an imperial prefect, had now become one
of the shining lights of Carlism. The soul of the camarilla,
however, was the restless, ambitious, intriguing, and ever
active Vitrolles, who played so important a part in 1814.
The king had not been long seated on the throne ere the The
disciples of Loyola began to rear their heads haughtily. Jesuits.
Everywhere throughout France they set about establishing
new colleges and seminaries. Montrouge, their chief col¬
lege, became the centre around which the most favoured
and distinguished young men about court revolved. Ap¬
pointments in the public offices were made through the in¬
fluence of the disciples of Ignatius Loyola. Neither M. de
Villele nor M. Corbiere, it is true, belonged to the congre¬
gation, but these ministers were overborne by chefs-de-
division, who opposed their veto to the appointment of
candidates suspected of lukewarm zeal. The proof of this
is afforded by the case of an old man of seventy-two, and
author of mathematical treatises which are classical through¬
out Europe. M. Legendre, of the Academy of Sciences,
enjoyed a pension of 3000 francs, and there being a vacant
place in the academy, was asked by M. Lourdoucix, a chef-
de-division, to vote for M. Binet, a congregationalist candi¬
date. On his refusing to do so, his pension was withdrawn
by royal ordonnance. A fortnight after this the power and
intolerance of the clergy was proved by their refusing to re¬
ceive within the precincts of the parish church the mortal re-
1 Hist, de la Restauration, tom. vii., p. 329.
Lacretelle, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. iv., p. 132, 133,
190 FRA
History, mains of an actor named Philippe, who had suddenly died in
an apoplectic fit. A deputation waited on M. de Damas, first
1824. gentleman of the chamber to Charles X. M. de Damas
appealed to M. Corbiere, the minister, who replied that he
could not force the ministers of any religion to receive
within the church the body of an actor. It was said that
the king personally interfered, as his brother Louis XVIII.
had done in the case of Mile. Raucourt, but apparently
without success, for an armed force prevented the people
from carrying the coffin to the parish church.1 Mass, vespers,
complines, matins, fastings, pilgrimages, were now the order
of the day. It was even necessary, says Lacretelle, to be
armed with a confession ticket ;2 that is, a card importing
that you had confessed and been shriven in the most ap¬
proved fashion within canonical time. It was counted a
noble work to baptize a Jew or to convert a young Protes¬
tant, male or female. In the army, as well as in civil life,
confession was made a test. The minister of war, M. Cler¬
mont Tonnerre, the nephew of the archbishop of Toulouse,
the most turbulent and arrogant of prelates, caused all the
regiments to be regularly catechised. Thus mere outward
observances were made to pass for religion, the profoundest
and deepest sentiment of the human soul. Processions and
expositions of the saint sacrement and of relics multiplied ;
and “at one of these,” says Lacretelle, “I remember to have
seen Don Miguel, after the crime attempted against his
father and the actual assassination of Count Louie.”3 Yet
notwithstanding this hothouse forcing of a sentiment which
ought to take its rise spontaneously in the heart of man—
notwithstanding the pastorals of bishops and the preach¬
ings of Jesuits, Congregationists, and Redemptorists, more
copies of Voltaire, Rousseau, and the atheistical work called
Le Systeme de la Nature, were sold than in any antecedent
period. It was at this period that Lamennais, then a furious
ultramontane, and who died not long since out of the pale
of the Romish church, fulminated his anathemas against
Frayssinous, bishop of Hermopolis, whom he accused of
semi-Gallicanism. On the other hand, the Count de Mont-
losier, a conscientious man, of intrepid courage, abandoned
the culture of his estate, and came up to the capital to point
out, in a series of pamphlets, to the king the evils which
Jesuitism would inflict on the country. M. de Montlosier
opened the way for other writers, such as the Abbe de
Pradt, former archbishop of Mechlin, Paul Louis Courrier,
and the ablest critic of the Journal des Debats, Hoffmann.
The ultramontane and absolutist tendencies of the monarch
were resisted in the Chamber of Peers by Laine de Talley¬
rand, Decazes, Pasquier, Mole, Simeon, Portal, Roy, Mol-
lien, and Mounier. Among the mass of the people different
opinions predominated as to these observances. A few re¬
garded them with reverence, many with indifference, but
the majority with scoffing sneers. The priest party was,
however, strong in the Chamber of Deputies. So great a
change had been operated by the electoral law of 1821,
that 130 members were devoted to the parti pretre in the
lower house, though that party could not boast of more
than 30 adherents in the Chamber of Peers. But that
which rendered the party all-powerful was, that it had placed
viceroys over all the ministers. Thus M. de Renneville
was a sacerdotal spy over M. de Villele, M. Tronchet over
the minister of the interior. The king probably was not
aware of these manoeuvres. The progress of the Jesuits is
always sly and insidious, and it is very likely they had in¬
stalled their instruments before the monarch was aware of
the fact. The answers of Charles X. to the public bodies
who presented congratulatory addresses were such as be¬
came him, frank and conciliatory. As the nation was pros¬
perous and flourishing, there was a general feeling of satis-
N C E.
faction and security. This was first dispelled by a proceed- History,
ing of the minister of war, M. de Clermont Tonnere, who
issued an ordonnance placing on half-pay 50 lieutenant- 1324
generals and 100 major-generals, whose names had many
times figured in the bulletins of the grande armee. Among
the number were Grouchy, Vandamme, Gazan, Drouot,
Ornano, Excelmans, Harispe, and many others. This mea¬
sure was the result of a secret conclave of the camarilla,
the object doubtless being, as Lacretelle suggests, to more
easily place the army under the discipline of the congre¬
gation.4
Charles X. was not at first aware of the effect of the
measure. No sooner, however, were his eyes opened than
he granted exemptions and dispensations, and these became
at length so numerous that the ordonnance remained a dead
letter. General Foy called it a cannon-shot charge at
Waterloo, and fired ten years after the battle.
The Chambers were opened by the king in person on the
22d December. It wTas intimated in the speech that a
measure of indemnity to the emigrants was in preparation.
The public finances being in a prosperous condition, this
sum, though amounting to a milliard, might be provided for
without injuring public credit. The cessation of war con-
tributions, and a peace of ten years, had so restored the
finances that there was an excess of income over expendi¬
ture of 8,898,118 francs, or L.360,000 for the year 1824.6
The sinking fund, too, remaining intact, the public debt
was undergoing a diminution. It appeared also that the
late king had left no debts. The accounts of his household
were regular and orderly, and there was annually a very
considerable excess of income over expenditure.
The first law, brought forward on January 3, was the law 1825.
on the civil list, which was fixed at 25,000,000 francs
(L.1,000,000) for the king during his life, besides 7,000,000
francs (L.280,000) for his family, and 6,000,000 francs
(L.240,000) for (an odd conjunction) the funeral of the late
king and the coronation of his successor. It was a provi¬
sion of this measure that the whole territorial possessions
and estates of the Orleans family should again revert to
them. These properties had been merged in the domains
of the state in 1791, but Charles X. now proposed to sanc¬
tion a restitution by a solemn act of the legislature. The
bill passed the Chamber of Deputies by a large majority,
and was almost unanimously voted by the Peers.
The next measure brought forward was the creation of
a fund to provide an indemnity for the emigrants. It was
proposed to create a stock of a milliard (L.40,000,000) in
the 3 per cents., to be devoted to the families who had lost
their property during the revolutionary era. The annual
charge, it was calculated, would be about 30,000,000 francs,
or L. 1,200,000, a-year. To reconcile tax-payers to the
weight of such a burden, M. de Villele abandoned the idea
of reducing the interest of the national debt.
The law of indemnity for the emigrants or sufferers bv
the Revolution was brought forward by M. Martignac, a
gentleman of great ability, of amiable manners, of irre¬
proachable character, of the most persuasive eloquence, of
great moderation of views, and of winning gentleness of
expression. He stated the case of the emigrants lucidly
and strongly ; and now that thirty years have passed since
the discussion, and that party spirit is not so exacer¬
bated, it may be said he stated the case unanswerably.
Every candid man must agree with Lacretelle, a writer of
decidedly liberal if not democratic tendencies, in thinking
that the measure was fully as advantageous to the acquirers
of national domains as to the emigrants themselves. It was
said at the time to be an attempt to restore the aristocracy,
and to be an outrage to the Revolution. But calm reflective
1 Vaulabelle, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. vi., pp. 288, 289.
4 Ibid., tom. iv., p. 156.
2 Lacretelle, tom. iv., pp. 134, 135.
6 Annuaire Historique, 1825.
3 Ibid., tom. iv., p. 137.
FRANCE.
1825.
History, men will agree with Lamartine in thinking that it was the
greatest political administrative and financial act of the
Restoration, the conception of Louis XVIII., the work of
Charles X., the glory of M. de Villele.
The valuation was easy with respect to all property sold
since 1795, as an account of the rental of each property in
1790 was given in at the sale. There had been 452,072
sales of the landed property of emigrants, of which 81,455
were made subsequent to 1795. The annual revenue of
these amounted to 35,000,000 of francs, and the price at
twenty years’ purchase was calculated at 692,400,000. The
remainder, bought at low prices, and paid for in assignats,
was calculated at 605,000,000 francs of capital. Upwards
of 300,000,000 francs of debt had been paid, leaving the
indemnity proposed to be liquidated less than a milliard. It
was proposed to pay this sum by the delivery to the claim¬
ants of stock bearing 3 per cent, interest; in other words,
there were to be thirty millions of rentes, six millions of
which were to be issued for five years in succession. To
the ultra-royalists, such as Le Clerc, De Beaulieu Ducha-
telet, Duplessis de Grenedan, and Labourdonnaye, the law
of indemnity appeared a miserable compromise. Labour¬
donnaye, indeed, went the length of declaring that the king
had no right to declare the tenure of emigrants’ property
secure in the hands of those who had taken it, and he main¬
tained that the indemnity should be levied on the pur¬
chasers instead of on the nation. This called up General
Foy, who truly described the ultra majority as being desir¬
ous to use their power to deprive the peasant of his pro¬
perty. Between the views of such men as Labourdonnaye
and Foy the project of law of the government appeared a
kind of middle term, a sort of juste milieu. His calm
mariner and sagacious reasoning placed the question in its
true light. The indemnity, said he, is neither a punish¬
ment to one class of Frenchmen nor a recompense to an¬
other. It is a measure indispensable to complete the Res¬
toration, to give unity, security, and peace to the country.
The agitation of the question of the indemnity raised a
number of rival claims. Thus the capitalists who had suf¬
fered from the confiscation of the funds, the losses by the
law of the maximum, the Vendeans, and the generals, who
had been ruined by the events of 1814 and 1815, all claimed
to be indemnified. “Let a few crumbs,at least, fall to the old
and mutilated soldiers,” said Foy, “ who have carried to the
farthest corners of the earth the glory of the French name.”
The law passed both chambers by large majorities. The
majority in the deputies was 105, in the peers 96.1 The
Duke 11’Orleans received 14,000,000 of francs, L.560,000
of our money, for that portion of his estates which had been
sold; the Duke de Choiseul and the Dukede la Rochefou-
cault 1,000,000 francs each (L.40,000) ; the family of Mont¬
morency 12,000,000 francs (L.480,000); and Madame La
Fayette 400,000 francs (L. 16,000). The clergy, to their
own manifest discontent, received no part in this indemnity,
but they induced the ministry, as a kind of compensation,
to bring forward a law of sacrilege. By this it was proposed
to punish the profanation of the consecrated elements with
the pains of parricide, the profanation of the sacred vases
not yet filled with the consecrated elements with the pain
of death, theft in sacred places with death or the galleys for
life. The severity of these enactments, more suited, to use
the words of Chateaubriand, to the twelfth rather than to
the nineteenth century, excited amazement and opposition
within and without the chambers. Chateaubriand spoke
and voted for the amendment proposed by the liberal party;
but such was the strength of the priest party and the cama¬
rilla, that the law passed the Chamber of Deputies with
scarcely any alteration by a majority of 115, and the peers
by a majority of 36.
191
A bill for legalizing female religious communities also History,
passed. Ibis bill extended the privilege of holding pro-
perty to societies of religious women, provided they were 1825.
established for religious purposes, under certain regulations
approved by the bishop of the diocese. In the debate on
the subject the minister for ecclesiastical affairs stated that
140,000 sick persons among the poor were yearly attended
by sisters of charity, and that 120,000 children in the hum¬
blest classes received gratuitous education from their la¬
bours, and 100,000 in the higher classes an education suited
to their position. In a Roman Catholic country, in which
there is no well-defined system of poor laws, sisters of cha¬
rity may no doubt fulfil many exemplary and noble duties;
but the danger of these monastic institutions is, that they
become too powerful, and that they are guided and go¬
verned by a mysterious and occult influence, either Jesuit¬
ical, Dominican, or Liguorist. Fortunately, by the provi¬
sions of the French law females initiated into these sister¬
hoods can only leave to the communities to which they be¬
long portions of their fortune. The bill passed the cham¬
bers by a majority of 236, thus proving the increased ten¬
dency of the chamber towards everything savouring of
priestly and sacerdotal dominion.
I he high price of the public funds induced M. de Villele
again to recur in a modified way to his favourite project
of the reduction of the interest of the public debt. A less
comprehensive plan than his former one, which had been lost
in the preceding year, was now brought forward by him.
It was proposed to the holders of 5 per cent, to convert
these securities into a 4J per cent., with a guarantee that
they should not be paid off before 1835. The project was
carried by a majority of 118 in the Chamber, and by a ma¬
jority of 42 in the Chamber of Peers.
Preparations had been making for a considerable time, The coro-
and on a most extensive and expensive scale, for the coron- nation of
ation of the king. The event took place at Rheims on the Cliarles x-
29th May. It was conducted with extraordinary pomp, and
at a cost of four millions of francs. On the journey to that city,
an accident occurred to the royal carriage which was nearly
attended with fatal effects. The king was only saved by the
dexterity and presence of mind of his coachman, but Gene¬
ral Curial and some officers of his household were severely
injured.2 In lieu of the old coronation oath to destroy here¬
tics and wield absolute power, the successor of Clovis took
an oath to maintain the constitution, the charter, and the
Roman Catholic religion. The oath was the subject of
much negotiation between the ultras and the government.
Though the prime minister Villele did all that in him lay to
harmonize the whole ceremony of the coronation with the
constitution and with modern usages, yet the clergy were un¬
yielding, and insisted that the Saint Ampoule, or holy oil,
which, according to the legend, had been brought down by
a dove to St Remy to anoint Clovis, should again be had
recourse to.
It was no legend that the commissary of the Conven¬
tion had broken the phial and cast out the so-called sacred
oil. Yet, as is usual on such occasions, another phial was
discovered and produced, containing the miraculous liquor.
With this unguent the king was anointed in seven different
places of his body, through holes slit in his coronation robes.
What with the prayers, the ceremonies, the girdiny; on the
sword of Charlemagne, and assuming his crown, the cere¬
mony occupied six hours. The monarch was wiry and
slight in figure, and hale in body, but even his strength
and agility were exhausted by these tedious ceremonies,
while the dauphin and Talleyrand were fairly overcome. It
was the duty of Talleyrand to put on the velvet boots of
the king, and of the Dauphin to put on his father’s spurs.
Vaulabelle gives a ludicrous description of these doings, of
1 Annuaire Historique, vol. iii,
2 LacreteUe, vol. iv., p. 185.
192
FRANCE.
History.
1825.
1826.
the dressings and undressings oi' the monarch, and of his
receiving the sword from a minister of the church. A cer¬
tain number of carrier pigeons and other birds were placed
in the cathedral to bear the glad tidings, but they were so
overcome with clouds of frankincense and the stifling at¬
mosphere of unsavoury priests and sacristans, that many of
them died, and the remaining birds were unable to wing
their flight with the glad tidings ; a sinister augury to those
who believe in such omens.
Every state in Europe sent representatives to be present
at this ceremony. The Duke of Northumberland repre¬
sented England, and is said by Lacretelle to have expended
two or three millions of francs. Mahometanism was re¬
presented in the person of an envoy of the Bey of Tunis,
and the Jewish community in the person of the banker
Rothschild. Three marshals who had fought against the
Bourbons were made chevaliers of the Cordon Bleu, Soult,
Mortier, and Jourdan. The Duke de Chartres was also
invested with the insignia of the order, and a general par¬
don was granted to all political offenders.2 But notwith¬
standing this generosity on the part of the king, it was plain
that the parti pretre was in the ascendant. Three cardi¬
nals, all ultramontane, and one furiously so, Latil, Lafare,
and Clermont Tonnere, were made ministers of state; and
the last mentioned, the most intemperate of the body, had
openly revolted against a decision of the minister Corbiere.
It was not therefore surprising, seeing this predominance
of sacerdotal influence, that the Procureur-General took
proceedings against the Drapeau Blanc, the Courrier Fran¬
cois, and the Constitutionnel, which had denounced the mea¬
sures of the Jesuits. The requisitoire of the government
functionary called for a suspension of the journals for three
months eacli. Dupin, who had at this time arisen to great
eminence at the bar, defended the incriminated journals
with ability and great dialectical skill. The court declared
itself incompetent, and dismissed the complaint without
costs.
On the 28th November in this year, the great opposition
orator, General Foy, died of an aneurism of the heart pro¬
nounced incurable by Corvisart. In the previous session of
1824 he had delivered two of his most successful speeches,
and was occupied almost to his last moment in writing a
history of the war in Spain. Since the death of Mirabeau,
says Lacretelle, few men have been more regretted; he
was less eloquent than that wonderful orator, but he was a
Mirabeau without vices.2 Having died almost without for¬
tune, a subscription was opened for his family, and it is to
the honour of France that a million of francs, L.40,000 of
our money, was raised. Foy was never a flatterer of the
emperor, which will account for the little notice taken of
him by Napoleon. A little while after the death of Foy,
the ex-keeper of the seals, De Serre, died at Naples
whither he had been delegated by the royalists, who always
seemed ill at ease in being sustained by orators and men of
genius. De Serre was as much distinguished in the camp
of the royalists as Foy in the camp of the liberals. Early
in life he had emigrated and served in the army of Conde,
but returning to France in 1802 he became a member of
the bar of Metz, at which he rose to be advocate-general.
In this year the recognition of the independence of St
Domingo was acknowledged by a formal convention. M.
de Villele also joined Mr Canning in sending representatives
to Spain to procure the acquiescence of the parent state
in favour of the recognition of the independence of the
colonies.
A law was introduced this session to procure for the
eldest son a larger share of the paternal property. This
was a cherished project with the court and camarilla. The
favourite of Charles X., Polignac, had recommended it,
writing from the London embassy a year or two previously; History,
but M. de Villele, with his usual sagacity, then replied, that
the habits and tendencies of the people were against the 1826.
measure, and that such success was impossible. But the
first minister was now overruled, and the new project was
introduced by M. Peyronnet, who gloried in the task of
sustaining and advocating unpopular measures. By the
existing law a father was obliged to leave his property equally
among his children, with the exception of a fourth, which
he might dispose of at his pleasure. The project now in¬
troduced ordained that when the father had not made a
will the one-fourth should be added to the portion of the
eldest son. The law assigning the additional fourth of the
property to the eldest son was to be applicable to all who
paid 300 francs of direct taxes. While the question was in
course of debate the hopelessness of carrying such a project
appeared palpable to M. de Villele, and he promised that
the operation of the measure should be limited to families
paying 1000 francs direct taxes, which it was admitted would
affect but 8000 families in the whole kingdom. This pro¬
position put in the shape of an amendment was negatived,
and when the principal article of the law was put to the
vote it was rejected by 120 votes against 94, and nothing
but an article permitting entails for one generation passed.
The joy throughout the country at this victory, as it was
considered, was immense, and the capital was very gene¬
rally illuminated. Nothing daunted by this defeat, the clergy
and the court braved public obloquy and contempt by get¬
ting up splendid religious processions, and a jubilee or re¬
ligious revival. This ceremony was attended by all theTheJubi-
royal family, with the exception of the Duke d’Orleans. ^ee*
It was strange, and very far from edifying, to see Talley¬
rand and Soult walking in the cortege of a religious proces¬
sion, with wax candles in their hands, clothed as penitents.
The war minister, M. de Damas, compelled whole regi¬
ments and divisions to join in this jubilee. Nothing could
make the army more hate and despise the Bourbons than
such an order proceeding from the war office.
We have already mentioned that M. de Montlosier had
published a Memoire d Consulter against the Jesuits. Not
satisfied with this, he prepared a denunciation of the Jesuits
and their establishments to the courts of justice. It was
the wish of M. de Peyronnet that the royal court should
take no notice of the denunciation, and the procureur pro¬
posed a judgment that there was nothing to deliberate upon.
But the court did deliberate, there being only two out of
fifty-five judges who were for passing over the accusations.
The court passed judgment to the effect that several laws
prohibited the re-establishment of the Jesuits, their prin¬
ciples being destructive of the independence of any govern¬
ment, and incompatible with the existence of a constitu¬
tional chamber, and the public law of the country. But
notwithstanding tins condemnation of the Jesuits by the
first body of lawyers in the kingdom, the ultramontane
bishops thundered against the liberal opposition. Among
the most intolerant of episcopal missives was that of the
Abbe Tharin, Bishop of Strasburg, and the writer of this
document was the person selected by Charles X. as pre¬
ceptor to the Duke de Bordeaux.
Mr Canning spent the autumn of 1826 in Paris, and was Mr Can-
well received by Charles X., who did him the extraordinary ninn in
honour of inviting him to the royal table. A rather ami- *>ar's•
cable understanding with M. de Villele was one of the re¬
sults of Mr Canning’s journey. This was apparent in De¬
cember 1826, when the state of Portugal called for an armed
interference by England. Villele then withdrew his am¬
bassador from Spain on that country slighting his advice in
reference to Portugal, a measure which could not fail to be
agreeable to England.
1 Annuaire Historique, tom. viii.
2 Lacretelle, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. iv., p. 252.
1826.
Revenue.
History. The revenue of France in 1826 was 985,000,000 francs
Wd9’400,000)’ an( t,le expenditure 981,972,609 francs.
Ihe exports for the year 1826 were considerably less than
those of 18-5, owing to the monetary crisis in England.
The army amounted to 232,000 men, the navy to 45 ships of
the line, and 37 frigates. The public debt was 3,373,500,000
francs (L. 135,000,000), including the emigrant indemnity
an t le co omsts of St Domingo: 37,000,000 of francs were
voted for the expenses of the occupation of Spain.1
Ihe Duke de Riviere was appointed to the place of
governor of the Duke de Bordeaux—a place vacant by the
demise of the amiable Duke de Montmorency, who expired
m church on Goodkriday while assisting at the lon£ cere¬
monies of the Roman Catholic ritual. This nomination
inci eased the disgust of all thinking people, and placed
beyond doubt the ascendancy of the congre-ationists over
the mind of the king. Public opinion pointed to M. de
Chateaubriand as the fittest person for this office, but Charles
X. had no perception of the propriety of appointing fit men
to vacant places.
The Debats, in which Chateaubriand then habitually
wrote, used the word fatality, in reference to the march of
events, and certainly no course could be more mortally de¬
structive to the popularity of the king. “ The names of the
men says Lamartine, “ with pregnant brevity, indicated
the line, the line indicated the intention, the intention dis¬
closed ruin, overthrow, subversion.”2
Every succeeding day now rendered the monarch more
and more unpopular. The attacks of the press galled both
the cmnd and the camarilla. The king rashly announced
at the beginning of the session of 1827, that, to use the
words of Lamartine, “ he would stifle the voice that troubled
him. 1 his menace indicated extreme courses, for the
stillness required by governments is but the prelude to
the tyranny of the people. A not distant struggle between
the crown and the nation now appeared imminent. The
inevitableness of the encounter redoubled the boldness
of the court, the irritation of the popular leaders, the license
of the journals, and the underground agitation of the masses.
In the bill brought forward by the government against the
press it was proposed that all writings of twenty pages and
under should be deposited with the censors five days before
publication ; if published before the expiration of that period
tQoennnc,re ed/Tti0" WaS liable t0 be confiscated, and a fine of
3000 francs (L.12G) to be imposed on the publisher. The
proprietors of journals were the parties against whom actions
for breaches of the law were to be directed, and no com¬
pany for conducting a journal was to be legal if it consisted
?nnnTcthan ^ ^rsom' Fines varying from 2000 to
20,000 francs might be imposed. The whole public press
was vehemently opposed to this project. It was denounced
as not merely directed against the press but against all li¬
berty. Men of all ranks, stations, classes, and professions,
joined in a diapason of discontent. The academy, with
Chateaubriand at its head, placed itself in the foreground
of the movement, and Villemain, Lacretelle, and Michaud
made common cause with their illustrious friend. M Michaud
as reader to the king, was dismissed for his expression of
opinion; Villemain lost his place as maitre des requites, and
J^acretelle as examiner of dramatic works.3 Yet the inter-
erence of these men as academicians and as citizens was
most legitimate, for this law of “ love and justice” as it
was ridiculously called by that most perverse beino- De Pey-
ronnet, the keeper of the seals, threatened not merely the
press but authors, publishers, and printers. Precautions as
stringent were to be observed in the publication of books
nnhl- [he P.ub3'cat,on of newspapers. No book was to be
publ.shed for five or ten days after a copy had been left at
e offices of the government. Pastoral letters of bishops
FRANCE.
193
justice
id love.
■Annuaire Historique.
VOL. X.
were, however, to be excepted. In the debate on the law History,
the opposition orators had the vantage ground. Royer Col-
lard, so eager was the desire to speak, came at six in the 1826.
morning to inscribe his name, when he found that three
other members had preceded him. Never did Royer Col-
lard make an abler speech than on this occasion.
No former law,” he began by observing, “ had ever
aimed at more than destroying the licentiousness of the
press ; the present law was remarkable as aiming at the de¬
struction of the liberty of the press and printing itself. The
idea of the proposers of the law was, that it had been a great
imprudence on the day of creation, to allow man to come
forth intelligent and free in the midst of the universe. The
wisdom of ministers was employed in correcting this error
of Providence, in restricting his imprudent liberality, and in
bringing back humanity, sagely mutilated, to the happy in¬
nocence and ignorance of brutes. In defending a measure
conceived on such principles as these, ministers are obliged
to admit that they extinguish the good with the bad °As
the press, they say, produces more bad than good, let us
destroy it altogether. Apply the same principle to govern¬
ment, to jurisprudence, and you must put the whole country
into pnson, regard the population as so many suspected
persons, and in fact renew that regime which existed under
the I error.”
Benjamin Constant also summed, with pungent force, all
the harassing, trivial, and tyrannical prodsions of this
execrable measure. Casimir Perier too produced a pro¬
found impression when he demanded of ministers whe¬
ther they intended to apply the law to the literature of
the country. He asked, were Voltaire, Rousseau, Pas¬
cal s Provincial Letters, and the Tartuffe of Moliere to be
proscribed.
Villele’s speech failed in answering the weighty and ar¬
gumentative objections urged against the measure. * The bill
underwent many mutilations in committee, and ultimately
passed in so altered a form that De Peyronnet could scarcely
recognise his own legislative bantling. Indeed, so impor¬
tant were the amendments in the Peers that De Peyronnet
withdrew his law, whereupon there was a general iliumina-
tion in all the great towns. Albeit by the new and much
mitigated law further restrictions were placed on the press
yet such was the mingled flexibility and force, such the
suppleness and strength, of public writers in France at this
epoch, that they contrived to arouse and excite the country
without enmeshing themselves within the legal nets spread
out to catch them. A riot which occurred at the funeral of
the Duke de la Rochefoucault, a nobleman of great philan¬
thropy, served still further to render the government unpo¬
pular. M. de Corbiere had deprived this excellent man
°f seventeen gratuitous places, because he had disapproved
of the centralization oY the authority to control and visit
prisons. The engineers and mechanics, for whom the duke
had founded a college at Chalons, asked to be allowed to
carry the body of their benefactor to the grave, and the
family yielded to a request which they considered an honour.
But on proceeding from the church to the cemetery the"
funeral was stopped by an agent of the police. The sons
of the duke declared they wished the procession to pro¬
ceed. The police agent communicated an order to the
captain of a company of troops who attended the funeral to
support the public force, when a struggle took place, in the
midst of which the coffin was thrown on the paving stones
and burst asunder. The Chamber of Peers ordered an
inquiry into the facts by its grand referendary.
On the 29th April the king passed a review of from 20,000
to 30,000 armed citizens of the National Guard in’the
Champ de Mars. The king arrived on horseback. There
were shouts of Vive la Roi along the first legion, but the
Iiamartine, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. viii., p. 55.
3 Lacretelle, tom. iv., p. 215.
2 B
194 FRA
History, seventh legion cried Vive la Charte to the exclusion of
-v-—^ Vive le Iloi. The king was annoyed, exclaiming, “ I came
1827. to receive homage, and not a lesson.” The whole legion
now shouted Vive le Hoi, but the feelings of discontent, re¬
pressed in the presence of the king, broke out on the ap¬
pearance of the Duchesses d’Angouleme and De Berri.
These ladies wTere greeted with cries of “ Down with the
Jesuits.” As the National Guard were returning home
they stopped before the mansions of De Villele and De
Pevronnet, crying, “ Down with the ministers! away with
Pevronnet!” The king was personally satisfied with the
review, and directed Oudinot to draw up his thanks to the
National Guard; but the princesses and De Villele, and
the Jesuits, were under other impressions.
The insult and eastigation which he had received, says
Chateaubriand, rendered Villele irascible and Corbiere
malevolent. The ministers demanded the suppression of
the National Guard, and were abetted by the princesses.
Charles X. hesitated, whereupon Villele threatened to re¬
sign. The decree disallowing the National Guard was
drawn up and signed.
An ordonnance appeared disbanding the National Guard.
The imprudence of this measure was great. The disbanded
became discontented men with arms in their hands on whom
a stigma had been cast. To disband the whole National
Guard for the fault of one legion, was an act of not merely
imprudence but of gross injustice.
Greece. There was no country in which the people had been more
alive to the Greek cause than France. But Villele was
lukewarm on the subject; Mr Canning had invited the
French premier to come forward in conjunction with Eng¬
land, and to extend protection to the struggling Greeks of
the Morea. But Villele was embarrassed at home, and he
made foreign questions subsidiary to domestic. Mr Can¬
ning therefore sent the Duke of Wellington to Russia to
offer co-operation in the emancipation of Greece. The other
powers of Europe were invited to join in the convention,
and as there would be not only danger but disgrace in hold¬
ing back, Villele became at length a party to arrangements
which resulted in the treaty signed at London on the 6th
July 1827 between England, France, and Russia.
By the preamble of this treaty it was declared that the
motives which led the contracting parties to interfere, was
“ the necessity of putting an end to the contest which, by
delivering up the Greek provinces and the isles of the Ar¬
chipelago to the disorders of anarchy, produces daily fresh
impediments to the commerce of the European states.” 1 he
object of the treaty was declared to be “ the reconciliation
of the Greeks and Turks.” For this purpose, so soon as it
was ratified, the mediation of the three powers was to be offered
to the sultan, in a joint note signed by all their ministers at
Constantinople, but an armistice was to be absolutely in¬
sisted on by both parties as a preliminary to the opening of
any negotiation. The terms proposed to the sultan were,
that he should still retain a nominal sovereignty over Greece,
but receive from them a fixed annual tribute, to be col¬
lected by the Greek authorities, in the nomination of whom
the sultan was to have a voice. All the Mussulman pro¬
perty in Greece was to be abandoned upon receiving an
indemnity, and the fortresses were to be given up to the
Greek troops. If the Porte did not, within a month, de¬
clare his acceptance of these terms, he was to be informed
that the state of things which had reigned six years in
Greece, and to which the sultan seemed unable, by his own
resources, to put an end, made it imperative upon them, for
their own security, “ to come to an approximation with the
Greeks, which was to consist in establishing commercial
relations with Greece, and receiving from them consular
agents,” in other words, acknowledging their independence.
The sultan declared his determination to reduce his re¬
bellious subjects to submission. It was now evident that
N C E.
the treaty of July could not remain a dead letter. A Bri- History,
tish squadron of four ships under Codrington, a French and
Russian of equal force under de Rigny and Heyden, pro- 1327.
ceeded to the iEgean Sea. On the 20th October was
fought the battle of Navarino, a battle which in no wise con¬
tributed to render the ministry of Villele more stable or
popular.
During the course of the session a treaty for the sup- Conventiot
pression of the slave trade was urged on the French cabinet on slave
by the English government. The project of law introducedtrade-
on this subject declared the engaging in the slave trade
punishable with confiscation of the cargo and banishment
to the chiefs of the expedition. It was apparent to Villele
before the end of the session, that his position was becoming
precarious, and that a dissolution of the Chamber might
become indispensable. To add to his difficulties, the
revenue had been unprosperous, the months of February
and March exhibiting a deficit of 6,755,000 francs, and the
majorities were day by day lessening.
As a preparatory measure to the dissolution, it was deter¬
mined to establish the censorship by royal ordonnance.
The announcement of this measure in the Moniteur was
the signal for the establishment of a society to defend the
liberty of the press, of which Chateaubriand was made the
president. The author of the Genie du Christianisme was
only too happy to accept this prominent honour. He de¬
clared in the Chamber of Peers that ministers could not
avert their own fall, and that the only doubt was, whether
they would not in falling drag down the monarchy with
them.
A censorship was now established, 76 new peers were Censorship,
created to overcome the hostile majority, and the Chamber Creation ol
of Deputies was dissolved on the 17th November. Peers.
Paris took the lead in voting against ministers. Of 8000
electors 7000 voted for opposition candidates. Dupont de
FEure, Laffitte, Perier, Constant de Schonen, Ternaux,
and Royer Collat'd were returned for the capital. It was
just antecedent to the elections that the society Aide toi et
le del t'aidera was established. It was composed of ardent
and advanced liberals, and there can be no doubt that it
had immense influence on the elections. Illuminations took
place in all the great towns, as well as in the capital, to cele¬
brate the electoral triumph over the ministry. In Paris the
populace endeavoured to force the occupants of all houses
to illuminate, and proceeded to break the windows of such
as did not comply. This led to rioting and arrests, and
ultimately the military were called out, and barricades erect¬
ed. These scenes led to the first appearance of barricades,
which three years later were to be so formidable an engine
against authority. There was also an ominous symptom ob¬
servable in these riots. It was, that at the barricades the
troops of the line first hesitated to act against the people.
It was now evident that the position of M. de Villele was
most precarious, and that a change in the cabinet had be¬
come indispensable. M. de Villele had too much shrewd¬
ness and sagacity not to perceive his perilous position. He
announced to the king the necessity of forming a new minis¬
try, and named Chateaubriand, De la Ferronays, De Fitz-
james, and De Labourdonnaye as members of a new cabinet.
But the monarch had a personal prejudice against Chateau¬
briand, because of his progress in liberalism, and he was,
moreover, obnoxious to the congregation. At length M.
de Martignac was fixed on as president of the council, and
Villele, now confident that the ministry would not fall into
the hands of M. de Polignac, resigned. Villele had no doubt Fall of
his faults, but on the whole he was a prudent and sagacious Villele.
minister, who carried some good measures, and prevented
many evil ones. He softened the prejudices of the king,
mitigated his bigotry, held his own party within bounds,
and retarded at least for three or four years the fall of his
master.
F RANG E.
195
History.
1827.
Martignac
ministry.
M. de Martignac had for colleagues M. Portalis as keeper
of the seals, M. de Caux as minister of war, M. de la Fer-
ronays as minister for foreign affairs, M. de Vatismenil as
minister of the interior, M. Hyde de Neuville of the marine,
and M. Feutrier as minister of justice. The king chose
M. de Martignac as a sort of concession which he was ob¬
liged to make to the liberal party. Had the monarch fol¬
lowed his own inclinations, his selection would have been
M. de Polignac. Than M. Martignac, however, no choice
could be made more likely to conciliate men of all parties.
Persuasive, polished, gentle, accomplished, moderate, firm,
yet not retrograde in his views and opinions, he possessed
most of the qualities that constitute a popular and parlia¬
mentary favourite. No man was so likely as he to fashion
the ancient fabric of the monarchy to the needs of the time,
or to adapt to modern usages its wants and requirements.
But Martignac wanted the hearty co-operation and concur¬
rence of the sovereign. He was only endured as a hard
necessity till the man after the monarch’s own heart could
be openly called in. Martignac did a politic thing in offer¬
ing a seat in the cabinet to Chateaubriand as minister of
public instruction, but his friends and fellow-labourers of
the Debats induced the author of the Martyrs to reject
the proposal, insisting that he should only accept the minis¬
try of foreign affairs. When the Chambers met, it was
evident from the attitude of parties that a coalition had
been formed against the government. The speech of the
king was conciliating, but the address in answer to it evinced
the hostility of the majority to the late ministry. “ The re¬
monstrances of France,” said this document, “ have put an
end to the deplorable system which had rendered illusory
all the promises of your Majesty.” The question that these
strong expressions should be maintained was carried by a
majority of 33, and Chateaubriand’s party voted in the ma¬
jority. The answer of the king, though he was deeply
wounded, was dignified.
The influence of the crown, it had been complained, was
increasing, and a law was introduced to exclude from the
suffrage all persons employed under government. The law
passed in the Deputies by a majority of 151, but in the
Chamber of Peers several amendments were proposed by
Villele’s adherents, and sustained by the 76 peers of his
creation. The law, however, ultimately passed by a ma¬
jority of 83.
A vote of credit for 80,000,000 francs (L.3,200,000) was
asked for and granted to the ministers by a large majority,
to carry into effect the treaty of the 6th July on the affairs
of Greece. A measure which gave great satisfaction was
the appointment of a commission to examine into the ex¬
istence and influence of the Jesuits. When the ministers
first broached the subject in council to the king, his ma¬
jesty said, “ This is a serious matter, I must consult my
council.” The council was unanimous on the subject, and
the Duke d’Angouleme, the Bishop of Beauvais, Feutrier,
and the king’s own confessor, advised his Majesty to append
his signature to a series of ordinances, the first of which
prohibited any ecclesiastic belonging to a congregation
forbidden by the laws to engage in teaching. This signa¬
ture caused the king many a pang. “ Do you not think we
are doing wrong,” said his Majesty to the Bishop of Beauvais.
“ No, Sire,” responded the bishop, “ your Majesty is saving
religion from ruin.1 The bishops of France and the clerical
party protested against this ordonnance, and 100,000 copies
of their protest was circulated among the faithful. The
Archbishop of Toulouse, the firebrand Clermont de Tonnere,
refused to obey the ordinance, and the Bishop of Chartres
proclaimed the ruin of the dynasty. The pope, however,
approved of the ordonnance in a communication to Cardinal
Latil, the king’s confessor, as a measure of state, and the
Jesuits retired to Switzerland. Meanwhile, M. Chateau- History,
briand, who had refused the ministry of public instruction,
accepted the embassy to Rome, “a kind of opulent and ne- 1828.
cessary exile,” to use the words of Lamartine. His friends
stipulated that the king should pay the debts with which
the poet and orator was burdened.
No measure of M. Martignac was received with greater
favour than the abolition of the Cabinet Noir, a band of 20
persons charged with the secret examination of letters at
the post-office. The new law introduced by the minister for
the regulation of the press also gave satisfaction. It was
proposed to allow any one to set up a journal, but it wras
a provision of the law that security should be given by lodg¬
ing a sum of money producing a certain yearly interest.
Offences of the press were to be mulcted with heavy fines,
which might amount to the whole of the security, and the
trial and judgment of offences would be given to a royal court
without a jury. Prosecutions for tendency were abolished.
M. de Martignac made many changes in the French di¬
plomatic service, and also in various branches of the ad¬
ministrative service, but as to almost each of these changes
he had a struggle with the king, who was guided by a secret
and confidential committee, directed by M. Franchet, a di¬
rector of the police under Villele.2 While the minister was
under this species of royal ban, he addressed to his sovereign
a confidential memoir on the state of affairs, on the neces¬
sity of conciliating the Chamber, and seeking by more con¬
stitutional measures a reconciliation with the men of the
left centre, rendered indispensable to the crown by the
obstinacy of the right. The minister was aware that the
king was counselled to the rash act of a dissolution, and he
endeavoured to dissuade the sovereign from so fatal a course.
M. Martignac counselled the king to replace M. de la Fer-
ronays,who wished to retire, by M. Pasquier, while M. Hyde
de N euville suggested M. de Chateaubriand. The king always
thinking of M. de Polignac, declined to accede to either re¬
quest. His Majesty, determining to judge for himself of the Journey of
state of parties, set out for Alsace, and M. de Martignac accom-
panied him. The journey was a complete ovation. The
liberals, desirous to attract the king towards their party, re¬
ceived him well. Benjamin Constant, Casimir Perier, and
several of the great manufacturers, showed themselves during
the royal progress, and Perier was decorated by the royal
hand. But all this while Charles X. kept up a secret corre¬
spondence with M. de Polignac; and M. de Portalis, who filled
by interim the office of minister for foreign affairs, was re¬
quested to summon the prince from London. Polignac
quickly arrived; but the ministers fearing that it was intended
to introduce him into the cabinet, declared to the king that if
such a measure were in contemplation they would resign in
a body. The king feeling that he had proceeded too far,
postponed without abandoning his favourite project. But
M. de Polignac, under the rose, made tentative efforts at a
cabinet, and offered himself to MM. Pasquier and Laine.
Pasquier listened and refused, and Laine, whose name was
a host, exhibited the most philosophical indifference for
office. M. Martignac had now pretty well wrung from the
monarch all the concessions he would make to liberalism—
a quasi freedom of the press, a quasi purity of election,
and the expulsion of the Jesuits. How then was he with¬
out new popular measures to satisfy the chamber or the
country? The session of 1829 still saw him at the head 1829-
of the government. The Chambers opened on the 11th
January, and the king, in a speech penned by M. de Mar- Hoyal
tignac, explicitly denied all retrograde measures. Alter speech on
drawing a glowing picture of the prosperity of the country,
his Majesty said, “ France knows, as you do, on what basis
its prosperity rests, and those who seek it elsewhere than
in the sincere union of the royal authority and the liberties
1 Lamartine, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. viii., p. 114.
2 Ibid., tom. viii., p. 112,
196 FRA
History, consecrated by the charter, will find themselves speedily
disavowed by it.” In the discussion on the address in the
1829. Peers M. de Polignac made a remarkable speech. “ Our
institutions,” said he in a solemn tone, “ appear to reconcile
all that can be required on the one side by the power and
dignity of the throne; on the other by the just independ¬
ence of the nation. It is in obedience to my conscience
and my conviction that I have taken the engagement to
maintain them. What right has any one to say I will re¬
cede. My accusers bent the knee before idols, when, more
independent than they, I braved them in chains, danger, and
death.” This speech, from a man known to be the favourite
and the adopted of the king, produced astonishment and
emotion in the country. On M. Martignac, to use the
words of Lamartine, it fell like a thunderbolt. The accom¬
plished and amiable premier was clear-sighted enough to
see that the king was preparing a successor for him, mo¬
delled after his Majesty’s own heart. Nor was he slow to
discern that the loss of authority in the Chambers would
speedily follow his loss of credit and confidence with the
king. This the very first votes of the Chamber sufficiently
indicated. For the office of president M. Royer Collard had
the majority, Casimir Perier obtained 155 votes, and M. de
Labourdonnaye, the ministerial candidate, only 90.
Here it was evident that it would be impossible for the
government to withstand any coalition that might be formed
against it. The centre belonged more to M. de Villele than
to M. de Martignac, and the left was not to be relied on.
The government brought forward a law which tended to
increase the popular influence in the municipal councils,
and which was expected to unite the voices of both royalists
and liberals. But the measure pleased neither party, and a
coalition was formed against it, which proved fatal, not only
to the law, but to the administration. One part of the law
had relation to municipal government, the other to councils
of arrondissement; and that part by which it was intended
to establish more popular assemblies, in lieu of the old can¬
tons of arrondissement, was defeated by a coalition of the
left, and the left centre by a majority of 21. When MM.
Martignac and Portalis announced to the king the hostile
vote, his Majesty said,-—“ You see whither you have been
dragged by your system of concessions. You see whither
they would drag me. Return and announce to the Cham¬
ber that I withdraw my laws.”
The ministry were taken aback with this declaration, which
denoted a long-cherished resolve, and the Chamber was
equally amazed and grieved. Parties agreed to vote the
budget almost without discussion. It was too evident that
a crisis was approaching. M. Martignac, however, still re¬
mained in his place, though it was evident to all that his
downfall must be immediate. The expenses of the army at
this period excited a good deal of discussion, and one even¬
ing when M. de Caux, the minister of war, entered the
king’s cabinet, his Majesty said to him, “ Am I sure of the
army ?” “ Sire,” said the minister, “ you must first tell me
in what cause.” “ Unconditionally,” rejoined the king.
1 he army,” said the minister, “ will not fail the king in
defence of the throne and charter, but if there be an idea
ot re-establishing the ancient system” Here the king
interrupted him, saying, impatiently, “ The charter—the
charter—who is for violating it? Though it is an imperfect
work I shall respect it; but what has the army to do with
the charter?” “ Sire,” said M. de Caux, “ out of 20,000
officers, there are not a thousand who possess 600 francs a-
year.” I his reply, though short, was pregnant, for it proved
that the officers were of the bourgeois class, and sympa¬
thized with the class from which they had sprung. The
full import and meaning of the words were lost on the king,
w'ho gave himself entirely up to ultras, the camarilla, and
favourites. Secret conclaves were nightly held in the
1 uileries, to which the most vehement royalists, such as
N C E.
Labourdonnaye, were admitted in plain dress through the History,
valet de chambre’s apartments. At these conferences M.
Montbel, afterwards minister of public instruction in Po- 1829
lignac’s cabinet, assisted, and Polignac himself was recalled
from London to inspire the camarilla with his most cala¬
mitous counsel, by a letter in the king’s own hand. All these
proceedings and intrigues were concealed from M. Martig¬
nac, nor was it till the 6th August, that the king suddenly
called M. Portalis to St Cloud, to inform him that the minis¬
try was dismissed. The whole of the Martignac cabinet
soon after repaired to St Cloud, and placed their portfolios
in the hands of his Majesty, The king requested M. Roy,
the finance minister, to remain; a request which that states¬
man declined to comply with. The new ministry consisted
of M, de Polignac, minister of foreign affairs, in reality the Polignac
premier; of M. de Labourdonnaye, minister of the interior; ministry.
M. de Bourmont, of war; M. de Montbel, minister of public
instruction ; M, de Courvoiser, of justice; M. de Chabrot, of
finance; and M. d’Haussez, of marine, an office which Ad¬
miral de Rigny had declined to accept. The very names,
and more especially the names of Polignac, Bourmont, and
Labourdonnaye, was an insolent defiance to the country.
As such, both people and press considered it. The day
after the appointments w'ere gazetted, the liberal press
teemed with vehement and burning invective. It is Cob-
lentz and Waterloo, said the Debats,—we have the emigra¬
tion in Polignac,—desertion to the enemy in De Bourmont,
—the fury of proscription in M. de Labourdonnaye. Such
are the leading principles in the three leading persons. No¬
thing but misfortune and danger will drive this government
from pow'er. Unhappy France ! unhappy King ! M. Guizot
and M. Thiers, both since become so famous—the one in
the Temps, the other in the National—fulminated against
what they properly called the insanity the king. Writers
still more popular, felicitated their readers that the veil which
thinly disguised the conspiracy of six years was at length
rent asunder. Lafayette and the directing committee at
this moment gave the word of order to the secret societies,
and MM. de Broglie and Guizot prepared the society of
Aide toi et le ciel faidera either for attack or for resistance.
A general correspondence was established to organize a
system of resistance to taxes, and subscriptions were opened
to defray the necessary expenses. To increase the ferment,
Lafayette made a journey to the south. At Grenoble, he Reception
was escorted by a cavalcade; at Vizille he was presented °f La-
with a silver crown, at Lyons his reception was still more ^ayette*
enthusiastic. To counteract these popular demonstrations,
it was proposed the king should go into Normaudy, but the
project was abandoned as dangerous. M. de Labourdon¬
naye had been scarcely twro months in office ere a species
ot rivalry broke out between him and Polignac, both aspir¬
ing to the presidency of the council. Labourdonnaye find¬
ing that Polignac was not likely to give way, and that he
was himself under the ban of the pope’s nuncio and the
priest party, resigned his office. He was raised to the
peerage, and, happily for himself and his family, became ex¬
tinct as a public man. Labourdonnaye was succeeded by
a young magistrate, M. Guernon Ranville, who had distin¬
guished himself as procureur-general at Limoges, Grenoble,
and Lyons. “ To accept office under the circumstances,”
says Lamartine, “ was an act of devotedness ; to refuse might
appear an act of cowardice.” Guernon Ranville accepted.
Hie Chambers met on the 2d March 1830. The depu- 1830.
ties arrived in immense numbers, for every one saw that a Opening of
struggle was imminent. Indeed, the certainty of a conflicttlie Cham-
was daily proclaimed by the four liberal journals, the Consti- bers‘
tutronnel, the Debats, the Courrier Frangais, and the Temps;
the circulation of the first named of which nearly doubled
that of the Gazette de France, the most popular of the
ultra-royalist journals. The king, in the last speech which
he was to deliver, remarked, that France maintained ami-
FRANCE.
History, cable relations with all foreign powers, save Algiers, which
had offered an insult to the French flag. He next touched
1830. on die prosperous state of the finances, whose condition
would enable him to alleviate the public burdens. “ The
first wish of my heart,” he said, “ is to see France happy and
respected. The charter has placed the public liberties under
the safeguard of the rights of the crown ; these rights are
sacred, and my duty is to transmit them uninjured to my
successors.”
The strength of the opposition appeared on the first di¬
vision for the election of a president The candidates of
the ministry, MM. de Berbes and Delalot had only 131 and
125 votes, while Royer Collard had 225, Casimir Perier
190, and General Sebastiani 177. The king selected M.
Collard for president.
The address in reply to the king’s speech was drawn up
by the practised pen of M. Etienne, the principal editor of
the Constitutionnel, and long a writer in the Minerve. It
was artfully worded. There was a seeming respect for the
person of the sovereign, but with all this apparent deference,
every other sentence contained a sharp-pointed reproof.
Since, said this able state paper, our loyalty, our devotion,
compel us to say that concurrence between the political
views of your government and the wishes of your people
does not exist, an unjust distrust of the feelings and reason
of the French is at present the fundamental thought of your
administration. Your people are afflicted at it because it is
unjust towards themselves ; they are disquieted at it because
it is menacing to their liberties. These words brought the
real question out prominently, that is, whether the Chamber
was to have a negative on the appointment of ministers.
That the Chamber should reject a minister named by the
king appeared to Charles X. little less than treason to his
prerogative. The debate was long and able, and on this
occasion two men made their parliamentary debut, who have
since risen to the highest summits of parliamentary elo¬
quence—we mean MM. Berryer and Guizot. M. Berryer
spoke against the address, and M. Guizot in favour of it.
The original address was carried by a majority of 40—the
numbers being 221 to 181—and the amendment intended
to modify it was consequently lost. The majority was pro¬
duced by the defection of the left centre, headed by M.
Agier. The cabinet immediately dismissed all who had
taken part in the hostile vote, and among others M. Cal-
mon, director-general of domains. The vacant place was
offered to and declined by Berryer. When it became known
that the government was determined to put itself in anta¬
gonism with the Chamber, several high functionaries re¬
signed their employments.
Hesigna- Among others, M. Chateaubriand placed his situation as
non °f ambassador at Rome at the disposal of ministers. M. Mar-
briandU' celllls refused to accept the situation of under-secretary of
state to M. de Polignac, and M. de Lamartine, as he him¬
self tells us, declined the confidential post of la direction
des affaires des etrangeres, fearing that something was me¬
ditated against the charter.1 The author of the Meditations
and the Girardins, in alluding to the circumstance, depicts
Polignac, we have no doubt truly, as an amiable yet vehe¬
ment enthusiast, whose idea was not to establish absolute
power, but a kind of episcopal aristocracy, formed to be the
conservator of that religion which Polignac believed him¬
self born to restore. If any one thing could more than
another prove how unfit this man was to govern France, it
was his hallucination on this point.
The king received the address of the Chamber, which
was read in a tremulous voice by M. Royer Collard, who
was saddened by an apprehension of the coming crisis. His
Majesty stated that his heart was grieved that he was not
to look to the Chamber for a concurrence, that his resolu-
197
tion was immovable, and that his ministers would make History,
known his intentions. On the day following the minister ^
of the interior handed to the president a royal ordonnance 1830.
which prorogued the Chamber till the 1st September. It
should be stated that the ministers proposed to the king to
yield to the Chamber. “ No,” said Charles X., “ that would
be a degradation of the crown, and an abdication of my
functions and prerogative. M. Guernon Ranville intimated
that it might be possible to come to an accommodation, and
to get a majority. “ A majority,” replied Charles X.; “I
should be sorry to have one, and would not know what to
do with it.”
It must be said that never did a monarch choose a more
unfitting or less opportune time to proclaim these high no¬
tions of prerogative. Freedom of discussion and of the press,
and increased means of education and intercommunication,
had opened the eyes of men, and made them alive to and
jealous of their rights. The press, too, at this epoch w^as
worthy of a great and civilized people, such as the French
were in 1830. There was the Debats with Chateaubriand,
Sal van dy, theBertins, and De Sacy; dooNational with Mignet,
Thiers, and Carrell; the Temps with Guizot, Dupin, Passy,
and others ; and the Globe, numbering among its writers
De Remusat, Montalivet, Duvergier, D’Hauraune, &c. &c.
Such w^as the time chosen to commence a general crusade
against newspapers, beginning with the Debats, whose prin¬
cipal editor and proprietor, M. Bertin de Vaux, had com¬
bated and suffered for royalty, had accompanied Louis
XVIII. to Ghent, where he founded the official journal
called the Moniteur de Gand.
M. Bertin defended himself and was acquitted. The
National, the Globe, the Nouveau Journal de Paris, the
Journal du Commerce, were convicted, and severe sen¬
tences passed on the managers. On the 15th May the
finance minister made a report, to which reference will be
made in another part of this article (see Statistics). From Progress of
this document it was apparent that the country had greatly France,
prospered under the government of the Restoration. In
the period between 1814 and 1822 the imports and exports
of France had increased 50, and the tonnage of shipping
25 per cent. The annual value of agricultural produce had
also enormously risen. But though there was much mate¬
rial prosperity there was also much just discontent. No
amount of physical well-being could, in 1830, have recon¬
ciled the high-spirited and intellectual French nation to be
governed by a camarilla of priests and courtiers, or by such
a silly reactionist as M. de Polignac.
Some such thought seems to have come across the mind
of Polignac himselfj for he burned for a pretext to draw at¬
tention from his domestic mismanagement by some brilliant
exploit. The rupture with Algiers afforded the pretext. A
sum of 2,000,000 francs was due by the Dey to French
merchants, and when reminded of this debt by the French
consul his highness gave the consul a slight blow with his
fan in the presence of the other European functionaries.
An expedition on a large scale was determined on. The Expedi-
land forces consisted of 37,500 men, with 180 pieces of tion to
artillery; the naval of 11 sail of the line, 23 frigates, 70^1Siers-
smaller vessels, 377 transports, and 230 boats for landing
the troops. The command of this expedition was solicited
by Marmont Duke of Ragusa, but M. de Polignac gave it
to the minister at war, Bourmont. The embarkation was
completed on the 11th May, and the Duke d’Angouleme,
who superintended the armament and sailing in person, de¬
clared on his return to Paris that all was triumphant, the
army being animated with the best spirit.
The disembarkation was effected on June 14th at Sidi- Battle
Feruch, within five leagues of Algiers, and on the 19th the of Sidi*
Mussulmans advanced towards the invaders’ lines. The
1 Lamartine, Hist, de la Restauration, tom. viii., p. 159,
198
FRANCE.
Dissolution
of the
Chambers.
New
eleefeLonss.
First
Cabinet
discussion
as to coup-
d’etat.
French had placed stakes in the ground to break the vio¬
lence of the enemy, but such was the vigour and fury of the
Bedouins that they broke through stakes and lines. The
conflict wras doubtful, when Bourmont brought forward his
reserve and charged the assailants in flank, while the French
infantry reforming in the rear advanced against the Turks
engaged with their assailants in flank. This was decisive.
The enemy were driven back in confusion, and the French
succeeded in entering the Osmanli camp, making them¬
selves masters of cannon, ammunition, and baggage. The
loss of the Turks was above 3000, while that of-the French
did not exceed 500.
For four or five days after the victory of Sidi-Feruch,
Bourmont continued to strengthen his position, disembark¬
ing his heavy artillery. On the 24th, however, 20,000
Mussulmans advanced with loud shouts to attack the French.
But the French divisions of Loverdoand Berthezene moved
out of the trenches to attack them, and w ith a terrible fire
of grape threw the enemy into disorder, pursuing them two
leagues with great loss. In this affair Amedee Bourmont,
the son of the commander, fell gloriously. The advance of
the French to Algiers was still impeded by the light troops
of the Arabs, but on the 30th June ground was opened be¬
fore the town. The attack against the emperor’s fort was
opened on the 4th July. The French ships kept up an
incessant fire on the sea defences, while the land batteries,
armed with 100 guns, directed their fire on the emperor’s
fort. The superior fire of the besiegers soon made itself
felt, the walls fell with a terrific explosion, and the French
grenadiers rushing to the assault were soon in possession.
The Dey attempted to obtain concessions, preserving his
independence, but Bourmont would not listen to mediation,
and on the 5th July the gates were surrendered. In the
treasury were found gold and silver to the amount of
48,500,000 fi-ancs, and 1542 pieces of artillery. The value
of the entire booty was 55,684,000 francs. The total loss
of the victors was 2300 men, of whom 600 were killed.
Five days after the expedition, whose success we have
chronicled, sailed from Toulon, and immediately after the
arrival of the Duke d’Angouleme, who brought tidings of
the favourable disposition of the army, a dissolution of the
Chamber was resolved upon.
The determination to dissolve produced the resignation
of two ministers, Courvoisier and Chabrol. Courvoisier was
succeeded as keeper of the seals by Chantelauze, and Cha¬
brol as minister of finance by M. de Montbel. The violent
Peyronnet succeeded Montbel as minister of the interior.
The new elections were all in favour of the opposition; 202
members who had voted with M. Agier in favour of the ad¬
dress were returned. The opposition, it was calculated,
numbered 270 votes, while the ministry had but 145, some
of which were uncertain. It was thus evident that a ma¬
jority was out of the question. A memorial was addressed
to the king by the cabinet on the state of affairs, and bis
Majesty, after anxious deliberation, consulted M. Royer Col-
lard, who answered, “ that possibly the Chamber might not
reject the budget, but that the discussions on the finances
would shake the monarchy to its very foundation.” The
king now expressed an opinion that a coup d'etat had be¬
come inevitable. “ My resolution,” said he to his ministers,
“ is to maintain the charter; I will not depart from that
charter on any point, nor will I permit others to do so.”
It was on the 29th June that the question of a.coup-d’etat
was discussed in the cabinet, and on the 7th July it was
finally agreed under the seal of the most solemn secrecy
that the blow should be struck. M. de Chantelauze, the
orator of the cabinet, and the man who possessed the con¬
fidence of the Duke d’Angouleme, proposed to suspend the
constitution to govern in an arbitrary manner, or to de¬
clare void the elections of those deputies with various other
measures, one of which was the placing of Paris, Lyons,
Bordeaux, and Rouen in a state of siege. At length it was History,
agreed to invoke the fourteenth article of the charter which vv
conferred plenary powers on the king in extreme cases, and igSO.
to suspend the liberty of the press, to dissolve the Chamber,
and to establish a new electoral system. The project met
with the warm approbation of the king. A report on the
ordonnances intended to be issued was presented by M.
Chantelauze to the sovereign on the 24th July. There
were some truths in this document, for there can be no
doubt that journalism had become an immense power in
the state, that it had somewhat abused its influence, and
that public opinion was in a degree overcharged and over¬
excited. But this is no justification for the king or for his
ministers. There were laws to which the press was amen¬
able, and which might have curbed and amerced its writers.
But the cabinet appealed not to these laws but to ordon¬
nances beyond the law—not to the legislature or courts
of law, but to the will of the king. The first of these
ordonnances suspended the liberty of the press, and pro¬
hibited the publication of journals not authorized by the
government. The second dissolved the new Chamber
on the pretence that the electors had been deceived as to
the real intentions of the government. The third reduced
the number of deputies to 258. The electoral franchise
was reduced to the possession of property paying the requi¬
site amount of direct taxes, by the exclusion of the suffrage
founded on patents. The prefects were re-invested with
the authority which they had antecedent to 1828, that is to
say, they were to have absolute power in the preparation of
the electoral lists.
The fatal ordonnances were signed on the 25th July. Signing of
Polignac on that day presented them to the king. Histhe or(lon-
Majesty hesitated for some time, and at length exclaimed, nances>
passing his hands over his brow, “ The more I think, the
more I am convinced that it is impossible to act otherwise.”
M. de Vitrolles, who had been so mixed up with Charles
X. as Count d’Artois, went to St Cloud on the morning of
the day the ordonnances were signed, to warn the ministers
that the aspect of Paris was dangerous, and that what might
have been attempted seven or eight months previously could
not be then attempted. But M. Guernon Ranville, to whom
these fears were expressed, on consulting with M. Pey¬
ronnet, the home minister, and Mangin, the prefect of po¬
lice, was informed that Paris was tranquil, and would not stir.
The first person to whom the ordonnances were com¬
municated was M. Sauvo of the Moniteur, an old and ex¬
perienced publicist. When he received them from MM.
Chantelauze and Montbel, he could not believe the evidence
of his senses, and ejaculated, “God save France and the
king!” Though the ministers had thus drawn the sword
and thrown away the scabbard, there was a total want of
preparation. Polignac, in the absence of Bourmont, was
war minister as well as prime minister, and he assured his
colleagues he had sufficient force to crush any rebellion.
Yet there were but 12,000 men of the regular army in Paris,
and of these not more than 5000 could be thoroughly de¬
pended on.
This force had but twelve piecesof cannon, with six rounds
of grape shot to each gun. The ordonnances were affixed
to the walls of Paris on the 26th. They excited at first
rather surprise than indignation. The fact is, the leaders
were not yet prepared. The chief journalists, indeed, had
consulted M. Dupin, who said, “ that though his legal opi¬
nion was at their service he could not join in a political con¬
sultation.” They remarked, “ they came to him as a de¬
puty.” “ I am no longer a deputy,” was his reply. Half-
a-dozen deputies had met at Casimir Perier’s, but almost all
were more anxious to escape than to meet the difficulty.
Of the half dozen was Alex, de la Borde, who proceeded to
the office of the National. There he found the chief jour¬
nalists of Paris in the act of drawing up a declaration of re-
FRANCE. 199
History, sistance. This protest was written by Thiers, and signed
^ by forty-five journalists, among whom were Thiers himself,
1830. Carrel Coste of the Temps, and Baude. It is impossible to
deny that these men hazarded their lives in resistance to what
they deemed the illegal acts of the government. The ultra¬
royalist journals, and some of the royalist and liberal, had
obeyed the ordonnances in taking out the licenses required.
But the National and the Temps appeared without licenses,
and this defiance of the government was followed by an
order to seize the journals, and to close their printing offices.
The editors and proprietors opposed a resolute resistance,
locksmiths and blacksmiths refused to act in obedience to
the police.
The public mind was excited to frenzy when the tribunal
of commerce directed a printer, who refused to print the
Courrier Frangaise, to do so within twenty-four hours on
pain of imprisonment. The king was not awakened from
his delusion on the 27th. On the morning of that day his
Majesty proceeded to a hunting party to Rambouillet. It
was not till the morning of the 27th that Marshal Marmont
(who had not been informed till the last moment of the
onerous duties that were about to devolve on him) was in¬
vested with the command of the garrison of Paris.
Before his orders could reach the troops everything had
assumed a serious aspect, and it was evident that a conflict
was inevitable. Yet, though the people were arming and
menacing, no additional troops were brought into Paris,
though 18,000 of the Royal Guard were quartered in the
vicinity. No arrangement was made by M. de Polignac,
in charge of the war office, to provision the troops, or to
furnish them with ammunition. It is a fact, that during
the heat and fierce struggle of the three days the army re¬
mained without supplies, and was indebted for food to the
citizens of Paris. On the morning of the 28th the people
had in masses descended into the streets crying, “ Vive la
chartre! a bas les ministres!” There were also general cries
of “Vive la ligne! vivent les peres et les enfants du peuple !”
The line soon showed their sympathy by allowing the people
to pass through their ranks. The inhabitants of the Fau¬
bourgs St Antoine and St Marceau now appeared in great
numbers armed with all sorts of weapons. The streets were
unpaved, trees were felled, omnibuses and carriages over¬
turned, and barricades erected. The arsenal, the powder
manufactory, the depot of artillery were broken into, and the
contents distributed. Forty thousand muskets of the Na¬
tional Guard were put into hands capable of using them, and
many of their uniforms were rendered serviceable. The
Taking of people surrounded the Hotel de Ville, and it soon fell into
the Hotel their hands. A huge tricolor flag was instantly displayed
de Ville. from the an(j excited enthusiasm. The gates of Notre
Dame were soon after broken open, and another tricolor
flag was hoisted from its summit, while its enormous bell,
the bourdon, sounded the tocsin.
The tricolor flag was at this time displayed from a score
of churches—barricades were erected in all the principal
quarters—and the best part of Paris might be said to be in
the hands of the insurgents. It was at this period that
Marmont concentrated the few troops at his disposal around
the Tuilleries. But the eight guns at his command had only
four rounds of grape shot.
It is true, that at 11 o’clock 500 men had arrived from
Vincennes, and three squadrons of grenadiers d cheval from
Versailles, which made the force defending the centre of
Paris 3000 infantry and 600 horse of the guard. But the
infantry had only twenty rounds of ball cartridge each,
without provisions or water, under a scorching sun and Af¬
rican temperature.
Notwithstanding these discouraging circumstances, Mar¬
mont resolved on offensive operations. He ordered two
columns to march, the one along the Boulevards, the other
along the quays, whilst a third was to occupy the great cen¬
tral market, called Des Innocens, from which the Rue St History.
Denis emerges on one side to the Boulevards, and leads on ^
the other to the Hotel de Ville. These columns were each 1830.
of them far too weak for the service demanded of them.
That which advanced along the quays consisted of but one
battalion of the guard, the others had each two battalions.
Each brought with it two guns. Marmont employed no
troops but the regiments of the guard on that service, for
he already doubted, and would not put to trial the fidelity
of the line. The column which was to proceed along the
quays to the Hotel de Ville was to be supported by the 15th
Light Infantry, which held the Palais de Justice and the
Pont Neuf. It advanced without difficulty to the Pont
Neuf. Then the commander, General Talon, instead of
taking the 15th Light Infantry with him, ordered them to
line the opposite quays, and to fire on the crowd which
barred the approaches to the Hotel de Ville. The 15th took
up the position ordered, but refused to fire upon the people,
unless they were first attacked. Talon, with the guards,
advanced with one division along the quays of the cite, the
other on the opposite side of the river. Both met deter¬
mined resistance. Every window of the Hotel de Ville, and
of the houses opposite, was filled with marksmen, and a body
of students did not fear to stand before the military. But
the two guns with their discharges of grape swept away
popular resistance wherever encountered, and the battalion
took possession of the Hotel de Ville, and pulled down the
tricolor. General Talon found it still difficult to maintain
possession of the square, and to keep the insurgents at bay
on the other side of the bridge, as well as up the narrow
streets all around. Hearing probably of the conduct of the
15th regiment, the commander-in-chief sent a Swiss bat¬
talion to reinforce it. The column met with no obstacle
along their road except a barricade, attempted near the
Porte St Martin, which was entirely destroyed. No per¬
manent obstacle presented itself till tbe Place de la Bastille
was reached. The soldiers could not make their way from
hence to join their comrades at the Hotel de Ville, so strong
were the barricades, so formidable the fire and discharge of
missiles from the windows of the Rue St Antoine. The
most painful and dangerous service was to clear the Marche
des Innocens and the Rue St Denis intrusted to the re¬
maining column. That portion of it which attempted the
street was crushed with paving-stones, thrown upon them
from the tops of the upper windows. The narrowness of
the street and its windings left no play to cannon, and the
enemies were above. The attack of a street of which the
barriers are all occupied by insurgents, requires a large force
prepared for destruction. The Royal Guards were neither
in numbers nor in preparation fit for such a struggle. They
were, as we have before stated, without provisions, and no
preparation whatever for the supply of such an assemblage
of troops had been made. The folly of intrusting the war
department to M. de Polignac in the absence of Bourmont
was even greater than the intrusting to him the political
administration of the country.
While these sanguinary, and, for the royal cause, unsuc- Provisional
cessful combats were taking place in the streets, a provi- govern-
sional government was established by the successful insur- m®nt esta-
gents. Generals Lafayette, Gerard, and the Duke de Choi- Wlshed-
seul, were named as members of it, and a proclamation,
signed in their names, was, without their authority, placarded
on the walls of Paris.
Ultimately thirty deputies, with a view to constitute a go¬
vernment, met atM. Audry de Puyraveau’s. M. Mauguin, the
advocate, was the first to address his brothers of the Cham¬
bers, and to tell them that to lead such a movement they
must comprehend it. He urged that they should choose at
once between the people and the royal guards, by naming
a provisional government. But the constitutionalists of the
left centre thought this proposition premature, and proposed
200
PRANCE.
History. a deputation to Marmont to stop the effusion of blood. The
deputation was received by the Marshal, who represented
1830. the circumstance to his sovereign in a respectful letter, but
this communication made no impression on Charles X. The
deputation sought to have an interview with Polignac, but
that self-willed minister answered, that an interview could
lead to no good result
The afternoon of the 28th found the insurgents tri¬
umphant, and the king’s party disheartened with their losses.
Efforts were made by the Baron de Vitrolles and General
Alexandre Girardin, late in the day, to convince the kino-
of the perilousness of his position, but in vain. When a
despatch arrived from Marmont, announcing his real posi¬
tion, the king sent orders to the Marshal to concentrate his
troops and act in masses. In the evening the Marshal in¬
formed M. de Polignac that the troops of the line had
passed over to the people and that the Guard alone was to
be relied on, on which the minister replied, “ Well, if the
troops have gone over to the insurgents, we must fire on
the troops.” On the morning of the 29th, 1500 infantry
and 600 cavalry of the Guard arrived at Paris, but what
were these against probably 100,000 armed citizens. Against
such an host as this Marmont had not much more than 5000
men and eight guns. Besides, at six in the morning of this
day, it was proposed by the deputies assembled at the man¬
sion of M. Laffitte, to declare the king and his ministers
public enemies. General Sebastian! alone protested against
this resolution, whilst M. Guizot remained silent. After
Lafayette arrived at Laffitte’s, a deputation from the repub¬
licans came to offer him, conjointly with General Gerard,
the military command of Paris. Lafayette accepted the
offer with eagerness, while Gerard avoided committing him¬
self either by refusal or acceptance. On this day the Louvre
was carried by the insurgents, the whole of the left bank of
the Seine being in their hands. Dense masses of the people,
led by pupils of the Polytechnic School, came into contact
with the artillery of the Guard in the Rue St Honore, oppo¬
site the Louvre, and a parley had taken place between them.
The officer in command, whose pieces were charged with
grape, sent to ask Marmont if he should fire. The Marshal
forbade him to do so, and the guns immediately fell into
the hands of the insurgents. The regiment of the Seine
opened its ranks to the crowd to let them into the Tuileries.
Marmont, informed of this, ordered M. de Salis, who com¬
manded two battalions of the Swiss Guard, to send one of
them to occupy the Place Vendome, to cut off the great en¬
trance by the Rue de la Paix, from the Boulevards crowded
with insurgents. De Salis, desirous to relieve the battalions
which had combated since dawn in the colonnade of the
Louvre, with the insurgents in the church of St Germains
1’Auxerrois gave orders for them to retire. While the move¬
ment was taking place, the fire ceased for a few moments,
and the insurgents thinking that the troops retreated, rushed
across the Place St Germains 1’Auxerrois, and stormed the
Louvre. The windows were broken through, the gates
forced open, and the inner court of the Louvre carried.
Numbers of the insurgents forced their way into the gallery
of the museum, from the windows of which they kept a fire
on the Swiss in the Place du Carrousel. Assailed both in
front and in flank, a panic seized the troops, and they fled
in disorder into the garden of the Tuileries. Marmont, by
his calm courage, restored order and withdrew his troops
into the Champs Elysees. He covered with his own body
the last soldier of his army, and was the latest to leave the
garden. 1 he taking of the Louvre was a decisive measure,
even if the defection of the 5th and 53d regiments of the
line had not rendered the contest almost hopeless. The
treasury, the post-office, and the telegraphic departments
were soon in the hands of the insurgents, and the Invalids
and barracks of the Rue de Babylonne were the only points History
of importance occupied by the royal troops. They were v y‘
both evacuated—the latter, after a severe conflict, in which 1830
numbers of the Swiss perished. A hundred Swiss placed
in a house at the corner of the Rue St Honore, had been
forgotten in the retreat. They defended themselves des¬
perately, and perished to the last man. With the exception
of the sacking of the archbishop’s palace, and the emptyino-
of the cellars of the Tuileries, by men exhausted with thirst
and fatigue,—there was no plunder.
Marmont hastened to communicate to the king at St interview
Cloud the disasters of the day. After enumerating the of Mar-
events that had occurred, and the panic of the Swiss, he said mont with
in conclusion, “ A ball directed at me killed the horse of my the kinS-
aide-de-camp at my side. I regret it did not pass through
my head, for death were far preferable to the sad spectacle
I have witnessed.”1 The king raised his eyes to heaven, and
without addressing a single reproach to the marshal, directed
him to communicate with the Duke d’Angouleme, whom he
appointed generalissimo. The monarch unfolded the dis¬
astrous news communicated by Marmont to his ministers.
I he majority of the cabinet were for yielding to a force they
had no means of resisting; but though on the evening of the
28th, when victory was undecided, M. Guernon de Ranville
advised an arrangement or accommodation, yet now he was
not for yielding without a combat. The views of this minis¬
ter were sustained by the dauphin; but the king turning to
the majority said, “ Do what you think best.” On this the Ordon-
ministers deliberated, and the king signed an ordonnance nances
revoking his former ordonnances, dismissing his ministers, revoked;
and appointing M. de Mortemart president of the council, ™lnifter®
Casimir Eerier minister of the interior, and Gerard minis- dismissed-
ter of war. M. de Mortemart accepted the mission with
reluctance, but entirely failed of success. Ordonnances of a
liberal character were prepared by the new minister, and
sent to the Hotel de Ville, but it was replied, it is too late.
I he popular party at the Llotel de Ville published a pro¬
clamation, signed by Count Lobau, Audry de Puyraveau,
M. Mauguin, and M. de Schonen, stating, that Charles X.
had ceased to reign in France.
On the 29th and 30th of July, M. de Mortemart made a
last effort to open negotiations at the Hotel de Ville through
M. Collin de Sussy, and at the Luxembourg, but his pro¬
positions were received with contumely and contempt. So
soon as the Duke d’Angouleme was invested with the chief
command of the army, he directed Marmont, who received Scenes at
the order a,t the Barriere de 1’Etoile to retire with all his St Cloud,
troops to St Cloud, where lie proposed to rally the royal
guard, and to march afterwards himself with troops from St
Omer and Nancy, to the amount of 38,000. It was at St
Cloud that the dauphin apostrophized the marshal in vehe¬
ment terms; and in attempting to seize his sword, accusing
him of treason—because he had entered into a capitulation
for the royal troops, by which hostilities were suspended
he wounded his own hand. A scene like this, in such a
supreme and fatal moment, was not calculated to reassure
the troubled and anxious spirits who surrounded the mo¬
narch. Meanwhile the excited and turbulent spirits of the
metropolis were pouring out to St Cloud, and the dauphin,
who w-as in command of the royal guard, finding the soldiers
of the line not prompt to obey his orders in firing on the
insurgents, who had passed the bridge, communicated to his
father the disheartening intelligence. It was now resolved
to letreat on Rambouillet, where the Court arrived at 12
o clock at night w ith the royal guard, 12,000 strong. On
his arrival at Rambouillet, the king was prepared to abdi- Arrival of
cate ; and on the morning of the 2d August, he addressed a the king at
letter to the Duke d’Orleans in his quality of lieutenant- Kambouil-
general of the kingdom (an office conferred on him by the ^et‘
1 Lamartine, tom. viii., p. 252.
FRA
History, authorities of the Hotel de Ville, and confirmed by the mo-
narch), requiring him to proclaim Henri V. The duke
1830. consulted with M. Dupin as to the answer he should return
to this communication. That eminent lawyer advised a
categorical answer, which he drew up, separating the cause
of the house of Orleans from that of the elder branch. “ The
matter is too grave,” said the duke, “ to decide on without
consulting the duchess;” and passing into another chamber,
he substituted a complying, considerate, affectionate, and
obedient letter, in lieu of the harsh missive of Dupin, But
instead of acting up to this letter, or to the request of the
abdicating sovereign, the duke sent forward a deputation of
three commissioners, with an army of 12,000 men, com¬
manded by General Pajol, to impress upon Charles X. the
necessity of his departure for England.1
The council which was sitting at the Hotel de Ville had,
on Friday the 30th, been much in contact with the people,
and there were men among them of republican tendencies.
But Casimir Perier, Sebastiani, and a considerable number
of influential deputies, were almost to the last moment in
favour of an arrangement with Charles X. As a sort of
compromise and juste milieu between Carlism on the one
hand, and republicanism on the other, the name of the
Duke d’Orleans was put forward, and the influential banker
Laffitte was prominent in urging the claims of his Royal
Highness. The National, one of the principal writers in
which was M. Thiers (then patronized by Laflitte), espoused
the cause of the duke, and put forth a placard stating, that
the republic would expose France to fearful quarrels, and
produce a breach with Europe. The Duke d’Orleans, the
document stated, was devoted to the revolution, never bore
arms against France, was a combatant at Jemappes, had
borne the tricolor flag, and would hold his crown from the
people. While these efforts were making in favour of the
duke in Paris, that personage was at his country house at
Neuilly. On Tuesday the 27th, Laflitte had sent a friend
to him, when it appeared the duke was undecided. He
feared St Cloud—he feared the insurrection—and to escape
both, he retired to another country house at Raincey. But
during his absence, Thiers had seen the duchess and Ma¬
dame Adelaide the duke’s sister, and after a good deal of
reserve and coyness at first, Madame Adelaide stated that
she was herself a Parisian—that she would make common
cause with the Parisians—that her family were always in
opposition—that they might make anything of her brother
but an emigrant—and that if the adhesion of the family was
necessary to the revolution, it should be given. Madame
Adelaide stated her readiness to set out for Paris, only
requiring either M. Laffitte or General Sebastiani for an
escort. “ Madame,” said M. Thiers, “ you this day se¬
cure the crown to your family.”2 The Duke d’Orleans
was immediately informed of what had occurred by M. Ana-
lote de Montesquieu, one of the gentlemen of his house¬
hold, who proceeded to Raincey to implore the prince to
forestall the republic by accepting the crown. The duke
still hesitated, ordered his carriage—then stopped it half
way in the avenue, returning to Raincey—then again turned
his horses’ heads towards Paris, where he arrived incognito
in the dark, and proceeding up stairs to an attic in the
Palais Royal, flung himself on the bed of one of his
servants.
heEiukef arrival °f the Duke d’Orleans in Paris induced
i’Orleans ^har^es X. to write him a letter, in which he offered the
a Paris. Prince the position of lieutenant-general of the kingdom,
with a view to preserve the crown for the Duke de Bor¬
deaux. But the duke declined this offer, alleging to his
friends that he would be a constant object of suspicion; that
the Duke de Bordeaux could not have a bowel complaint
1 Louis Blanc, I)ix Ans de Regne, tom. i., p. 374.
3 Vaulabelle, tom. vii., p. 490.
VOL. X.
N C E. 201
without his being accused of having poisoned him. Mean- History,
while a meeting of deputies took place at the Hotel Bour-
bon, at which Laffitte was chosen president. While the 1830.
deputies were assembled M. de Sussy entered with the last
ordonnances of Charles X., recalling the obnoxious mea¬
sures which had produced the insurrection, and dismissing
the Polignac cabinet. These were not read, but the depu¬
ties present prayed the Duke d’Orleans to come to Paris
(he had already arrived incognito) to exercise the functions
of lieutenant-general. In the Chamber of Peers at the
Luxembourg Chateaubriand made a protest in favour of the
ancient monarchy. “ If the question,” said he “ comes to be
the salvation of legitimacy, give me a pen and two months,
and I will restore the throne.” But these words fell un¬
heeded, and in fact the commission of the Chamber of Depu¬
ties agreed to on the motion of M. Hyde de Neuville, pro¬
posed, on consultation with a commission of the Peers, to
give the authority of lieutenant-general of the kingdom to
the Duke d’Orleans.
The deputies waited on the duke at the Palais Royal,
praying him to accept the lieutenancy-general, pointing out
to him the dangers of delay. The duke asked for a few
minutes longer delay, and retired to his cabinet with Gene¬
ral Sebastiani, whom he despatched to consult M. de Tal¬
leyrand. The ex-bishop and ex-minister advised the duke
to accept. He no longer hesitated, and his acquiescence
was announced in a proclamation in the Moniteur. Having The lieu.
accepted the lieutenancy-general, the duke perfectly com- tenant-
prehended that the nomination required the sanction of the general at
power installed at the Hotel de Ville. To the Hotel de the Hotel
Ville he proceeded on Saturday the 31st July, where he was ^ 1^e‘
received by Lafayette, and the declaration of the Chambers
was read to him. When this ceremony was finished, he
said,—“ As a Frenchman, I deplore the evils inflicted on the
country; as a prince, I am desirous of contributing to the
happiness of the nation.” When the prince had uttered
these words, an adventurer, clothed in the uniform of a
general officer, and calling himself General Dubourg, ad¬
dressed the lieutenant-general, and said,—“ You have en¬
tered, prince, into serious engagements. I trust you will
not forget them ; but it is well to forewarn you, that should
you do so, we are the men to compel you to keep your
word.” This abrupt apostrophe produced a momentary em¬
barrassment. But the duke recovering his sang froid, said,
—“ You do not know me, sir, to address such language to
me. Know, then, that I am an honest man, whom it is not
necessary to remind of his engagements.” Lafayette, placing
a tricolored flag in the Duke d’Orleans’ hands, led him to
the window. He waved the flag, and embraced Lafayette
in the presence of the people, amidst general applause.3
The politic conduct of the Duke d’Orleans at the Hotel
de Ville silenced all active opposition. It was on this occa¬
sion that Lafayette said to the prince,—“ What is now ne¬
cessary to the French is a popular throne, surrounded with
republican institutions.” “That is just my opinion,” said the
prince. In his letter to the electors of Meaux, Lafayette
stated that this mutual engagement, which he speedily
published, rallied round the monarch men not disposed to
monarchy, and men who wished any one but a Bourbon.4
In the meantime Charles X., having abandoned the
idea of rallying the troops and retreating upon Tours,
dismissed his ministers, and directed them, through M.
Capelle, to seek their safety in flight. At Rambouillet,
at the request of Marmont, Charles X. received the commis¬
saries sent to see him out of the kingdom, and resigned him¬
self to what he called the will of heaven, reserving the
rights of the Duke de Bordeaux. At Maintenon the ex¬
monarch dismissed his army, telling the Guard and the other
2 Chronique de Juillet de 1830, de M. L. Roget.
4 Lettre de Lafayette aux Electeurs de Meaux.
2 c
FRANCE.
202
History, regiments to make their submission to the lieutenant-general.
He continued with his family his journey to Cherbourg, re-
1830. signed to what he considered the will of God. Arrived
Arrival at at Cherbourg on the 14th of August, he bade an affectionate
Cherbourg farewell to his body-guard, and, with the Duke and Duchess
j1" d’Angouleme and the Duchess de Berri and her two chil-
ar a ion. embarked on board the Great Britain for Spithead.
The journey of the king from Rambouillet to Cherbourg
lasted twelve days, an immense time if the distance only be
considered.
The period consumed in the journey proves the conside¬
rate patience of the commissaries, who were anxious to con¬
sult the wishes and age of a monarch who had not even yet
abandoned all hope of a rising in his favour. On the route
the commissaries always led the way, not only to pre¬
pare suitable accommodations, but to calm the fervour of
the people. The monarch did not pass through a single
city, town, or village in which the national colours were not
prominent, and he was sometimes fated to hear the sound of
the Marseillaise, or the new song which Casimir Delavigne
had consecrated to the Pax-isian victory. Sometimes Charles
X. was received with a glacial silence ; sometimes by a crowd
more curious than sympathizing. The king was resigned
and dignified in his deportment. He daily heard mass,
which was celebrated at five or six o’clock in the morning.
Character Free from the trammels of kingship, Charles appeared, as
of Charles ]ie rea]iy waSj a frank, amiable, dignified gentleman, devout
and religious, according to his acceptation of devotion and
x’eligion. It was evident he neither understood his age nor
his country, and that he grossly miscalculated his power and
the temper and feeling of the people over whom he was
placed. He thought, to use his own phrase to his minister
Polignac, that his cause was that of God, of the throne, and
the people. In these views and opinions he was most sin¬
cere, most misjudging, and most mistaken.
Reiprn of During the first week of August the Chambers were
Louis occupied with the preparation of the constitution. On the
Au a deputation from both Chambers waited on the Duke
' d’Orleans, and made him an offer of the thx-one, which he
accepted. The acceptance of the constitution by the new
sovereign took place in the Chamber of Deputies. “ I ac¬
cept without restriction or reserve,” said the new king, “ the
clauses and engagements which the declaration of the
Chamber of Deputies contains, and the title of king of the
French which it confers upon me, and I am i-eady to swear
to observe them.” His Majesty then took the oath, which
was in these terms:—“ In the presence of God, I swear
to observe faithfully the constitutional charter, with the mo¬
difications contained in the declaration; to govern only by
the laws, and according to the laws; to render fair and
equal justice to every one according to his right, and to act
in everything in no other view but that of the interest, the
happiness, and the glory of the French people.”
The king took the title of Louis Philippe. The leading
articles of the charter of Louis XVIII. were agreed to, with
the exception of the 14th clause, on which the authority for
the coup d'etat was founded. The age of electors was fixed
at twenty-five, and deputies at thirty-one. The nomina¬
tions to the peerage by Charles X. were declared void, but
the question of the hei'editary character of the peerage was
reserved for future discussion. The legal limit of the Cham¬
ber was fixed at five years, and the annual removal and re¬
newal of a fifth abolished. In the money qualification of
voters no change was made. The electoi’al franchise re¬
mained with those who paid 300 fi’ancs, or L.12, of direct
taxes. It was also declai’ed that offences committed by the
press should be tried by juries; that deputies who accepted
office should be subjected to re-election, and that the ex¬
penses of the army should be voted annually; that laws
would be presented on pxiblic education and the liberty of
instruction, and on municipal and departmental institutions.
Eleven peers, MM. de Montmorency, Dambray, Latour, History.
Maubourg, La Tour, Dupin, D’Ambray, De Croi, De Cha-
teaubriand, De Perignon, De Damas Caux, Auguste de Tal- isso.
leyrand, and St Romans, resigned their seats. Some royal¬
ists, as M. de Noailles, Mortemart, Martignac, took the
oaths unqualifiedly.
The first ministry of Louis Philippe consisted of M. Du- First minis-
pont de 1’Eure as keeper of the seals, Gerard of war, Mole try
of foreign affairs, Sebastian! of marine, De Broglie of public p®!1.1.3
instruction and president of the council, Louis of finance, 11^^e‘
Guizot of the interiox*, Laffitte, Perier, Dupin, Aine, and
Bignon were named ministers without portfolios. Lyons,
Bordeaux, Rouen, Marseilles, immediately acknowledged
the government of Louis Philippe, and before fourteen days
had elapsed all France was under his sway.
One of the first measures of Louis Philippe was to despatch Recogni-
General Baudrand to England. The Duke of Wellington tion
at once informed the envoy of the king of the French that
England would acknowledge Louis Philippe. The general by Eng!!
was admitted to an audience, and was graciously received land,
by William the Fourth.
To the emperor of Russia Louis Philippe despatched
General Athalin. The despatches of Pozzo di Borgo had
prepared the emperor for the accession of the king of the
Fi'ench as the least of evils. Under these circumstances
the envoy was well received; but in his answer to the diplo¬
matic communication of the new monarch it was plain that
Nicholas only acknowledged the king on the condition of
his respecting the rights and obligations of treaties, and the
territorial ari'angement of Europe, as determined by the
congress of Vienna.
General Belliard, sent to Vienna, was well received by
M. de Metternich, who stated that the emperor Francis
could not sanction the breach of faith on the part of Charles
X., and the minister added that Austria could feel little sym¬
pathy for that elder bi'anch, which had thrice compromised
the peace of Europe. The recognition of the king of the
French by the king of Pnxssia was still more prompt and
satisfactory. Count Lobau was well received, and all that
was stipulated for was the faithful observance of the treaties
of 1815. It was evident the statesmen of the cabinets of
Vienna and Berlin were fully cognisant of secret negotia¬
tions which had been going on between the courts of the
Tuileries and St Petersburg touching the frontier of the
Rhine, which Chateaubriand was desirous of obtaining for
France. The bait held out to Russia as the price of its
acquiescence was Constantinople. The new king was thus
speedily recognised by the principal powers of Europe. The
fii’st difficulties he had to encounter were intei'nal, not ex¬
ternal. Dissensions soon exhibited themselves, arising
from a democratic and a moderate party. The demo¬
cratic party was greatly fomented by deputations from the
national guards of the principal towns in France, whilst the
moderate party was sustained by the foreign commei’ce and
manufacturing and commercial interests. Lafayette, who
had been appointed commander-in-chief of the National
Guards of Fi’ance, sided with the democratic pary, and by
his attitude awakened a good deal of uneasiness. The king,
with a view to diminish the influence of the genei’al, and to
di’aw attention to himself, had ordei'ed a review of the
60,000 National Guards of Paris, to whom he presented
their colours; but notwithstanding some adroit flattery of
the general and the troops, it could not be said that the
monarch had x-endered himself the more prominent figure.
A number of workmen were thi’own oxxt of bread by the
revolution, and the genei’al distress aggravated the difficul¬
ties of the new government. The men assembled in
great numbers, and it became necessai’y to have recoui-se
to the popular authority of Lafayette to induce them to
disperse.
Some of the first legislative measures of the new govern-
FRA
History, ment were praiseworthy. The law of the 12th January 1816,
with its numerous exceptions to the general amnesty, was
1830. repealed, and also the law of 1825, prescribing .the punish¬
ment of death for the crime of sacrilege or theft in churches.
In the division for the choice of president of the Chamber,
on the resignation of Casimir Perier, M. Laffitte obtained
245 votes out of 256. The project of the government with
regard to the electoral law was carried by an immense ma¬
jority, only twelve members voting against it, the numbers
being 234 out of 246.
Financial The most pressing question for the government, however,
question, was that of finance, for revolutions invariably increase
the expenses and diminish the resources of governments.
The expedition to Algiers had been attended with an im¬
mense expenditure. Ministers asked and obtained a sup¬
plementary credit of 67,490,000 francs, amounting to
L.2,560,000 of our money. The receipts of the year were
estimated at 979,787,000 francs, and the expenditure at
1,050,116,000, being an excess of near three millions of our
money of expenditure over income. About this period an
incident occurred which added considerably to the growing
Death of unpopularity of the king. On the morning of the 27th
the Duke de August the Duke de Bourbon was found dead in his bed-
Bourbon. r0om, strangled by a silk handkerchief. The Baroness de
Feucheres was the only person above the rank of a domes¬
tic in the mansion of the duke. There were appearances
indicating that the duke had not committed suicide, but
Madame de Feucheres strongly maintained that he had.
The suspicious complexion of the affair was increased when
it was announced that the whole personal property of the
deceased, amounting to 4,000,000 of francs, was left to
Madame de Feucheres, and his large landed estates to the
Duke d’Aumale. The reception of Madame de Feucheres,
who was the mistress of the Duke de Bourbon, at the Tuil-
eries soon after, gave credit to the most distressing rumours,
and did much to lower the monarch in public opinion. The
movement and republican parties, too, greatly fostered these
sentiments, which were artfully made use of on the 21st
September, when a great procession took place in the Place
de Greve to commemorate the execution of Bories and the
three sergeants of La Rochelle. This assemblage passed
off quietly, but a few days later the Society of Les Amis des
People was dissolved by force, and the president brought
before the tribunals of police
Attempts at revolution in Spain, a successful revolution
in Belgium, disturbances at Aix-la-Chapelle and Cologne,
insurrections in Dresden, Leipsic, and Brunswick, in some
of which the finger of France might be traced, all tended
to abate the cordial feelings with which the three northern
powers at first regarded the accession of Louis Philippe.
The first cabinet of Louis Philippe, formed by a coalition
of three parties, was soon torn by dissensions, and its dis¬
solution was brought about during the trial of M. de Polig-
nac and the other ministers of Charles X., who had been
arrested and brought to Vincennes. The immediate cause
Pall of the of the fall of the cabinet was a difference of opinion on
the propriety of dismissing M. Odillon Barrot, prefect of
cabinet. the Seine, in consequence of an address he had issued con¬
demning the address of the Chamber of Deputies, which
had appeared in the Moniteur as “ an inopportune step cal¬
culated to interrupt the ordinary course of justice.” This
gave rise to an altercation between the king and the keeper
of the seals, M. Dupont de 1’Eure, who tendered his resig¬
nation if Barrot was dismissed. The king, fearing a rupture
with the republican party, consented to retain him, and
the consequence was that six members of the cabinet ten¬
dered their resignations.
M. Laffitte was made president of the council, and
minister of France, Marshal Maison of foreign affairs, M.
Montalivet of the interior, M. Merilhou of public instruc¬
tion, while Dupont de 1’Eure, Sebastiani, and Marshal
N C E. 203
Gerard retained their respective offices of justice, marine, History,
and war.
This took place on the 29th October, but in scarcely 1830.
more than a fortnight afterwards an ordonnance appeared,
appointing Sebastiani minister for foreign affairs, D’Argout
of marine, and Soult of war. Laffitte, as president of the
council, concisely explained to the Chamber that the cabinet
was unanimously of opinion that liberty should be accom¬
panied by order, and that the inflexible execution of the
laws was indispensable.
The progress of the trial of the ex-ministers produced Trial of
great excitement. The process was long, not to say tedi- t^,e fx'
ous, and the ex-ministers were defended with talent and mimsters‘
courage. M. Martignac, who had been himself a president
of the council, who was the school-fellow of Polignac, and
who had been succeeded, if not supplanted, by him in office,
defended his early friend. “ The long brotherhood,” he said,
“ which continued undisturbed through so many events, was
interrupted for a moment by political dissension. The place
in which we are met to-day has sometimes resounded with
our debates, not unmixed with bitterness; but of all recol¬
lections that of ancient friendship is alone retained in the
Castle of Vincennes.”
M. Sauzet, afterwards president of the Chamber of De¬
puties, and who appeared for M. Chantelauze, was particu¬
larly bold in his language. “ The revolution,” said he, “ is
a revolution which is due only to hazard, and which has
succeeded only by a fortunate accident.” It would not have
taken place the day before, and assuredly would not have
been successful the day after. The condemnation of the
ex-ministers was certain from the commencement of the
trial, nor could it have been otherwise, totally irrespective
of popular irritation and excitement. The populace and
movement party, and a majority of the National Guard of
Paris were anxious that the extreme penalty of death should
be inflicted, but it is to the honour and credit of the Peers
that they did not pronounce the penalty of death, a sentence
which would have been extremely painful to the king, and
embarrassing to his ministers. M. de Polignac was sen¬
tenced by a majority of 128 to transportation for life, M. de
Peyronnet to perpetual imprisonment, and M. de Chante¬
lauze and Guernon de Ranville to the same punishment.
During the trial the National Guard, and more especially the
artillery, had expressed a most rancorous and turbulent
spirit. At the same time Lafayette had also made demands
on the government concerning the suffrage and the recon¬
struction of the peerage, which it was impossible to comply
with. This led to decision and vigorous action on the part
of the government. On the 24th December, ministers de¬
prived M. de Lafayette of the actual command of the Na¬
tional Guard, appointing him at the same time honorary com¬
mander. This step was followed by the resignation of
Dupont de 1’Eure as minister of justice. The position of
the ministry had been somewhat strengthened by favourable
news received from Algiers. Bourmont, who it will be re¬
membered had conquered that dependency for Charles X.,
and since commanded there, on receiving the announcement
of the dethronement of the monarch, published an address
announcing the fact to the army. He resigned his command
to Clausel, who had been appointed his successor. An
expedition under Clausel set out in the middle of Novem¬
ber, and after defeating several bodies of Arabs, reduced the
towns of Melideah and Medeah with a considerable terri¬
tory. These conquests, and the great additions the govern¬
ment was obliged to make to the army, enhanced the public
expenditure, and the deficit, of which we have before spoken,
increased. Between July 1830 and January 1831, the five
per cents, had fallen sixteen, and the three’s twenty-two per
cent. The clothing, arming, and equipping of 600,000
National Guards now made a large addition to the expendi¬
ture. A great increase of the regular army was also neces-
204
F K A N C E.
History. sary jn consequence of the hostile attitude of foreign powers:
148,000 new conscripts were called out, which raised the
1831. infantry to 243,000 men, and the cavalry to 45,000, mak¬
ing a total of 288,000 men. The position of affairs in
Europe generally, and more especially in Belgium, war¬
ranted this increase to the French army. The European
powers all felt the greatest interest in the question of the
disposal of the vacant Belgian crown, and none more than
France. The estates of Flanders made a formal tender of
the crown to the Duke de Nemours. The throne of Louis
Philippe was not yet sufficiently established to permit him to
accept an offer which would embroil him with his allies. The
monarch had the prudence to decline the offer of the States.
The fermentation which existed throughout the greater
part of Europe in 1831 did not fail to exhibit itself in Paris.
Commerce was at a stand, and industry without employ¬
ment. Vast numbers of unemployed men, with threatening
aspect, appeared in the public streets, whom it was impossi¬
ble to succour or to employ. It was at this epoch that
Financial the budget disclosed the disastrous financial position of
position. France. The floating debt which it was necessary to pro¬
vide for amounted to 1,434,655,000 francs, £58,500,000
of our money, being an increase of nearly 500,000,000
francs, or £20,000,000 on the budget of the restoration.
After allowing for all the resources of the country there
remained a deficit of 211,655,000 francs (L.8,450,000) to
be provided for by loan, or carried forward as a floating debt.
The estimate for the army had increased three millions of
our money on the estimate of 1829.
The 14th of February being the anniversary of the
death of the Duke de Berri, some of the partisans of the
elder branch prepared to celebrate a funeral service in me¬
mory of the prince. The ceremony was originally intended
to take place in the Church of St Roque, in the Rue St
Honore, but the minister of the interior applied to the Arch¬
bishop of Paris, and it was prohibited by him as likely to
lead to disturbances. But the celebrators proceeded to the
Church of St Germain de I’Auxerrois. Here a miniature
of the Duke de Bordeaux passed from hand to hand, but
though the young man who had exhibited it was arrested,
this did not satisfy the crowd, who proceeded to sack the
church and the house of the parish priest. The cross at
the west end of the church, which had fleurs-de-lis on it,
was torn down. The archbishop’s palace at Notre Dame
was also sacked on the following day. So speedy was the
work of destruction, that not only was the palace sacked
before noon, but not a stone of it was left standing.
Attacks were also made on obnoxious individuals. M.
Dupin owed his life to the courage of one man, who de¬
fended the doorway while he escaped by a back window.
When explanations were asked as to these events in the
Chamber of Deputies, the minister of the interior, the pre¬
fect of the Seine, and the prefect of police, exchanged
mutual recriminations. The feebleness and want of union in
the ministry was still further demonstrated by its conduct
in regard to foreign affairs. Laffitte and Soult had said in
the Chamber that France would not permit the principle of
non-intervention to be violated, and M. Dupin had pro¬
nounced a panegyric on this declaration, yet M. Appony
shortly afterwards announced to the French cabinet an
Austrian intervention in the Duchy of Modena. Laffitte
declared in council that only one reply was possible if Aus¬
tria persisted, which was war. The whole cabinet concurred
with him, and Sebastiani, the minister for foreign affairs,
engaged to write a state paper in this sense. To the ulti¬
matum of Franee, forbidding the entrance of Austrian troops
into the Roman States, Austria replied with insulting defi¬
ance. The despatch from Marshal Maison announcing
this was received by Sebastiani on the 4th March, but was
not known to the president of the council till the 8th, when
he first read it in the National. The surprise of Laffitte was
great. He asked explanations, but Sebastiani could only History,
stammer forth excuses. Laffitte addressed himself to the v-w
king, who requested the president of the council to have an 1831.
explanation with his colleagues, which took place on the
9th March. But all was already prepared for a change in
the cabinet, for Casimir Perier now felt that his hour was
come. Laffitte, coldly received by his colleagues, retired Fall of
from the presidency of the council. The concealed despatch Laffitte.
was the occasion but not the cause of his retreat. Laffitte
fell because he could be no longer useful to the dynasty.
By a royal ordonnance of the 13th March, Casimir Perier Perier
was appointed president of the council and minister of the cabinet,
interior in lieu of Laffitte; M. Barthe minister of justice in
lieu of M. Merilhou, Baron Louis minister of finance, De
Rigny of marine, and D’Argout of public instruction.
The ascendancy which Perier immediately assumed over
his colleagues was altogether due to his character. He
was a man of exceeding firmness, a resolved and tenacious
will, and had the art of acquiring and maintaining an in¬
fluence over his colleagues. There were in the cabinet
with him official persons connected with the government,
in subordinate positions, who had much more intelligence
and experience, but there was no man among them of such
energy and determination of will. He entered office as a
minister “of resistance,” with the declared intention of
putting down anarchy, and to a great extent succeeded
in his object. On the 18th March he announced his
programme. He maintained that insurrection was no prin¬
ciple of the revolution of July, and that it was of order
and energy that society had need. With this view, he
announced laws to repress violence and sedition. As to
external questions, he stated that France wished for peace;
but that it would make war if the safety or honour of
the nation were in peril. As to the nations of Europe
who wished to emancipate themselves, he said their des¬
tinies were in their own hands, and that liberty ought
always to be a self-created privilege of home growth. This
was giving the Belgians, Poles, Italians, and Spaniards,
pretty plainly to understand that they had nothing to ex¬
pect from France, for the minister declared that the blood
of France is due to France alone. The principle of the
revolution of July is that of resistance to the aggressions of
power, respect to sworn faith, regard to established right.
The revolution of July has founded a government, but has
not established anarchy. This declaration, though it gave
satisfaction to foreign governments for a period, augmented
domestic difficulties.
After a great deal of discussion and many amendments, Change in
a change was effected in the electoral law. The electoral electoral
qualification was made to consist in a payment of 200 fr. *aw'
(L.8) of direct taxes, and for candidates of 750 fr. (L.30),
raising the electors from 90,000 to 180,000.
A law was brought forward for the banishment of the
ex-king, Charles X., his descendants, and their relations,
for ever from the French territory. They were to leave the
kingdom, and sell their effects within six months, under pain
of confiscation. The law was carried somewhat amended,
a year being allowed instead of six months for the sale of
effects. In the discussions that took place on foreign affairs,
and more especially on Poland, Lafayette questioned the
foreign minister, Sebastiani, as to whether the French go¬
vernment had not categorically declared that it would never
consent to the Austrian troops putting down the Italian in¬
surgents. “ Between not consenting and making war,” said
Sebastiani, with embarrassment, “there is a gi'eat difference.”
“ And I,” said Lafayette, “ aver that after an official declara¬
tion such special pleading as this is unworthy the dignity
and honour of the French people.” Journey of
I he king in the latter end of May made a journey into the king to
Normandy and Champagne. He was on the whole tole- Normandy
rably well received, but at Soissons was reminded by aan(1Cham'
J pagne.
FRANCE. 205
History, common soldier of the precarious tenure by which he held
his power. At Metz he was reminded by a member of the
1831. municipality of the wish of the nation for the abolition of
the peerage and the freedom of the Poles, and this senti¬
ment was echoed by a national guard ; whereupon the king
remarked to both that it was no part of the duty of the mu¬
nicipality or national guard to consider questions of state
policy.
Opening of The Chamber of Deputies, which had been prorogued on
the session, 20th April, was dissolved on the 3d May. The session
was opened on the 23d July. The speech from the throne
was distinguished by an elevation and firmness bearing the
impress of the president of the council. It was remarked
that while the king read the speech, Perier read a manu¬
script which was a transcript of it.
The opposition candidate for the presidency of the cham¬
ber was Laffitte, the ministerial Girod de 1’Ain. Perier de¬
clared that the nomination of Laffitte would be the signal for
the resignation of the minister ; but notwithstanding, Girod
de 1’Ain only obtained a narrow majority of four votes.
Casimir Perier, with his colleagues Sebastian!, Louis, and
Montalivet, resigned. But on its being announced on the
4th August that the King of Holland had recommenced
hostilities against Belgium, the circumstances appeared so
grave that ministers determined to resume their portfolios.
The discussion on the address commenced on the 9th
August. The most remarkable incident of the debates was
the amendment proposed by M. Bignon on the subject of
Poland. In this document there was this expression—“ the
Chamber entertains the certainty, so dear to it, that Polish
nationality will not perish.” Ministers contended that the
introduction of the word certainty would be a declaration of
war, and declared themselves ready to resign if it were
adopted. After a stormy debate, M. Bignon consented to
substitute the word assurance for certainty. By this
species of compromise the ministry avoided a defeat. Some
time afterwards a rumour spread in Paris that the Russians
had entered Warsaw. This produced a popular riot. On
the 17th September groups paraded before the ministry of
foreign affairs. A carriage in which were Casimir Perier
and Sebastian! left the Hotel. Loud cries were imme¬
diately uttered, whereupon the ministers got out of the car¬
riage. Casimir Perier at once addressed the rioters. “ Do
you want the ministers ?” he asked. “ Here are two of us.
Pretended friends of liberty, you threaten men charged with
the execution of the laws.” Cries of “Poland! Poland!” were
now heard. “ Insensate men,” said Perier, “ you compro¬
mise each day the cause of liberty ; but do not think that
government will yield to you.” The energy of the man,
and his intrepid attitude, produced so powerful an impression
on the agitators that they were perfectly paralysed. It
would be difficult to conceive the interest which the dis¬
cussion on Poland excited in the Chamber. When Ge¬
neral Lamarque exclaimed “ Let us save Poland!” the whole
assembly rose like one man. It was on one of those stormy
debates, when Perier shook and quivered with emotion,
that General Sebastiani, addressing General Lamarque,
said, “ C’est faux, vous en avez menti.” These words led
to a hostile meeting, which happily terminated without in¬
jury to either party. It must be admitted that the phrases
used by Sebastiani in reference to Poland were most infe¬
licitous. In announcing the fall of Warsaw, he said,
“ Lordre regne dans Varsovie; ” and this was uttered in re¬
ference to a city whose fall excited nearly as much grief as
the fall of Paris or the battle of Waterloo. But in the
midst of this tumult of the public mind the ministry of
Perier not only stood its ground but acquired strength.
In the Chamber there was a liberal majority, whose
niviir Utility to the monarch and government was evinced
'V1 13 • at one and the same time. The civil list, amounting to
18,000,000 francs (L.720,000), excited a violent opposi¬
tion, which was greatly increased by the pungent letters History,
written under the name of Timon, by M. de Cormenin. i
A law for the banishment of the elder branch of the ig31
Bourbons was brought forward by Colonel Briqueville.
He proposed to apply the ninety-first article of the criminal
code, with the accompanying penalty of death; but the
commission, by its reporter, M. Amilhon, substituted ban¬
ishment. The law relative to the Bonaparte family was
modified in the same sense, and the penalty of death sup¬
pressed. The change produced in the Chamber in refer¬
ence to the application of the article of the penal code to
the elder branch of the Bourbons was due to a striking
speech made by M. de Martignac, the last ever delivered
by that eloquent statesman.
The foreign policy of Casimir Perier, though not pro- Foreign
pagandist, was firm and energetic. Prince Leopold of Saxe- policy of
Coburg, elected King of the Belgians, and married to a*>®rier’
daughter of the King of the French, had solicited the inter¬
vention of the King of the French. On the very day on French
which the request was made, Marshal Gerard set out to take interven-
the command of the French army, and in five days after- tionin
wards entered Belgium at the head of 50,000 men. The BelSlum-
Duke of Saxe-Weimar threatened Brussels at the head of
6000 troops at the very time that the Dukes of Orleans and
Nemours entered that city at the head of two regiments
and two batteries, whereupon the retreat of the Dutch
troops commenced. The moral effect of this demonstration
was of great advantage to the government of July and to
the ministry of Perier. By the expedition to Ancona, too,
Perier assured France a footing in Italy, and obtained a
guarantee for the evacuation of Romagna by the Austrians.
But, notwithstanding, a series of plots and street riots
kept the government in a continual state of alarm. There
was the plot of the Rue des Prouvaires and the revolt of
Lyons, occasioned chiefly by distress. Vivre en travaillant,
ou mourir en combattant was the device of the insurgents.
The Bonaparte party, too, had ramifications which extended
from the east to Paris, had partisans in the army, possessed
a journal called La Revolution, and was aided by supplies
from the ex-queen Hortense. In this party were to be
found Italians and Poles, and an agent and emissary of
Louis Napoleon, now Emperor of the French, named Mi-
randoli. The Society of the Friends of the People had
also, by the dissemination of republican publications, kept
up the general excitement. Between the months of April
and July there were constant disturbances in the streets of
Paris, besides violent collisions with the legitimists at Tou¬
louse, Montpellier, Nimes, Marseilles, and Avignon. The
principal of the Parisian disturbances arose on the occasion
of the acquittal of Godfrey Cavaignac, a captain in the ar¬
tillery of the national guard, President of the Society of the
Rights of the People, and brother of the general who in
1848 was President of the Republic. Bands of Chouans
and Vendeans traversed the western departments, commit¬
ting all sorts of excesses on the liberals. The vigour of
the French government was, however, exhibited at Lisbon.
Some French subjects had cause of complaint against the
Portuguese government, and it was determined to demand
reparation. A dmiral Roussin, who had arrived in the Tagus, Expedi-
sent a flag of truce ashore demanding the dismissal of the tiPn t0
captain of the Portuguese frigate which had captured a bwbQii.
French packet-boat, a compensation in money for French¬
men who had suffered during the blockade of Terceira, and
the dismissal of the magistrates who had violated the privi¬
leges of French subjects. These terms not being complied
with, the French squadron entered the Tagus, passed the
fort of Belem with scarcely any damage, and continuing
their victorious course, anchored abreast of the royal palace.
The Portuguese were forced to submit. The conditions as
to individuals were complied with, and conditions of a ge¬
neral nature referred to the conference of London. But
206
FRANCE.
History.
1831.
Abolition
of the here
ditary
peerage.
Removal
of Louis
Philippe to
Tuileries.
1832.
the Portuguese fleet was taken to Brest. Notwithstanding
these acts of vigour, the government was unpopular at
home. The opposition press declaimed against it, always
with great vehemence and often with great ability, more
especially on the subject of Italy and Poland. The apolo¬
gists of the administration contended that the government
had done all it could do for the Poles in offering its own
mediation and soliciting that of the other powers.
The great question of the session was the abolition of
■ the hereditary peerage. During the progress of the revo¬
lution of 1830 the prejudice against the peerage had greatly
increased. The number of deputies pledged to its abolition
had been increased by the lowering of the suffrage and by
the number of members of republican tendencies returned
to the Chamber. The question was discussed on the 27th
August, when the government proposed that the hereditary
peerage should be abolished. The premier Perier was
friendly to an hereditary peerage, but so strong was the
public feeling that he was forced to yield to its pressure.
Odillon Barrot, Bignon, Lafayette, and M. de Remusat
were the principal speakers in support of the measure;
they certainly carried with them five-sixths of the as¬
sembly. The views of the small minority were put forward
with great ability by MM. Guizot, Thiers, Royer Collard,
and Berryer. On the 18th October the Chamber divided,
and the result was a majority of 346 against the hereditary
chamber, the numbers being 386 to 40. A month elapsed
before the question was brought before the upper Chamber.
It was ascertained that as the Chamber was constituted
there would be a majority against the bill. The question
was as to a popular insurrection or a new creation of peers,
and the government wisely chose the latter alternative. On
the 20th November 1831 a royal ordonnance appeared
creating thirty-six persons peers for life. Even after the
creation of this number of peers the question was only carried
by a majority of 33. Thirteen peers among the oldest fa¬
milies in France now resigned their seats in the upper
Chamber.
In the month of October 1831 the king left his residence
at the Palais Royal to reside in the Tuileries, where repairs
and improvements had been effected. This change of resi¬
dence was not without a motive. The riots so constantly
taking place in Paris were daily assuming the character of
revolt, and it was advisable that the royal family should not
be hourly exposed to the vociferations of the mob, who
could approach to the very windows of the Palais Royal.
In consequence of a change in the distribution and manage¬
ment of the Tuileries gardens, a trench had been dug round
the chateau, so as to render popular access more difficult.
It was impossible for the crowd in the Tuileries to approach
the royal windows.
Towards the close of this year the manners of the king
became more distant and courtly. In the receptions at the
Tuileries visitors came in full dress, and it was soon under¬
stood that this costume was obligatory except for deputies.
The Journal des Debats, at the close of 1831, began to
talk of the court as a thing that had a real and actual exist¬
ence, and it was not difficult to see that much progress had
been made in a courtly sense from the programme of the
Hotel de Ville—the throne surrounded with republican
institutions.
In the latter months of 1831, the intrigues of the legi¬
timist party both in Paris and in the provinces became
more active and persevering. The directing committee was
composed of twelve persons, among whom were the Count
de Florae, the Baron de Riviere, and the Baron de Maistre.
The Duke de Belluno was mixed up in these plots, and was
said to receive his instructions direct from the Duchess de
Berri. Casimir Perier attached but little importance to the
manoeuvres of the legitimists. The first months of 1832
opened inauspiciously. Early in February the cholera had
appeared in England, and in March the presence of the ma- History,
lady was revealed by four fatal cases in Paris. On the 31st
March there were 300 cholera patients at the hospital, 1332.
among whom there were 86 deaths; on the 5th April there
were 300 deaths, and four days later the mortality amounted
to 814. On the 18th the highest figure of mortality had
been attained, after which it gradually diminished. One
of the most deplorable circumstances connected with this
scourge was the exhibitions of popular fury and ignorance to
which it gave rise. In some quarters of the capital and
provinces the effects of the disease were attributed to poison,
and popular frenzy was directed against the medical prac¬
titioners.
On the 2d of April the Duke d’Orleans, in company
with Casimir Perier, visited the cholera patients of the Hotel
Dieu ; and on the 6th the minister was attacked by this
alarming malady. His constitution, already shattered by
the cares of office and the great excitement of debate, had
not sufficient stamina to resist the progress of the disease.
He died on the 16th of May, leaving in the ministry a
blank which it was impossible adequately to fill up. By his
courage he resisted the progress of anarchy, and re-esta¬
blished social order on a more solid basis. To his credit
also it must be said, that he was the only man who, since
1830, had exhibited the vigour and courage necessary to
resist the personal interference of Louis Philippe. He had
a system, and a strong will to carry that system into effect.
In his ministerial career there was neither vacillation nor
irresolution. His desire was to govern by the Chambers,
and by the Chambers only, and to disregard all opinion
which was not the expression of these assemblies. He felt
that in the then position of affairs order was of the fore¬
most necessity. His first wish was accordingly for order,
and his second for well-defined liberty, as the handmaid of
order.
During the illness of Casimir Perier, M. de Montalivet Interim
was interim minister at the home office. After the death minister,
of that minister he continued to hold the portfolio, and was
himself succeeded in the ministry of public instruction by
M. Girod de 1’Ain. The place of president of the council
remained vacant, and indeed the ministry was thought so
weak and insignificant after the demise of Perier that it was
considered as a species of ministerial interregnum. This
was the first attempt of Louis Philippe to govern by men
without political character or talent; for though Marshal
Soult, the war minister, was a person of administrative abi¬
lity in his own particular walk, and, as M. Thiers designated
him, an epee illustre, yet he was totally without political ca¬
pacity. Events soon revealed the incompetency of the men
at the helm of affairs. In the capital the anniversary of the
death of Napoleon was the occasion of a hostile demonstra¬
tion. On the 5th May large assemblages took place at the
Place Vendome, where the rioters had designedly congre¬
gated. Blood was shed on this occasion before the public
force had cleared the Place Vendome of the republicans.
Preparations for a legitimate or Carlist insurrection were
simultaneously proceeding in the south and west of France.
An active correspondence was going on between Toulon
and Nimes, and the Duchess de Berri and her partisans.
The Duchess at that time was residing in the states of the
Duke of Modena, where an expedition was preparing.
On the 30th April an armed band at Marseilles obtained
possession of the keys of the church of St Lawrence, on
which the white flag was hoisted amidst cries of “ Vive Henri
V.!” “ Vive la Religion!” “ Vive le Drapeau Blanc !”
In the month of May the Duchess de Berri, accompanied
by Marshal Bourmont and twelve distinguished personages
of the old court, appeared off Marseilles on board the Carlo
Alberto steamer, with a view to effect a landing; but find¬
ing the tricolored flag flying from the tower of St Lawrence,
the steamer again put out to sea. Many pages might be
FRA
History, dedicated to the proceedings of this most restless royal per-
sonage, whose whole object appeared to be to excite civil
1832. war. Suffice it however to say, that after attempts to in¬
terest the Emperor Nicholas in her favour, and proposals of
the strangest nature to Don Miguel, through the ex-gene¬
ral Deutz, the duchess, who had traversed the interior of
France, appeared on the 15th May in La Vendee, where M.
de Bourmont soon after joined her. As soon as the friends
of the duchess in the capital heard of her arrival in La Ven-
, dee, they prepared to second her efforts in Paris, where a
Carlist insurrection seemed imminent; but early in June,
forty of the leaders (among whom were several gardes du
corps) were arrested. This prevented the intended out¬
break, and several of the Carhsts now made common cause
with the republicans.
At this period the famous compte rendu, a manifesto
which accused ministers of having broken all their promises,
of having sown division among the national guards, and
many other political crimes and misdemeanours, was pre¬
pared, and received the signature of 150 deputies.
Funeral of Till this time the republicans, though disaffected, had re-
Lamarque. frained from overt acts of insurrection ; but on the occasion
of the funeral of General Lamarque, who had died of the
cholera a few days after his old adversary Casimir Perier,
they broke out into insurrection. The funeral procession
started from the Hue Faubourg St Honore about ten o’clock
in the morning. Notwithstanding the measures of precau¬
tion taken, and the numerous detachments of troops posted
about, alarming symptoms were apparent. On the Place
de la Bastille funeral orations w'ere delivered. General La
Fayette had just concluded his address, recommending the
people to be tranquil, when a red flag was unfurled, and
some of the populace cut the harness of the hearse, amidst
Emeutein loud cries of “ To the Pantheon!” The dragoons posted
Pans. aroundwere fired on, stones were flung at, and daggers raised
against them. At length they discharged their carbines.
The national guards who followed the procession quitted it in
disorder: the insurgents raised aery of “ To arms! ” in different
quarters, breaking the lamps, and raising barricades. The
disturbances continued on the 6th, night having interrupted
the military operations, but the national guard united with
the troops of the line. The king who had arrived over
night from St Cloud visited the different posts. On the
6th, however, the insurgents (who, in less than two hours
on the preceding day, occupied the half of Paris) were
still masters of certain quarters, of which the church of
St Mery was the centre. The troops having secured
the Hotel de Ville and the Palais de Justice against the
attack of the insurgents, surrounded them. Being too weak
to leave their barricades, they remained behind their in-
trenchments. At this juncture the king, issuing from the
Tuileries at the head of a brilliant staff, gave fresh confi¬
dence to the soldiers, who carried the barricades, and
possessed themselves of the church of St Mery. Of the
troops, 55 were killed and 240 wounded. The national
guard had 18 men killed and 104 wounded, and the insur¬
gents 93 killed and 291 wounded.
3aris A royal ordonnance placed Paris in a state of siege. A
ilaced in council of war was also appointed to try the prisoners ar-
. state of rested. But the Cour de Cassation declared these proceed¬
ings illegal, and remitted the affair to the Cour d‘Assises,
where a few sentences of death were pronounced, com¬
muted however, afterwards, by the royal clemency. It
should also be stated, that some of the most eminent men of
the bars of Paris, Rouen, and Rennes, pronounced opinions
against the Etat de Siege. Some arrests of deputies took
place, among whom were Cabet, Gamier Pages, and La-
boissiere. Armand Carrel, editor of the National, was
also arrested. On the 6th, after the king had traversed
Paris, MM. Laffitte, Odillon Barrot, and Arago waited on
Louis Philippe to press on his Majesty a change of system,
N C E. 207
and to prevent the further effusion of blood. But Louis History.
Philippe defended the course taken by the government y-;
against their objections. 1832
Among the insurgents were eleven scholars of the Poly¬
technic School. A royal ordonnance disbanded the Poly¬
technic and the school of Alfort. This ordonnance excited
much severe comment. But public indignation knew no
bounds when an ordonnance of the police required all me¬
dical men to make a declaration as to the names of the
wounded on whom they had attended. M. Gisquet, the
prefect of police, threw the responsibility of this ordonnance
on M. d’Argout.
1 he partisans of the Duchess de Berri were so turbulent Four de¬
in the west, that four departments—viz., Maine and Loire, partmeuts
Loire Inferieure, Deux Sevres, and La Vendee—were placedin a.state
in a state of siege, which continued till June 1833. Never- of sieSe-
theless, the duchess still continued this Chouan war, though
few leaders of any mark engaged in it, and although MM.
Chateaubriand, hitz-James, and Hyde de Neuville recom¬
mended her to withdraw from the contest and quit France.
Towards the end of May M. Berryer was arrested at
Nantes ; and on the 15th June Hyde de Neuville, Fitz-
James, and Chateaubriand were arrested at Paris. M.
Berryer was accused of tampering with the allegiance of
I renchmen by seeking to enlist superior officers in the
Carlist cause, but he was acquitted of this charge by the
Cour d’Assises at Blois in October. In the autumn of Deutz,
this year an adventurer of the name of Deutz, a convert the adven-
frorn Judaism, and much in favour with the Pope and the turer-
Jesuits, was confidentially employed by the Duchess de
Berri. He communicated his instructions to M. Monta-
livet, minister of the interior, and declared his willingness
to aid the government in betraying his employer. The
minister, of course, approved of his proposal, and proposed
a second interview a few days afterwards. This was in the
beginning of October ; but a few days afterwards there was
a change of ministry, Marshal Soult becoming president of
the council, and M. Thiers succeeding M. Montalivet as
home minister. M. Thiers continued the negotiations com¬
menced by his predecessor, and suggested to Deutz that
he should remain at Paris. But Deutz explained to the
minister that he could render the government more essential
service when near the duchess, his still confiding employer,
at Nantes. For Nantes the man set out under the name
of Gonzagues, and obtained an interview with the princess
on the 28th. On the 6th of November he informed the
authorities that the duchess was then in the house of the
Misses Duguigny. The house was surrounded all day on
the 6th, and a minute but ineffectual search was made dur¬
ing the whole of the day and night. The authorities were
about to give up the pursuit in despair, when at ten o’clock
in the morning of the 7th, Madame la Duchesse was dis¬
covered at the back of the chimney, greatly suffering, as
her cries indicated, from the insupportable heat. Her com- Arrest and
panions were M. Guibourg, an advocate of Nantes, M. de captivity
Mesnard, and Mademoiselle de Kersabiec. The prisoners the
were taken into custody, and the duchess was thence im- B“rcr^ess dti
mediately placed on board a government vessel, and trans¬
ferred to the citadel of Blaye. Thus ended, after manv
strange adventures, the political career of the Duchess de
Berri.
The ministry of transition which had succeeded that of Ministry
Casimir Perier succumbed to the difficulties by which itof 11,th
was surrounded, and to cope with which it was manifestly pCtoPfr'
unequal. Marshal Soult was now appointed president ofofMarshal
the council and minister of war, M. de Broglie was named Soult.
minister for foreign affairs, M. Guizot of public instruction,
M. Thiers of the interior, and M. Humann of finance. On
the 9th November an ordonnance appeared, declaring that a
project of law would be presented to the chambers, relative
to the Duchess de Berri. The ministry, feeling the neces-
208
PRANCE.
Attempt
on the
king’s life.
Expedi¬
tion to
Antwerp.
1833.
Large
credit for
public
buildings.
Pregnancy
of Madame
la Duchesse
de Eerri.
sity of decisive measures, resolved on an expedition against
the citadel of Antwerp. The Chamber was convoked for
the 19th November; and it was on this occasion as the
king was proceeding on horseback over the Pont Royal
that a pistol was fired at him. The pistol, according to
positive testimony, was fired by one Bergeron, who was
brought to trial at the assizes in March 1833, but acquitted
by the jury.
The city of Antwerp, it will be remembered, was in fact
Belgian, but the citadel remained in the power of the
Dutch. An expedition was therefore resolved on to
liberate the town, and to carry into execution the twenty-
four articles of the treaty of London, France engaging not
to unnecessarily prolong the occupation of Belgian territory.
Seventy thousand French crossed the frontier, whilst a re¬
serve of 40,000 was stationed along the Moselle. On the
30th of November all the preparations under General Haxo
and Neigre being completed (the breaches being opened on
the 29th), Marshal Gerard summoned General Chasse, the
governor of Antwerp, to surrender. This request not being
complied with, the marshal regularly sat down before the
place. On the 3d December the second parallel was
already established, notwithstanding frequent sorties of the
garrison ; and on the 23d, a breach having being effected,
Chasse, after a vigorous and noble defence, offered to give
up the citadel, and to retire into Holland with the garrison.
Gerard would not accede to this proposition till the forts of
Lillo and Liefkenshoek were surrendered; but as these
were not under the command of General Chasse, it was
necessary to open communciations with the King of Hol¬
land. Meanwhile, however, the French took possession of
the citadel, and it was now hoped by the friends and partisans
of the government that the defeat of the revolutionary party
in June, the pacification of La Vendee by the arrest of the
Duchess de Berri, and the taking of Antwerp, would
strengthen the position of ministers, and give solidity to
the government.
The first months of the session of 1833 certainly an¬
nounced greater calm. The labours of the session com¬
menced by a proposition for the abolition of the anniversary
of the 21st January. The Chamber of Deputies saw only
in the expiatory day an outrage to the nation, whilst the
Chamber of Peers recognised a homage to the principle of
the inviolability of kings. After a struggle between both
chambers, it was agreed that “the law of the 19th January
1816, relative to that melancholy and ever-deplorable day
of the 21st January 1793, should be abrogated.”
M. Thiers, who had changed the ministry of the interior
for the ministry of public works, presented a law for finish¬
ing the public buildings already commenced. A credit of
100,000,000 francs was allocated for this purpose, to the
expenditure of which sum we owe the completion of the
Madeleine, of the Arc de 1’Etoile, the palace of the Quai
d’Orsay, military routes in La Vendee, and other routes in
various parts of the kingdom. A law on primary instruc¬
tion, presented by M. Guizot, in offering instruction to those
unable to pay for it, acquitted a duty of the state to the la¬
bouring classes. The imprisonment of the Duchess de
Berri relieved the state of the embarrassment of a Ven-
dean war, but it was still necessary to dispose of her case
in some way or other. But an unexpected incident arose
which gave a new complexion to the affair. On the night
of the 16th or 17th January the Duchess de Berri was
seized with violent vomitings, and, in consequence of a
telegraphic despatch, the doctors Orfila and Auvity re¬
ceived orders to set out immediately for Blaye. After a
a great deal of delicate and proper circumlocution, the
pregnancy of the duchess was formally stated to the au¬
thorities, and on the 28th February she herself announced
to General Bugeaud a secret marriage. The declaration
was officially published in the Moniteur of the 26th. It
was a terrible blow to the legitimist party, many of whom History,
stoutly maintained (and, among others, a writer in the
Quotidienne) that the declaration was counterfeit. On the 1333
8th June the duchess quitted Blaye, and embarked on
board VAgathe, a government vessel, which conducted her
to Palermo.
In the Chamber the budget of the minister of war was
sharply criticised. M. Camille Perier stigmatized certain
contracts, which amounted to the large sum of 14,000,000
francs, as profligately extravagant. Marshal Soult, like a
clever tactician, availed himself of the fortifications of Paris
to mask the extravagance of his contracts.
The trial of the Tribune newspaper, conducted at this
period by Armand Marrast and Godfrey Cavaignac (the
brother of the general who subsequently became president
of the republic in 1848), for a libel on the Chamber, which
it called Chambre prostituee, gave rise to many curious re¬
velations. Marrast (who was subsequently one of the pro¬
visional government of 1848, and president of the Chamber),
maintained that 122 functionary deputies annually received
in salaries more than two millions of francs for employments
the duties of which they did not discharge. Statements of
this kind, founded for the most part on fact, produced a bad
impression on the public mind relative to public men. The
editors of the Tribune called on the minister of finance to
pay into the treasury the sum of 3,503,607 francs due by
the civil list, alleging that Louis Philippe had on the 6th of
August 1830 made a gift of his private fortune to his chil¬
dren with a view to save it from incorporation with the pro¬
perty of the state, whereby the “ droit d’enregistrement”
was largely defrauded. It was alleged that while the king
thus defrauded the state, the man who had made him was
ruined, and certainly a placard posted on the walls of Paris
announced that the house of the famous banker was to be
disposed of. The knowledge of this produced general re¬
gret. The liberal party and republicans exclaimed, “ The
man who has organized a legal resistance to the ordonnances,
who has disposed of a crown, is ruined.”
Paris from the year 1827 was the focus and centre of Secret
secret societies, and there can be no doubt that they exer- societies,
cised immense influence from the year 1830 to this time.
The club of the Amis du Peuple was now however shut.
The society of the Droits de VHomme succeeded to the
Amis du Peuple, and counted in Paris alone 3000 Section-
naires, with numerous affiliations in the departments. It
possessed its government, its administration, its army of
martyrs, of clerks, of combatants. It used every means to
raise and collect subscriptions in favour of political offenders
or journals condemned for liberal opinions. It was an occult
and anarchical power within the state. The principal mem¬
bers of the central committee were Voyer d’Argenson,
Audry de Puyraveau deputies: Cavaignac, Kersausie, Lebon,
Vignerte. The principles of the club were extravagant
and extreme to a degree. Nothing discredited it more with
sensible steady men, or men who had anything to lose, than
its desire to rehabilitate the character of Robespierre. The
club also suffered under the imputation, justly or unjustly
urged, of desiring an agrarian law, and an equal division
of property. The most reasonable members belonging
to the association always repudiated these dangerous and
dishonest principles, but there were hot-headed zealots who
proclaimed them. On the 10th April 1833 a jury con¬
demned the society of “Les Droits de VHomme” and the
assize court directed the dissolution of a society whose ille¬
gality had been pronounced. About this period even men
of the advanced opinions of Lafayette and Carrel did not go
far or fast enough for the more ardent spirits. The republic
of the National was not the republic of the Droits de
VHomme. The society of the Rights of Man was for imme¬
diate action, whereas Lafayette and Carrel thought the
moment inopportune. In truth, an insurrection was pre-
FRANCE.
History
1833.
1834.
’olitical
I* efugees
n France.
roit de
isite.
ussian
itrigues.
pared for the anniversary of the 28th July 1833. As it
was the moment when there was a great deal of discussion
about the detached forts destined, it was said, to muzzle
Paris, it was agreed that there should be cries of A has les
bastilles during the review of the national guard. The
places at which the insurrectionists should assemble were
not indicated till the last moment. A proclamation, how¬
ever, had previously circulated among the soldiers of the
garrison to rally them to the insurrection. Arrests were
made on the 27th or 28th July of six persons, among whom
were four eleves of the Polytechnic School. An immense
quantity of balls and cartridges were seized, and the insur¬
rection was in consequence adjourned. The review passed
off quietly, and the king received from the national guard
the usual reception ; but so grave was the event considered
that the government announced in the National that the
detached forts would not be proceeded with. The arrests
during the months of July and August amounted to 150,
among which number were six pupils of the Polytechnic:
27 of the prisoners were tried at the assizes in the month
of December, among whom the most remarkable were Ras-
pail, Kersausil, &c. They were acquitted by the jury, but
the advocates who defended them, Dupont, Michel de
Bourges, and Pinart, were suspended from the exercise of
their profession, the first for a year, the two others for six
months. At the end of the year 1833 the society of the
Droits de 1’Homme counted 162 sections of 20 members;
it had therefore in round numbers 3000 men at its disposal.
1 he spirit animating the body may be judged from some of
the names of the sections—Babceuf, Les Gueux, Marat,
Couthon, Robespierre, &c.
The government felt that the newsmen or public criers
of journals were a fertile cause of agitation. In February
1834 a new law on criers was brought forward, which pro¬
vided that no one should exercise the profession of public
crier without the permission of the municipal authority.
Political refugees were also a standing cause of perturba¬
tion during the years 1833 and 1834. It was calculated
that the soil of France at this period afforded a refuge to
6000 Polish, and 4000 German, Italian, and Spanish re¬
fugees, at an expense of three or four millions per annum
to the state. A majority of these persons showed themselves
little thankful for the hospitality afforded them. They
mixed themselves up with factions, and took part in all the
troubles of that stormy time.
It is not necessary that w^e should enter into any details
as to the foreign relations of France during the year 1833.
In as far, however, as these relations had a bearing or in¬
fluence on domestic affairs or parties, it is necessary we
should shortly advert to them. With England during these
years France maintained friendly and intimate relations, and
the treaty of the Droit de Visite was arranged—an instru¬
ment of which the movement party did not hesitate to take
advantage for party purposes. It was in the year 1833 that
the oriental difficulty first arose, or rather that Russia first
laid her hand heavily on Constantinople. The battle of
Koniah had placed Syria in the power of Ibrahim, who
thence threatened the sultan. Mahomet now turned his
eyes towards Sebastopol, and implored the help of Russia.
The czar hastened to offer the sultan six ships of war and
seven frigates, and despatched General Mourvaieff with a
view to prepare a Russian intervention. France had no
ambassador at the Porte during these occurrences, General
Guilleminot having been abruptly recalled in 1831 in con¬
sequence of his having attempted to sustain the influence of
his country against Russia. As soon as the facts were known
Admiral Roussin was named ambassador; and on his arrival
he required that the Russian ships should be countermanded.
But Russia took effectual measures not to receive the
counter orders in time. On the 20th February, three days
after the arrival of Roussin, a Russian squadron of ten ships
VOL. x.
209
of war entered the Bosphorus. Admiral Roussin, to pro- History,
cure the withdrawal of the Russians, engaged to induce
Mahomet to content himself with the three pashalics of 1834.
Sidon, 4 ripoli, and Jerusalem. But as the admiral had only
the ship of war in which he arrived, and as the consul of
fiance at Alexandria encouraged the pasha in his plans of
conquest, Mahomet, emboldened by the real weakness of
France at Constantinople, and by the difference of opinion
between the consul and the ambassador, resisted the higher
fimctionary. Another arrangement was concludecf at
Kutayah, which assured to the pasha, besides Syria, the
pashalic of Adana, thus giving him an entrance into Asia
Minor. Ibrahim then prepared to evacuate Asia Minor;
and the Russians, having no longer a pretext for interven¬
tion, evacuated Constantinople, having obtained from the
sultan the treaty of Unkiar Skelessi. The successes of
Don Pedro in Portugal, the destruction of the fleet of Don
Miguel by Admiral Napier, the triumph of Maria Christina
of Spain over Calomarde, by which the throne of Spain was
secured to Isabella, were all circumstances tending to the
consolidation of tlie new dynasty in France, and to the more
intimate alliance of the two great Western Powers. The
Cabinet of the Tuileries at once acknowledged Isabella in Acknow-
opposition to the Salic law imported into Spain with the ledgment
dynasty of the Bourbons. But Don Carlos was the inve- Isabella
terate enemy of the house of Orleans, and this was deci- FrahCe-
sive to determine the policy of the Tuileries.
At the commencement of 1834 the partisans of the new
dynasty hoped that the partial re-establishment of order,
and the defeat of parties hostile to the government, would
reassure the middle classes, and give a new impetus to com¬
merce and industry. But it was soon apparent that it was
merely a truce, not a peace, which prevailed. At the open¬
ing of the session the speech from the throne had alluded
to the culpable manoeuvres of the factions, and called on the
army, the national guard, and the citizens to put an end to
the dangerous illusions of men who, in pretending to defend,
really assailed liberty. In the discussion on the address
there was unwonted moderation on the part of the opposi¬
tion. M. Bignon delivered a moderate speech on the ques¬
tion of Poland, in which he invoked the sanction of the
treaties of 1814—a speech in the letter and spirit of which
M. de Broglie fully concurred. But the opposition out of
doors was not so moderate. It redoubled in acrimony and
violence, and the government resolved to come to close
quarters with the democratic press. On the 25th January
ministers asked permission of the Chambers to commence
proceedings against M. Cabet, deputy, for articles published
in the Populaire. On the following day M. de Ludre de¬
nounced the despotic conduct of Marshal Soult, in conse¬
quence of an order of the day addressed to the artillery
officers of Strasbourg. General Bugeaud interrupting, ex¬
claimed, “Military men must, above all things, obey;”
whereupon M. Dulong rejoined, “ Must they obey even to
becomingjailors?” alluding to the equivocal position held by
the general at Blaye. From these observations a duel arose
in which the unfortunate Dulong, a son of Dupont de
1’Eure, lost his life. This circumstance induced Dupont
de 1’Eure to resign his position as deputy.
The Cabinet and the Chamber appeared to be now de¬
termined on more aggressive measures. A law on associa- Law on
tions was introduced on the 25th February. The debate assoeia-
took place on 11th March, and lasted for twelve days. The tions-
attitude of the Chamber was angry and impassioned through¬
out. The orator of the government during the debate was
M. Persil, Procureur-General The opposition, it must
be confessed, was as vehement and as impassioned as the
ministerial benches; and in a few days after these an£jry
debates the insuilection of Lyons and the Paris insurrec¬
tion of April took place. I he troubles of Lyons of No- Troubles
vember 1831 had no political character; but those of 1834, at tyons.
2 D
210 FRA
History, it must be confessed, had been prepared by clubs and by
v'—journalism. An immense garrison had been sent to Lyons
1834. and the neighbouring towns, the national guard had been
disarmed, and the interior of the city had been fortified.
In the beginning of 1834 there was the greatest distress
among the silk weavers, and the result was that the associa¬
tion of the mutuellistes, a society which never discussed
either religious or political questions, but was established
solely to defend the rights of the working classes, made
common cause with the republicans, and by their influence
produced a strike among the manufacturing population.
On the 14th February 20,000 workmen of Lyons and the
neighbourhood ceased to labour in the manufactories, and
before the end of March a majority of these men came to
an understanding with the republicans. An active corre¬
spondence was established between Lyons, Paris, St Etienne,
Marseilles, and other large towns, and a thorough commu¬
nity of action appeared to exist among the malcontents,
whose movements were simultaneous with those of General
Ramorino upon Savoy. But the authorities were prepared
to strike a blow at Lyons, where they had 20,000 men under
arms. On the 9th April every military precaution had been
taken, and the troops were posted on all the important
points. While M. Jules Favre was pleading a political
cause, a shot was heard, and a man mortally wounded was
carried into court. He was said to be an insurgent whom
a gendarme had shot while in the act of raising a barricade ;
but on examination it was found that the dying or dead
man wore under his clothes the sash of a police agent.
The promulgation of this fact exasperated the workmen to
madness. Barricades were erected, and proclamations were
issued, declaring that the king was deposed, and that Lucien
Bonaparte was named First Consul. The tocsin called the
workmen to arms, and the people everywhere obstinately
engaged the troops. The struggle lasted six days. The
rising of the faubourgs of Vaise, la Guillotiere, of St Claire,
and St Just, cut off communication with Paris, with the
west, and with the south. Reverchon and La Grange were
the chief leaders on the part of the people: 131 of the
military were killed, of whom one was a colonel, and 12
officers and 192 men were wounded. On the side of the in¬
surgents 170 were killed and 400 republicans were made pri¬
soners. Insurrectionary movements broke out simulta¬
neously at St Etienne, Grenoble, Vienne, Perpignan,
Poitiers, Chalons sur Saone, Arbois, Marseilles. At Lune-
ville the sous-qfficiers of three regiments of cuirassiers es¬
sayed to direct their regiments to Nancy with a view to a
Troubles march on Paris. The news of the Lyons insurrection gave
at Paris, the signal to the revolutionary party in Paris. On Sunday
the 13th April, Kersausie, a man of determined courage,
reviewed the republican forces on the Boulevards, during
the course of which operation he was carried off by the
police. His arrest precipitated the insurrectionary move¬
ment. There was an immediate call to arms, and men ran
to the barricades. But over this insurrection, called les
Journees d’Avril, the government was also successful. 1 he
doctrine of “ connexiie” by which (under the article 171 of
the code de procedure) it was sought to make the revolts of
Lyons, St Etienne, Grenoble, Paris, &c., one and the same
revolt, ousted, so to speak, the Cours Hoyoles in different
parts of the kingdom of their jurisdiction, and the conse¬
quence was, that the Chamber of Peers became alarmed by
the affair. The prisoners amounted to 1500. Of these
800 or 900 were set at large. It should be stated that be¬
fore the hearing the opposition sought not merely to de¬
monstrate the impossibility of trying such a multitude of
prisoners, but also the illegality of arraigning them before
the Chamber of Peers. The process, which lasted for se¬
veral months before the Chamber of Peers, would fill a
volume. We only advert to it here for the purpose of
directing the legal reader to the printed reports of a me-
N C E.
morable trial in which some strange legal doctrines were History,
propounded. The monster process of April, whether con-
stitutional or otherwise according to French law—whether 1834.
legally conducted or not—struck a decisive blow at the
republican party; and it must be added that some of the
extreme members of the party itself, by their violent and
absurd conduct before the court, discredited the cause to
which they were attached.
The success of the government, over the factions gave it
apparent force, but the cabinet was torn by intestine divi¬
sions. The rejection of a project of law relative to a treaty
of 25 millions demanded by America had caused the re¬
tirement of the Duke de Broglie. Lafayette, who was ill
at the time, sent to the Chamber explanations in favour of
the project, but it was nevertheless rejected, and imme¬
diately afterwards M. de Broglie placed his resignation in Resigna-
the hands of the king. His retirement produced a partialtion °fM.
change in the ministry. MM. Barthe and D’Argout were
replaced by MM. Persil and Duchatel, who were appointed flnancial
ministers of justice and commerce. M. Thiers became changes,
minister of the interior, and M. de Rigny passed from the
ministry of marine to the ministry of foreign affairs, the mi¬
nistry of marine being filled by Admiral Jacob. On the
20th May in this year General Lafayette died. At any Death of
other epoch his decease would have produced more im- Lafayette,
pression, but the recent defeat of the republican party had
discouraged and dispirited them. The triple alliance ori- Quadruple
ginally concluded between Spain, England, and Don Pedro, alliance,
now became the quadruple alliance, M. de Talleyrand hav¬
ing given in his adhesion on the part of France.
On the 1st of July of this year Don Carlos secretly with-Don Carlos
drew from London, arrived at Paris on the 4th, on the 6th secretly
at Bordeaux, on the 8th at Bayonne, and on the 10th had arrive9 in
crossed the Spanish frontier without having been discovered faris•
by the police of France. So soon as the pretender ap¬
peared on the soil of Spain, Martinez de la Rosa asked for
the assistance of England and France. England furnished
arms and munitions, and France the foreign legion. The
French army of observation quartered on the Pyrenees also
received reinforcements.
As to domestic affairs, the violence of the factions and the
extravagance of the republican party had induced many who
were otherwise unfriendly to the government to side with
it. When the Chambers were dissolved, and the elections
took place in June 1834, the greater number of the de¬
puties professing republican opinions were rejected. Se¬
veral legitimists were returned, who ranged themselves
under the banner of Berryer. But notwithstanding these
favourable circumstances, there wrere internal dissensions
in the cabinet. A struggle had commenced between M.
Guizot and Marshal Soult, whose budget had been vi¬
gorously attacked in the Chambers. Soult was under¬
stood to have resigned on the 18th July, and immediately ^esi£”a‘
afterwards Marshal Gerard took the portfolio of war, with
the presidency of the council. In the Chamber the tiers yiarshal
parti excited a good deal of attention from the apparently Gerard
independent position which they assumed—a position hos- president
tile to the doctrinaires. The tiers parti wras composed of the
of deputies who had sustained government by their votes
and speeches in a time of crisis, but who, now that the^arH
crisis was over, desired a more clement and liberal policy.
Discreet and sensible men saw that the great danger was a
want of moderation in the possessors of power, and that
men flushed with victory were likely to abuse it. The
principal members of the tiers parti were Dupin, Be-
renger, Etienne, Passy, Teste de Calmon, and Felix Real.
Though these gentlemen had talent, industry, much ac¬
quired information, and a great knowledge of affairs, yet
they wanted energy and political courage. The tiers parti
showed itself at first favourable to Marshal Gerard, who
entered the ministry with an idea of amnesty; but it ap-
FRANCE.
1834.
fasigna-
;ion of
Marshal
Jerard.
5uke de
iassano
jremier.
1835.
lecon-
truction
if the
loctrinaire
labinet.
Marshal
Jortier
iresident.
History, peared that General Jaquemont, as commander of the na¬
tional guard, repudiated all idea of an amnesty, where¬
upon Marshal Gerard resigned on the 29th October, after
a short official life of three months. The other ministers
also resigned with the exception ofM. Persil, who addressed
himself to M. Dupin. Dupin, for himself, refused office,
but named the Duke de Bassano as president of the coun¬
cil and minister of the interior, M. Charles Dupin as mi¬
nister of marine, General Bernard as minister of war, M.
Passy for the finances, M. Teste for public works, M. Sauzet
for public instruction, and M. Bresson for foreign affairs.
But this ministry lasted only three days, when the old mi¬
nisters resumed office.
Ihe doctrinaire cabinet was reconstructed on the 18th
November, under the presidency of Marshal Mortier, who
was named minister of war. But never was there less
of presidency in fact than that of Marshal Mortier; and
at the end of three months, namely on the 20th February
1835, the old soldier resigned, and on the 30th April fol¬
lowing surrendered the seals of war to Marshal Maison.
Admiral Duperre had already been called to preside over
the navy, and as MM. Thiers and Guizot now understood
each other, and had numerous followers in the Cham¬
bers, their union formed a counterpoise to the royal will.
From this moment the king sought to divide and sow
dissension between these two able men, for the object of
the monarch was to find ministers who governed more
from the dictation of the royal cabinet than from the assent
of the Chambers. These manoeuvres of royalty rather has¬
tened the growth of a parliamentary party, demanding a
true and bona fide representative government, and proclaim¬
ing the sound constitutional maxim, “ Le Roi regne et ne
gouverne pas” On the other hand, an old Napoleonic
counsellor of state, M. Roederer, published a pamphlet
exalting the royal prerogative, against which several of the
deputies of the hers parti, and among others Piscatory,
Jaubert, and Duvergier d’Hauranne, declaimed.
Ihe vacancy created in the presidency of the council by
the resignation of Marshal Mortier brought on a ministerial
crisis, which the king was not desirous to put an end to.
It was necessary, however, that certain pecuniary demands
of Russia should be brought before the Chamber by the
minister of foreign affairs, Admiral de Rigny, who was quite
unequal to the task. M. 1 hiers, who had studied the ques¬
tion, undertook the part of M. de Rigny. Guizot and Thiers
now wisely agreed to postpone their respective pretensions
and to accept the presidency of the Duke de Broglie, who
became president of the council and minister for foreign
affairs on the 12th March 1835.
During the whole month of July sinister rumours of plots
pervaded Paris. A plot was hatched against the life of the
king at Neuilly, by which he was to be shot on his way from
the Tuileries to the country. Information was given to the
police of another plot which was to explode from a subter¬
ranean fosse on the Boulevards. But the plot which did
really explode was that of Fieschi. On the 28th July the
king, accompanied by his sons, by several of his ministers,
and a numerous staff, had passed the Porte St Martin and
traversed one-half of the Boulevard du Temple, when from
a window there was a terrible detonation from an infernal
machine, accompanied with a shower of case shot, a portion
of which mortally wounded Marshal Mortier. The house
was immediately surrounded by the police and an armed
force. Fieschi, the perpetrator of the deed, was seized on
the roof of a neighbouring house, disfigured by his wounds.
Boireau a worker in bronze, Morey a harness-maker, and
one Pepin, were also arrested as implicated. On the 5th of
August the funeral obsequies of the victims, to the number
of fourteen, one of whom was an innocent young girl, and
al of ar,other a marshal of France, took place at the Invalides.
;schi. 1 he trial of this plot of Fieschi’s was delegated to the
211
Hnisterial
risis.
tie Duke
i Broglie
•esident
' the
nmcil.
tot of
teschi.
Chamber of Peers. The proceedings were opened on the History.
30th January 1836. On the 15th February a judgment of
the Court of Peers condemned Fieschi to the penalty of a 1835.
parricide, Morey and Pepin to the penalty of death, and Execution
Boireau to twenty years’ imprisonment. The execution of Eieschi,
took place on the 19th. To the credit of France, it must pIorey’&
be stated, that the attempt of Fieschi excited a universal ^ ’
sentiment of indignation, and voices were raised from al¬
most every quarter demanding vigorous legislative mea¬
sures for the repression of crime. Ministers did not fail to
take advantage of the universal consternation to ask for
exceptional laws. I he result was what are called the laws Laws of
of September. On the 4th August three projects of law SePtember.
were laid before the Chamber of Deputies by M. Persil.
One of these, the project of law relative to the press, in¬
creased the security for journals, the corporal punish¬
ment, and the fine. Phis measure defined as a crime any
offence to the person of the king, and declared such at¬
tempt punishable with imprisonment and a fine of from
10,000 to 50,000 francs. The bill expressly forbade the in¬
troduction of the name of the king into the discussion of
governmental acts ; and forbade the assumption of the title of
republican. It was also forbidden to raise subscriptions in
favour of journals condemned by the tribunals, and it was
proposed to establish a censorship for drawings, engravings,
and theatrical pieces, A second project for the regulation
of fines reduced from eight to seven the majority necessary
for condemnation, and established secret voting by a writ¬
ten ticket instead of orally. A third project relative to
assize courts gave to the president the right to remove pri¬
soners who disturbed the court, and to come to a decision
on documentary evidence in the absence of the accused.
The commission on the law on the press proposed that the
security or cautionnement should be 200,000 francs, or
L.8000 of our money. The Chamber fixed it at 100,000
francs. Royer Collard, on this occasion, broke the silence
which he had maintained since 1831, to find fault with
that provision of the law which withdrew from the jury
offences of the press. He was seconded by M. de Remusat.
The provisions of the law in reference to theatrical repre- Law as to
sentations received a general assent, for the dramatic litera- theatrical
ture had sunk to the lowest ebb, and was distinguished not representa-
merely by triviality but by indecency. tions.
The galleys, the jails, the gambling-houses, and tripots,
furnished to the stage its favourite episodes. The laws of
September at once brought to a close about thirty demagogue
legitimist journals, and raised a bitter animosity against those
doctrinaire ministers who, within a few years, had lived,
moved, and had their being in that press which they now
treated with such Draconian severity. For a moment these
laws produced a calm, but they rendered the ministry pro¬
foundly unpopular, indeed odious ; so that M, de Broglie in¬
timated to the king, that at no distant date his Majesty would
be forced to have recourse to other servants. There was
an independence, a frankness, and a sense of self-respect
in M. de Broglie which his Majesty did not like, and he was
the less agreeable to the king from his determination to go¬
vern only by and through the Chambers. Louis Philippe
and his courtiers and personal flatterers also felt that the
union of three such men as M. de Broglie and MM. Guizot
and Thiers threatened the personal system of the monarch,
a system on which he so much prided himself. Every cun¬
ning and courtly art was therefore had recourse to to divide
and sow mistrust and jealousy among men whose momen¬
tary union rendered them formidable to royalist ascendancy.
These intrigues undermined the cabinet of the 11th Octo¬
ber, and there needed but a decent pretext to dissolve it.
This was furnished by the finance minister, M. Plumann,
who, in presenting the budget to the Chambers, declared Dfi^olation
that the moment was favourable to reduce the interest on the Broglie’s
public debt, and to effect the conversion of the five per cents, ministry.
FRANCE.
212
History. M. de Broglie, president of the council, expressed his
surprise to find so grave a question mooted without having
1836. been once discussed in the cabinet; and on being questioned
four days afterwards on the subject, he declared that the
ministry had no idea of converting the fives. M. Gouin
thereupon gave notice of a formal motion for the reduction,
which he brought forward accordingly. The proposition
was supported by M. Passy, and opposed by M. Thiers,
who was for delay. Humann, Berryer, Sauzet, and Dufaure
supported the original motion, and the motion for adjourn¬
ment was lost by a majority of two. M, de Broglie here¬
upon resigned, and was followed by all his colleagues. It
was observed that several of the courtiers and personal
friends of Louis Philippe voted against the ministry, and it
is certain the king felt pleased at finding the union of three
men of ability suddenly rent asunder. Almost simulta¬
neously with the breaking-up of the Duke de Broglie’s
cabinet a coolness took place between MM. Guizot and
Thiers.
Ministry of Just antecedent to the fall of M. de Broglie’s cabinet
M. Thiers. tiie self-love of M. Thiers was somewhat piqued by M. Pis¬
catory, a follower of M. Guizot, telling him that it would
be impossible for him to form a cabinet without the co¬
operation of the Doctrinaires. This rather stimulated than
discouraged the rising politician ; and nothing daunted, M.
Thiers aspired to the task, and was named by royal ordon-
nance president of the council and minister for foreign af¬
fairs on the 22d February. The first difficulty that met the
new minister was the question of the conversion of the five
per cents., which M. Thiers evaded by promising to bring
forward a proposition for conversion in the ensuing year.
A customs law, which had been for some time prepared by
M. Thiers, was presented by M. Passy. It slightly modi¬
fied the principle of absolute prohibition. On the 25th
June 1836 another attempt was made to assassinate the
Attempt of king. A shot was fired at his Majesty as he was leaving
Alibaud on the Tuileries, and two balls lodged in the royal carriage
the king’s without wounding any one. The author of this new crime
was one Alibaud, a young man who had served some time
as a sous-officier, and was now in distress. 1 he affair was
brought before the Court of Peers on the 8th July, and
the evidence adduced proved that Alibaud had no accom¬
plices. On being asked by the president Pasquier how
long he had nourished his criminal project, he answered,
“From the time the king has placed Paris in a state of
siege, and wished not to reign but to govern—since the
time that his Majesty has caused citizens to be massacred
Execution jn the streets of Lyons and the Cloitre St Mery” On
of Alibaud. j.jle jujy Alibaud was condemned to die the death of
a parricide, and he was executed on the 11th, The ca¬
binet of M. Thiers, or of the 22d February as it is gene¬
rally called in France, was not perfectly homogeneous; M.
de Montalivet was minister of the interior, M. Sauzet of
justice, M. Passy of public works, Marshal Maison of war,
Admiral Duperre of marine, M. d’Argout of finance, and
M. Pelet de la Lozere of public instruction. M. Ihiers,
after an intimate union with the politicians composing the
ministry of the 11th October 1832, presided over by Mar¬
shal Soult, had separated himself from them, and found
a kind of support in the left centre with the tiers parti.
Three of M. Thiers colleagues belonged to this party—
MM. Passy, Sauzet, and Pelet de la Lozere. M. Passy,
a man of sincere and honest convictions, had decided opi
nions on certain questions; for instance, he was against
colonizing Algiers, and favourable to the conversion of the
five per cents., to which M. Thiers was opposed. The ex¬
pression of the king’s secret views and wishes in this cabinet
was found in M. Montalivet, the minister of the interior,
and this was also the dissolving element. The chief difficul-
0 estion ^es arose ^rorn foreign affairs. There was the question of
of Cracow. Cracow, occupied by Austrians, Prussians, and Russians,
in flagrant violation of treaty. The intended occupation History,
was communicated to M. de Broglie, in the last days of
February, when on the point of resigning, and he could 1836.
merely formally acknowledge the receipt of the communi¬
cation ; and when M. Thiers entered office on the 22d Fe¬
bruary, he found the king determined to remain passive.
The progress of the Carlist insurrection in Spain also made
a French intervention desirable in that country, but the
king was still less disposed to such an intervention than in
1834. Viscount Palmerston invited an Anglo-French oc¬
cupation of Passages Fuenterabia, and the valley of the
Bastan ; but instead of this a species of international inter¬
ference called a co-operation was determined on, and it was
proposed to establish a foreign legion, commanded by a
Frenchman. While this legion was in course of being re¬
cruited from the corps of General Harispe, the events of Events of
La Granja took place, by which Estatuto Real was abo- La Granja.
lished, and the constitution of 1812 proclaimed. The king
now withdrew the unwilling acquiescence he had given to
co-operation. M. Thiers counted on the support of M. Resigna-
Mon tali vet in the cabinet, but finding that minister (who M.
was known to be possessed of the king’s entire confidence)
opposed to him, resigned office on the '25th August. He
was succeeded by M. Mole, who, in conjunction with M.
Guizot, formed the cabinet of the 6th September.
The king’s political man of all work, M. Montalivet, hav- Mole
ing overturned the ministry of the 22d February, on the cabinet, or
question of a Spanish intervention, a question on which M. n'™®try
Mole had always maintained a different opinion from M. geptemtej.
Thiers; it appeared a thing quite in course that the chief
of the new cabinet should allow the monarch’s favourite to
retain the ministry of the interior. But as M. Guizot aspired
to have an influence equivalent to that of the president of
the council, he required the ministry of the interior for him¬
self, or for one of his friends if he remained minister of
public instruction. After a fortnight’s parleying, M. Mole
yielded, and the portfolio of the interior was given to M.
Gasparin, who, under M. Montalivet, had filled the functions
of under-secretary of state. M, Duchatel took the finances,
M. Persil justice, General Bernard war, Admiral Rosamel
the marine, and M. Martin du Nord commerce, M. Mole
assumed office with the intention of proposing an amnesty,
but the affair of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte (now Emperor
of the French) at Strasbourg, and the attempt on the life of
the king by Meunier, not only forced him to abandon his
project, but to propose to the Chamber laws of a repressive
character. On the Strasbourg affair, in which the principal
mover was the present Emperor of the French, it will not
be necessary to dwell long. Louis Napoleon had won over
to his cause at Baden Colonel Vaudrey, who commanded the
4th regiment of artillery. On the 25th October he quitted
Arnenberg, and arrived on the 28th at Strasbourg, where
the commandant Parquin awaited him. On the 30th, at
five in the morning, the movement began. Colonel Vaudrey
presented Louis Napoleon to his regiment, which received
him with acclamations. They proceeded in marching order
to the residence of General Voiret, who, on refusing to join
the movement, was made prisoner. The plot, however, al¬
together failed at the Feukmatt barracks, where Louis Na¬
poleon, Colonel Vaudrey, Commandant Parquin, and some
others, were arrested. The Cabinet decided that the author
should not be tried. Indeed it appeared difficult to bring
him before the Chamber of Peers, which contained among
its members a great number of old servants of the empire.
On the 9th November he was removed from Strasbourg to
Paris, where he was only allowed to remain two hours. He
left France on the 21st November, and was removed to the
United States on board a ship of war.
Ab6ut the same period, namely, on the 6th November,
Charles X. died at Goritz, in Illyria, at the age of seventy-
nine years. The discrowned monarch bore his misfortunes
FRANCE.
History, with resignation, and died under the impression that he had
fulfilled a great duty. He was a perfectly honest and sin-
1836. cere man, narrow-minded, and entertaining high prerogative
notions more fitted for the 15th than the 19th century.
A remarkable change took place in the Parisian press
this year. Journals were published at less than one-half the
price previously demanded. This revolution was brought
about by M. Emile Girardin, the proprietor of the Presse.
Whatever may be the political effect of cheap journalism,
it must be allowed that it has been rather detrimental to
solid literature. Armand Carrel attacked the cheap journal¬
ism of Girardin. The result was a duel, in which the emi¬
nent republican publicist received a mortal wound. Car¬
rel was a man of a somewhat capricious temper, but of high
honour and lofty spirit. He had a rare talent as a jour¬
nalist, and was master of a style distinguished by perspi¬
cuity and force. He was a person of excellent sense, and
saw clearly enough the absurd extremes and exaggerations
of opinion to which the democratic party was tending.
The previous ministry had left a serious difficulty to their
successors in the Sw iss question. The French ambassador,
M. de Montebello, had strenuously demanded the expulsion
from Switzerland of certain Italian refugees. Out of this
question and other misunderstandings arose a rupture of
diplomatic relations between Switzerland and France. Swit¬
zerland, thus placed between the difficulty of a retractation
and a commercial blockade, replied pusilianimously to the
French note. The French government expressed itself
satisfied, but deep resentment rankled in the heart of the
Swiss.
A royal ordonnance of the 6th October opened the gates
of Ham to the ministers of Charles X. De Peyronnet and
De Chantelauze were authorized to reside on parole, the
one at Monferrand and the other in the department of the
Loire. On the 23d November the sentence of M. de Po-
lignac was commuted for twenty years of banishment. M.
de Guernon Ranville was allowed to reside on parole in the
department of Calvados. Acts such as these paved the way
to an amnesty. A fourth attempt to assassinate the king
was made on the 27th December, by a man named Meunier,
a wretched being without intelligence, and belonging to the
very lowest class of the population. He was condemned to
transportation, but pardoned at the end of April 1837.
A previous design on the life of the king had been dis¬
covered before this regicide could put his plan into execu¬
tion. The author of the attempt, a working mechanic
named Champion, on being arrested, strangled himself in
prison. An insurrection had been attempted at Vendome
by the sub-officer Bruyant. Two attempts to assassinate
the king, the affair of Strasbourg, the disaster of Marshal
Clausel at Constantine, the commercial crisis, and the Spanish
question, were not favourable circumstances for the ministry.
Yet the mere establishment of tranquillity had produced a
prosperous condition of trade and manufactures. The ex¬
cess of income over expenditure in 1835 had been 25,000,000.
In 1836 it amounted to 43,000,000, and 60,000,000 francs
were ordered for public works. In the discussion on the
address the principal topic touched on was the affairs of
Spain. M. Thiers took his stand on the question of the
quadruple alliance, and proceeded to show that in defend¬
ing Spain France sustained the cause of constitutional
government. The government, after having expatriated
the Prince Louis Napoleon without bringing him to trial,
indicted his accomplices at the assizes. But Colonel Vau-
drey, Commandant Parquin, M. de Bruc, Laity, De Que-
relles, De Gricourt, and Madame Gordon, a singer, were all
acquitted, the jury considering that they could not condemn
the agents and instruments when the principal was not pun¬
ished. For a considerable time no very good understand¬
ing existed between MM. Mole and Guizot. The latter
could ill brook the superior position which the presidency
213
of the council gave to M. Mole ; and when the president in- History,
timated to M. Gasparin, who was incompetent to afford ex-
planations in the Chamber, the necessity of his retiring, M. 1837.
Guizot at once put forward his claims to the ministry of the
interior. This produced an open rupture with M. Mole
and the dissolution of the ministry. The ministerial crisis
lasted a considerable time, and various essays were fruit¬
lessly tried at the construction of a new Cabinet. Marshal
Soult required the withdrawal of the law of appanage which
had provoked public animadversion. M. Guizot, who had
been requested to form a Cabinet, addressed himself to the
Duke de Broglie, who consented to accept if M. Thiers
were invited to form a portion of the Cabinet, but he
refused. Propositions were then made to M. Montalivet,
who, after four-and-twenty hours’ reflection, declared he
could not accept the presidency of M. Guizot. Ultimately
M. Mole succeeded in forming a Cabinet, in which M. de
Montalivet resumed the portfolio of the interior, M. Barthe
the ministry of justice, and General Bernard the ministry
of war. The finances were intrusted to M. Lacave-Laplagne,
public instruction to M. de Salvandy, public works to M.
Martin (du Nord), and naval affairs to Admiral Rosamel. This
was in effect almost the last ministry to the exclusion of the
doctrinaire party—MM. Guizot, Duchatel, and Gasparin,
being left out of the new combination.
The new ministry, of frail and feeble constitution, felt that Ministry of
some measure was necessary to conciliate towards it the April,
suffrages of a divided Chamber, and M. Mole came forward
to announce the marriage of the Prince Royal with the
Princess Helena of Mecklenburg-Schwerin,an accomplished
personage of an ancient house. The marriage was not ef¬
fected without difficulty. Russia had raised many obstacles,
and even in the family there were not wanting those who
were ill-disposed to the match. The King of Prussia, how-
ver, had exerted his influence to bring about a happy and
successful solution. An additional income was asked for
the Prince, and as an inducement to the granting of it, it
was announced that the appanage for the Duke de Nemours
would be postponed. Conciliation was now the order of the
day with the ministry, and on the 8th May the ordonnance
granting the amnesty appeared. This was the prelude to a
series of bills which were called les lois de famille. The
marriage settlement of the Prince Royal was raised to two
millions, to which was added a million francs for the ex¬
penses of the marriage, and 300,000 for the dowry of
the Princess. Rambouillet had been asked as an appan¬
age for the Duke de Nemours. But this request, which
had elicited a caustic pamphlet from the pen of M. Cor-
menin, was withdraw n. A million was required for the Queen
of the Belgians. When this proposition was under discus¬
sion, M. Cormenin remarked that the private domain was
74 millions, and he asked whether, out of such an income, a
dowry of a million could not be paid to the Queen of the
Belgians. The Duke de Broglie had been named ambassador
extraordinary to conduct the Princess Helena to France.
She entered the French territory on the 24th May, and on
the 29th arrived at Fontainebleau; on the 30th May the high
contracting parties were married, and the princess entered
Paris on the 4th June. On the 10th the museum of Ver¬
sailles was opened, and turned into a species of Pantheon,
with a view to represent the heroes and celebrated men of
the nation.
On the 17th May, in this year, Talleyrand died at the age
of eighty-four. Either from compunction or complaisance
to the existing authorities, he wished before death to be re¬
conciled to the church. To this end it was necessary that he
should sign a retractation of his errors. The day before his
death his grand-niece, who had considerable influence over
him, insisted on having the retractation signed at that parti¬
cular moment. Talleyrand replied, “ I have never yet been
in a hurry, and yet I have always arrived in time.” The
214 FRA
^History, paper was not signed till five o’clock on the following morn-
ing- At eight o’clock the king came in person to visit him.
1837. Talleyrand, faithful to etiquette, and always acting a part,
wished to receive his royal visitor standing, and had strength
enough to say, “ Sire, this is the greatest honour which my
house has ever received.” An hour afterwards the great
actor was no more. He was a man of exquisite tact and
great talent, but without a moral sense; justice and injustice,
good and evil, were distinctions unknown to him. He wor¬
shipped success only. The Chamber successively voted dur¬
ing the remainder of the session a law of departmental or¬
ganization, upon the constitution of the staff of the army,
&c. The principle of the conversion of the rentes was also
voted by the Deputies, but the bill was thrown out by the
Peers. The question of railways occupied a good deal of
the attention of the legislature, and it was much debated
whether the lines should be undertaken by the state or by
COmpanieS' U.ltimatelylt was decided in favour of the latter.
A plot against the government was the subject of so¬
lemn inquiry before the Peers in the month of May. The
principal conspirator was one Louis Hubert, and he
had for accomplice a Swiss mechanic named Steuble.
Amongst his accomplices figured Mademoiselle Grou-
velle, who was also mixed up in the conspiracy of Alibaud,
Pepin, Morey, &c. Hubert was condemned to transporta¬
tion ; Steuble and Mademoiselle Grouvelle to five years’
imprisonment. Mademoiselle Grouvelle lost her reason
during her captivity, and Steuble committed suicide by cut¬
ting his throat. About the period when this affair of Hu¬
bert was before the Peers, Marshal Soult was sent over as
ambassador extraordinary for the coronation of Her Majesty,
and the old warrior was enthusiastically received by the Eng¬
lish people. It was in this month that Louis Napoleon Bo¬
naparte, now Emperor of the French, returned from Ame¬
rica to Arenenberg. The French government summoned
Switzerland to expel him, when the grand council of Thur-
govia declared he was a citizen of the canton. This resis¬
tance led to the formation of a corps of 20,000 men on the
Swiss frontier. In order to put an end to this state of
things, Louis Bonaparte left Arenenberg for London on the
20th September. On the 24th August the Duchess d’Or-
leans gratified the hopes of her family and the nation by giv¬
ing birth to a young prince, who received the name of the
Comte de Paris. The French troops evacuated Ancona on
the 15th October. To this measure M. Mole unwillingly
consented, as the occupation of Ancona by the French was
not merely a guarantee against the Austrians, but in some
sort a satisfaction to the inhabitants of Romagna.
Negotiations were renewed for imposing on Holland and
Belgium the execution of the treaty of the 24 articles.
The king of Holland found resistance so onerous that he
resigned himself to his fate, and Belgium, after some modi-
. fication in the financial conditions, also submitted.
iST ° rp^le sess*on °f 1839 opened on the 17th December 1838.
The speech from the throne announced the resumption of
the conference of London on the affairs of Belgium and
Holland, the evacuation of Ancona, and the despatch of
fresh naval forces to obtain from the Mexican government
the justice and protection which French commerce required.
I he speech dwelt on the prosperous state of the finances
and the progressive increase of the public revenue. A
majority of the commission nominated to draw up the ad¬
dress in answer to the speech, was hostile to the govern¬
ment. 1 his document expressed a regret that Ancona
was evacuated without the guarantees which a proper
foresight would have provided. Allusions were made to
the condition of Spain and of Poland—to the differences
with Switzerland and above all to the direct and undue
influence of the crown on public affairs. While the dis¬
cussion on the address continued, news arrived of the taking
of St Juan de Ulloa by Admiral Baudin, an exploit in which
N C E.
the Prince de Joinville participated. The address was car- History.
ried by a majority of thirteen, 221 having voted for it and -  >
208 against it. So small a majority must have ended in a 1339
dissolution of the ministry had not the king sustained the
Cabinet and resorted to a dissolution. The parties formerly
most hostile to each other united against M. Mole, and
with them MM. Guizot and Odillon Barrot co-operated
w'ith zeal and energy. Nor w'as the ministry idle. Every Resigna-
expedient was resorted to in order to obtain a majority, buttion of
without success, and M. Mole and all his colleagues resigned min^s^ry-
on the 8th of March 1839. The Mole Cabinet had lasted
nearly two years, and deserved praise for an amnesty which
was calculated to put an end to the state of warwhich divided
the people into two hostile camps. The defect of the Cabinet
was its weakness in parliamentary talent. W'ith the excep¬
tion of the chief of the Cabinet, an experienced, grave,
and capable man, respected for his moderation and hi<di
character, there was not in the ministry a single parliamen¬
tary notability, or an efficient debater. The coalition was
now in possession of the field, and it was necessary to
satisfy the three sections whose momentary alliance had
gained the victory. There was the left represented by
Odillon Barrot—the left centre represented by Thiers—
and the doctrinaires represented by Guizot. M. Guizot
aspired to the Home Office, and was offered Public In¬
struction. His answer was that he could not accept a
secondary position without lowering his party. M. Thiers
was sent for by the king, and presented a list which
contained the names of Marshal Soult, Dupin, Humann,
Passy, Dufaure, Villemain, and Dumon. M. Thiers sub¬
mitted that ministers should not be interfered with by the
king in the distribution of employments ; and secondly, that
some protective measures should be taken in reference to
Spain. I he first difficulty of the king was as to persons.
He objected to three of those named by M. Thiers, who
in his turn sought to remove the repugnance of the king,
but without success. M. Thiers had given up all hope
of succeeding in this task when Marshal Soult summoned
him to the I uileries along with the colleagues named by
him. These, however, at the first meeting could not settle
preliminaries, when the king said, “ Gentlemen, try to
agree among yourselves,” and dismissed them. A new
combination, into which MM. Thiers, De Broglie, and
Guizot were to enter, was next attempted. But M. Thiers
was for making M. Barrot president of the Chamber, a pro¬
position not held to be admissible by his colleagues. There
was a long interregnum, during which public opinion pro¬
nounced itself against the court. The king, it was said,
wished to sow dissension among parliamentary leaders, for
the purpose of exalting the prerogative, and there is reason
to believe that there was ground for this suspicion. A
provisional ministry to expedite affairs was appointed on the
1st April, and various combinations with the view of form¬
ing a ministry were attempted, but they all failed; and it
was not till an insurrection broke out in Paris that the crisis
was put an end to.
The 12th of May fell on Sunday, and a great part of the Insurrec-
population of Paris, as well as the royal family, were at the tionof
laces at the Champ de Mars. Blanqui, Barbes, Martin-
Bernard, and other members of the secret societies, judged
the occasion favourable for an insurrection. The shop of
the gunsmith Lepage was pillaged, cartridges were distri¬
buted to the insurrectionists, who seized on the Palace of
Justice, occupied the Hotel de Ville and the post of St
Jean. The insurgents also wished to march on the Pre¬
fecture of Police, but measures were taken there to resist
them. Some barricades w ere erected, and for several hours
a running fire was kept up with the troops, who soon gained
the advantage over these two or three hundred insurgents.
This attempt at revolt excited astonishment in the popula¬
tion of Paris, but it had the good effect of putting an end
FRANCE.
History, to the hesitations of public men. On the evening of the
day of the emeute a ministry was composed in which Mar-
1839. shal Soult occupied the position of president of the council
and minister for foreign affairs.
Trial of the The trial of the insurgents of the 12th May commenced
insurgents. on the 29th June before the Chamber of Peers. On the
12th July sentence was pronounced which condemned
Barbes to the penalty of death, but this sentence was com¬
muted. Martin Bernard was condemned to transportation,
Mialon to the galleys for life, Blanqui was tried by the Peers
in January 1840, who condemned him, but he likewise ob¬
tained a commutation of the sentence.
Eastern was during the ministry of the 12th May that the east-
question. ern question became so menacing for Europe. After the
arrangement of Kutayah, which had left the Pasha of Egypt
in possession of Syria, each party regarded the other with
mutual distrust. The sultan was desirous of regaining Sy¬
ria, while all the efforts of the pasha were directed to obtain
hereditary possession of Syria and Egypt. Politicians in
Europe were for maintaining the existing arrangements in
the East, whilst at Constantinople and Alexandria every
thing breathed war. The sultan pushed his preparations
with ardour, and notwithstanding his pacific preparations,
the Captain Pasha Achmet fortified the Dardanelles. A
levy of 60,000 soldiers was ordered, and a movement was
made on the frontier of Syria. On the 21st April 1839
the Turkish advanced guard passed the Euphrates, and was
within twenty-four hours’ march of Aleppo, so that at the
period of the appointment of the French ministry hostili¬
ties were imminent between the Turkish and Egyptian
troops. Marshal Soult despatched two of his aides-de-camp
MM. Foltz and Caillier, to the scene of action—one was to
proceed to the camp of Hafiz by way of Constantinople, the
other to the camp of Ibrahim in passing by Alexandria.
It was generally admitted by English and French statesmen
that there was a European question to be solved at Con¬
stantinople, and that Russia could not be permitted to ob¬
tain the control of the Bosphorus, thus possessing the
keys of the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Viscount
Palmerston made overtures to the French Cabinet on the
subject, and suggested that a joint representation should be
made by England and France to the Austrian Cabinet,
soliciting that power to co-operate for the preservation
of the Ottoman Empire, and he further suggested that a
similar proposition should be simultaneously made at the
court of Berlin. A despatch of Lord Palmerston of the
17th June proposed that the English and French fleets
should unite in the Mediterranean with orders to force the
Dardanelles in case the Russian troops should appear on
the Turkish soil.
The answer of Marshal Soult was that he regarded the
junction of the French and English fleets before Constan¬
tinople as most desirable, but that he doubted if so grave a
question as the declaration of war against Russia and Tur¬
key—the inevitable consequence of a forcible entry into the
Dardanelles—could be left to the discretion of the respective
admirals. A counter project was suggested by the French
Cabinet, namely, a proposal to ask permission for the united
fleets to enter the Sea of Marmora in case of a Russian
invasion. England, in a complaining spirit, accepted this
timid proposition, unworthy of bold and able statesmen.
While the French cabinet was thus vacillating and un¬
decided, impeding the vigorous resolves of Lord Palmer¬
ston, the army of Ibrahim was advancing to attack the Turk¬
ish army, which occupied a formidable position to the south
Battle of of the village of Nezib. On the 24th June was fought the
1 battle of Nezib, in which the Turks were wholly de¬
feated. Some days after the battle the victorious Ibra¬
him was proceeding beyond the Taurus, when the aide-de-
camp of Marshal Soult appeared to stop his march, having
obtained from Mehemet Ali an order that even though vie-
215
torious the Egyptian general should not advance. The sultan History,
never learned his defeat. He was in the agonies of death
at the period of the battle, but lived to the 1st July, when he 1839.
expired, after having endeavoured to reform an empire which
he left partially dismembered, a prey to open enemies and
pretended friends. The French Cabinet did not act a
straightforward part in the Eastern question. In seeking
a European co-operation on the Turkish question against
Russia, it flattered itself with the ultimate hope of finding
a lever in London against a Russian occupation of Con¬
stantinople, and a lever at St Petersburg against an Eng¬
lish occupation of Alexandria. The refined cunning of
Louis Philippe defeated his object, and laid his Cabinet
open to the imputation of double dealing. The conduct of
the King and the Cabinet of the 12th May were among the
promoting causes of the fatal events that led to the ruin of
the French monarchy a few years afterwards. French
official men, in consequence of the direct interference of
the king, held two languages, and the consequence was mis¬
understandings and mistrust. The mistrust was justifiable
on the part of England, for after French functionaries had
explained themselves in the sense of the Cabinet, there was
a secret diplomacy that unconstitutionally spoke the wishes
and desires of the king. These discreditable manoeuvres of
Louis Philippe led to a coldness between the representa¬
tives of England and France, of which Russia was not
slow to profit. A Russian envoy, M. Brunnow, arrived in
London in September 1839, and an understanding was soon
arrived at between these two courts, which led to the mo¬
mentary isolation of France.
During the tortuous progress of the Eastern negotia¬
tions, Louis Philippe never lost sight of the settlement
of the Duke de Nemours. He insisted on the ministry
asking an annual income for the prince of 500,000 francs,
and an additional 500,000 francs for the expenses of his
marriage with the Princess Victoria of Saxe-Cobourg.
This sordid conduct excited general disgust, and led to
another caustic pamphlet from the pen of M. Cormenin,
entitled Questions scandaleuses (Tun Jacobin ausujet d'une
dotation. On the 20th February the discussion on this ques¬
tion of the “dotation” commenced. The ministers, wish¬
ing to avoid a debate, only one speech was delivered, when
a division was taken, and the project was rejected by 226
votes. This majority brought about a dissolution of the
ministry, and led to the formation of a new Cabinet.
M. Mole was sent for by the king, and named M. Thiers Ministry of
as the person most likely to succeed in forming a ministry.lst March
M. Thiers summoned the principal members of the left
centre and of the doctrinaires, who had opposed the Mole
ministry (M. Guizot was at this period ambassador in
London), and after having fruitlessly solicited the co-ope¬
ration of the Duke de Broglie, presented to the king the
list of his Cabinet. M. Thiers held the foreign office, with
the presidency of the council. It is a curious fact that this
ministry obtained from the opposition a vote for the secret
funds. Many laws of public utility were passed during the
session, such as the law on sugars, on the salt mines, on the
renewal of the privilege of the Bank of France, on the
transatlantic packet boats, on the conversion of the rentes,
&c. In this session, and while the Chamber was discussing
the sugar question, M. de Remusat announced to the
Chamber that the king had commanded the Prince de
Joinville to proceed to St Helena to bring back to France
the remains of the Emperor Napoleon. For this translation
the permission of the British government had been solicited,
which generously answered that it desired that the promp¬
titude with which the request was complied with should be
considered as a proof of the wish of her Majesty that the
last trace of the national animosities which during the life
of the emperor armed both nations against each other should
be effaced. The Belle Poule frigate accordingly proceeded
216 ERA
History, to St Helena, and brought back the remains of Napoleon
s—to France. A splendid military funeral was decreed for
1840. these remains, and a mausoleum dedicated to them at the
Invalides from the public purse. For a moment the king
and the government derived a passing popularity from this
dramatic exhibition, in which it was declared that liberty did
not fear a comparison with glory; but as neither the king
nor the ministers were sincere in these demonstrations, but
merely wished to create political capital out of all that was
mortal of Napoleon, the whole spectacle was soon regarded
in its proper light.
The Bonapartists proclaimed that the king and M. Thiers
were merely acting a comedy, and that the only sincere
worshippers of the emperor were the members of his family,
who were exiled or proscribed, and the glorious debris of
that army which he had led so often to victory. The king,
in the exercise of a sinister wisdom, doubtless considered
that the measure was a master-stroke of policy, but in the
homage which he affected to pay to the remains of a great
conqueror, he only served the purposes of those who wished
the restoration of an imperial rule.
But the most important fact connected with the ministry
was the rupture of the English alliance. There was consi¬
derable soreness and excitement throughout France so soon
as the provisions of the treaty of the 15 th July were known, it
being considered that this treaty indicated a bad disposi¬
tion towards France at a period when M. Thiers had settled
the Sicilian sulphur question to the satisfaction of England.
The effect of the treaty was to enable England, Russia,
Austria, and Prussia to settle the Eastern question without
the co-operation of France. As soon as the provisions of
this treaty became generally known, M. Thiers obtained
from the crown permission to raise the army to 500,000
men, and to increase the fleet by ten vessels. A diplo¬
matic note was written by M. Thiers, in which France
refused to acknowledge the treaty, though she was not
prepared to oppose its execution within certain limits.
The English government sent a fleet to the coast of Syria
without delay. The victories of Beyrout and St Jean
d’Acre were the results. To these measures France replied
by fortifying Paris. Though the law of the fortifications
was discussed and voted under the subsequent ministry
of M. Guizot, yet the conception and design was of M.
Thiers, who induced the left to give an approbation to the
enceinte continue which they had refused to the detached
forts. The king was exceedingly anxious that the law should
pass, and he employed all his influence, and also the in¬
fluence of the queen, to that end. A European war now
seemed inevitable, and M. Thiers did not seem to shrink
from the responsibility; but the king, who at first approved
of energetic measures, and who appeared penetrated with
the warlike sentiments of his Cabinet, suddenly changed
his views. Upon this change of opinion M. Thiers offered
his resignation, and only consented on reiterated requests
to hold power for a short time. A few days afterwards he
issued the diplomatic note of the 8th October, which almost
amounted to a proclamation of war. Circumstances be¬
coming more and more critical, the minister proposed the
immediate convocation of the Chambers, with a view by
their co-operation to strengthen the hands of government.
But the king having signified his marked dissent from war¬
like views, the entire Cabinet resigned; not, however, before
the words electoral reform had been heard at more than one
public banquet in Paris, and in many of the principal cities
of France, such as Bordeaux, Toulouse, Metz, Lyons, and
Nantes.
It was while the minds of men were engaged by the
Eastern question, that on 6th August 1840 M. Louis Napo¬
leon Bonaparte disembarked with about sixty followers at
Boulogne. After making a vain appeal to the population,
Louis himself and the major part of his followers were
N C E.
within three hours in the hands of the authorities. For this History,
attempt, the present emperor of the French was tried before
the Chamber of Peers on the 6th October, and condemned 1840.
to perpetual imprisonment in the fortress of Ham.
On the 6th October 1840, about six o’clock in the even¬
ing, another attempt was made on the life of the king as
he was preceding to St Cloud, by one Darmes, a frotteur.
The carbine of Darmes burst in his hand, wounding him
grievously, without injuring his Majesty. Darmes was con¬
demned to death by a sentence of the Court of Peers of the
29th May 1841, and was executed on the 31st May.
M. Guizot, who had shown himself, as French ambas- Ministry of
sador in London, the obsequious servant of the sovereign 29t]l 0cto
rather than the organ of the Cabinet, became the chief ofber 1840‘
the new ministry. Marshal Soult, indeed, was president of
the council with the ministry of war, but the moving spirit
of the Cabinet was M. Guizot. It first became its duty to re¬
assure the commercial and trading community, alarmed on
the subject of a general war deemed all but imminent, and
at the same time to have regard to the honour of France,
wounded by the treaty of the 15th July 1840.
In the first of these attempts M. Guizot completely suc¬
ceeded, and in the month of February 1841 he showed him¬
self disposed again to enter into concert with the European
powers. The result was the treaty of the 13th July 1841,
which substituted a European protection of Turkey for a
protection exclusively Russian. Relieved from an external
difficulty, the Cabinet encountered a domestic difficulty. Se¬
rious troubles had arisen at Toulouse touching the recense-
ment (or valuation), which ultimately broke out into open re¬
volt. The accession of Sir Robert Peel to power in 1841 at
the head of the Conservative party, smoothed the difficulties
of M. Guizot. The Whigs, the authors of the treaty of the
15th July 1840, were by the attitude of France compelled
to incur additional expenses both for the army and navy
estimates, and this increased expenditure, joined to the ex¬
pedition to Syria, produced a deficit. The elections con¬
sequent upon the dissolution gave a clear gain of 25 seats
in the House of Commons to the Conservatives, affording
to Sir Robert Peel a majority of between 50 and 60 votes.
Although Sir Robert was believed to be animated by more
friendly feelings to the older governments of Europe than
his predecessors, yet he had sufficient tact and sagacity not
to exhibit towards France the sentiments entertained by his
predecessor. The Cabinet of France wished to take ad¬
vantage of these more friendly dispositions to propose the
question of a disarmament, which, in lessening the amount
of the public burdens, would enable the country to under¬
take the execution of the great lines of railroads so neces¬
sary to the inter-communication and prosperity of the people.
The object of the king and his ministers was to turn the
attention of the people to their material interests, and thus
to wean them from the discussion of principles and politics.
The time had not yet come to accomplish these desirable
objects. M. Guizot resolved, however, to regain some
portion of the public opinion lie had lost by using a bolder
language in the royal speech. It was with this view he in¬
troduced into the royal speech, in the opening of the session
in December 1841, the words, “Algeria is henceforth and
for ever French.” Till this period the king, remembering
the assurances given in 1830, had declined to pronounce
that Algeria was irrevocably French, and these hesitations
gave colour to the accusations of a too obsequious conde¬
scendence towards England. The election of president of
the Chamber was one of the first difficulties which the
ministry encountered. The Presse, formidable to its enemies,
and, in the hands of M. Emile Girardin, still more formidable
to its friends, put forward the pretensions of M. de Lamar¬
tine against those of M. Sauzet. The ministry, for a time
timorous, hesitated what part to take, but at length deter¬
mined to stand by M. Sauzet, who was re-elected. One of
FRANCE.
)issolu-
ion of the
Chambers.
)eath of
he Duke
I’Orleans.
1842.
1843.
the most important discussions of the session was relative to
the droit de visite, or right of search. In 1831 and 1833,
General Sebastiani and the Duke de Broglie had signed a
convention on this subject, into which important modifica¬
tions were introduced, on the motion of M. Lefebvre, a Con¬
servative deputy. The principal measure of the session,
however, was the law on railroads, which passed on the 11th
June 1842. The projects on railroads started in 1838 had
all failed. Only two lines were now in course of construc¬
tion, that of Paris to Rouen, and Paris to Orleans. In the
month of February, in this session, M. Teste, minister of
public works, presented a project of law comprising five
grand lines radiating from Paris to the frontiers of Belgium
by Lille and Valenciennes, from the channel towards Eng¬
land to the frontiers of Germany by Strasbourg, to the
Mediterranean by way of Marseilles, and Cette to the At¬
lantic by Nantes and Bordeaux. The minister proposed
that these great lines should be executed by the state, al¬
lowing the localities interested and private industry to co¬
operate to a certain extent. The commission appointed by
the Chamber to report recommended important modifica¬
tions. M. Daufaure the reporter (subsequently home minis¬
ter during the Republic) proposed adding three new lines
to those of the government; 1st, from Tours to the frontiers
of Spain by Poitiers, Angouleme, Bordeaux, and Bayonne ;
2dly, to the centre by Bourges, Nevers, and Clermont;
Sdly, from the Mediterranean to the Rhine by Lyons, Dijon,
and Mulhausen. The government accepted this latter line,
as well as that from Paris to Strasbourg by Nancy. It also
consented to modify the original line from Paris to the At¬
lantic. The ministry asked credits for four principal routes.
The commission granted credits for six, and augmented the
credit required by 24,000,000 francs. It was plain the com¬
mission sought to interest each locality in the formation of
the line, whilst the ministry was more occupied with the
strategical question, more especially for the east and the
north. The commercial, banking, manufacturing and broker¬
ing interests were all anxious that the lines should be thrown
open to companies. M. Thiers vigorously supported an
amendment of M. de Mornay which proposed a single line
from north to south.
The Chambers -were dissolved on the 13th June, the
elections took place on the 9th July, and the Deputies were
again convoked for the 3d August. In the interval, a sad
accident caused profound regret throughout France. On
the 13th July the Duke d’Orleans was to have set out for
St Omer, where he was to have inspected several regiments
intended for the corps of the army of the Marne, of which
he was to have the command-in-chief. The duke had pro¬
ceeded to Neuilly to take leave of his family, when, in jump¬
ing out of his caleche (the horses having taken fright and
run away), he fell on his head and fractured his skull. He
expired a few hours after the accident, without having re¬
gained his consciousness. His loss was mourned by the
country generally, and more especially by the army, in which
service he was deservedly popular. The prince was educated
among, and mixed with his countrymen, and understood the
wants and wishes of France. In consequence of this melan¬
choly death, the Chambers were convoked somewhat earlier
to provide for a regency. They met on the 27th July.
The project of law presented by the government provided
that the regency should devolve on the nearest male rela¬
tion of the king, altogether excluding females. The reporter
was M. Dupin, and he fixed the majority of the king at
eighteen, the guardianship till that time to belong to the
queen or princess his mother, remaining unmarried, and in
her default, to the queen or princess her paternal grand¬
mother, likewise unmarried. After the vote on this law,
which made the Duke de Nemours regent, the session was
adjourned till the following January.
In the opening of the session of 1843 the king in his
yol. x.
217
speech accepted the protectorate of Otaheite. Queen History.
Pomare, however, declared that she had been the victim of
deception and violence, and struck the French flag. Where- 1843.
upon Admiral Dupetit-Thouars declared the queen de¬
posed. I his proceeding of the admiral produced a strong
protest and some disturbance at Tahiti, in which blood was
shed. A consular agent of the British government named
Pritchard was expelled from the island, and his property
injured. I his act of the admiral, complained of by the
British government, was disavowed by the French Cabinet;
and, after a long negotiation, it was agreed that France
should pay to the consul Pritchard an indemnity of 25,000
francs. I his indemnity the Chamber voted, but the dis¬
cussion of the question gave rise to debates of extreme
violence, in which not merely party but national animosity
was displayed. Nothing more tended to augment the un¬
popularity of M. Guizot in France, or served more to loosen
the bands of the enterite cordials in England, than the dis¬
cussions and comments to which the Pritchard indemnity
gave rise. Meanwhile the French were extending their
conquest and colonization of Algiers. The province of
1 ittery was in their possession, and by the successive occu¬
pation of Cherchell, Medeah, and Milianah, a line of defence
was completed. But, on the other hand, while Caiffa was
destroyed, and Beyrout bombarded by Admiral Stopford
and Commodore Napier, the French fleet was sent off to
the Bay of Salamine. If the ministry of M. Guizot, as was
alleged, exhibited an undue complaisance towards foreign
powers, the rein of authority was held somewhat tighter at
home. The annual banquet to the Poles, which had been
held for ten years, was prohibited if either the chairman in¬
tended to preside, or the persons designed to propose toasts,
should be Frenchmen.
Dreadful inundations devastated the valleys of the Rhone,
the Saone, and the Gard, during the months of November
and December. The city of Lyons was converted into a vast
lake, on whose bosom floated fragments of houses, boats,
and furniture. No fewer than 160 houses were carried away.
At Macon the ruin was not less astounding. The ravages
of the floods extended for 60 leagues, and more than 100
villages had disappeared. In the higher town 6000 peasants,
who had lost their all, encamped in the streets and squares.
The departments of 1’Aix, ITsere, Le Gard, La Drome,
and La Vaucluse, all severely suffered. Subscriptions were
everywhere opened for the sufferers, and a credit of 1,600,000
francs was voted by the Chambers. From the period that
M. Guizot accepted the portfolio of fbreign affairs his object
was to prove that Europe, by the treaty of the 15th July,
in no respect menaced France, or sought to attack her re¬
volution. These being his views, he called on the Conser¬
vatives in the Chamber to aid him in a policy calculated to
restore a more perfect harmony between France and the
other great powers. Such a call would have been natural
and proper in the mouth of a statesman who had not been
the ambassador in London at the time of the treaty of July ;
but this language was considered strange in the mouth of a
functionary who, in reference to this treaty, must either have
been an accomplice or a dupe. The majority of public men,
and indeed the intelligent public of France, had more faith
in M. Guizot’s talents than in his character, but in reference
to the treaty of July he appears to have been ill informed of
the proceedings of the other great powers.
The project of the fortifications of Paris (pursued with
immense activity) now began to excite the attention and
the apprehensions of the bourgeoisie and the working
classes. As a complement to the fortifications, it was de¬
termined to place the ports and the frontier towns in a re¬
spectable state of defence, and 500,000 francs were asked
from the Chambers for that object. This increase of the es¬
timates considerably augmented the budget; but it was one
of the results of an armed peace—a system which produced
2 E
218
FRANCE.
Election of
Ledru
Rollin.
Prosecu¬
tion of
Ledru
Rollin.
all the inconveniences without any of the advantages of war.
In the discussion on the law on supplementary credits, M.
Humann, the finance minister, maintained that the greater
part of the deficit arose from former budgets. He main¬
tained that in 1833 there was a deficit of 255,000,000 francs,
which had ever since increased. M. Thiers in reply only
admitted a deficit of 175,000,000 as fairly chargeable to the
account of the ministry of which he was the head. It was,
however, made clear from all these personal discussions that
the deficits increased year by year with frightful rapidity.
The deficit of 1840 was 170,000,000 francs, and of 184i,
242,000,000. As the budget of 1842, notwithstanding
the reductions of the commission, reached the figure of
1,275,435,340 francs, whilst the budget of receipts was
fixed at 1,160,516,942 francs, there was a deficiency of
about 115,000,000. Extraordinary public works figured
in the estimate for 53,000,000, making a grand total of a
milliard, for which it was necessary to provide. 256,000,000
francs were to be added to the floating debt for deficits an¬
terior to 1833. It was the uneasiness inspired by this de¬
plorable financial state that induced M. Humann to have
recourse to a new valuation of buildings, doors, windows,
and what are called valeurs locatives. The cry against the
finance minister on this account became so loud and general,
that he deemed it necessary to offer his resignation. But
the king refused to accept a resignation which would have
been interpreted as a signal of weakness in the Cabinet.
The unpopularity of ministers was still further increased
by persecutions against the press. Early in the year MM.
Lammenais and Thore had been condemned, and a prose¬
cution was commenced against the National for its remarks
on these trials, and on the Chamber of Peers. About this
period one of the most eminent of the democratic leaders,
M. Gamier Pages, died, and M. Ledru Rollin was selected
by the second college of Mons, in the department of La
Sarthe—the only college in France in which republican
opinion had a decided majority—to stand for the vacant
seat. A rival candidate presented himself in the person of
M. Gamier Pages the younger, but it was felt that he was
not sufficiently known as a public man, and M. Ledru
Rollin was elected on the 24th July, every elector, with
the exception of four, having polled for him. The speech
of M. Rollin, in returning thanks, was too remarkable not
to be noticed. It was impassioned and defiant. The
avowals of republicanism were so open and undisguised,
that the prefect and functionaries of the department could
not conceal their dismay. The speech, in a word, excited
such an immense sensation in the west, that the royal court
of Angers directed the procureur-general to indict M.
Ledru Rollin for having delivered the speech, and M.
Haureau, chief editor of the Courrier de la Sarthe, for
having published it. The question was referred by the
procureur-general to the cabinet council, and a prosecution
was decided on. Deputies, however, of all shades of the
opposition took up the question as one affecting the rights
of speech of a representative, and among these MM. Arago,
Berryer, Marie, Odillon Barrot were chosen to defend M.
Ledru Rollin. M. Marrast, chief editor of the National,
and afterwards, under the republic, president of the Cham¬
ber, defended M. Haureau. The question, on the demand
of the procureur-general, was not tried before a jury of La
Sarthe, but before a jury of Maine-et-Loire. But even
this jury took fright at the doctrines of the attorney-general,
and acquitted the utterer, but found guilty the publisher, of
the incriminated speech. M. Haureau was in consequence
condemned to three months’ imprisonment and 2000 francs
fine, whilst M. Ledru Rollin was fined 4000 francs, and
sentenced to be imprisoned for four months for the part he
took in the publication. Ledru Rollin appealed to the
court of cassation, before which the sentence of the court History,
below was, for a defect of form, annulled. The worst pro- v v ■
secution that had yet been instituted, however, was that 1843.
against Dupoty, the editor of the Journal du Peuple. One Prosecu-
Quenisset had been arrested for firing on the Duke de Ne- tion of
mours. The ball did not take effect, but wounded the horse Dopoty
of General Schneider, who was on his royal highness’ left. A
person of the name of Lannois had been arrested as one of
the accomplices of Quenisset, and Lannois invoked the
protection and assistance of M. Dupoty, the editor of the
Journal du Peuple, writing thus to him,—“ I beg of you,
citizen, to defend us as much as in your power, as the Na¬
tional does.” On this sentence, in a seized letter, the pro-
cur eur-gsneral and the ministry raised a capital charge of
complicity against Dupoty, a man of gentle and inoffensive
manners, a man of refined and almost effeminate tastes,1 who
would be about the last person to enter into a conspiracy.
Dupoty had never in his life seen any one of the persons
with whom he was alleged to have conspired; but Que¬
nisset having declared that it was the perusal of the journal
which incited him to the commission of the act, the mon¬
strous doctrine of complicity was invented to bring Dupoty
within the meshes of the law. Forced interpretations, spe¬
cious presumptions, audacious sophisms, were all had re¬
course to by M. Hebert; but some of the peers, among
others M. Cousin, were just and manly enough to cry aloud
against the iniquity of condemning a man because a conspi¬
rator and a would-be assassin was in the habit of reading his
journal. “ Show me any overt act of Dupoty,” said M.
Cousin ; “ give me any proof of his being engaged in this
affair, and I will deal severely with him ; but I cannot con¬
demn him for his opinions, however detestable.” It was
impossible to produce any proof of direct complicity against
Dupoty, and M. Hebert was on the point of failing, when
M. de Broglie and the Bolognese, but naturalized French¬
man, Rossi (then a professor of law and political economy,
and subsequently French ambassador at Rome, in which city
he was assassinated in 1848), came to the aid of the van¬
quished functionary, and invented the doctrine of moral
complicity. “ Dupoty,” said the Italian Rossi, with insidious
and Machiavellian ingenuity, “was not aware of, or privy
to the plot, but his wishes, his tendencies, his writings, his
previous history and antecedents, all demonstrated that he
approved of it.” But approving, argued MM. de Broglie
and Rossi, he afforded a moral complicity to the execution
of the design, and was guilty in fact, without knowing that
the crime had been committed. Such was the monstrous
doctrine, stripped of all oratorical disguises, maintained by
Signor Rossi and M. de Broglie, from which latter poli¬
tician the Chamber and the country expected better things.
A doctrine more infamous than this, was never avowed in
the atmosphere of Morocco. M. Cousin indignantly spurned
the frightful theory, and concluded by exclaiming,—“I am
then guilty of moral complicity also, since 1 defend Dupoty
against you.” The judgment of the Peers declared a com¬
plicity without entering into the question whether it was
moral or physical, and Dupoty was condemned as the ac¬
complice of persons whom he had never seen or had in¬
tercourse with. M. Hebert, the attorney-general, pled for
his life ; the Peers sacrificed his liberty, awarding him five
years’ imprisonment. This sentence produced, as well might
be expected, an immense sensation in the capital, and a
general cry of indignation issued from the press. The Dehats,
as though ashamed of so discreditable a triumph, was silent;
but the Presse, a vigorous supporter of the ministry in
general, energetically condemned this act of the Peers.
Ihe editors of sixteen Parisian journals signed a collective
protest, and were joined by the delegates of the provincial
press. The greater number of the journals whose editors
1 Histoire de Huit Ans, par Regnault. Paris, 1851.
FRA
History, had appended their names to this document resolved to give
no account ot the future debates of the Chamber of Peers.
1843. Various prosecutions had been commenced by the govern¬
ment against the provincial press, but the country unequi¬
vocally showed its opinion by acquitting the Emancipator
of Toulouse, the Impartial du Nord, the Progreso?Calais,
the Courrier de la Moselle, and other journals.
The triumph of Espartero, not merely over the queen-
mother Christina, but over the generals who sided with, and
conspired in her favour, was a check given to the French
influence in Spain. The Cabinet of the Tuileries extended
its sympathies, if not its direct aid, to Maria Christina, and
encouraged Diego Leon, Concha, O’Donnell, and Ubisondo.
The election of Espartero, therefore, as sole regent, could
not be regarded by the French government otherwise than
as another proof of its lessened influence.
Death of M. A partial change in the Cabinet was occasioned by the
Humann. sudden demise of M. Humann, who was found dead in his
study, surrounded by papers and documents, the evening
before the discussion of a motion of a project of law on rail¬
roads. The vacant portfolio was conferred on M. Lacave
Laplagne.
Railway In the course of the month of May, and during the fetes
accident. 0f Versailles, a frightful accident occurred on the Versailles
railroad, by which more than 50 persons were killed.
Among the victims was one of the most distinguished
officers of France—Admiral Dumont d’Urville.
One of the reproaches uttered against the ministry of
the 1st March by M. Guizot was, that M. Thiers had
thrown France out of the European combination of great
powers. The main effort of M. Guizot and of the king
now was to re-enter into that concert and combination
at almost any price. France, wearied of her isolation,
asked neither separation nor disavowal, but merely a treaty
in which her name might stand as a testimony of recon¬
ciliation by the side of the four great powers. The conven¬
tion of the 13th July, signed at London, afforded to the
minister a compensation which he was willing to acknow¬
ledge to a Conservative English ministry by signing a treaty
on the droit de visite on the 20th December 1841. But
this complaisance of Guizot appeared to the merchants of
France an unworthy concession, of which the opposition
in the Chamber, and more especially the member for
Nantes, M. Billaut, at present minister of the interior, was
not slow to take advantage. M. Guizot drew a distinction
between the right of search conceded by this treaty and
the old droit de visite, which had been protested against by
France, and endeavoured to show that the present measure
was signed in the interests of the slave, and with a view
to put an end to negro-slavery ; but so unpopular was the
minister, and so little were his asseverations regarded by the
majority of his countrymen, that these assertions met with
little credence ; and an amendment of M. Jacques Lefebvre
was carried expressing the hope that in the desire to repress
a criminal traffic the government would have regard to the
interests of French trade, and the honour of the French flag.
This language was considered by an immense majority
not too strong to address to a cabinet which rendered itself
the docile instrument of the king in obdurately resisting
the very smallest measure of electoral reform, no matter
how trival.
The administrative and commercial measures of the
government caused great discontent among the represen¬
tatives of some of the most important interests in the state.
The king lending a too willing ear to a number of wealthy
monopolists, proprietors of forges and sugar manufactories,
used all his influence to retard every project of commercial
freedom. The consequence was that the nation at large suf¬
fered, while a few great proprietors and manufacturers only
N C E. 219
profited. One of the most important trades of France, the History,
wine trade, was grievously injured from this narrow system.
Belgium, Great Britain, and other countries, were willing at 1843.
this period to enter into commercial treaties with France; and State of
King Leopold made a journey to Paris to smooth the way tIie wine
to certain fiscal arrangements ; but such was the influence growefs
of the monopolists over the mind of the king and his t"ad<rme
ministers that the project of a customs union with Bel¬
gium, and of a really liberal commercial treaty with Eng¬
land, became hopeless. M. Dufaure and Passy, who were
the advocates of a greater freedom of trade, and also for a
more liberal and tolerant policy in internal affairs, with¬
drew their support from the ministry. M. de Lamartine
also took occasion on the discussion of the regency law to
dissociate himself from Conservatives whose policy, he re¬
marked, was pregnant with revolutions.
1 his narrow and illiberal system, cradled in monopoly,
and caressed by king and ministers, fostered all sorts of
corruption—corporate, parliamentary, and official. A cele- Official
bratecl trial in which a certain M. Hourdequin of the corruption.
Grand Voirie, or Sewers Commission, of Paris was the
accused, revealeu a state of frightful official corruption.
Hourdequin was condemned, but more guilty and more in¬
fluential official criminals escaped. In the session of 1843 it
appeared, from certain revelations made in reference to con¬
tracts for railways, that corruption had penetrated to higher
sources than the Sewers Commission. The disclosures
made in reference to M. Teste, and his decision on the
contracts for the Orleans and Tours railway, are exceed¬
ingly discreditable. The history of this affair, to which we
can merely allude, is given at length in a late work, to
which the reader is referred.1 The proximate, if not in¬
deed the promoting cause of the revolution of 1848, was
the official corruption engendered for ten or twelve years
previously. Under the guise of leading Frenchmen to
think of their material interests, the king and his minis¬
ters had succeeded in suppressing a chivalrous national
feeling, and substituting in its place a sordid and money¬
getting spirit. Universal cupidity became the order of the
day. The desire to get rich speedily, no matter by what
means, possessed all classes; and there were not wanting
ministers and politicians who were guilty of more flagrant
peculation, and of greater dishonesty, than M. Hourdequin
of the Sewers office.
In the midst of the national demoralization the sovereign The king
exhibited an intense desire to look after the interests of his and his
family. On the 20th April he married his daughter, the family*
Princess Clementine, to the Prince Augustus of Saxe-
Cobourg, and in May the Prince de Joinville espoused
the sister of the emperor of Brazil. This was at the time
a politic match ; for it was hoped that the influence of
France in Brazil would daily augment, and that an advan¬
tageous commercial treaty with Brazil and South America
would be the consequence. Nor was Louis Philippe with¬
out some compensation of glory as well as interest. His
son, the Duke d’Aumale, had the good fortune by a brilliant
charge of cavalry to carry off the family tents, flocks, and
baggage, of Abd-el-Kader. But this misfortune did not
break the spirit of the intrepid Arab chief. His mother
and his wife escaped capture by a miracle, and he himself
had scarcely more than time to mount his horse, and with
some chosen followers to seek safety in flight. For some
time nothing was heard of the emir, but after a little he re¬
appeared on the south-west of Tlemcen, ready to effect
a junction with Sidi Embareek, the most active of his
lieutenants, and, after himself, the most inveterate enemy
of France. Colonel Tempoure dispersed the troops of
Sidi, and deprived the emir of his best resource. Sidi was
killed while fighting with desperation; and the death of
1 Histoire de Huit Ans, par Regnault. 1851.
220
FRANCE.
History, this renowned chief produced a great impression on the
Arabs. Abd-el-Kader was forced to retire within the fron-
1845. tiers of Morocco, and all the tribes of the little desert made
their submission. Perfect security now reigned within the
French colony from Algiers to Boghar, and from Constan¬
tine to Tlemcen. For this service General Bugeaud, the
commander of the French troops in Africa, received the
baton of a marshal.
Visit of The most remarkable incident in this year was the visit
the British 0f Queen Victoria to Eu. This was a less important event
Queen to than tiie visit made to Paris in 1855, for it was the visit of
one constitutional sovereign to another enpetit comite. But
even though the journey was regarded in this light by the
premier, yet care was taken that the new minister for
foreign affairs (the Earl of Aberdeen) should accompany
her Majesty.
The minister for foreign affairs of Louis Philippe also
accompanied his sovereign on this occasion ; and it is known
from confidential letters found in the Tuileries after the
revolution of 1848, and since published, that not merely
the question of the Spanish marriages was talked over, but
also the projected visit of the Duke de Bordeaux to Lon¬
don, and his reception by the court.
Visit of At the close of the year 1845 the Duke de Bordeaux
theDuke de paid a visit to England, and for a short period rented a house
totSifT^d *n ^e%rave Square. The visit of this young prince to the
nS an • British shores singularly alarmed Louis Philippe. The king
of the French dreaded above all things that the descendant
of the elder branch should be received at court, and with
a view to prevent this he wrote to the king of the Belgians
on the 4th November to interfere against such a step. This
circumstance might well be doubted had we not evidence of
the fact in the king’s own hand. After the revolution of
1848 several private papers and letters of the king of the
French were published, and among the rest certain letters
of his Majesty to his “ Tres cher frere et excellent ami,” the
king of the Belgians. The Duke de Bordeaux, says Louis
Philippe, “ va en Angleterre pas comme visitor abandoned
and interesting, mais comme pretender, cela est certain.
Des lors il faut qu’il ne soit pas re^u par la Reine.” Further
on, in the same communication, his Majesty says, “ Pour
resumer je dois done franchement dire que le Due de Bor¬
deaux ne doit pas etre re<;u par la Reine. Qu’on mette le
plus de formes dans cette decision que Ton voudra, cela on
le pourra, pourvu qu’on necede pas sur le fait.”1
The interference of King Leopold was crowned with com¬
plete success, and on Sunday the 12th November the king
of the French wrote to “ his very dear brother and excellent
friend” from St Cloud, thanking him for his efforts to keep
Queen Victoria in the favourable dispositions she had mani¬
fested at Eu, relative to the reception of the Duke de
Bordeaux.—“ Elle y a,” says Louis Philippe, speaking of
Queen Victoria, “ most nobly persisted, et Lord Aberdeen
nous ayant donne 1’assurance qu’il en donnerait le conseil
offfciel a la Reine nous n’avons plus d’inquietude sur ce
point.” 2
Her Majesty did not receive the Duke de Bordeaux, a
circumstance that excited considerable surprise in England,
and still greater surprise on the Continent, where it was re¬
marked that the ex-regent Espartero had been shortly be¬
fore received by her Majesty. If the reception of the duke
were considered as an act of pure and simple courtesy
merely, it cannot be conceived that there could be any dif¬
ficulty about it. But as it would be looked on and inter¬
preted as a political act, and as the visit of a pretender (the
king de facto being Louis Philippe), her Majesty was advised
by her ministers not to receive the descendant of the elder
Bourbons.
The Duke de Bordeaux was not without some compensa¬
tions for royal and official neglect. The Tory and territorial
aristocracy reserved for him the homage usually paid to
crowned heads, and the legitimists of France journeyed from
all parts of that kingdom to assure him of their loyalty and
devotion. The Duke of Fitzjames, M. de Chateaubriand,
M. de Valmy, M. de Preegne, and M. Berryer, were fore¬
most in these manifestations. M. de la Rochejacquelin also
presented himself, and demanded an audience; but as he
was known to speak of such things as the voice of the nation
and the consent of the people, his reception was most frigid.
Assured of the disposition of the British court towards
himself and his family, the king of the French caused the
Duke de Nemours to proceed to London in the second week
of November. The official reception of this favourite son
of the monarch was most cordial. Previous to the parlia¬
mentary session, a slight change had taken place in the
French ministry. Admiral Roussin had been replaced as
minister of marine by Admiral Maekau, and M. Dumon
took the portfolio of public works in the place of M. Teste,
promoted to the peerage, and to the presidency of a chamber
in the court of cassation. No sooner had the Chambers
met, than Louis Philippe was anxious that a question which
had already compromised the existence of two cabinets
should be again brought forward. This was the question
of the “ dotation” of the Duke de Nemours. M. Guizot was
anxious to avoid the discussion of a subject in every way
so delicate and difficult, but the very oratorical successes
of this gentleman on public questions awakened anew the
cupidity of the king of the French. His Majesty could not
see why a minister who defended so well a policy or a prin¬
ciple should not prevail in advocating a dowry. But
such was the invincible repugnance of the nation to the
measure, that notwithstanding the urgency of the king,
ministers were forced to abandon the measure. In the
Chamber of Deputies there was a stormy discussion on
the words fietrit de coupable manifestations, applied to
the legitimist pilgrims who had carried their devotion to
Belgrave Square. For a moment M. Guizot wished to
soften the expression, by the employment of a less offen¬
sive epithet, but the king would hear of no concession,
and the minister yielded to the affected indignation or
real choler of the king. In these painful discussions the
minister for foreign affairs gave further proofs of high talent
and indomitable courage; but he was reproached by 150
voices with having gone to Ghent, and with having returned
to France in the wake of a foreign army. Neither the ta¬
lent of the man, nor the courage of the eloquent orator, were
appreciated by the nation, for the public was under the im¬
pression that the minister spoke rather as advocate for the
king than from conviction.
The injurious epithet with which the legitimists were
branded induced them to resign in a body. They were all
again elected without opposition, notwithstanding the efforts
of the ministry to provoke a contest. The constitutional
and radical parties abstained from contesting any of the
vacant seats.
The speech from the throne had alluded to the cordial
understanding {entente cordiale) which existed between
France and England. These expressions became the sub¬
ject of controversy both in the Peers and in the Chamber
of Deputies. The Peers substituted the words “ amicable
understanding,” the deputies “ agreement in opinion.” The
speech contained no allusion to the right of search, though
the former Chamber had formally demanded that negotia¬
tions should be opened for the abolition of the treaties of
1831 and 1833. But, after reflection, the commission on
the address, which was friendly to the ministry, fearing that
an amendment might be proposed, introduced a paragraph
which had been voted a year before. While the discussion
History.
1845.
ihe letters were published in the Revue Retrospective by M. Taschereau, in 1848. 2 Lettre de Louis Philippe au roi des Beiges.
FRA
History, on the address was proceeding, the news of Admiral Dupetit
Thouars’ taking possession of Otaheite arrived in Paris.
1845. The announcement of this fact embarrassed ministers. The
question of the protectorate had given rise to much trouble,
and how would the actual possession be regarded by the
monarch ? Ministers were not long in suspense as to the
royal opinion. This, said Louis Philippe, will breed an¬
other quarrel with England, and we have enough on hands
already with the right of search. In a non-official conver¬
sation with Lord Aberdeen and Sir Robert Peel, M. de St
Aulaire learned that the English ministry looked on the
proceeding of Admiral Dupetit Thouars in an angry and
hostile spirit. The peace of the world, said the king, is the
national interest, and the proceeding must be disavowed.
The minister of foreign affairs declared to the Chamber that
the conduct of the admiral had been over hasty, and that
the taking possession of the island was an act of violence,
neither required by the necessity of the case, nor authorized
by the instructions of the commander. M. Billaut, the
present minister of the interior in France, attacked the
policy of the Cabinet on this question with great vigour and
logical acumen, and was followed in the same sense by M.
Dufaure (the minister of the interior under the republic),
whose calm, logical, and moderate language produced a
great impression. The fidelity of the centres of the Cham¬
ber seemed shaken when M. Ducos proposed a resolution
to the following effect:—“ The Chamber, without approv¬
ing the conduct of the Cabinet, passes to the order of the
day.” The censure, though indirect, was formal. M.
Guizot asked for an adjournment, stating he had fresh facts
to produce; but on the following day he produced neither
facts nor documents, but threatened resignation if the indi¬
rect censure was carried. The proposition ofM. Ducos was
lost by a majority of 46. But this majority did not absolve
the minister in the eyes of the country, for the voice of
the 187 who voted with M. Ducos found an echo in every
town and city in France.
Harassed in the Chamber, M. Guizot was not without dis¬
quietude regarding the French possessions in Africa. Re¬
tiring on the frontiers of Morocco with the remnant of his
regular troops, Abd-el-Kader, ever fertile in expedients,
sought and found little difficulty in raising the undisciplined
hordes of the desert against a Christian foe. The emir sur¬
rounded the emperor Muley-Abder Rhaman with his emis¬
saries, and sought to excite him against the French. There
had been differences between France and Morocco as to the
frontier; and in the state of irritation in which the emperor
was, Abd-el-Kader found little difficulty in inclining him to
believe that France was confederate with Spain against him.
The construction of a fort at Lalla Maghrina, on the left bank
of the Tafna, by the French, convinced the court of Fez that
the emir was right. The governor of Mogador called on the
faithful to combat the infidels; and soon after Berber and
black troops, to the number of 10,000 men, were seen in the
environs of Ouchda. Amongthese irregular forces was Abd-
el-Kader, with 500 regulars and a number of wandering
tribes. General Lamoriciere, who commanded the camp of
Lalla Maghrina, was forced to concentrate his troops to avoid
a surprise. General Bedeau arrived from Tlemcen to co-oper¬
ate with Lamoriciere. On the 30th May Lamoriciere gained
a signal advantage over Sidi el Mamoun-Ben Cherif, who
was at the head of 500 horsemen, and pursued him to the
banks of the Mouilah. A constant harassing guerilla warfare
was kept up. Marshal Bugeaud, feeling that this state of
things must be put an end to, had arrived from Tlemcen to
await the approach of the son of the emperor at the head
of 30,000 men, and to determine on the spot whether he
should negotiate or recommence hostilities. General Bedeau
was directed to seek an interview with the Cai'd of Oudcha,
El Guennaou'i, to settle the question of the frontiers. The
interview was unsatisfactory, and, on the part of some of the
N C E. 221
irregular troops, menacing to the negotiation ; but neither History.
Bedeau nor Lamoriciere would take upon themselves to pro-
nounce that the conduct of the irregulars was a cause of 1845.
war. But when the facts were reported to Marshal Bugeaud,
the commander-in-chief, who was weary of ministerial weak¬
nesses and vacillations, he resolved to strike a blow, and ad¬
vanced at once against the enemy, chastising him, and oc¬
cupying the Oudcha. On the 'l2th August the marshal
marched against the son of the emperor, who had arrived
on the banks of the Isly, occupying with his troops a space
of two leagues between Djerf-el-Akhdar and Condiot. Each
day the enemy expected new contingents, and he now sum¬
moned the marshal to evacuate Lalla Maghrina, proclaiming
the holy war. To remain longer on the defensive was im¬
possible. Crossing the river, the marshal fought the battle
of the Isly, in which the French speedily gained an impor¬
tant victory. The army of the emperor of Morocco left 800
dead, and from 1500 to 2000 wounded, on the field of battle.
The French had 4 officers killed, 10 wounded, besides 25
soldiers killed and 86 wounded ; —10,000 French had in
this battle vanquished 30,000 Africans. Nor were these
the only triumphs. The Prince de Joinville had received
orders to cruise on the coast of Morocco with a view to
destroy the maritime towns and stations, and thus to se¬
cond the operations of the army. On the 23d June the
prince sailed from Toulon with eight ships of war. On the
6th of August, at day-break, he was before Tangier. At
half-past eight the bombardment commenced, and at ten
the fortifications were destroyed. The French had only 3
men killed and 17 wounded, whilst the emperor of Morocco
had 150 killed and 300 wounded.
The prince subsequently attacked Mogador, destroyed
the fortifications and magazines, captured three flags and
ten brass cannon, and left a garrison of 500 men in posses¬
sion of the island.
The account of these successes was received in France
with immense rejoicing, but the credit of them was given,
not to the Cabinet, but to the officers commanding, whose
patriotic conduct was contrasted with the pusillanimous
attitude of the king and his government. The news of
these achievements arrived in Europe whilst the account
of the arrest of the English consul Pritchard by Captain
d’Aubigny (an event which gave rise to long and angry dis¬
cussions in the French Chambers, and to still longer and as
angry discussions in the French press) was still fresh in
ministerial as well as in the public memory. The Count
de Jarnac, attached to the French embassy in London, in
writing to M. Guizot concerning the French attack on Tan¬
gier, intimated that Lord Aberdeen was preparing a de¬
spatch in which he would intimate to Lord Cowley the re¬
solve of the English government to send back Mr Pritchard
on board an English ship of war at any hazard to Tahiti.
A treaty was signed between France and the emperor of
Morocco, the principal bases of which were, the withdrawal
of the emperor’s troops from the neighbourhood of Oudcha,
the expulsion of Abd-el-Kader from the territory of Morocco,
and a definitive regulation of the frontiers of Algeria and
Morocco as both existed under the dominion of the Turks.
This treaty, without any guarantee on the part of Morocco,
was signed on the 10th September. 20,000,000 francs had
been expended by France in the war, yet before the ratifica¬
tions were exchanged she withdrew her fleet, raised the block¬
ade, and evacuated the island of Mogador. Thefactwas, that
the proceedings of the fleet and army of France had excited
the mistrust of the English Cabinet, and the king of the
French, who was most desirous of affording to Europe a
striking testimony of the harmony existing between the two
nations, resolved that the entente cordiale should be most
speedily re-established.
A private personal reason also was not without its influ¬
ence on the French monarch. Ever since the visit of Queen
222
FRANCE.
1845.
Arrival
of Louis
History. Victoria to Eu, Louis Philippe had clung to the hope of
returning the visit at Windsor, and no moment appeared
more favourable for putting the project in execution than
one in which France had shown a readiness to meet the
wishes of the English government in respect to Morocco.
The king of the French disembarked at Portsmouth on the
8th October, where he was received by the Duke of Wel-
Philippe in ]jngton accompanied by a numerous suite. Exclusive of
k ' the desire of his Majesty to exhibit this good understanding
between England and France, there was a secret motive
connected with the journey. The marriage of the queen
of Spain at this moment occupied the attention of the prin¬
cipal cabinets ; and although Louis Philippe was well aware
that the rival powers, and above all England, would not
quietly see a son of the king of the French a candidate for
the hand of Isabella, yet his Majesty felt that Spain was so
near a neighbour to France, and had so many common in¬
terests, that it was incumbent on him to interfere actively
in the question. He was not without the hope, too, that
the infanta of Spain, a year younger than Queen Isabella,
might become the bride of his son the Duke de Montpen-
sier. The ambition of a father and a monarch were equally
interested in this arrangement, but dexterity and manage¬
ment were necessary to the success of these hidden and as
yet scarcely avowed hopes. The subject had been hinted
at, if not fully opened at Eu, and it was now resumed at
Windsor. The wily monarch dexterously insinuated that
in reference to the principal marriage he had exhibited the
utmost disinterestedness, for that the hand of the queen—
and in this he spoke truly—had been actually offered to a
member of his house by Maria Christina some years before.
The certainty of this brilliant alliance he had renounced, he
said, to prove his friendly sentiments towards England, but
he would not conceal the satisfaction it would afford him to
obtain the hand of the infanta for the Duke de Montpensier.
Her Majesty, with that tact and good sense which never
desert her, raised no objections to propositions which ought
never to have been broached in private, but politely hinted
that Windsor was not the spot nor that the occasion for
discussing serious diplomatic affairs. Lord Aberdeen, who
had at Eu been often sounded by the king of the French,
forgot not his characteristic prudence on the occasion ; and
while he protested his desire to act in harmony with France,
added that England wished to pronounce no exclusion of
any candidate for the queen’s hand, and did not acknow¬
ledge the right of France to limit the choice of the Spanish
government. “ The marriage of the queen of Spain,” said
the English statesman, “ is a question that concerns Spain
alone, and in which no other power has a right to interfere,
unless an attempt is made to marry the queen to a French
prince—an alliance which, in augmenting the power of
France, would compromise the tranquillity of other states.”
Louis Philippe at Eu renounced any pretensions on the
part of his son to the hand of the queen, but was for limit¬
ing the choice to Bourbon princes. Lord Aberdeen in¬
timated no obstacle to the selection of those princes, but
did not recognise the right of veto of any other prince as¬
sumed by France.
At Windsor the king of the French resumed the subject
with the British minister for foreign affairs, and openly ex¬
pressed his desire that the Duke de Montpensier should
marry the infanta some time after the marriage of the queen
her sister. Lord Aberdeen, pressed on this point by pater¬
nal as well as kingly pertinacity, saw no objection to this
proposal after the queen of Spain had issue. To this arrange¬
ment the king of the French assented in October 1845,
whilst Sir Robert Peel was first lord of the treasury, and
Lord Aberdeen minister of foreign affairs ; yet on the 10th
October 1846, when Lord John Russell was first lord of
the treasury, and Viscount Palmerston minister for foreign
affairs, the two marriages, namely, the marriage of the
Queen Isabella of Spain and of her sister the infanta, took History.
place on the same day and at the same altar, notwithstand-
ing the previous engagement of the king in 1845, and the 1845,
promise of his minister M. Guizot subsequently made on
the 1st September 1846 to Lord Normandy, the English
ambassador at Paris. This uncandid proceeding of Louis
Philippe and his minister again separated the two courts,
and what was still worse, the people of England and France,
and permitted the northern courts to accomplish the lastAbsorp.
spoliation of Poland by incorporating the free city of Cracow tion of
with the empire of Austria. Cracow.
The minister of foreign affairs, Lord Palmerston, loudly
complained of the disingenuous and quibbling conduct of a
high personage and his minister in the affair of the Spanish
marriages, and the sympathy of public opinion gave immense
force to the strong state papers and just comments of the Eng¬
lish minister. The conduct of the king was not only in viola¬
tion of an ancient treaty, the treaty of Utrecht, but what was
still less creditable, was in flagrant violation of his own royal
word. From this moment the character of Louis Philippe
sunk in general estimation, not merely in England but on
the Continent generally. The northern courts neither liked
the person nor admired the system of the citizen king ; but
from the epoch of the Spanish marriages they assumed to¬
wards him an attitude more reserved and distrustful. Even
M. de Metternich, who had previously shown some disposi¬
tion to a better understanding with France, now adopted a
more haughty and distant language. In a word, the Spanish
marriages more fully isolated the monarch of France from
European co-operation than any previous act of his reign.
The whole proceeding was worse than diplomatically cri¬
minal, for there was a disingenuity and a quibbling which
attached to the personal character of two of the most re¬
markable men of the French nation—the one the very first
in rank, the other the very foremost in learning, eloquence,
and general intellectual capacity.
The parliamentary conduct of M. Guizot on the question
of the right of search on the Marchesas Island, and on the
indemnity to Pritchard, had rendered his name odious in
France. His conduct on the Spanish marriages rendered
him unpopular in England. Louis Philippe himself, too,
seemed weary of a servant who constantly postponed the
question of the dotation of the Duke de Nemours, and who,
in so doing, seemed more chary of his portfolio than of the
interests of the crown and of the family of Orleans, an in¬
terest which was all in all to Louis Philippe. Intrigues
were set on foot to get rid of the unpopular minister, but the
incontestable talent of M. Guizot as a debater saved a states¬
man who was not popular either with the monarch, with the
people, or with foreign courts.
In proportion as the French government departed from The parfi
an honest and manly course abroad, and from a popular andpreire.
liberal course at home, in the same degree was it obliged
by a kind of fatal necessity to seek allies in a camp naturally
hostile. The majority of the nation repudiated the system
of the king and his ministers, and they now turned to the
clergy for support. Till the period when M. Guizot be¬
came minister the government had sustained the university
against the clergy. But in February 1844 M. Villemain
presented to the Chamber of Peers a project of law by which
the smaller ecclesiastical seminaries were erected into schools
at once private and public, remaining all the while exempt
from the conditions to which every other class of schools
was subjected. This privilege, which even the govern¬
ment of Charles X. had refused to grant to the clergy, was
energetically attacked by M. Cousin. But the clerical and
ultramontane party were encouraged by the queen of the
French, who interfered in the quarrels between the bishops
and the university, lending her powerful aid to the order of
Melchisedec. There was now an additional but a selfish
reason for the government clinging to the priests. Minis-
FRA
History, ters were in need of clerical support in the electoral strug-
gles. When ultramontane priests cannot dictate in Roman
184/5. Catholic countries, they look upon themselves as in a state
of slavery. The parti pretre in France had accordingly
daily required fresh concessions, and worried and harassed
M. Villemain to such an extent that his health gave way.
Not content with assailing him in the Chamber and in their
press, they exercised a secret and mysterious influence
against him, and in the beginning of 1845 he was replaced
in his high office as minister of public instruction by M. de
Salvandy, a person of a more pliant, priestly, and servile
nature. Antecedently to M. Salvandy’s inauguration in
Phe office, the Jesuits, though formally excluded from the French
results. territory, appeared in the towns and villages without noise
or ostentation. Now they openly acknowledged themselves
the owners of large and spacious houses. They counted
twenty-seven extensive and wealthy establishments in
France, from which they carried on an immense corre¬
spondence writh the Fere Roothaan, the head of their order at
Rome, who had under his immediate influence and direction
every Jesuit establishment in Europe. The friends of li¬
berty and political independence in France were alarmed at
this state of things, and resolved to commence the offensive
against a system which had roused the anger of the nation
in the time of Charles X.
J. Thiers Jt was M. Thiers who opened the discussion in the De-
;n the puties on the 2d May ; and after tracing the history of the
esuits. order—their expulsion by decisions of the parliament—their
condemnation by the court of Rome—their clandestine re¬
turn under the empire—their quasi re-establishment in 1814
—their discredit and decay from 1826 to 1828, and their
audacious and encroaching spirit since 1830, the speaker
called on the government to put the laws in execution, and
not to shut their eyes to a real danger. “ If,” said M. Thiers,
“ ministers encounter a difficulty in applying the laws, they
will find in this Chamber a zealous and unanimous adhesion.
We will strengthen the hands of the government by every
means in our power, and afford them the means of van¬
quishing difficulties, for I and my friends believe that our
first duty is to give force and effect to the laws of the coun¬
try.” The answer of the minister of public worship, M.
Martin du Nord, to this speech was evasive, shuffling, and
Jesuitical. He admitted there were laws against illegal re¬
ligious associations, not one of which had fallen into desue¬
tude, laws which had been always applied. But M. Martin
contended that the danger was not so pressing now as to
call for the interference of the executive, and that the go¬
vernment ought to be allowed a certain liberty as to the
choice of time and means. This answer neither satisfied
the liberals nor the ultramontane Roman Catholics. . To the
one it appeared a subterfuge, to the others an act of weak¬
ness. M. de Carne, the organ of the ultramontanes, main¬
tained that the accusations against the Jesuits masked a
[. Dupin Project to attack the church itself. M. Dupin, in an able
n the speech, maintained that the laws which existed ought to be
esuits. put in force. “ The Jesuit,” said he, “ is not an individual,
he is a complex being—he exists as a member of a congre¬
gation. Other Frenchmen take an oath of obedience to the
king and the laws of the kingdom, but the Jesuit is not a
Frenchman in this sense. He takes an oath of absolute obe¬
dience to a stranger who is a foreigner. To him he sacri¬
fices his individuality; he is in his hands as a mere corpse.
The society of Jesuits,” said he in conclusion, “ possesses
a character essentially political, and is imbued with a do¬
minant and turbulent spirit which causes it to be feared by
sovereigns, and even by popes themselves.”
M. Berryer attacked the laws which affected congrega¬
tions, and maintained they were contrary to principles of
liberty. This is the argument of the legitimists when
they are the weaker party. The word liberty is then ever
in their mouths. The discussion terminated by an order of
N C E. 223
the day, proposed by M. Thiers, to the effect that the Cham- History,
ber, in the conviction that the government would cause the
laws to be executed, pass to the order of the day. This 1845. *
proposition was carried by an immense majority, a majority
proving the force of public opinion ; for the Jesuits were so
powerful in the country that it needed no common exercise
of courage to vote against them. The vote was a check and
an embarrassment for the government, which feared to act
without having the support of Rome, that is to say, of that
superior spiritual power which is the essence of Catholicism.
A member of the Royal Council of Public Instruction, a
Signor Rossi, a Bolognese by birth, and therefore a subject
of the Pope, though a naturalized Frenchman, was de¬
spatched on the part of the French government to Italy to
beg that the establishments of the Jesuits, their chapels and
noviciates, might be closed, and that they might no longer
live in common but be dispersed. He was further instructed
to ask that such of the fraternity of Jesuits as continued to
reside in France should enter into the category of the or¬
dinary clergy, and submit themselves to the authority of
bishops and parish priests. The answer of the Romish
court consisted of subterfuges and evasions. The extraor¬
dinary congregation of ecclesiastical affairs unanimously
decided that the Holy See could not and ought not to take
any part in measures which concerned the constitutional
rights of French citizens. Thus foiled in his first attempt,
M. Rossi addressed himself directly to the Pope, and pointed
out to him the dangers of a struggle in which the whole
body of the clergy might be involved. Gregory XVI.
yielded to these arguments, and entered into negotiations
with Father Roothaan, for even the Pope was obliged to
temporize with this formidable order. Roothaan counselled
a seeming submission to the disciples of his order. The
Jesuits ostentatiously shut up some of their principal houses
in France and changed their names, as they have often done
before, to Paccanaristes and Peres de la foi. But under a
change of name and designation they maintained a real in¬
fluence which they exercised sometimes openly but more
frequently occultly. They still, in conjunction with the ul¬
tramontane Roman Catholic party, headed by M. Monta-
lembert, continued their war against the university, and
were neither disarmed by the complaisance of M. de Sal¬
vandy, nor by the seeming composure but real timidity of
M. Guizot.
Several propositions of electoral and parliamentary reform
were brought forward this session with no better success
than in the preceding years. M. Ledru Rollin proposed the
abolition of the census of eligibility, and a daily stipend by
way of indemnity to each member of the Chamber. These
propositions were rejected. A slight modification was, how¬
ever, introduced into the mode of voting. On the motion
of M. Duvergier d’Hauranne, an open balloting of divi¬
sions was agreed to, but secret voting might always be re¬
sorted to on the demand of 20 members. The session was Close of the
closed on the 21st July, after a series of parliamentary vicis- session,
situdes which threatened the existence of the ministry.
The Chamber had been far too servile. It was now con¬
demned to a premature dissolution, and was in a short time,
as will be seen, dissolved by ordonnance.
The constitutional left formed, in anticipation, an elec¬
toral committee, inviting the different sections to unite
against the common enemy. When the dissolution took
place, manifestoes were written and addresses delivered
to the electors; and among the rest, M. Guizot delivered,
on the 10th August, a speech to the electors of Saint
Pierre-sur-Dives, in which he vaunted his own policy, and
replied to the charges of corruption which were on every
side urged against his ministry. It must be admitted that
the Cabinet by its conduct had given too much cause for
these complaints. I he arrondissements which returned
ministerial members were loaded with favours. Their
224
History.
FRANCE.
1845.
1846.
Escape of
M. Louis
schools were better endowed, their churches lepaiied; theii
roads kept in perfect order. The public money was distri¬
buted, not according to the wants ot localities, but accoiding
to the votes of the deputies. The corruption was collec¬
tive, and in the gross, but it was not on that account the
less'dangerous. Nor were there wanting hundreds of in¬
stances of individual favours bestowed from political causes
totally irrespective of merit. Thus influential electors ob¬
tained bursaries at colleges for their children, government
employments for their relatives, post-offices, bureaux de
tabac &c. No locality in France had been more satiated
or less satisfied with these favours than the place which M.
Guizot himself represented. Addressing the electors, in
order to parry these accusations, he exclaimed,—“ Do you
vote less freely, less honestly, because I have helped you to
repair your churches and schools, or because I have opened
a career to your children ? Do you feel yourselves corrupted
because of these things ?”
There was one portion of M. Guizot’s speech, which spe¬
cified a public question, in which he had made a little pro¬
gress. On the 24th May 1845, a treaty had been signed
by the Duke de Broglie on the part of France, and Dr
Lushington on the part of England, by which the reciprocal
right of search was done away with, each nation exercising
this right over the ships carrying its flag. This treaty was
to have a duration of ten years, and if at the end of the
tenth year the treaties of 1831 and 1833 had not been put
in force they were to be considered as abrogated.
In the interval between the dissolution and the new ses¬
sion M. de Salvandy had exhibited a pernicious activity in
regard to the university. On the 8th January 1846, M.
Cousin, in the Chamber of Peers, exposed the system of
ministers in regard to the university, and showed that day
by day the clergy were possessing themselves of a monopoly
of teaching, and by their writings and preachings were
exercising all the influence of hierarchy and priesthood to
discredit and destroy the university of France.
Letters were at this period published in the National,
stating that Poland had again risen, and was in arms for
her independence. On the basis of these letters some
spirited articles were written by M. Armand Marrast, and
such was the effect produced in the excited state of pub¬
lic feeling, that a sum of 200,000 francs was raised for
the benefit of the insurgent Poles in the space of a few
days.
M. de Remusat again brought forward, before the disso¬
lution, his proposition against public functionaries sitting
in the Chamber. He was supported by M. Thiers in a
speech of great boldness and vigour. M. Duchatel feebly
replied ; but the government, notwithstanding, obtained a
majority of 48, the numbers being 184 in favour of the pio-
position, and 232 against it.
On the 16th April 1846, another attempt was made on
the life of the king by one Lecomte, who had been employed
as a kind of gamekeeper in the Royal Forests. Fie fired
two shots at Louis Philippe, as the monarch, accompanied
by the queen and several princes and princesses of the royal
family, was taking an airing in the forest of Fontainebleau.
Lecomte had been discharged from his employment for a
breach of duty, and his act was dictated by a wild species
of revenge. Such, however, was the blindness and bitter¬
ness of party spirit—such the over-anxious zeal of flatterers,
that there were not wanting government scribes to charge
the attempt on the writers and speakers of the opposition.
The trial of Lecomte disproved these rash assertions. He
paid the penalty of his guilt by suffering as a parricide.
Whilst the indictment against him was in the course
of preparation, an unexpected event caused some alarm to
Louis Bonaparte escaped from the castle of Ham, in which History,
fortress he had been for six years a prisoner, and in a few
hours was at Valenciennes, on the road to Brussels, whence 1846.
he proceeded to London.
About the period of the escape of M. Louis Bonaparte,
the Duke de Bordeaux espoused the Archduchess Maria
Theresa of Modena, eldest sister of the reigning duke. This
was the only prince in Europe who had refused to acknow¬
ledge the royalty of Louis Philippe.
More serious matters than the escape of one pretender,
or the marriage of another, occupied the French ministry.
A few days after the closing of the session an ordonnance
for the dissolution of the Chambers appeared. The elec¬
tions were fixed for the 1st. August, and the Chambers
were convoked for the 19th of the same month. The left
centre and the Constitutional left having coalesced, ope¬
rated together against the ministry. The radicals, with¬
out using the word republic in their addresses, demanded
republican institutions. The legitimist party directed all
their efforts to the question of la liberte de Venseignemenl,
which in their mouths simply meant the surrender of pub¬
lic instruction to the ultramontane Jesuits. This party was
led by MM. de Montalembert, de Vatismenil, and de Ri-
ancey. The object of these politicians was to ruin the uni¬
versity, and to stifle all freedom of thought and of opinion,
by giving full sway to the ultramontane clergy.
No one was keener in the electoral struggle than M.
Thiers. The political rival who had supplanted him
had hitherto resisted all parliamentary attacks, either elud¬
ing or meeting difficulties, and sometimes even making a
merit of his faults. The opposition of M. Thiers was
whetted by personal impatience, for the ministry of M.
Guizot had now lasted for six years—a ministerial exist¬
ence altogether more prolonged than had been granted
to any ministry since July 1830. Attached to representa¬
tive government, M. Thiers saw that the system ran the risk
of perishing in the hands of a man who never opposed an
energetic resistance to the will of the king—a king who did
not dissemble his disdain for a constitutional system—a king
who, during his sixteen years’ reign, did everything in his
power to nullify and corrupt representative institutions. M.
Thiers therefore composed an address to the electors of
Aix, in which he not merely criticised the acts of the go¬
vernment, but warned it of the perils which must await it
at no distant future. This document was communicated to
MM. Duvergier d’Hauranne, de Reumsat, and Leon de
Malleville, but these gentlemen found it too hostile even
to royalty. The letter is given in extenso in a recent
history;1 but we doubt whether it would have exercised
much influence on the electors. It is, however, to be re¬
gretted, that M. Thiers, yielding to timorous and unwise
counsels, suppressed the document in July 1846. In serious
and solemn crises of a nation’s fate a public man ought to
give his country and its rulers the benefit of his candid
and honest advice and opinion. A few days after M. Thiers’
address was written, another attempt was made on the life
of the king. On the 29th July, whilst from the balcony
of the Tuileries his Majesty was saluting the crowd assem-
bled for the July fetes, two shots were fired at him by a per- yj0U;s
son named Henri, who remained hidden behind one of the pjjjiippe,
statues in the garden. The man was a lunatic, and his
madness was caused by a reverse of fortune. He had fired
without taking aim, and from a pocket pistol which would
not carry half the distance. The ministry, however, con¬
verted the attempt into political capital, and gained many
votes among the timid.
The result of the elections surpassed the most sanguine Result of
expectations of the ministry. The Conservatives the elec*
Napoleon t]ie partisans of the Orleans dynasty. On the 25th May returned in a compact majority, and the position ot M
Bonaparte.    ^    
tions.
1 Hist, de Huit Am, par Regnault, 1852.
FRA
History. Guizot seemed for the moment unassailable. Yet there
were monitions sufficiently audible. Among candidates,
1846. as we^ as atr>ong electors, the word reform was every¬
where confidently and hopefully pronounced. Even the
Conservatives in their programme promised moral and
material improvements. It may be taken as a sign of the
times, that M. Emile de Girardin, the editor of the Presse,
made his promise of support of M. Guizot conditional, and
stipulated that either political or material reform should be
promised by the minister. Some Conservatives also, as MM.
Desmousseaux de Givre, Sallandrouze, and others, formed
a conservative opposition, with a view to stop the progress of
what they feared to be a counter-revolution. M. Guizot
endeavoured to render them passive by a discourse which
he delivered at Lisieux. When the newly elected Chamber
met at the close of August, the government candidate for
the presidency, M. Sauzet, had a large majority. He ob¬
tained 120 votes, whilst M. Odillon Barrot, the candidate of
the opposition, obtained only 98 votes. M. Guizot finding
he possessed a considerable majority, thought no more of the
promises made at Lisieux, and because he could manage
the Chamber, believed himself in a position to master
France. Blindly and obstinately he resisted all reform or
promise of improvement, asserting that the country was
perfectly content with his system. The session lasted only
a few days ; but soon after the deputies separated, it was
evident that the nation was threatened not merely with a
pecuniary crisis but with a famine. The harvest of 1845
had been but a scanty one, and the evil was considerably
aggravated by the disease in the potato. The harvest of
1846, now in course of gathering in, was much inferior to
the harvest of the preceding year.
The commercial community made an appeal to the minis¬
ter, with a view to the opening of the French ports, but the
minister of commerce, the slave of routine, was perplexed
and confounded by an unexpected crisis, and adopted a
course of action too tardily. Instead of looking abroad for
corn, M. Cunin Gridaine looked to the prefects for statistics
to prove that the harvests of 1843 and 1844 had made up
for the deficiencies of 1845 and 1846. The complaisant
functionaries and bureaucrats of France proved, in the very
teeth of a famishing people, to the satisfaction of the minis¬
ter, that supplies were abundant. But ministers soon found
their illusions and official fictions dispelled. A royal ordon-
nance opened the ports, but opened them too late. When
corn might freely enter Marseilles and Arles, frightful inun¬
dations cut up the roads, stopping the internal traffic. Com¬
munications between the Black Sea, the Sea of AzofF, and
France were also interrupted by the frost. The war depart¬
ment, which annually consumes 500,000 quintals of wheat,
however, decided on obtaining its stock of provision for 1846
and 1847 from abroad, and the navy adopted a similar course,
ordering 100,000 quintals. In the different towns and cities
of France, where the sufferings of the poor were severest,
the municipal authorities took measures to diminish the
price of bread to the indigent working classes. In Paris
the municipal council maintained the price of bread at 80
centimes the two kilogrammes. The enormous sums paid
in consequence of this arrangement obliged the city to con¬
tract a loan of 25,000,000 francs. To add to the general
misery, there was a deficiency of bullion in France, caused
by improvident and ruinous speculations in all kinds of
joint-stock companies. The monarch and the minister
wished to unduly develop and stimulate material pros¬
perity, with a view to suppress all political yearnings,
and the result was, that all the viler and more sordid pas¬
sions of the community were excited into a perfect frenzy
of inordinate and reckless speculation. Gold and silver
specie rapidly disappeared, and the Bank of France was
shaken to its centre. On the 31st December 1846 its
unguaranteed billets amounted to 258,000,000 francs, and
vol. x.
N C E. 225
the accounts current of the treasury and private individuals History,
attained an amount of 110,000,000. There was a total of
liabilities amounting to 368,000,000, represented only by 1846.
71,000,000 of specie. In order to establish an equilibrium
between Paris and other cities, it was necessary to give
money a higher value, by raising the rate of discount.
From the commencement of January 1847 the Bank
of France raised its rate of discount from 4 to 5 per
cent. Even this measure would have been insufficient
had not the Emperor of Russia, on the 17th March 1847,
purchased inscriptions de rente of the Bank of France
for 50,000,000 of specie, at 115 f. 75 c. This operation
caused a great sensation, and “ sent up,” to use the
phrase of the stock exchange, the public funds. Some
there were who saw in the operation a political move. But
there was nothing political, though there was a good deal
of policy in the transaction. The Emperor of Russia merely
wished to embark in a speculation which was doubly profit¬
able to him. By obtaining 50,000,000 of specie, France
was enabled to extend her operations in the purchase of
Russian corn, and Russia having vast magazines of corn to
sell, found a fresh vent for it to the extent of 50,000,000.
So that the Emperor of Russia, vender of corn and purchaser
of inscriptions de rente, realized a double profit on these
operations, preserving his specie and selling his corn.
Great was the emotion in France at the absorption of the Absorption
free city of Cracow. All parties condemned this act of au- of Cracow,
dacious spoliation, which presented a new complication to
M. Guizot. The French minister for foreign affairs in¬
structed M. Jarnac of the French embassy in London to in¬
vite the co-operation of Viscount Palmerston to a joint note
to the northern powers ; but the English minister of foreign
affairs laconically replied, that he had already prepared
one, which he would communicate to the English minis¬
ter in Paris. No English minister at that period could have
felt safe in jointly acting with M. Guizot. The affair of the
Spanish marriages had produced a worse feeling than dis¬
trust. The language of Viscount Palmerston on the ques¬
tion of Cracow was strong and indignant; but as Great Bri¬
tain was justly isolated from France, there was less effect
produced by her strong language. The note of Viscount
Palmerston was forwarded on the 23d November, that of
M. Guizot on the 3d December. To the French people,
amazed and indignant, the state paper of M. Guizot ap¬
peared a feeble and puling protest. The dissension exist¬
ing between England and France, in consequence of the
Spanish marriages, produced more extended evils. In the
affairs of Switzerland M. Guizot was completely influenced
by the policy of M. de Metternich. France, in concert with
Austria, combated everything like a liberal spirit in Swit¬
zerland, favoured the Jesuits, and protected the old feudal
aristocracy. The Protestant cantons in Switzerland wanted
reform and unity, the Catholic wanted Jesuitism and fede¬
ralism. Lord Palmerston gave his support to the first
cause, but M. Guizot, though a Huguenot, sided with M.
de Metternich and the disciples of Loyola, and threw all
his influence into the Sonderbund.
The session of 1847 presented difficulties both at home Session of
and abroad. Different doctrines and different chiefs ap- 1847.
peared for the first time in the arena. Various professors
of St Simonianism, Fourierism, Icarianism, contended for
public favour, and there was a party of Conservatives
who preached what they called la politique des interets, and
called for les reformes materielles. The most bustling and New
active among these was M. Emile Girardin, editor of the parties.
Presse, who was supported in the Chamber by MM. Des¬
mousseaux de Givre, de Castellane, and other deputies. M. Party dis-
Odillon Barrot attacked the conduct of the government in cussion.
reference to Cracow, and even M. Dupin expressed him¬
self as not satisfied with it. M. Thiers reserved his speech
for the discussion on the Spanish marriages. That question
2 F
FRANCE.
Letter of
Viscount
Palmerston
to Lord
Norman by.
Scarcity-
riots.
was opened on the 4th February, and M. Thiers, in a long
and able speech, proved that the marriage of the Duke de
Montpensier to the infanta produced not one advantage to
France, whilst it was the cause of many disasters. The al¬
liance with England—so absolutely indispensable to protect
the menaced nationalities, and liberty itself—was broken.
This alliance, desirable whether Tories or Whigs were
in power, was most especially desirable when the liberal
spirit of the Whigs was so directly opposed to the absolutist
northern powers.''4' To break with the Whigs at such a junc¬
ture in the state of Europe, in the state of the world,” said
M. Thiers, 44 is to proclaim a reactionary spirit.”
M. Guizot replied to M. Thiers with consummate oratori¬
cal ability. Everybody admitted he possessed the talent of
expressing himself in the ablest and happiest mannei ; but
it was o-enerally observed that the man who spoke with such
apparent candour and simple straightforwardness was gene¬
rally involved in awkward dilemmas. As to the Spanish mar¬
riages M. Guizot attempted to turn the tables on Lord Nor-
manby, but in this effort he failed to obtain the adhesion of
any but mere political parasites. The English government
and the English people, as well as dispassionate Frenchmen,
gave Lord Normanby credit for frankness and fair dealing.
The very best disposed among the partisans of the French
minister felt that he was getting his majority into difficult
and untenable positions, not merely dragging his political
followers and adherents through the mire, but compromis¬
ing the peace of the world. Ihe discontent of the Conser¬
vative section of the Chamber was general. It was, how¬
ever, muttered in the theatres and whispered in society
rather than loudly expressed. So great, however, was the
number of functionaries in the Chamber, and the seciet
means possessed to influence votes, that when a division on
the address took place it was carried by 248 votes against 84.
We have said that M. Guizot, in his speech on the de¬
bate, had attempted to cast imputations on the English am¬
bassador, Viscount Normanby. So soon as a report of the
speech of the French premier reached England, the prin¬
cipal secretarv of state for foreign affairs addressed a letter
to the English ambassador informing him that his govern¬
ment placed the utmost reliance on the fidelity and exact¬
ness of all his reports, and that nothing said in the Chamber
of Deputies would have the least effect in disturbing the
conviction entertained by her Majesty’s government of the
entire and perfect truth of Lord Normanby s detail of the
conversations held with M. Guizot. The entire British
Cabinet felt the stain attempted to be cast on the English
ambassador as a wound, to use the words of Burke. Lord
John Russell intimated to M. de St Aulaire, the ambassador
of France, in the presence of two of his Cabinet colleagues,
that the entire Cabinet made common cause with Lord
Normanby, and that unless reparation were made to him
the indignant feeling of the English ministry would be
manifested in a more direct manner. Ultimately, thiougi
the good offices of M. Appony, the Austrian ambassadoi,
M. Guizot entered into explanations with \ iscount r\oi-
manby, and disavowed any intention of impeaching his ve¬
racity or personal honour.
While the French premier was rendering himself unpo¬
pular, if not odious, abroad and at home, the people of
France were acutely suffering from the dearness and
scarcity of provisions. The dread of famine augmented
daily in the departments of the west and centre of France.
Various depots and warehouses containing corn were
sacked. Serious riots took place at Tours, and boats laden
with corn were pillaged. At Laval the insurgent populace
fixed the price of corn. Venders were obliged to sell at
this rate in the open market, despite the authorities.
Rennes, Mans, Mayence, and Nevers were up in arms.
Almost on every side bodies of workmen perambulated the
country, demanding bread and labour. Hundreds of men¬
dicants spread terror in isolated localities. In many pa- History,
rishes of the department of the Indre numerous bands in- ^
vaded the houses of proprietors, forcing them to sign an 1847.
agreement to sell corn at three francs instead of seven francs
the double decalitre. Such proprietors as refused to yield
to this absurd and wicked demand were the victims of their
refusal. One landowner was assassinated at Buzangais,
another at Belatre. At Chateauroux the workmen of the
railroad invaded the market with their tools in hand, and
had to be dispersed by an armed force. It was necessary
to obtain from the Chambers an extraordinary credit to in¬
crease the effective force of the army in the interior of the
country. This increase added 16,000 men to the line, and
consequently augmented the public charge by a sum of
16,000,000 of francs, which would have been much better
applied to the relief of the distressed.
It was necessary for the courts of law to terrify by the Severity
example of severe punishments. Three rioters were con- “gize
demned to death, four to perpetual hard labour, and
eighteen to various terms of labour, by the assize court of
pIndre. The executions took place in the presence of a
silent and sullen multitude, who commiserated the victims
and blamed the government. A profound hatred to the
landed proprietors of Buzan^ais grew out of these events,
and more than one Socialist excess can be traced to this
in the midst of these internal and external difficulties, the Dissension
ministry was neither homogeneous nor united. The death111 tj16
of M. Martin du Nord, which took place on the 11th March, minis T-
introduced into the Cabinet M. Hebert as his successor, a
man whose only recommendation for office appeared to be
his antipathy to the press, and his hatred of every liberal
idea. The war department, since the recent retirement of
Marshal Soult, had been filled by an incapable and almost
an unknown general, Moline de Saint Yon, and the navy
was presided over by Admiral Mackau, a person of noto¬
rious parliamentary incapacity, who had signally failed as
an administrator. Both these ministers resigned on the
8th May—the minister of war voluntarily, the minister of
marine to avoid the charge and unpopularity of measures
for which he was not personally responsible. M. Guizot
wished to getrid of the minister of finance who had not shown
a sufficiently accommodating suppleness, but notwithstanding
many broad hints M. Lacave Laplagne refused to resign.
The fact was, that the finances of the country were in an
alarming position, and to have resigned at such a moment
would have been an admission that the mismanagement lay
with the individual minister. M. Lacave Laplagne urged Dismissal
that for the financial position the entire Cabinet was ac-
countable, as it was the Cabinet as a body which had in-mi
creased the expenditure of the army and public works.
He therefore refused to resign, and was dismissed by his
colleagues.
No one seemed willing to accept the three vacant places. ^ ^
Even such third-rate mediocrities as MM. Bresson, Muret®^11
de Bord, and Bignon refused portfolios. ministers.
In this dilemma, when a seat in the Cabinet was a thing
to be shunned, the telegraph informed General rI rezel,
commandant at Nantes, that he was called to the ministry
of war, M. Jayr, prefect of Lyons, that he was named to
the ministry of public works, in the place of M. Dumon
called to superintend the finances. At the same time a
steamer was despatched in all haste to Naples to announce
to M. de Montebello that he was minister of marine.
These nominations were scarcely considered as serious, Prospects
and it was now evident that time had not strengthened, but of the ^
had, on the contrary, weakened the Guizot ministry. 1 he
opposition, on the contrary, notwithstanding repeated checks,
had lost no portion of its boldness and vigour. To speak
truly, the vices of the electoral system—its narrow basis
its unjust exclusions—the facilities it offered to corruption
F Tt A
History, and intrigue—were capital topics to engage the attention of
v ^ ^ J the public. Reform was the chosen question on which the
1847. opposition meant to dwell. Though vanquished in the
secret division, the opposition always had the advantage in
argument. The Conservatives, who wished for progressive
reforms, intimated to the minister that they could no longer
continue docile and obedient instruments, and announced
that they were dissatisfied with the fatal and unyielding words,
rien, rien, rien, which M. Guizot had pronounced in debate.
But the proud and obstinate doctrinaire would not retract,
and gave no sign of a willingness to correct proved abuses.
The government soon received a lesson. A vacancy had
occurred in the vice-presidency of the Chamber, for which
the Cabinet had put forward a M. Duprat. The opposition
started M. Leon de Malleville, a partisan of electoral reform,
who was chosen, some even of the discontented Conserva¬
tives voting for him. M. Guizot was startled at this result,
and was dismayed when some young conservatives voted in
the bureaux for taking into consideration the proposition of
M. Duvergier d’Hauranne for electoral reform.
In the discussion on this question M. Odillon Barrot
drew a fearful picture of the progress of corruption, of the
number of functionaries, of the avidity of solicitors for place
always increasing in immense progression. In answering
the orator of the opposition M. Guizot stated, that he could
see no necessity for the motion—that no reform was needed.
Fatal and obstinate blindness of a minister, who, with all
his ability and powers of exposition—with all his rich and
varied erudition—it was clear, comprehended nothing of the
state of feeling and of opinion in France. The obstinacy
of the minister was sustained by a majority of 98 voices, in
a Chamber filled with functionaries, and elected out of a nar¬
row fraction of the population.
In the discussion on M. de Remusat’s proposition rela¬
tive to Deputies’ functionaries being again brought for¬
ward, M. de Castellane, willing to afford M. Guizot a locus
pcenitentice, asked the minister what measures of ameliora¬
tion he would bring forward, and when. To this personal
appeal M. Guizot responded by a negative gesture, where¬
upon M. de Castellane rejoined, “ Well, then, since all re¬
form is in principle repudiated, we think it necessary to
vote for the proposition of M. de Remusat.” The obsti¬
nate pride, the unwise reserve of the minister, lost him the
support of 49 votes. His majority on the motion of M,
d’Hauraune was 98. On this occasion it was only 49.
Postage M. Glais Bizoin had brought forward a question, many
reform. times introduced by M. de St Priest, for a reduction in the
rate of postage. But as every change, however beneficial
and good, was resisted by the government, M. Dumon, the
finance minister, opposed the motion. His arguments, if
such they could be called, were triumphantly refuted by M.
Dufaure (subsequently minister of the interior under the
Republic) ; and such was the effect of this able statesman’s
convincing speech, that the Cabinet had only a narrow ma¬
jority of 25.
It was now evident that the Chamber would resist all
improvement and all reform. The discussion on the post¬
age law had proved the justice, the utility, the necessity,
and the facility with which such a change could be promptly
effected. The Cabinet had neither pretext nor reason for
their blind and stupid resistance. The more intelligent
among the Conservatives lamented this blind infatuation;
the more intelligent among the dynastic opposition became
alarmed at it; whilst the radical reformers were comforted
in the hope that this resistance to what the wiser Conser¬
vatives called material reforms, would lead to electoral re¬
form, which would bring all other reforms in its train.
It was now evident that there was dissension in the Con¬
servative camp among the followers of ministers—a dis¬
sension soon to be increased by the revelation of scan¬
dalous facts of corruntion, which implicated persons in a
N C E. 227
high position, one of whom was a Cabinet minister. The History,
other had already been minister of war in two separate
Cabinets. For several years the existence of corruption 1847.
and malversation in the public offices and establishments of
France had been loudly proclaimed by the opposition de¬
puties. But to all charges of this kind M. Guizot gave
an indignant denial. But now civil and correctional
processes, and even criminal proceedings, revealed the
hideous plague spots in official life. For several years the
press had pointed out the disorders, dilapidations, pilferings,
and peculations in the department of the marine. These
accusations had been repeated in the Chamber of Deputies,
and the Corn- des Comptes also had expressed itself in lan¬
guage which could only be misunderstood on the supposi¬
tion of wilful blindness or complicity with the criminals.
The Chamber of Deputies had come to a resolution that a
strict system of account should be established in all the
ports, arsenals, and dockyards. This decision of the
Chamber was about to be put in execution when, at the
close of 1845, an immense fire broke out in open day inpirein the
the Mourillon, the second arsenal of Toulon. The hour at arsenal of
which this fire took place, the impenetrability in which all Toulon,
the circumstances were involved, the futility of any attempts
to discover the authors of the crime, the period of its occur¬
rence, covering as it did with a veil of darkness manifold
malversations, all led to the belief that it was a concerted
scheme of some criminals in office. The loss to the nation
was three millions, but the official peculators were for the
moment saved from exposure. Inquiries, however, werepi]iatre at
instituted in other quarters, and the most scandalous mal- Rochefort
versations were discovered at the dockyard of Rochefort, dockyard.
Pilferings and abuses took place in the supplies of bread,
corn, wine, salted provisions, firing, candles, &c. Though
first qualities of provisions were ordered, inferior were
introduced. Millers brought in corn and flour of inferior
quality, with which beans and dried vegetables were mixed
to the extent of 38 per cent. The proceeds resulting from
these frauds and dilapidations were divided between the
employes and the contractors and victuallers. It appeared
that in respect to wood, 4000 f. w'orth had been abstracted
in one day’s pillage. As to the salt provisions, the pillage
was even on a greater scale. The notoriety of abuses of
this kind at length forced the central authorities, who had
been so long supine, to interfere. The guilty parties were
indicted before the Cour d1 Assises at Poitiers, and from
the report of what took place the public was made
acquainted with the organized system of plunder that had
been carried on by the public servants. M. Sanson, comp- Organized
troller of the navy, who was examined on the trial, stated plunder of
that he had vainly struggled against the evil, and that allP^^0
the representations he addressed to the minister and mari¬
time prefect were without effect. At Toulon, Brest, and
Rochefort, examples were not wanting of clerks with a
salary of 2000 f. or 30001'., amassing in twenty years fortunes
of from 200,000 f. to 300,000 f. When all these facts be¬
came known, the impression produced was profound.
Ministers could no longer remain inactive, and it was de¬
termined to prosecute the Directeur des subsistances at
Rochefort. But the employe anticipated a too tardy public Suicide of
justice by committing suicide. afunction-
Shortly before these deplorable discoveries, a person ofary-
the name of Benier, who had been directeur des vivres
at Paris, died, and there was discovered a deficit of corn
to the value of 400,000 francs. Independently of this, the
successor of Benier stated that the corn in store was of so
bad a quality that the soldiers could not use it. Notwith¬
standing all official regulations, it appeared that the autho¬
rities had dispensed with Benier’s furnishing a security. Affair of
An unfortunate chef de bureau, named Tessier, who had Benier.
several years previously reported that the accounts of
Benier were in disorder, was treated as a calumniator for
228 FRA
History, no other reason than that Benier had powerful friends
^ .1- —im ^ among the ministers. Tessierwas from that moment placed
1847. under official ban, and soon after died of a broken heait.
however, was not the wrorst. Certain official men
wished to retrieve the memory of Benier, but the crime
and the attempt to cloak it over were denounced in the
session of 1846 by M. Lanjuinais. The Chamber, indig¬
nant at the attempt, ordered an inquiry ; and the impression
produced by the disclosures weakened the authority of the
government, and furnished frequent arguments to the
partisans of reform.
Affair of The affair of Drouillard, which was heard before the
Drouillard. Assize Court of Maine and Loire in February 1847, was
scarcely needed to increase public indignation. Drouillard,
a kind of discount agent and usurer at Paris, had stood for
Quimperle. The electors of Quimperle, for the most part
petty farmers, were open to the seductions of a capitalist,
and he bribed them on all hands. The whole population
the parish priest among the number, had all partaken of M.
Drouillard’s money. It was proved by the books of his
principal agent that 145,000 francs had been expended.
Drouillard was found guilty and condemned to a fine of 7400
francs, and to the interdiction of civil and all public func¬
tions during the space of ten years. In this instance, it is
true, the government was not mixed up in the affair; but
the facts serve to show the fundamental vices of a system
which, in giving the franchise to a small number of electors,
only facilitated bribery—opening constituencies to the
corrupting influences of a capitalist who would buy the
votes of others, with a view to sell his own at a consider¬
able profit on his original outlay.
Other acts People were wmndering at the marvellousness of these
of corrup- incidents, when Paris was startled by another denunciation
tion- of administrative corruption. Day by day M. de Girardin
proclaimed in his journal, the Presse, that the privilege of
a third lyrical theatre was granted only on the payment of
a sum of 100,000 francs paid to the credit of the newspaper
called the Epoque. 11 It was M. Duchatel,” said Girardin
(M. Duchatel was then minister of the interior), “ who had
himself dictated the terms of this shameful bargain. I o
this accusation the minister made no reply. In a debate
in the Chamber he was twitted with the circumstance; and
after Girardin had alleged the facts and furnished the
proofs, M. Duchatel contented himself with equivocal
denials.
This was not the only scandal. The Epoque being in
want of money, M. Granier de Cassagnac, the editor, had
promised, according to the statement of M. Girardin, the
postmasters, for the sum of 1,200,000 francs, to procure the
passing of a project of law favourable to their interests. M.
Duchatel merely replied that the fact was not probable.
The circumstance was repeated in all the journals, and not
one of them was prosecuted. M. de Girardin further stated
that the promise of a peerage had been sold. When cited
for this scandal before the Peers, Emile de Girardin entered
into very full explanations, and was acquitted, and the accu¬
sation fell with augmented force on the ministers.
Affair of The most scandalous affair of all, however, was the affair
Cubieres, of General Despans Cubieres, minister of war in 1839, and
Teste, again in the Cabinet presided over by M. Thiers in March
Pellapra, ig40. In the course of a suit between M. Parmentier,
&0* director of the mines of Gouhenans, it was disclosed that
the general, who had been himself twice minister of war,
received certain sums to bribe the minister of public works
(Teste) with a view to induce him corruptly to favour the
company in which Cubieres and Parmentier were share¬
holders. Parmentier having a quarrel with the general,
which ended in a suit, certain letters were made public
which exposed the affair in all its nudity. “ The govern¬
ment,” said Cubieres, in one of his communications, “ is in
sordid and corrupt hands, and M insists on having 50
N C E.
shares before the £ concession’ is made.” The agitation and History,
amazement that prevailed in the public mind when these
details were made public was very great, but it was not 1847.
greater than the consternation that prevailed in the minis¬
terial circles. M. Guizot w^as surrounded by deputies who
implored him to dissociate himself from this scandalous
affair by exposing the guilty parties, if guilty parties there
were. The minister came to this resolution in a Cabinet
council, but before his intentions were generally known it
was announced that several members of the majority would
ask explanations in the Chamber. M. Muret de Bord was
the first to question the government, and M. Dumon, in
reply to him, declared that the grant to the Parmentier
Company had been regularly made, but in order to put an
end to the alarm and anxiety of the public mind, the go¬
vernment would cause an inquiry into the existence of cor¬
rupt practices. In three days afterwards the minister of
justice appeared in the Chamber of Peers to read an ordon-
nance, which directed the Court of Peers to proceed to the
trial of Lieutenant-General Despaus Cubieres, charged with
corruption.
The men on whom the Peers were now to pronounce
sentence were not subaltern clerks or chefs de bureau, but
one of them was very recently a member of the government,
and actually a president of a higher court. This man was
charged with having made a base traffic of his official sig¬
nature for his individual gain. The other was a lieutenant-
general who had been so distinguished a soldier that he
was twice entrusted with the portfolio of minister of war.
The commission appointed to inquire into the affair directed
summonses to be served on MM. Parmentier and Pel¬
lapra, co-shareholders with General Despaus Cubieres in
the mines of Gouhenans, and also against M. Teste, re¬
cently minister of public works, and now president of the
Court of Cassation. The parties, with the exception of
Pellapra, appeared on the 8th July, and on the day pre¬
viously, Teste, in a letter to the king, resigned into the Teste
hands of his Majesty the dignity of Peer of France, and the resigns the
functions of president of the Court of Cassation. The lan-
guage of this letter, full of nobleness and dignity, produced p"esidency
tor a time a momentary impression in favour of the accused, of the court
but on the second day of the trial it was apparent that Par- 0f cassa-
mentier and Teste had acted in collusion, and public opinion tion.
underwent a revulsion. On the second day, too, M, Armand
Marrast (president of the Chamber of Deputies under the
Republic) communicated fresh letters written in 1846 by
Pellapra and Cubieres, clearly proving a continuing series
of negotiations between Teste, then minister of public
works, and the mining company of Gouhenans, represented
by Pellapra as its principal agent. The examination of
General Cubieres disclosed an anxiety on the part of the
old soldier to commit no human being, but when he was
so urgently and powerfully pressed as to the meaning of
expressions in his letters, “ shameless extortion,” “ sordid
and corrupt hands,” the name of Teste escaped his lips.
Vainly did the general afterwards try to assume a reserve.
In pronouncing the name of Teste he had given the key
note.
When Teste was in turn examined, he exhibited the
coolest self-possession and assurance. An experienced and
skilful advocate, he was not intimidated by forms, or en¬
tangled by adroit questions artfully framed. Astute and
cunning to a degree, he bad studied his line of defence as
though he were appearing for a client whose all was at
stake, and assumed the tone of injured and indignant inno¬
cence. But a bundle of accounts and letters by M. Teste
having been found in the possession of Madame Pellapra,
the fraudulent transactions were discovered, it was proved that
100,000 francs had been paid to Teste, and a similar sum
received by M. Charles Teste, son of the minister, and a
deputy. Teste now seeing that he was a lost man, and that
F E A
History.
1847.
Condemna¬
tion of
Lagrange.
Affair of
the Duke
de Praslin.
all the subtleties of a flexible and unscrupulous talent were
unavailing, abandoned all further attempts at defence. When
the court rose and he was brought back to prison, he re¬
ceived the visit of his son, and asked his counsel, MM.
Paillet and Dehaut, to partake of his prison dinner. His
demeanour, generally grave, was more than ordinarily se¬
rious on this occasion. About 9 o’clock his son and his
friends left him, and five minutes after their departure he
seized a pistol and attempted to put an end to his exist¬
ence ; but the attempt, though directed against the heart,
was unsuccessful.
On the following day, the 13th July, this great criminal
addressed a letter to the president of the Chamber of Peers,
stating, that he would allow judgment to go by default, and
that he would accept without resistance any sentence that
might be passed in his absence. There was therefore an
end to the affair as regarded Teste. He was condemned
to the penalty of civil degradation, to 94,000 francs pecu¬
niary fine, and to three years’ imprisonment. General Cu-
bieres was condemned to degradation, and 10,000 francs
penalty. It is not necessary that we should record the
sentences passed on the less notorious criminals. As this
remarkable affair confirmed in a striking manner the charges
of the opposition; as behind all the acts of the government,
to use the expressive language of General Despans Cu-
bieres, were seen des mains avides ou corrumpues; the men
in office fell into odium and contempt.
Scandals did not end with the prorogation of the Peers,
which took place on the 23d July. On the 9th of August,
the council of war of the first military division condemned
for five years to the galleys, and to degradation, the func¬
tionary Lagrange, convicted of having misappropriated corn
intended for the hospital of the Gros Caillou.
Within a month of the prorogation of the Peers, they
were again convoked to try one of their members accused
of the horrible crime of murdering his own wife.
The history of the affair must be briefly told. The union
of M. and Madame de Praslin was an ill-assorted one.
There were incompatibilities of temper and frequent quar¬
rels about the management of their children, eight in
number, who had been within a year of the catastrophe
confided to a Mademoiselle Deluzy, a governess who ac¬
quired an ascendancy, not only over the children, but over
their father the duke. This circumstance appears to have
irritated and wounded, as it naturally might, Madame de
Praslin, who was of a sensitive and jealous nature. In¬
creased bitterness and discord were the consequences. M.
de Praslin became more violent—Madame de Praslin more
miserable and isolated. Towards half-past 4 o’clock on the
morning of the 18th August, a great noise was heard in the
Hotel Praslin. The bells in the bedroom of the duchess,
communicating with the apartments of several servants,
were rung with great violence. The servants rushed up
as soon as possible in confused haste, but on reaching the
doors which opened upon the bedchamber of the duchess,
they found them all closed. The noise of falling furni¬
ture, piercing cries, succeeded by suppressed groans, con¬
vinced them that behind those doors a murder was per¬
petrating, but they were unable to force an entrance, not¬
withstanding the desperate efforts made to break the doors
open. Attempts were next made by the servants to reach
the duchess’s chamber by the garden, and in this they
succeeded. Entering the room, extended on the floor they
found the lifeless body of Madame de Praslin, with no
other covering than her blood-stained chemise. Her fore¬
head, face, neck, arms, and hands, were covered with more
than thirty large and deep wounds. Hearing the cries of the
servants, the duke appeared at the door of the great saloon,
and asked the cause of the noise and tumult. When the
lifeless corpse of his wife was pointed out to him, he ex¬
claimed, “Ah! pauvre femme, qui l’a assassinee?” In a few
N C E.
229
moments after, the commissaries of police being summoned History,
arrived, and subsequently the doctors Simon, Carnet, and
Raymond, the juge d'instruction, the procureur-general, 1847.
and the prefect of police. These experienced persons pro¬
ceeded to minutely examine the apartment, and soon dis¬
covered a track of blood along the passage leading from the
apartment of the duchess to that of the duke. Questioned
on this strange circumstance, the duke answered, that when
awoke by the cries of his dying wife, he ran towards her,
assisted her as well as he could, and returned to his own
room covered with blood. This strange answer awakened
suspicion. Search was instantly made in the duke’s room,
and there was discovered linen stained and saturated with
blood, and various sharp instruments red with human gore.
This almost confirmed suspicion against the duke into the
certainty of his crime; and on an examination of M. de
Praslin’s person, it was found that his body was excoriated,
and the skin abraded in eight places, as though he had been
engaged in some desperate encounter. Of these marks
and wounds M. de Praslin could give no satisfactory ac¬
count. Feigning sudden indisposition, he asked leave to
retire for a moment to his apartment, in which was a medi¬
cine chest, and in an instant after he swallowed a slow
poison, of the effects of which he died on the 24th August.
The French law does not permit the arrest of a duke.
But M. de Praslin was kept under watch in his mansion,
and as soon as a royal ordonnance could be prepared, was
conveyed to the Chamber of Peers, and interrogated by the
chancellor. On being pressed to acknowledge his crime,
he merely replied he had not strength to reply to what
would require long explanations.) The chancellor intimated
that a simple yes or no would suffice, to which the duke
rejoined, “ A force is required to utter yes or no—an im¬
mense fortitude which I have not.” There was nothing
political assuredly in this foul, horrible, and most unnatural
murder. But as this great criminal was a member of the
Chamber of Peers, and belonged to the very highest order
of nobility, the people who had witnessed within a few *
months such revolting proofs of corruption and crime, con¬
sidered this as a new proof of the immorality of the great
and high born. The crime of Teste and his accomplices
had struck with stupor the middle classes, and had disgusted
them with a government fallen into corrupt hands. The
crime of M. de Praslin touched more directly the bosoms
of the multitude, and was used as an argument against the
system of society as it then existed in France.
Both crimes had the effect of shaking and unsettling the
convictions of men as to the stability of the political and
social edifice, and were among the proximate if not among
the promoting causes of that revolution which within a few
months was to sweep away the younger family of the
Bourbons, and even monarchy itself.
Everything induced reflecting men now to think that
reform was necessary to save the monarchy and to prevent
a new revolution. M. Odillon Barrot convoked at his house
a meeting of all shades of the opposition, and it W'as agreed
that vigorous efforts should be made to sound the cry of
reform throughout the country. The central committee,
established in 1845 to manage the elections of the capital,
still existed, and this body offered its co-operation to MM.
Thiers, Odillon Barrot, Abbatucci, Duvergier d’Hauranne,
Gustave de Beaumont, Gamier Pages, Carnot, &c. A
petition for reform was drawn up by M. Pagnerre, and it was
determined in the principal towns and localities to obtain
an adhesion to this petition. The government was not much
alarmed at these projects. The members of the Cabinet
declared that this new-born zeal for petitioning would soon
expire. The king made no secret to a chosen few of the dis¬
relish and repugnance which the very name of reform excited
in his mind, and the royal aides-de-camp took care to make
known his Majesty’s opinion in every corner of the Chamber.
230 FRA
History. After having spread and sown petitions for reform broad-
v ,- v — J cast throughout France, the central committee piepaiecl a
1847. series of banquets to be held throughout the country,
first of these was at the Chateau Rouge, and consisted of
1200 electors of Paris and a great number of deputies.
Amono- the speakers were MM. Odillon Barrot, Duveigiei
d’Hauranne, Marie Recurt, and Senaid, afterwaids func¬
tionaries under the republican government. The banquet
at Paris was followed by one at Macon, at which M. de
Lamartine, in a spirit of prophecy, predicted, that if the
government of July did not reform its ways it would surely
fall_fall not in blood, like the government of 1789, but in
the very snares which it had itself laid. The banquet at
Colmar was presided over by M. de Rosee, first president of
the royal court. At the Strasbourg dinner 700 guests from
all parts of Alsace assembled under the presidency of M.
Leichtenberger, batounier of the faculty of advocates. There
was scarcely a man in this assembly who was not a lepubli-
can, the eastern frontier of France being somewhat in ad¬
vance of the rest of the country. Soissons, Forges, St
Quentin, each had its banquet. At the banquet of St Quentin
M. Barrot severely criticised the speech of M. Guizot at Li-
sieux, and declared that if such doctrines were allowed to
prevail, France would become demoralized by its govern¬
ment, and, losing the instinct of its great destinies, would
daily sink in the scale of nations. This was another mo¬
nition to me men in power—a monition which they disre¬
garded.
Duke Algeria had hitnerto oeen for tne government a great
d’Aumale embarrassment. The most experienced administrators, the
appointed most renowned and skilful generals, had there encountei ed
governor of the test difficulties, and after long efforts and immense
A gena. sacrifjces5 peace was not assured. Marshal Bugeaud hav¬
ing resigned the functions of governor-general, it was ne¬
cessary to replace him. I he successor named was the
Duke d’Aumale, a young man of five-and-twenty, whose
sole recommendation consisted in his being the kings son.
People asked themselves again and again whether the
revolution of July had been made to secure such a nomi¬
nation—a nomination savouring of the very worst traditions
of the old monarchy. It is well known that after having
Resigna- reluctantly signed this nomination, Marshal Soult placed
tion of his portfolio in the hands of the king. It was easy enough
Soult- to find an illustrious soldier to succeed the marshal, but
the king preferred braving the opposition by giving the
presidency of the council to M. Guizot. This nomination
added fresh fuel to the agitation. New banquets were
organized in every town and village in France. At vQ’1"
geux M. Taillefer, member for Sarlat, warned the middle
class that it was becoming indoctrinated with the exclu-
siveness of the ancient noblesse, and that it would fall like
the ancient noblesse if it denied the imperious neces-
Banquets shy of political progress. At Meaux 750 persons sat down
in various to ^|ie political banquet, and among others M. Drouyn de
Lhuys, so recently minister for foreign affairs. J his gen¬
tleman, in allusion to M. Guizot, protested against the cy¬
nicism of apostates. Similar banquets were held at Cou-
lommiers, and in other towns and departments. In fact,
reform was in every mouth. M. Ledru Rollin was invited
to the banquet at Lille, and there was a momentary concert
between him and M. Barrot; but as Ledru Rollin seemed
disposed to go beyond the limits of the constitution, M.
Barrot, who desired reform and not revolution, explained
his views and protested. In consequence of this discordance
in the views of some of the leading men, there were now
banquets of various shades of opinion. In some the socialist
and revolutionary spirit prevailed—in some the reforming
spirit. But at all these banquets, vituperation was directed
against corruption and against corrupters—in other words,
against the men in power and the system which they fol¬
lowed. At every fresh banquet a louder and a louder de-
N C E.
nunciation was directed against the complicity of M. Guizot History.
with M. de Metternich. '"—v—
While the banquets were still going on, the government 1847.
received a fresh warning. The council-general of the Seine,
on the 12th November 1847, expressed its desire that the
government and the chambers would modify and reform
the electoral law of the 19th April 1831 ,
The government was, if possible, more unpopular for its
foreign than for its domestic policy. In Switzerland it
went hand in hand with Austria, and sustained the Jesuits
of Lucerne and Fribourg and the Sonderbund. When the
Sonderbund was destroyed on the 29th November the ma¬
jority of Frenchmen rejoiced, for despotism and superstition
received a stunning blow ; but the sympathies of M. Guizot
were not with the partisans of enlightenment, progress, and
liberty. He looked on Switzerland, governed by liberals
and freed from Jesuits, to use his own words, as “a state
organized for aggression.” He recognised an equal right
in the vanquished Sonderbund, as in the diet, to send a
representative to the conference of the five great powers on
the affairs of Switzerland.
The policy of M. Guizot in Italy had been equally un¬
popular with the nation. He feebly approved, indeed, of
the first reforms of the weak, vacillating, and insincere Pius
IX. But on the question of the occupation of Ferrara, too,
the conduct of M. Guizot was pusillanimous compared with
that of Casimir Perier in 1832. In one line he approved of
the protest of the Pope, but in the next he blamed the in¬
experience of a government influenced by public opinion,
and seeking to satisfy it by the publication of its official acts.
The conduct of M. Guizot’s diplomatic agent at Rome, M.
Rossi, a subject of the Pope (a man born and educated at
Bologna—now a naturalized Frenchman), was altogether
wanting in energy and in proper conception of his duties as
the representative of France. While M. Rossi was playing
a game of equivocation, management, and low cunning, the
foreign minister of England showed that he understood the
crisis, and despatched a Cabinet colleague, Lord Minto, to
Italy. Lord Minto was everywhere received with testimo¬
nies of respect, whilst the name of Rossi was loathed by his
countrymen
Among the French diplomatic corps there were men who M. Bresson
openly murmured against the miserable part which they his suicl
were called upon to act. M. Bresson, formerly French
ambassador in Spain, now ambassador at Naples, had coun¬
selled a different course, but his advice and remonstrances
were unheeded. In passing through Florence he expressed
himself freely on public affairs, did not spare M. Guizot or
even the king himself, remarking that it was a piece of se¬
nile vanity and a false move for France to co-operate with
or approve of the Austrian policy in Italy. The king, who
was informed of this fact, harshly reproached M. Bresson
with his indiscreet words. M. Bresson, who had made such
sacrifices of character to support the personal policy of the
king in the Spanish marriages, was stung to the quick by
these reproaches from such a quarter, and put an end to his
existence by suicide.
It is now known, from documents which have seen the
light since the revolution of 1848, and which were published
in the Revue Retrospective, that some members of the king s
own family warmly disapproved of his foreign and domestic
policy. In a communication from the Prince de Joinville Letter of
to the Duke de Nemours, dated Spezzia, the 7th Novem-the nnc^
ber, M. de Joinville says, “ the death of Bresson appears to t®theDuk(
me a fatality; he was not ill; he executed his plan with the de ^
determination of a resolute man. He was incensed against mours.
our father. The fact is, the king is inflexible ; he listens to
no counsel; his will must have its way over all obstacles.
There are in fact no ministers ; their responsibility is as no¬
thing. Everything proceeds from the king. He is now o
an age when he will listen to no observations whatever.
FRA
History. Our position is not good. After seventeen years of peace,
the state of our finances is not brilliant. Abroad we might
1847. have sought for some of these satisfactions of self-love so
dear to our country, and with which we might have turned
attention from more serious evils. We have not dared to
turn against Austria, fearing that England would imme¬
diately reconstruct against us a new holy alliance. We
come before the Chamber detestably as to home affairs, and
as to foreign our position is not. better. All this is the work
of the king alone ; the result of the old age of a king who
wishes to govern, but who wants the energy to take a manly
resolution. I had looked for compensations in Italy, but
there we shall be forced to make common cause with the
retrograde party, which in France will produce a disastrous
effect. Alas ! these unhappy Spanish marriages. We have
not yet exhausted the fount of bitterness they contain.
Placed between the alternative of making the amende
honorable to Palmerston on the subject of Spain, or of
making common cause with Austria to play the gendarme
in Switzerland, and struggle in Italy against our principles
and our natural allies; ours is a hard fate. All this is
traceable to the king alone, who has tampered with our
constitutional institutions. I look upon all this as very
serious.”
These were the terms in which the son of Louis Philippe
appreciated public affairs, and the confidant to whom he
poured forth his intimate secret thoughts was his brother,
the future regent. Such were the effects of substituting a
personal for a parliamentary government, and of falsifying
and corrupting representative institutions.
At Dieppe there was a vacant, seat, and the ministerial
candidate was beaten. A more significant circumstance
occurred at Rochefort. M. Dumas, one of the king’s aides-
de-camp, who had represented the electors in 1846, asked
for a renewal of their suffrages on his promotion as marechal-
de-camp, but they chose in his place M. Baroche, an advo¬
cate of the Parisian bar, distinguished for his talents as
well as for his liberal opinions. At Toulouse and Florae
also opposition candidates were successful against ministe¬
rialists. In Paris the government received a still more sig¬
nificant lesson. Twelve opposition candidates were elected
for the offices of mayor and adjoint for the second arron-
dissement. This circumstance caused a fall of forty cen¬
times in the bourse. The minister of the interior (Duchatel)
imputed all these ministerial misfortunes to the conduct of
M. Guizot, whose subserviency to the will of the king had
placed him in opposition to the wishes of the people, and
rendered him most unpopular both in the metropolis and in
the provinces. The friends of M. Guizot, on the other
hand, were not slow in imputing all the evil to the account
of M. Duchatel.
The Chambers were summoned for the 28th December.
The king opened the session in person, and read in a falter¬
ing voice the speech from the throne. It was a rapid
and unmeaning production, and said little on any subject.
There was not a word of encouragement of the then reform¬
ing and since retrograde Pope; of the then reforming and
since retrograde Duke of Tuscany; there was no expression
of opinion or of hope regarding Italy, or of complaint as to
the flagrant violation of treaty in the absorption of Cracow.
There was a paragraph, indeed, announcing that France had,
in conjunction with the other powers, offered mediation be¬
tween the parties in the civil war in Switzerland.
The salient passage in the speech, however, was in refer¬
ence to the banquets. In this passage the king condemned
them, and pronounced himself virtually against reform. “In
the midst of the agitation fomented by hostile and blind
passions, one conviction,” said his Majesty, “ sustains and
animates me : it is, that in the constitutional monarchy, in
the union of the great powers of the state, we possess the
most assured means of surmounting all obstacles, and of
N C E. 231
satisfying the moral and material interests of our dear History,
country.” i , /
On the first day of the new year, the king experienced 1848.
a domestic calamity in the loss of his sister Madame Ade- Death of
laide, who died rather suddenly. The king lost in his sister Madame
not alone the companion of his youthful trials and struggles, Adelaide,
but a friend whom he consulted on state affairs. Madame
Adelaide was a woman of strong and masculine mind and of
sound judgment. She had a decided taste for politics, and
generally gave her brother good advice. The king was four
years older than his sister, and her death came upon him as
a warning. He now more than ever felt the effects of age
in waning strength and want of energy.
The submission and capture of Abd-el-Kader was also gubmis-
announced on New Year’s Day. For some time the emirsion and
had been on the frontiers of Morocco, and had formed the capture of
ambitious project of conquering that empire. The son of Abd-el-
the last emperor, who complained of being cheated of his Kader-
birthright by Muley-Abd-er-Rhaman, joined the standard of
the emir, who for a time had some success; but the emperor
of Morocco and his two sons took the field at the head of
considerable forces, and ultimately Abd-el-Kader retired
upon the river Malouiii, some leagues from the French
frontier. Crossing the river without obstacle, he proceeded
towards the French possessions in the hope of regaining the
desert. But General Lamoriciere was informed of his pro¬
ject, and barred his passage on every side. On the 23d De¬
cember Abd-el-Kader made his submission to the Duke
d’Aumale, in the presence of Generals Lamoriciere and
Cavaignac. Having placed his sandals outside the door of
the apartment, the emir was introduced before the prince,
and addressing him said, “ I had wished to do what I do to¬
day before now, but I awaited the hour marked by God.
The general has made me a promise in which I have put
faith. I fear not that that promise will be violated by the
son of a great king like the king of the French.” The
emir offered to the duke a steed in token of his submission.
The promise which General Lamoriciere had given, and
which was confirmed by the Duke d’Aumale, was to the
effect that the emir should be transported to Alexandria or
St Jean d’Acre. The promise possibly was a rash one, but
it afforded no excuse for its non-fulfilment by the govern¬
ment. The emir was transferred to the interior of France,
where he was confined in the Chateau d’Amboise.
The commission charged with the task of drawing up an
answer to the address was composed of a majority favour¬
able to the ministry. M. Guizot was consoling himself with
the hope that the debate would be less stormy than was ex¬
pected, when another remarkable suit in the courts of law
was the cause of another scandal.
This was the case of M. Petit, ex-directeur des posies, 0age 0f
who had asked in 1844 for the receivership of Corbeil. Petit.
The private secretary of M. Guizot, M. Genie, intimated
to him that the actual occupier of the place would be ad¬
vanced, but that a previous condition was attached to the
obtaining the receivership. The government required to
have an employment of conseiller maitre in their hands,
and M. Petit could only obtain this by giving a life annuity
of 6000 francs to the retiring conseiller maitre, with a re¬
version to the conseiller’s wife in case of his death. It thus
appeared that employments in the Cour des Comptes were
the objects of an ignoble traffic, and that the government
sold receiverships to reward with the proceeds of the sale
services which would not bear the light of day. This
announcement produced a great effect, and served to astound
M. Guizot. He sent M. Achille Fould (now one of the
ministers of the Emperor of the French) to the counsel
of M. Petit, with a view to have the affair hushed up ; but
to this course M. Petit would not consent. People inquired
whether the president of the council could be ignorant of
matters that happened in his own Cabinet, and in which his
232
History.
FRANCE.
1848.
M. de
Tocque-
ville on
the moral
of late
events.
private secretary was a party.1 It was while these things
were going on that M. de Salvandy suspended the course of
M. Michelet, and that the French Academy submitted to
the requirements of the ministry by placing M.Vatout, the
king’s librarian (and, it was said, his Majesty s natural bxothci)
in the chair of Fenelon.
The discussion on the address opened in the Chamber
of Peers on the 10th January. M. Guizot was attacked
by M. de Boissy concerning the affair of Petit. The minister
did not defend these practices, avoided as much as possible
to enter into the question of principle, and pleaded ex¬
tenuating circumstances with great address. But the
adroit rhetorician was followed by MM. Mole, Passy, and
D’Argout, who had all been ministers, and who severally
statecf that they had never authorized such a shameful traffic
as this. j tvt •
M. de Montalembert in his speech reproached M. Guizot
with having timidly served “the good cause of the Jesuits
in Switzerland.” The address presented by M. de Barante
in answer to the king’s speech was a feeble echo of the
royal words. The Chamber modified it in one important
particular by felicitating the Sovereign Pontiff, the King of
Sardinia, and the Grand Duke of Tuscany on the refoiming
spirit they had exhibited. ,
In the Deputies M. Dupin, in allusion to the Petit anair,
laid on the table of the House a project of law on the sale
of offices. M. Barrot, the leader of the advanced opposi¬
tion, went over the history of the Petit affair, commenting
in indignant terms on that scandalous traffic. “ France, he
said, “ had not till now seen a minister authorizing such
shameful transactions, the bartering one place against the
resignation of another of which he had need. J he denun¬
ciation was precise; the crime manifest. M. Guizot did
not reply to the charge, but in a melancholy voice implored
the majority to put an end to a debate raised out of ti ines
by an aggressive opposition. “ Do you, president of the
council and political minister of the Cabinet, call sordid and
shameless negotiations and traffickings for place trifles, ic-
joined the opposition orator? The majority, however, ab¬
solved M. Guizot. ,
M. Thiers confined himself to exposing the state of the
budget, showing that for a series of years the expenditure
had exceeded the receipts. The floating debt amounted to
the enormous figure of 750,000,000 francs, and a rumour o
war, the menace of a revolution, a scarcity of coi n, or even
a less calamity, might throw everything into confusion.
M. Duchatel replied that the Bourse and the commercial
classes had confidence in the government. “ So far fiom
this,” rejoined M. Thiers, “ all kinds of property is de¬
preciated. Railway shares which had reached 900 francs
are now at 500 francs.” M. Gamier Pages added that
the state had borrowed 200 millions from the savings-ban ,
which was immediately exigible, and that thus the amount
of the floating debt was 950 millions.
M. de Tocqueville touched on the moral side of the
question with the hand cf a master. “ Public morals aie
depraved,” said De Tocqueville, “and private morals are
deteriorating to the low level of the public. Jhe sense
of morality is daily becoming feebler. It is true the woi
ing classes are not troubled by political passions as they
were formerly, but their politics have become social. I hey
no longer seek to upset such a minister, to overthrow sue i
and such a government, but they wish to uproot and ovei-
turn society itself. When such opinions become prevalent,
and sink into the minds of the people, they produce sooner or
later—one knows not the moment—one knows not how
the most formidable revolutions.”
M. Billaut, now minister of the interior, and one of the
most formidable opponents of M. Guizot, also followed on
this fertile theme in a masterly way.
1848.
On the question of foreign affairs, M. de Lamartine spoke History,
at length and eloquently. He sought to demonstrate from
the diplomatic correspondence that in all the affairs con¬
ducted by M. Guizot at Rome, Florence, Turin, and Naples,
from the accession of Pius IX. to the rising in Sicily, the
Cabinet of the Tuileries had served the interests of Austria,
and betrayed those of Italy and France. The Spanish mar-
riao-es, in the opinion of the future member of the provi¬
sional government, had been the cardinal cause of these
errors and omissions, if not grievous crimes.
M. Guizot in his reply exhibited boldness, and, as usual,
incontestable talent. He vehemently declaimed against
revolutions and revolutionists, and was pungently answered
bv M. Mauguin. “ Why all these big words against revo¬
lutions and revolutionists ?” said the deputy for the Cote
rfOr. “ Are not our government, our chambers, our mims-
tgj-g—the very crown itself—are not all these i evolu¬
tionary?” The speech of M. Thiers on foreign affairs,
though energetical in expression, was in substance mode¬
rate enough. He accused the government of indifference in
regard to Italy, but he did not require that a new Ancona ex¬
pedition should be undertaken, or that the standard of French
protection should be opposed to the standard of Austrian
oppression. M. Thiers had already been a minister, and did
not despair of again becoming one. M. Guizot had, therefore,
no difficulty in agreeing with him in opinion. M. Guizot
blamed, as M. Thiers had done, the Italian princes, who
did not spare the blood of their people ; he declared, as M.
Thiers, the presence of the Austrians at Parma and Modena
to be irregular. Odillon Barrot wound up the debate, and
declared, midst the deafening cheers of the left, that if
Austria dared to renew the outrage on Ferrara, it would be
a necessity, an obligation, and a duty of honour for France
to oppose her by force of arms. M. Guizot was careful
not to gainsay these memorable words. This was another
check for the ministry, for after two days’ debate and the
most haughty language, the government allowed it to be
believed that they were about to do what they had been
accused of not doing.
On the affairs of Switzerland M. Thiers declared the po¬
litics of M. Guizot absurd, and took occasion to say, though
not a radical he would always be of the party of the i evo¬
lution, and that even though the government passed into
the hands of radicals, still he would always be of the paity
of the revolution. .
M. Thiers pronounced these words with great energy, his
arm extended and his head directed towards that poition
of the Chamber dedicated to the press. The w('1’tls aP‘
peared to be especially addressed to M. Armand Marrast,
editor of the National, who, with his brother editors an
journalists, joined their applauses to those of the Assemb y.
In thus offering his co-operation to the ardent friends of the
revolution, M. Thiers indicated the real gravity of the ^t11-
ation of affairs. No sooner had he made this approach to
the radical party, than M. Guizot took, under the guise
of moderation, an opposite course, declaiming against radi¬
cals, the enemies of the Jesuits, the revolutionary an
demagogical spirit, &c.
It was now the 4th February, and there was no prospect
of the debate closing. Day by day the most vehement
speeches of the deputies against the ministry were lea
aloud in cafes and public places and rapturously applaude .
A few days previously M. de Tocqueville (subsequent y
one of the Cabinet ministers under the republic of 1° )
said he scented the wind of revolution, and he said tru y.
The discussion on the paragragh “ les passions ennerms et
les entrainements aveugles” called up M. Duvergiei d 4 au-
ranne, who declared that the opposition did not come there
to plead before the majority against the minister, but to
plead before the country against both the minister and the
1 Regnault, tom. iii., 336.
FRANCE.
History, majority The country heard and approved, and very soon
declared itself.
1848. Some members of the majority seeing the difficulties and
dangers surrounding not merely the ministry but the crown
itself, were for bringing forward an amendment which, with¬
out overthrowing the ministry would gently lead it into the
path of reform. The amendment was denounced by M.
Guizot. It was hoped that his colleague M. Duchatel
would be more conciliatory. But M. Duchatel only en¬
venomed the debate by fresh provocations, declaring that
the banquets would be forbidden, and that the government
would not yield to such manifestations. M. Barrot an¬
swered M, Duchatel. His language was full of nobleness
and elevation. He cited the text of the law in support of
the perfect legality of the banquets, and something more
powerful than mere precedents—principles long consecrated.
It amazed him, he said, to find ministers putting into the
mouth of the sovereign outrages and insults addressed to
a great number of deputies behind whom were 60,000
citizens. I his was a crime against the constitution, and
must lead to a coup d'etat and to resistance. “ I have de¬
voted my life,” said the leader of the constitutional opposi¬
tion, “to defend the principles of 1830, and I throw on the
ministry the fearful responsibility of events.”
This speech produced an immense impression,, and some
members of the majority, such as MM. d’Arblay, Desmous-
seaux de Givre, and Sallandrouze, were for a compromise, and
for suggesting to the government wise and moderate reforms.
But MM. Guizot and Duchatel would hear of no middle
course. M. de Remusat conjured the ministry not to put
in peril the person of the king, the institutions of the
country, the last guarantees of public peace. But the
ministry was obstinate, and the amendment of M. Givre
was lost by a majority of 43, and the amendment of M.
Sallandrouze by a majority of 33.
On the day on which the discussion on the address ter¬
minated, the opposition deputies met at the Cafe Durand,
in the Place de la Madeleine, Armand Marrast proposed
that the deputies of the opposition should send in their re¬
signation in a body. This would cause the election of 102
deputies, each of whom would discuss in the presence of
the same number of constituencies throughout the kingdom
the misdeeds of the ministry. The liberal papers proposed
to give these speeches to the exclusion of the parliamentary
debates. This project of M. Marrast was supported by
MM. Marie and Chambolle ; but Gamier Pages and Martin
de Strasbourg were of a different opinion, and Duvergier
d’Hauranne, de Lamartine, and de Remusat spoke against
the project of resignation at the meeting presided over by
M. Barrot. The majority was therefore for holding the
banquet and accepting the challenge of M. Duchatel. A
commission was named to organize the banquet, who fixed
upon the locality in which it was to be held. All commer¬
cial affairs were meanwhile suspended in Paris. The great
majority of the inhabitants of Paris undoubtedly wished to
avoid extremities, but no one advised the opposition to pre¬
vent the effusion of blood by a sudden retreat. The Con¬
servatives themselves, alarmed and cast down, admitted that
the government had provoked the contest by imprudent
provocations, and that it ought to yield—that it would dis¬
arm the self-love of the opposition by the least concession.
On the 14th February the D4bats announced that the
ministry would pursue a conciliatory course, and that before
the end of the session there would be reforms. The king,
however, disapproved of this article, and would not hear of
the least concession.1 The very name of the word reform
rendered his Majesty furious. “ All the world is for reform,”
said the king, “ but I will never yield to this weakness. Re¬
form is the coming in of the opposition—and the entry into
233
power of the opposition is war and the beginning of the end. History.
As soon as the opposition assumes the reins of government
I will retire.”2 But this was mere make-believe. The king 1848.
had not the least idea of retiring. General Jacqueminot
answered for the National Guard, and the army was ani-
mated with an excellent spirit. Such were the ideas and
feelings of the king, and no one dared to contradict him.
1 he minister, it was thought, dictated the article in the
Debats. But being disavowed by the king and the cour¬
tiers, M. Duchatel dared not justify it, and M. Guizot
hastened to disavow it. Each day, each hour, now seemed
to render a conflict more imminent. The place chosen for
the banquet was the Rue Chemin de Versailles, Champs
Elysees. Tents were prepared on the 20th and 21st, when
M. de Morny and M. Vitet sought an interview with M.
Barrot, to say that if the opposition could not draw back, so
neither could the government yield ; but that there was a
via media to avoid a collision by placing the question in
dispute before the Juges Correetianelles. M. de Morny
(the same who took so prominent a part in the coup d’etat
of December 1852) promised, in the name of the govern¬
ment, that the opposition might freely go to the banquet,
that it would meet with no impediment; but that, on the
other hand, the government would perform its part in sum¬
moning the guests to disperse, and would draw up a proces
verbal of the unlawful act, with a view to render M. Bois-
sel, the president of the day, M. Barrot, and the most pro¬
minent of his friends, accountable before the Correctional
Judges. All this was done with the sanction of M. Du¬
chatel, and the opposition agreed to the terms. But at the
last moment, the court party would not hear of these con¬
ditions. The king was indignant, and complained that he
was surrounded by men without courage, that he was no
longer served but betrayed.
Everything seemed to announce that there would be an
immense concourse of people. This, as well as the convo¬
cation of the National Guard by the committee of the
banquet, and the certainty that it would answer to the call,
caused no small alarm to the government.
The reports of the police informed the home minister that
a considerable number of National Guards of Paris, Mont¬
martre, Belleville, Sceaux, St Denis, and Bercy, would ac¬
cept the invitation of the central committee, and it was in¬
timated from the same source that the number of citizens
who would take part in these manifestations would amount
to more than 100,000. This account filled the government
w’ith terror. The ministry thought that if the opposition
succeeded in managing such a number of people, it would
become far too powerful, and would be in effect a govern¬
ment overshadowing the real government. This was
the language of the king, of the princes, of the aides-
de-camp, and of the ardent Conservatives. M. Duchatel
was accused by these people, and by the whole camarilla of
the court, of having by his weakness compromised autho¬
rity. Under these circumstances he charged his envoys
MM. Vitet and de Morny to withdraw the promise they
had given to M. Barrot. M. Barrot, on again seeing these
gentlemen, informed them, that if the minister by this con¬
duct speculated on aggravating the shame of retreat or the
seriousness of resistance, he calculated without his host.
The conduct of the opposition, even of the most advanced
portion of it, was throughout moderate and dignified. All
shades of opposition were willing to insert a paragraph or
note in the journals, stating that in convoking the National
Guard for a great manifestation, the opponents of govern¬
ment did not mean to usurp any of its powers or functions.
M. Armand Marrast, who was present, concurred in these
views. The opposition, therefore, had by this proceeding
assumed a more moderate and submissive attitude, yet when
1 Kegnault, tom. iii., p. 382.
VOL. x.
- Abdication du Roi Louis Philippe, racont6e par lui meme et receuillee par Ed. Lemoine.
2 a
234 FRA
History. MM. Vitet and de Morny returned to M. Duehatel they
\ found his views changed. The only individual in the Ca-
1848 binet who appeared to desire a peaceable solution had in
the interim been gained over by his colleagues. M. Guizot,
sustained by the court, was more unbending and peremp¬
tory than ever, and M. Jacqueminot, the commander of the
National Guard, was boastful and combative. M. Barrot and
his friends were deeply grieved when they learned that
their explanations were unavailing. The government reject¬
ing the conditions which their commissaries had proposed
the night before, a collision appeared inevitable if the op¬
position persisted in its design—a collision, too, not at the^
door of the banqueting hall on the question of the right of
meeting in a private house, but a collision on the Place de
la Madeleine, and upon a very different question, the right
of assembling in a public thoroughfare. 1 he cii cumstances
and conditions were not, in this state of affairs, so favourable
to the opposition ; and it was now the day before the ban¬
quet, the 21st February. About half-past four in the evening,
M. Barrot proceeded to the Chamber and asked of the
minister a public explanation. M. Duchatel replied, that
at the commencement he only wished a judicial solution of
the question, that the deputies of the opposition might still
proceed in their individual capacities to the banquet, but
that no crowd or gathering of people would be allowed in
the public street. M. Barrot replied, that intentions were
imputed to the authors of the banquet which they never
entertained ; that the government wished to construe a law¬
ful and pacific manifestation into an act of insurrection, and
that the putting Paris into a state of siege upon so frivolous
a pretext would excite the very tumult the government pro¬
fessed a desire to quell. The impression left on the mind
by the perusal of these explanations is, that the government
was at once provocative and perfidious, and that the ban¬
queters, bold at the beginning, now began to exhibit some¬
what of weakness and fear.
As soon as the Chamber adjourned, the opposition met
to determine its course of action. Their deliberations were
short but stormy. They resolved neither to go to the ban¬
quet individually nor at the head of a vast procession and
cortege as had been proposed. 1 hey preferred being ab¬
sent and subject to all manner of reproaches rather than in¬
cur the responsibility of a sanguinary struggle. It should
be observed that in their characters of deputies, the opposi¬
tion, in thus momentarily foregoing a right, pledged them¬
selves to use every constitutional effort to cause that right
to prevail, at no distant day, over what they termed a corrupt,
violent, and anti-national ministry.
On the day fixed for the banquet two proclamations were
affixed on the walls of Paris, one by General Jacqueminot,
addressed to the National Guards of the Seine, the other
signed by the prefect of police Delessert, written, it is said,
by M. de Morny, in which the government, founding itself
on the provisions of a law of 1790, forbade the banquets,
declaring, in addition, that it was prepared to disperse by
force all assemblages and processions encountered on the
public thoroughfares.
The opposition also in its journals published a manifesto,
stating that in abstaining from the banquet they were
governed by feelings of moderation and humanity, but that
there remained for them yet to accomplish a great act of
firmness and justice. This great act, thus distinctly alluded
to, was a demand for an impeachment of the ministry. I he
proposal was immediately drawn up and signed, and was in
the following words:—“We propose to impeach the ministry
as guilty—1. Of having betrayed abroad the honour and in¬
terests of France. 2. Of having falsified the principles of
the constitution, violated the guarantees of liberty, and at¬
tacked the rights of citizens. 3. Of having, by systematic
corruption, attempted to substitute for the free expression
of public opinion the sordid calculations of private interest,
N C E.
thus perverting representative government. 4. Of having History,
trafficked in public functions and privileges 5. Of having
ruined the finances of the state, and thus compromised the 1848.
national grandeur and strength. 6. Of having violently de¬
spoiled citizens of an inherent right, guaranteed by the
charter, by the laws, and by precedents. 7. Of having, by a
counter-revolutionary policy, placed in jeopardy the fruits of
two revolutions, and thrown the country into perturbation.”
The energy which the opposition now exhibited in this
act of firmness was meant to atone for the too great mo¬
deration exhibited in the affair of the banquets. There
were not wanting resolute men, such as MM. de Lamartine,
Arago, de Malleville, Marie, and L’Herbette, who still coun¬
selled the opposition to take an heroical decision, and com¬
mit themselves with the executive; but the leaders are not
to be blamed for not following this advice.
On the 22d February, an immense multitude arriving
from all the fauxbourgs, proceeded to the Madeleine, the
Champs Elysees, and the Place de la Concorde. There were
workmen and artisans who came to offer to the reforming
deputies their active co-operation. The greater number of
them were ignorant of the determination taken the night
before to abstain from the banquet. Some, however, who
knew the intention of the opposition, still hoped that it
might in some way be modified ; some again were animated
with those vehement emotions, the precursors of political
storms. Every means was employed to calm these over¬
excited citizens. Even the Reforme, the most advanced of
the Parisian journals, called on the people to remain calm
and impassible, and to consider all turbulent and vehement
men as police spies. The officers of the National Guard
and the delegates of the schools assembled at the house
of M. Perree, manager of the Siecle. Another meeting
was held at the office of the Reforme, where were col¬
lected the leading men of the secret societies. Even at this
meeting, notwithstanding the efforts of some violent talkers,
gained over by the police, it was decided to remain passive.
So that on the part of the opposition, every effort was made
by all men having influence to keep the people quiet.
Nevertheless, notwithstanding all these efforts, the people
wTere agitated, and looked as though they would appeal to
arms. The troops were kept in readiness to act. The go¬
vernment, living in narrow cliques, and knowing nothing
of the feelings of the people, wras, from first to last, free
from all alarm, more especially since it had learned the
resolution come to at the meeting at Barrot’s, Pence’s, and
at the office of the Reforme. The king was in great good
humour, felt the most perfect confidence, and laughed with
the [courtiers at the idea of M. Barrot and the reformers
being at all formidable. But, meanwhile, vast gatherings
had taken place in places where there w'ere no troops. An
immense phalanx of students and workmen had already, in
tolerable order, traversed half Paris, singing the Marseillaise,
and crying “ Vive la Reforme ! a bas les ministres.” I his
crowd had reached the Chamber of Deputies, had forced
the doors open, and withdrew across the Place de la Con¬
corde to the residence of M. Barrot. When the troops ap¬
peared in the quarters in which the crowd was most com¬
pact, the soldiers were received with hisses, and saluted
with a shower of stones. The excitement increased every
moment, especially in the neighbourhood of the Chamber
of Deputies, and the Rue Royale, Rue de Rivoli, and Rue
Saint Honore. A couple of hours later these streets were
occupied w'ith cavalry. The populace, driven into the mid¬
dle of Paris, and into the back streets, constructed several
barricades, and shot responded to shot between the army and
the insurrectionists. This, however, was but the beginning
of the fray. It <;ould hardly as yet be considered very
grave or serious. There had been some victims undoubtedly,
but they were not many. Yet the attentive observer could
discern from the different circumstances of the struggle, and
FRA
History, from the manner in which it had been conducted, that it
would have serious results. It was the people, the real
1848. veritable downright people, the very sinew, muscle, brawn,
and bone of Paris, which everywhere began the encounter.
All other classes held themselves aloof, and counselled sub¬
mission, but the people would not submit. Wherever the
uniform of the abhorred municipal guards was perceived, it
was observed the struggle at once furiously commenced. As
the municipals spread themselves far and wide, the encounter
became general, vehement, ruthless, sanguinary, almost sa¬
vage. The second day, Feb. 23, was more fruitful of incidents
and results than the 22d. The people showed themselves
everywhere with aspects more grave and sombre, daring
and determined. New barricades were raised in all the
narrow steets in which the working people lived—streets
wholly inaccessible to cavalry, and in which a much more
murderous struggle commenced than had been witnessed
the day before. General Jacqueminot had boasted the day
previously that he was sure of the National Guard, and
counting on that force with certainty, had not summoned it.
It was, however, at length irregularly convoked by the orders
of mayors, chefs de battaillon, and captains; and when it
assembled, some scores of National Guards cried “ Vive la
Reforme ! ” In an instant the cry became general and uni¬
versal in the ranks, and was shouted almost electrically from
every throat. “Vive la Reforme!” was now the rallying
word sped from mouth to mouth. Behind the barricades the
people shouted “Vive la Reforme!” and before the barri¬
cades, in presence of the army, the National Guard, marching
in compact order, shouted the same cry. The army appeared
stricken and palsied with a sudden stupor. The officers
hesitated—the troops faltered—and it was already plain
they would not attack the National Guard as a band of in¬
surgents. Could they attack the men behind, who wished
what the National Guard wished, and uttered precisely the
same cry, “Vive la Reforme! abas les ministres!” The
army and the National Guard remained inactive and passive ;
the municipal guard, however, never hesitated or faltered
for a moment. Detested by the people, even more than
the Swiss in the time of Charles X., and well aware of
the abhorrence in which it was held, the municipal
guard for a while spared no citizen. But very soon the Na¬
tional Guard got between them and the people, and forced
them to give in. As the insurrection extended, it became
more and more successful. Everywhere the words “Vive la
Reforme! abas les ministres!” were understood, pronounced,
and accepted with electrical enthusiasm. These undoubted
facts at length reached the king’s ears. Till this moment
Louis Philippe had no idea of the state of public opinion.
When told that the Garde Nationale was for reform, and
the bourgeoisie against the government, he received the
intimation of an undoubted fact with a smile of easy incre¬
dulity.
To the peers, deputies, generals, and officials, who flocked
to the Tuileries, the king put but one question. Could it
be true—could it be possible—that the National Guard had
made common cause with Thiers, Barrot, the National,
and the agitators for reform ? The mournful, hopeless looks
of peers, deputies, generals, and officials, betrayed the real
truth to the wondering yet still unconvinced monarch. In
this exigency M. Guizot arrived to tender his resignation.
Whether this resignation was then formally accepted, it is
impossible to know; but the news that it had been ac¬
cepted was immediately spread abroad, and was received as
a satisfaction to the popular wishes, and as a token of recon¬
ciliation between king and people. The resignation of M.
Guizot and Reform were now the words. The barricades
were vacated—the troops and the people shook hands and
fraternized. The people were victorious and content.
N C E. 235
Fhe Boulevards instantly began to swarm with people— History,
some armed—some unarmed, but all repeating the joyous v'——V'-—■'
news that blood had ceased to flow, and that peace w'as 1848.
happily restored. On hearing these words everywhere re¬
peated, old men, women, children, and the most peaceably
disposed bourgeoisie salliedforth to hallowthe evening which
put an end to cruel civil war. Illuminations in token of re¬
joicing were called for, and every one was preparing to obey
the call and to illuminate brilliantly. But the evening was
again to hear cries of civil war, and to witness internecine
strife. An immense crowd was passing along the Boulevards,
increased by thousands from the streets on either side, when,
all of a sudden, a shot fired by an unknown hand was heard
in the precincts of the ministry of Foreign Affairs, where
a detachment of infantry was stationed. Believing itself
attacked, this detachment fired on the crowd, and every
ball told with fatal effect on that compact, close-pressed,
unresisting multitude. Fifty mangled, bleeding, wounded,
groaning, and dying victims w'ere picked up at once. The
dying were carried to the neighbouring houses; the dead
were placed upon a tumbril, and this rude funereal car was
dragged by the people into the streets in which the insur¬
rection so lately raging had subsided.
The hearts of that immense crowd swelled wi^h emotions
of anger and the desire of vengeance, Words fail in paint¬
ing the effect produced on the multitude by the sight of
this heap of corpses exposed by torch-light, from whose open
wounds there trickled on the pavement bipod still warm.
Feelings of horror and indignation mixed in the minds of
the multitude with the desire of vengeance; yet no pne
could tell why this causeless carnage took place. It is sup¬
posed that a false alarm was given to the troops, that they
were seized with a sudden terror, or that an order hastily
given was misunderstpod, or that the troops conceived the
random shot fired was directed against them. The popu¬
lace, however, stopped not to inquire into the cause, fortui¬
tous or otherwise, of this deplorable catastrophe. In their
fury and vengeance, they only cried, “ abominable treach¬
ery, inhuman barbarity, thus to draw us out of the barri¬
cades and then to massacre us and shoot us down,” The
cortege of corpses passed down the Boulevards to the office
of the National. There an immense crowd, composed of
working men, of artisans, shopkeepers, and superior officers
of the National Guard, had already assembled. MM. de
Maleville and Arago also had hastened to the spot to hear
details from the editor. “ Alas!” said M. Marrast, “ after
w hat has already passed, there is but one cry—the cry for
vengeance. The people look upon the troop who fired as
the assassins of an unarmed population, and the government
can be no longer saved.” New barricades were now raised
at the extremity of every street, and the army, aware of
what occurred—the army who received neither orders to
advance nor to retreat—a prey to emotions of astonishment,
terror, and grief, allowed the construction of barricades
which commanded every position.
At daybreak on the 23d Raris was a vast battle-field. Paris 011
Behind the intrenchments and barricades hastily raised by t}ie
the people, were seen glistening weapons of every size and 1 ebruarv-
of every form. Vengeance, vengeance for the massacres,
for the murders committed under the windows of M. Guizot,
was the only cry. The men behind these barricades, says
M, Regnault,1 did not for a moment doubt that what oc¬
curred had been done by the order of the unpopular minister.
While the people were under this impression, the news
spread like wildfire that Marshal Bugeaud was appointed com- Marshal
mandant-general of all the military forces of Paris, and that Bugeaud
the powers of MM. Jacqueminot and Tiburce Sebastian! aPI)0inte<i
were united in his hands. The news was soon announced ml^der-in-
by placards, which were immediately torn down. General chief.
1 Histoire de Huit Ans, tom. iii., p. 406.
236
History.
1848.
Appoint¬
ment of M.
Bugeaud
revoked.
M. Thiers
sent for to
form a
Cabinet.
FRANCE.
M. Barrot
summoned.
Proclama¬
tion of
Barrot and
Thiers.
M. Barrot
explains
his procia
mation in
person.
24th
February
1848.
Bucreaud, said each man to his neighbour, is the pitiless man
of the Rue Transnonain. Such a selection could have but
one meaning. The king in placing plenary powers in M.
Buo-eaud’s hands announced that he was ready to go all the
lengths of a determined and desperate resistance. But a
couple of hours after having adopted this energetic resolu¬
tion, the king allowed himself to be persuaded that it was
better to tender the olive branch, better to offer peace than
war. His Majesty sent for M. Thiers, who hastened to re¬
spond to this proof of confidence. M. Mole had been sent
for an hour previously, but had not appeared. M. Thiers
was at first coldly received by Louis Philippe, but his Ma¬
jesty subsequently charged him with the formation of a Cabi¬
net, asking his opinion as to the strategetic plans of Marshal
Bugeaud. M. Thiers approved of the plans of the general,
but could not, he said, form a ministry without M. Barrot.
Circumstances,” said M. Thiers, “ imperiously require this
nomination.” At first the king could not believe he under¬
stood M. Thiers aright. When he heard the name of M.
Barrot pronounced, he exhibited a contemptuous impa¬
tience. “ To say that the people require reform,” said his
Majesty, is to repeat a mere casual coffee-house remark.
Turbulent demagogues may talk of reform, but the people
do not, indeed they are too sensible to require it.” M.
Thiers respectfully declining to enter any Cabinet of w hich
M. Barrot did not form a part, the king at length compre¬
hended that he must accept of M. Barrot.
M. Barrot was accordingly summoned, and on his ap¬
pearance showed himself much more difficult to treat v\ ith
than M. Thiers. The king was willing to take M. Barrot,
but M. Barrot could not wage war against an army of re¬
formers and command the massacre of men who cried \ i\c
la Reforme,” and with whom he had recently associated at
banquets and elsewdiere. He could not join Marshal Bu¬
geaud in attacking citizens with whom he had made com¬
mon cause. The king was then forced to yield to the im¬
perious necessity of his position.
A proclamation was immediately issued, signed by Odil-
lon Barrot and Thiers, stating that an order had been ghen
to the army to cease firing on the people; that Bariot ant
Thiers were charged by the king with the formation of a
ministry; that the Chamber would be dissolved; that Ge¬
neral Lamoriciere was commander-in-chief of the Nationa
Guard of Paris ; and that Odillon Barrot, Thiers, Lamori¬
ciere, and Duvergier d’Hauranne were ministers. I nc
proclamation concluded with these words Liberte. Cb-
dre ! Union l Rtforme ! The previous evening such a
proclamation as this would have calmed the most angrj
spirit; now it was too late, and M. Barrot deceived him¬
self in thinking it would produce any result. In fact,
the people did not believe in the sincerity of the king; and
his sudden conversion appeared to them a blind or a snare.
M. Barrot appeared himself on the Boulevards to explain
his proclamation to the crowd ; but the people answered that
the king had a more elastic conscience than the minister,
and that, having taken up arms, they would have something
better than promises—in a word, the dethronement of Louis
Philippe. 1
It was now the morning of the 24th of February, and the
royal family wTere assembled in the Gallery of Maria, wheie
breakfast was about to be served. MM. de Remusat and
Duvergier d’Hauranne were introduced by an officer of the
staff in attendance on the king. They came in all haste to
announce that on the Place de la Concorde they had seen
soldiers quitting their ranks and delivering up their arms.
The king rose and requested MM. de Remusat and Duver¬
gier to follow him into his private apartment. “ Sire, said
the queen, “ Montez <1 chevcd, and if necessary know how to
die. From the balcony of the Tuileries the eyes of your
wife and of your children will follow and speed you.” The History,
king left the room, presently re-appeared in military uni- k—'
form, descended into the courtyard, mounted a horse, 1848.
and passed some regiments in review. In the court of the
Tuileries there were among the troops two battalions of the
National Guards, and one of these received the king with
cries of “ Vive la Reforme.” The king instantly returned to
his apartments, dispirited and dismayed. The Tuileries were
soon filled with crowds of deputies of every shade of opinion,
of functionaries of every rank, all bearing the same intelli¬
gence. The only question now was as to abdication. The
word was at length pronounced in the hearing of the king;
and while somelfriendly voices encouraged him not to ab¬
dicate, sinister murmurs were heard on every side. Ihe
words il faut abdiquer were repeated, and it was added that
the Ecole Polytechnique were behind the bajricades ; that
the army had fraternized with the people, had delivered up
muskets and cartouches; and that the revolution was every¬
where victorious.
The queen alone boldly and firmly opposed the measure Conduct
of abdication. Her Majesty saw none of the perils of which of the
the advisers of the king spoke; nor did she for a momentqueen-
listen to their counsels. She cared not, she said, what was
said in or out of the Tuileries, but, in her estimate, revolu¬
tion was ever a crime, and abdication a cowardice. “ Sire,”
said the queen energetically, in conclusion, “ a king should
never lose his crown without making an effort to defend it.
Louis Philippe appeared for a moment to yield to these
strongly-felt, sincere, and sinewy words, and seemed waver¬
ing in his resolve, when fresh messengers brought more
fearful tidings. General Lamoriciere had been wounded, and
the insurrectionists, encountering no resistance, were now
actually attacking the last post which protected the Tuile¬
ries. The fusillade which thundered in the Carousel rever¬
berated in the chamber in which the king stood, and already
an armed multitude were entering the palace of the ancient
kings of France.
At this moment it was that the king, seizing a pen,
signed his act of abdication in the following words :
“ I abdicate the crown, which I held by the will of the Act of ag¬
nation, and which I accepted to restore peace and concord dication
among Frenchmen. Finding it impossible to accomplish®^.
this task, I leave the crown to my grandson, the Count of 1
Paris. May he be more fortunate than I have been.
“ Louis Philippe.”
A few minutes after this abdication was signed, the follow¬
ing placard was posted on the walls of Paris:
“ Citizens of Paris,—
“ The king abdicates in favour of the Count of Palis,
with the Duchess d’Orleans for regent.
“ A general amnesty.
“ A dissolution of the Chamber.
“ An appeal to the country.”
After having abdicated, Louis Philippe, taking the arm
of the queen, fled with her. A few minutes afterwards the
Duchess d’Orleans, who was no longer safe in the I uileries, rp^p
proceeded to the Place de la Concorde, and thence to the Duchess
Chamber of Deputies. As her royal highness was in the d Oilcan*
act of leaving the Tuileries the people wjere entering the
palace, and she had scarcely entered the Chamber of De¬
puties when the Chamber was invaded by the insurgents.
Madame d’Orleans, a stranger in France, scarcely known
by the people, had not a single enemy. Under ordinary
circumstances this good and amiable lady would have been
much more joyfully hailed as regent than the Duke de
Nemours. But who would confer on her the regency in
that alarming crisis ? “ Neither the king, who was a fugi¬
tive nor the people, who had just reconquered their sove¬
reignty.” Some individual Frenchmen, inspired by the best
Kegnault, Histoire de Huit Ans.
FRANCE.
History, motives, such as MM. Barrot, de Remusat, and Jules de
' Lasteyrie, were in favour of this course; but the more
1848. ardent leaders of the revolution, instead of abandoning the
care of their interests to a child, and an interesting and
benevolent lady who had as yet shown no special aptitude
for affairs of state, determined on constituting a provisional
government; and MM. Dupont de 1’Eure, Arago, de
Lamartine, Gamier Pages, Ledru Rollin, Marie, and Cre-
mieux, who were named by acclamation in the Chamber of
Deputies to form a government, repaired to the Hotel de
Ville. A few hours afterwards the republic was proclaimed.
The truth is, that none were prepared to accept the heavy
burden of affairs, with all their serious consequences, but
the republicans. Some of them had perhaps in the last
hours of the struggle precipitated the crisis, convinced
doubtless of the excellence of democratic institutions; but
the greater number, dragged along by the rush of events
with a kind of vague astonishment, had allowed themselves
to be carried along with the stream. When all shades of
the constitutional party had renounced the hope of form¬
ing a government—when every interest in the state, ap¬
palled by the danger of the situation, cried out for a govern¬
ment of some kind—there was no choice, there was no
possibility of anything but the republic or anarchy.
The provisional government did not for a moment hesi¬
tate, and wisely resolved to administer the only government
then possible—a republic.
Escape and The ex-king of the French, accompanied by the queen,
flight of escaped through the garden of the Tuileries, and arrived at
the king. tjie gaje which opens upon the Place de la Concorde. The
royal carriages were not at the obelisk to receive the party,
and the square was occupied by a crowd of armed men,
exasperated by the conduct of the municipal guards. The
crowd, notwithstanding its excitement, commiserated the
misfortunes of the man, and saw in him, not a king, but a
fugitive. Every one cried, “ Let him go—let him escape.”
This was now somewhat difficult, as the king’s carriages
had been seized by the people on the Place du Carousel, and
committed to the flames. Two small one-horse carriages
and a cabriolet at length arrived. Into these vehicles fifteen
personages, comprising the ex-king and queen, were closely
packed, and the cavalcade drove off, under the protection of
a regiment of cavalry, to St Cloud. There the ex-king did
not long remain, as he was not in safety. General Dumas
now procured two public carriages, which transported the
fugitives to Trianon. The ex-king intended to journey to
Eu, but he had hurried from the Tuileries, leaving a sum
of 330,000 francs in bank notes in his cabinet, and was
without ready money. The purse of the queen contained
but a few gold pieces, and the other members of the royal
family were not better provided. General Dumas pro¬
ceeded to Versailles, borrowed 1200 francs of a friend, and
hired two berlines. Into these carriages the king and
queen, passing under the names of Monsieur and Madame
Lebrun, with the Prince of Saxe-Coburg, the Princess Cle¬
mentine, and the Princess Marguerite, daughter of the Duke
de Nemours, the Duke de Montpensier, the Duchess de
Nemours, and their suite, entered and drove towards the
chateau de Dreux, the burial place of the House of Orleans,
where the ex-queen wished to weep and pray over the
tomb of her eldest son.
Having passed the night of the 24th at the Chateau de
Dreux, on the morning of the 25th Louis Philippe learned
that the republic had been proclaimed.
The king now resolved to gain the coast of England.
The Duke de Montpensier, the Duchess de Nemours, and
her two sons, proceeded in the direction of Granville,
fhe king, the queen, and M. de Rumigny proceeded on
the road to Evreux, and stopped towards nightfall at the
gates of a small chateau, the property of an agent of the
king. The agent with all his family were absent, but a farmer
237
opened the gates to his unknown guests. Soon after History,
the master of the chateau arrived, and by his aid the king ^
escaped to Harfleur, suffering much both physically and 1848.
mentally. The weather was cold and wretched; a north¬
west wind blew with uncommon violence, and the ex-king
was obliged to travel 24 leagues without changing horses
or taking any repose. At eight o’clock on the 26th Feb¬
ruary Louis Philippe arrived at Harfleur ; and after many
hair-breadth escapes and fruitless efforts to set sail from
Trouville, the English vice-consul at Havre at length suc¬
ceeded in placing at the disposal of his ex-Majesty the
Express packet boat. On the 2d March, in the evening,
the king and queen embarked at Harfleur for Havre on board
the ordinary packet boat among a crowd of ordinary pas¬
sengers. The king, wrapped in a large cloak, had a passport
in the name of William Smith. The English consul re¬
ceived the ex-king at Havre, and conducted him on board
the Express, which at once put to sea.
On the 3d March the ex-king arrived at Newhaven, Arrival of
and on the 4th at Claremont. It must be stated to the Louis
credit of the provisional government that it by every means Philippe ia
in its power sought to favour the escape of the dis- England,
crowned monarch. The only orders given by the govern¬
ment were that, in case he was arrested, he should be safely
conducted to the frontier. On the day following the
revolution, when the republic had been only proclaimed
in three or four towns, Frenchmen had ceased to speak
of the old king, of his grandson, or of the regent. At
the very moment when the ex-king was assuming a false
name, adopting a false passport, and thinking his life
menaced, and covering himself with all manner of dis¬
guises, the provisional government was only anxious to
know the quarter to which he had directed his steps, not
to retain him as a prisoner, or to demand of him a severe
account of his eighteen years’ state stewardship, but to
facilitate and protect his departure from a country that had
cast him off.
Louis Philippe prided himself on having destroyed the
good understanding between public men of eminence—
having made them eager rivals and jealous enemies by
the allurements of office; and on having founded on the
destruction of parliamentary leagues his personal system.
His grand merit, no doubt, was in having so long main¬
tained the peace of the world. But peace was more than
once maintained at the expense of the dignity of France in
her relations with other courts. This timid policy suited
the position and temporizing character of the man, and,
for a time, found favour with the middle classes, on whose
support the monarch mainly relied. I he bourgeoisie a.xu\
middle classes of France have many valuable qualities—
industry and a love of labour, respect for the law, and
a hatred of fanaticism. They are frugal, social, and,
though vain, of easy and enjoyable dispositions. But
they want elevation of character, they take neither large nor
broad views, but are governed by contracted ideas. Louis
Philippe did not himself rise much above the level of this
class, a class which he did not seek to elevate, or to inspire
with better instincts than the desire to get rich, and to get
rich speedily. On the foundation of this universal selfish¬
ness there arose an organized system of corruption and
cupidity, which sapped and undermined public and private
virtue.
The great and fatal mistake of the king was in attempt¬
ing to govern as well as to reign—to be not only the king
but the minister of France. At home, as well as abroad,
this led to a system purely personal, and the honour of the
country and its great interests were sacrificed to considera¬
tions exclusively dynastic. Louis Philippe had only one end
and object in view, and that was to consolidate the dynasty
of Orleans. The means by which he sought to attain this
end were the most vulgar and common-place. Bourgeois
238 FRA
History, in heart, citizen in mind, in tone of thought, and in habits,
v—^ Louis Philippe looked only to his own narrow interests,
1848. and these he pursued in a tricky and huckstering spirit.
He was a lover of peace, not so much from any higher
principle, as from the apprehension that war would put to
hazard his dynasty, and thwart his projects for the aggran¬
disement of his house. In pursuing his selfish schemes
he cared little for the national honour. The question of
advantage was ever with him above the question of honour ;
and for a most narrow and miserable view of what he deemed
his family interest he lost, and ruined himself by losing,
the English alliance. His personal policy and views were
carried into the affairs of state. His object was in the
government of France to cause what are called material
interests to preponderate over the highest considerations
of national policy. With this view he encouraged all manner
of speculations. He effected a great deal of good in ex¬
tending canals, in the building of bridges, in the opening
of new means of communication, and also in improving and
beautifying Paris : but he encouraged other speculations of
a more questionable character, which injured the finances
and burdened the resources of the state. Corruption dur¬
ing the eighteen years of his reign became more and more
prevalent, as the taste for luxuries and material enjoyments
increased.
The personal character of the monarch had much influ¬
ence on the politicians around him. It had the effect of
rendering public men more servile, insincere, and dishonest.
The king wished to rule and govern everybody, even his
ministers, so fond was he of exercising influence ; and to
please the monarch, more than one minister gave in to his
personal views. The desire of the king to dominate and
govern all was the less extraordinary, as he was by nature
laborious, systematic, and self-willed even to obstinacy.
He conceived that his good fortune and his success in life
were altogether owing to his own efforts, talents, and wis¬
dom, and that nobody was so capable of conducting affairs
as himself. “ Where is the experience,” he was wont to
say, “ comparable to mine ? Who has witnessed more start¬
ling and strange events, or come into contact with a greater
number of men ?”
But though Louis Philippe was self-willed and obstinate,
he was not a man of firm resolve. Restless, uncertain, and
undecided, when he encountered great obstacles he sometimes
timidly yielded positions for which he had long struggled, and
positions which, had he had firmness and moral courage, he
might have long held. No man so much encouraged and
sustained M. Guizot in resistance to reform as the king
himself, but at the decisive moment when it was necessary
to show resolution and energy, the spirit of the king faltered,
and his cause was lost. To do his minister justice, M. Guizot
never faltered or failed to the end.
The leisure the ex-king enjoyed at Claremont he em¬
ployed in writing his memoirs. To Frenchmen who visited
him he was garrulous in the extreme, but to none did he
ever admit that he was in the wrong. The world did not
comprehend his frankness, his disinterestedness ; and kings
and people, he maintained, were equally ungrateful in his
estimation. The ex-monarch did not long survive his fall.
In the early part of 1849, feeling himself ill, he removed to
Richmond ; but growing weaker, returned to Claremont in
March, where he died on the 26th of August 1849, in the
seventy-sixth year of his age.
After the revolution of February a provisional govern¬
ment assumed the direction of affairs till the appointment
N C E.
of a constituent assembly. This assembly proclaimed the History,
republic, and at first delegated power to an executive com-
mission. The assembly was invaded on the 15th May, but 1855.
order was again established. After the sanguinary events
of June 1848, the constituent assembly conferred supreme
power on General Cavaignac, who had acted so important
and so successful a part in the restoring of order. General
Cavaignac assumed the title of chief of the executive power,
and kept Paris in a state of siege, and his ministers intro¬
duced measures for the abolition of the national workshops,
and for supplying the ways and means required by the state.
The power of the press, which had been abused, was cur¬
tailed, and the intolerable tyranny of the clubs was checked
by the strong hand of this honest soldier. In the month of
August it was reported by a committee that Louis Blanc,
Ledru Rollin, and Caussidiere were implicated in the insur¬
rection of the preceding month. Louis Blanc and Caussi¬
diere escaped to England, and proceedings were commenced
against Ledru Rollin, but afterwards suspended.
After performing signal civil and military services, Gene¬
ral Cavaignac became a candidate for the presidency of the
republic, which he had faithfully and ably served. But
the Prince Louis Napoleon Bonaparte was elected on the
10th December 1848 by a much greater number of votes,
and Cavaignac retired, without stain and without reproach,
into private life. The constituent assembly, having run
its career, gave place to a legislative assembly, which,
harassed and distracted by a factious, intriguing, and per¬
sonal spirit, at length fell a victim to the coup d'etat of
the 2d December 1851. For about a year or more after
the coup d’etat the name of republic was still preserved.
But in the month of December 1852 the re-establishment
of the Empire was submitted to a plebiscate, which adopted
it by a large majority. Since the proclamation of the Em¬
pire public works have been commenced and continued on
a gigantic scale, and Paris has been greatly embellished
and improved.
Happily the good understanding between France and
England has not been interrupted by any of the changes
which have recently taken place ; and it is to be hoped that
the good feeling of the people of both countries, and a just
sense of their mutual interests, will more closely cement
and perpetuate the national alliance. France has with Eng¬
land determined to sustain the integrity of the Ottoman
Porte against the aggression of Russia. With a view to
accomplish this object war was declared by England and
France against Russia in 1854. Since that period the
Emperor of the French has visited England, where he was
greeted with the hearty acclamations of the people,
and received the cordial hospitality of the royal family
at Windsor; and the Queen of Great Britain in re¬
turn has visited her ally in Paris, where her Majesty was
enthusiastically received by all classes on the 18th August
1855.
The empire of France as it now exists is said to be based
on the sovereignty of the people and the great principles of
1789.1 The title of the chief of the state is Emperor of
the French by the grace of God and the National Will. The
crown is hereditary in the male line only, and by order of
primogenitm*e. The Emperor exercises legislative power
conjointly with the Senate, the corps legislatif, and the con-
seil d'etat. He is alone invested with the executive power,
is completely independent of the great powers in the state,
and enjoys all the prerogatives which ordinarily belong to
sovereignty.
1 Preamble of the Constitution of 1852.
239
FRANCE.
Chronological and Dynastic Table of the Monarchs of France from 418 to 1855 a.d.
Monarchs The kings of France which followed Pharamond are di-
0f France, vided into three races :—
First Race.— The Merovingians.
A.D.
Pharamond  418-430
Clodion  430-450
Merovee  451-457
Childeric 1  457-481
Clovis 1  481-511
Clodomir (at Orleans)  511-524
Thierry I. (at Metz)  511-534
Theodebert I. (at Metz)  534-548
Theodebald (at Metz)  548-555
Childebert I. (at Paris)  511-558
Clotaire I. (at Soissons 511-558)  558-561
Sigebert I. (in Austrasia)  561-575
Childebert II. (at first in Austrasia; in
Austrasia and Burgundy from 593), 575-596
Theodebert II. (in Austrasia)  596-612
Caribert I. (at Paris)  561-567
Gontran (Orleans and Burgundy)  561-593
Thierry II.(1st in Orleans; in Burgundy;
2d in Austrasia, 612)  596-613
Chilperic I. (at Soissons, 561) ; then at Paris  567-584
Clotaire II. (at first at Soissons, then alone)  584-628
Caribert II. (in Aquitaine)   628-631
Dagobert I. (in Austrasia, 622, at Soissons, 628,
then alone)  628-638
Sigebert II. (in Austrasia)  638-656
Clovis II. (Neustria and Burgundy)  638-656
Clotaire III. (Neustria and Burgundy)  656-670
Childeric II. (Austrasia 656-670); alone  670-673
Dagobert II. (Austrasia)  674-679
Thierry I. (or III.) Neustria 673-679); alone... 679-691
Clovis III  691-695
Childebert III  695-711
Dagobert II. (or III.)  711-715
Clotaire IV  717-719
Chilperic II   715-720
Thierry II. (or IV.)  720-737
Interregnum  737-742
Second Race.—The Carlovingians.
Pepin of Heristall (Duke of Austrasia).... 687-714
Theodoald  714-715
Charles-Martel  715-741
Carloman (abdicates)  741-746
Pepin, the Short {le Bref), with Carloman, 741;
(alone, 746) ; king of France   752-768
Carloman  768-771
Charlemagne (with Carloman, 768-771); alone 771-814
Louis I. (1,e Debonnaire)  814-840
Charles II., the Bald {le Chauve)  840-877
Louis II., the Stammerer {le Beque)  877-879
Louis III. and Carloman  879-882
Carloman (alone)  882-884
Charles III., the Fat {le Gros)  884-888
Eudes or Odon (1st Capetian king)  888-898
Charles III., the Simple {leSimple), proclaimed
king in 892, then alone after Eude’s death... 898-923
Robert I. (2d Capetian king)  922-923
Raoul (father of the Capetians)  923-936
Louis IV. (cfO«/re Afer)  936-954
Lothaire  954-986
Louis V., the Indolent {le Faineant)  986-987
Third Race.— The Capetians.
Hugues Capet  987-996
Robert II  996-1031
A.D.
Henri 1  1031—1060 Monarchs
Philippe 1  1060-1108 of ^nce.
Louis VI., the Fat {le Gros)  1108-1137
Louis VIL, the Young {le Jeune)  1137-1180
Philippe II. {Auguste)   1180-1223
Louis VIII., the Lion {le Lion)  1223-1226
Louis IX., or Saint Louis  1226-1270
I. Elder Line or Philippine.
Philippe III., the Hardy {le Hardi)  1270-1285
1. The Elder Branch.
Philippe IV., the Handsome {le Bel)  1285-1314
Louis X., the Headstrong {le Rutin)  1314-1316
Jean (the Posthumous son of Louis X  1316
Philippe V., the Tall, (brother of Louis X.)... 1316-1322
Charles IV., the Handsome {le Bel)  1322-1328
2. The Younger Branch, or de Valois (issue of Philippe III., by
Charles de Valois, father of Philippe VI.)
Philippe VI. (de Valois)  1328-1350
Jean II., the Good {le Bon).,  1350-1364
Charles V., the Wise {le Sage),  1364-1380
(a.) The Elder shoot of the Valois Branch.
Charles VI., the Beloved {le Bien-Aime)  1380-1422
Charles VIL, the Victorious  1422-1461
Louis XL (detested for his cruelties)   1461-1483
Charles VIII    1483-1498
(6.) The Younger shoot of the Valois Branch, or Valois-Orleans {issue
of Charles V., by Louis Duke of Orleans, his second son.)
{Primogeniture, Orleans-Orleans {issue of Charles Duke of
■ Orleans, eldest son of Louis d,Orleans.)
Louis XII     1498-1515
{Secundogeniture, Orleans-Angouleme {issue of Jean Comte
d'AngouUme, second son of Louis Duke of Orleans.)
Francois I     1515-1547
Henri II    1547-1559
Francois II    1559-1560
Charles IX     1560—1574
Henry III  1574-1589
II. Younger or Robertine Line, or House of Bourbon {issue of Robert
of Clermont, ninth son of Saint Louis, and brother of Philippe
in.)
Henri IV  1589-1610
Louis XIII., the Just  1610-1643
1. The Elder Branch of the Bourbon line.
Louis XIV., the Great  1643-1715
Louis XV., the Wellbeloved  1715-1774
Louis XVI  1774-1793
Louis XVII. (never reigned, but died in prison) 1793-1 795
Republic (proclaimed September 21).... 1792-1804
Convention  1792-1794
Directoire  1794-1799
Consulat (Bonaparte first Consul, then
consul for life)  1799-1804
Empire (Napoleon Bonaparte, called Na¬
poleon I. Emperor of the French, &c.) 1804-1814
Louis XVIII  1814-1824
Napoleon I. (for the second time from March
20 till June 24) 1  1815
Charles X  1824-1830
2. The Younger Branch of the House of Bourbon, or House of Orleans
{issue of Philippe second son of Louis XIII., and brother of
Louis XIV.)
Louis-Philippe 1  1830-1848
Republic  1848-1852
Napoleon III. (Emperor of the French.)
On December 18, 1852, the succession in default of issue from
the Emperor was settled in favour of Prince Jerome Napo¬
leon and his heirs-male.
1 Napoleon II. (?) was Napoleon-Joseph, son of Bonaparte and Maria Louisa Archduchess of Austria, born March 20,1811; but though
he never reigned nor was acknowledged, yet Napoleon III. designated him Napoleon II. for the sake of continuing the dynasty.
240
FRANCE.
Statistics.
Surface.
Rivers.
II. STATISTICS OF THE FRENCH EMPIRE IN 1855.
As many of the statistical statements are given in French measures of value, a table is inserted at the end of the article, by a reference
to which the English equivalents will be easily ascertained.
I. SITUATION AND EXTENT, FACE OF THE COUNTRY,
CLIMATE AND SOIL.
This important part of continental Europe extends from
the forty-third to the fifty-first degree of north latitude,
and from longitude 8. 25. E., to longitude 4. 43. W. The
greatest length of France, exceeding 665 miles, is from
east to west—from Alsace to Brittany, which projects
into the Atlantic like a wedge, and without which France
would approach in form to a square. Its breadth from
north to south is about 576 miles ; and its superficial extent,
as stated in the Statistique de la France, is 52,768,618
hectares, equal to 204,355 square miles, or 130,787,160
English acres—’nearly twice the total area of the British isles.
Though in point of extent of coast and ready access from
the interior to the sea, France is far inferior to Great Britain
and Ireland, she is, on the other hand, more fortunate in
these respects than the vast inland territories of Austria
and Russia. She has the advantage over these countries
likewise in strength of natural barriers, the Pyrenees form¬
ing a great bulwark on the south-west, the Alps on the
south-east, and the Jura and the Vosges Mountains on the
east. The Belgian is the only open part of the frontier.
The surface of France exhibits, in general, an advan¬
tageous succession of high and low ground. Less level
than Poland, the north of Germany, or the greater part of
European Russia, it is, on the whole, less mountainous than
Spain or Italy, and may with great propriety be compared
to England, with this distinction, that whilst in the latter
the mountainous tracts are in the north and west, in France
they are in the south and east. Passing over the lofty
ridges which form the frontier line of France on the side of
the Pyrenees, the Alps, the Jura, the Vosges, and confin¬
ing our attention to the interior, we find throughout Flan¬
ders, Picardy, Normandy, and the countries to the north
and south of the Loire, a level tract, diversified occa¬
sionally by hills, either insulated or in succession, but by
none of the massy elevations entitled to the name of moun¬
tains. These we do not meet until reaching the south of
Champagne and north of Burgundy, near the sources of the
Meuse, the Moselle, the Saone, and the Seine, from this
bleak quarter (Lat. 47. and 48.) a very long range of mountains
proceeds from north to south in a direction parallel to the
course, first of the Saone, and subsequently ol the Rhone,
until, on approaching the Mediterranean, they branch off to
the south-west and join the Pyrenees. Their greatest height
is in Auvergne (about Lat. 45.), where this chain, or more
properly a lateral branch of it, attains, at the mountains
called Cantal and P’uy-de-Dome, an elevation of fully 6355
feet, and has its highest ridge covered with snow during the
greater part of the year. Another, but a much less lofty
range, extends from Bordeaux to the south-east, a distance
of 150 miles, until it reaches the Pyrenees. The smaller
chains are numerous in the east and south-east of the king¬
dom—in Lorraine, the Nivernois, Dauphine, Provence ;
also in part of the interior, particularly the Limousin and
Guienne. They are interspersed with extensive plains, but,
on the whole, the south and east of France are rugged and
elevated tracts, and may be said to be to that country what
Wales and Scotland are to Great Britain.
The course of the great rivers is easily connected with
this view of the surface of the territory of France. The
Moselle, the Meuse, the Marne, the Aube, the Seine, the
Yonne, taking their rise on the northern side of the moun¬
tain chain, between Lat. 47. and 48., flow all to the north or Statistics,
north-west, until reaching the sea, or quitting the territory
of France. From the southern slope of the same range
proceed the Saone, the Doubs, and the Ain. These, along
with many smaller streams, are all received by the Rhone,
which flows almost due south, with a full and rapid current,
until it reaches the Mediterranean. The Loire has much
the longest course of any river in France. It rises to the
southward of Lat. 45., flows in a northerly direction above
200 miles; turns, near Orleans, to the west, is joined by
the Cher, Indre, and Vienne from the south, and, after re¬
ceiving the Sarthe from the north, falls into the Atlantic
below Nantes. The Garonne, a river of less length of
course, but of a greater volume of water, descends from the
French side of the Pyrenees, flows northward, and, after
receiving from these mountains a number of tributary
streams, of which the chief is the Arriege, turns to the west¬
ward near Montauban (Lat. 44.), and falls into the Atlantic
after being augmented by the waters of the Tarn, Aveyron,
Lot, and finally the Dordogne, all flowing from the western
face of the mountains of Auvergne.
France has very few lakes, either in the mountainous
districts of the south, or in the great levels of the north and
west. It contains, however, a number of maritime inlets,
forming inland bays, and communicating with the sea only7
by a channel of greater or less width. These occur partly
on the south-west coast, in Gascony ; but more in the south
and south-east, in Languedoc and Provence. Their want
of depth prevents them from serving as roadsteads for ship¬
ping, and they are useful chiefly for fishing, or for the ma¬
nufacture of bay-salt.
France has much less of artificial or ornamental planta- Forests,
tion than England, and much more of natural forest, the
total extent of ground covered by wood being computed at
seventeen millions of acres, or one-eighth of the territorial
surface of the kingdom. Forests are found in almost every
department. Lower Normandy contains several of con¬
siderable extent. There is a large one at Fontainebleau, only
forty-five miles from Paris; and a larger one to the north
of the Loire, in the vicinity of Orleans. Those situated in
the neighbourhood of the sea, or of navigable rivers, or of
great works, such as glass-houses and iron-foundries, have
long been subjected to an improvident consumption, which
is likely to be increased by the still heavy though reduced
duties imposed on foreign coal, and by the undue encourage¬
ments given to the smelting of iron by the heavy duties
which were in 1814 and in 1822 laid on the importation of
foreign iron ; so that at present the principal forests are at
a distance inland, particularly in the east, in the department
of Ardennes, and in the long mountainous tract that forms
the boundary of France on the side of Switzerland.
The want of ornamental plantations, and still more the Scenery,
almost total want of hedges, makes a great deduction from
the beauty of scenery in France, and deprives the country
of the cheerful aspect so striking in England. The nearest
approach to the latter is seen in travelling through the fresh
pastures and gentle eminences of Normandy. Of the other
provinces, some, like Picardy, Champagne, Poitou, consist
of wide uninteresting levels; whilst others, such as Au¬
vergne, part of Upper Languedoc, and the vicinity of the
Alps and Pyrenees, contain a bold but bleak scenery. The
most beautiful and picturesque views are to be found in the
Limousin, or on the borders of the great rivers. The banks
of the Loire from Orleans westward are proverbially
Statistics, beautiful. The Rhone, bordered bj7 mountains, has generally
a bold, and occasionally a wild aspect. The Seine, equally
wide, but much more tranquil, flows through a district ver¬
dant but less pictui'esque.
Climate. In a country ot so great extent and of such diversified
surface as trance, it is difficult to condense a description of
the climate under a few comprehensive heads. The most
natural division is into the north, south, and central regions.
The north, comprehending Flanders, Picardy, Normandy,
Brittany, and in general all that part of France which would
be bounded on the south by a diagonal line from Lat. 47.
on the west to Lat. 49. on the east frontier, bears a great
resemblance, both in temperature and produce, to the south
of England, rain occurring frequently, and the country being
consequently fit for pasture. There, as with us, tlie pre¬
dominant culture is wheat, barley, oats, rye, and such fruit
as apples, pears, cherries; also hemp, flax, rapeseed. It is
here only in France, that the natural pastures are rich
and extensive ; here also the species of wood, oak, ash,
elm, bear a close resemblance to ours. The central region
may be said to comprehend the country to the south of the
Loire, or rather of the diagonal line we have mentioned,
until reaching a similar line in Lat. 45. on the west and 47.
on the east frontier. Here, with the exception of the moun¬
tainous parts, the winter is sensibly shorter and milder.
Wheat, barley, oats, and rye, are still cultivated, but maize
begins to appear, and vines become general. The weather
in this great inland tract is much more steady than in the
north. In the summer months there is little rain, and storms,
when they occur, are frequently accompanied with hail; but,
on the whole, the temperature is perhaps the most pleasant
in France, being exempt equally from the oppressive heat
of the south and the frequent humidity of the north. The
third region, comprehending the whole breadth of the French
territory from Lat. 45. and 46. to Lat. 43., and in some parts
to 42. 30., approaches in climate to the heat of Spain and
Italy, rendering it necessary in the summer to suspend
all active exertion during the middle of the day, and to re¬
serve it for the morning and evening. A shaded situation
is here the desideratum for a dwelling, and a supply of water
for agriculture. In this region the heat invariably pro¬
duces an exuberant crop where irrigation can be applied;
hence the frequency of wells, which are generally worked
by a wheel and some rude machinery. Wheat is partially
cultivated ; barley, oats, and rye only on the high grounds ;
maize is very general, and vines supply not only the main
article of export, but the usual drink of the inhabitants.
The common fruits are olives and mulberries, and, in a few
very warm situations, oranges and lemons. Pasturage is
good only on mountainous or irrigated tracts. To pulmonic
invalids the climate may be advantageous, but in this re¬
spect also material distinctions occur from locality, the win¬
ter in the south-east of France being at intervals very cold1,
from the vent de bise, a piercing wind that blows from the
Alps and the mountains of Auvergne. Here, notwithstand¬
ing the latitude, the cold of winter is intense.
Brittany, projecting into the Atlantic, is as rainy as Ire¬
land or Cornwall. Normandy, with part of Picardy and
French Flanders, may be compared to our inland counties.
In the interior of France the rains are less frequent, but far
more heavy; so that there is much less difference in the
quantity of rain that falls in the course of the year than in
the number of rainy days. The atmosphere of France is
much less cloudy than that of Britain. The most frequent
wind in the north of France, as in Great Britain and Ireland,
is the south-west; it prevails also, but to a less degree,
in the central part of the kingdom. In the south of France
the more common winds are from the north.
. 1 he difference of temperature between London and Paris
is not considerable, nor is the degree of heat found to be
intense along the west coast of France, until reaching or
vol. x.
241
In the interior it is much more per- Statistics,
ceptible, being strongly felt at Lyon, Bordeaux, Toulouse,
and still more in the latitude of Nimes, Aix, Marseilles,
and loulon. On the whole, the variations of climate be¬
tween the north and south of France are considerably greater
than between the north and south of Britain, where the
effect of difference of latitude is so much modified by the
vicinity of the sea, and where no such variation is known
as the very material one indicated by the diagonal line from
east to west, the latter being two degrees colder in conse¬
quence of the breezes and vapours of the Atlantic.
The harvest begins in the north of France between the
20th and 25th July, in the central part about the middle
of that month, in the south about the end of June. Sep¬
tember and October are the months of vintage. The great
hazard to the corn of the central part of the kingdom arises
from violent storms of rain and hail; in the south, from the
want of rain in spring. In winter the vent de bise often
proves destructive to the olives. The great heats are in
July, August, and September; a time of much annoyance
in the south of France, from mosquitoes, gnats, flies, and
other insects; whilst even scorpions are found in that warm
latitude.
I o exhibit a classification of the different kinds of soil is Soil,
a task of difficulty in any extensive country, and in none
more so than in France, where a striking difference prevails,
not only in contiguous departments, but in adjacent dis¬
tricts of the same department. In Flanders, Picardy, Ar¬
tois, Normandy, and the Pays de Beauce, a fertile tract to
the south of Paris, the soil consists frequently of a loamy
mould; in the central and southern parts of the kingdom it
is often lighter; whilst the greater part of Brittany, and of
the departments along the western coast, have a heathy
soil, naturally unproductive, but capable of considerable
improvement. But these collective estimates are liable to
great deductions; and the attempts made by Arthur Young
and other statistical writers to calculate the proportion of
the different descriptions of soil, whether loam, heath, chalk,
gravel, or the like, are considered by the French as far from
successful; even the more systematic effort made by their
own government, in the beginning of this century, to com¬
pute the value of land by masses de culture, that is, by
classing all kindred soils under one head, proved altogether
abortive. We shall forbear, therefore, all such vague cal¬
culations, and proceed to state the value of annual produce
in the different departments, endeavouring to class the
latter in lots, according to their position and relative pro¬
ductiveness.
Average annual income of the various departments of
France, computed by the English acre, and in sterling
money, taking the words “ annual income” in the most
extensive sense, as including the rent of land, the farmer’s
profit, and the rent of houses in towns.—(Chaptal, De
VIndustrie Francjaise, vol. i., p. 209.)
The fertility and high state of cultivation of French North and
Flanders, and the near approach made to it by part of Nor- north-east
mandy and Picardy, are apparent from the following returns. of * rance.
The chief objects of culture there, as in England, are wheat,
oats, barley, and rye; the pasturages are extensive; the
horses, cattle, and sheep are numerous.
Nord (French Flan- Somme  15g. 6d.
ders) 23s. 4d. Pas de Calais  15s. 6d.
Seine Inferieure 22s. lOd. Manche 13s. 8d.
Calvados 18s. 6d. Eure  13S. 7<i.
The inland province, called formerly, from the rivers
along its circumference, the Isle of France, comes next in
the list of relative productiveness. The objects of culture
are similar to those of Flanders and Normandy, viz., wheat,
2 H
FRANCE.
242
FRANCE.
The following, situated to the south and west of the Statistics,
above, are all poor and thinly peopled. v 7
Cantal  5*- 2d. Correze  4s 3d.
Aveyron  4s. lOd. Lozere 3s. 8d.
Haute Vienne 4s. 4d. _ Crease  3s. 5d..
Hprp we attain a more genial climate, and a country in South-east
mts. There the average return is stated at 72s. yd. adapted to the growth of the vine. But a great division of
> pHf "ct (Dauphfne and Upper Languedoc) is —
mountainous; and the export of wine is consequently at¬
tended with much more difficulty than along the banks of
the Garonne. Wheat, maize, and silk, are the other prin¬
cipal products.
Rhone (including Bouches du Rhdne ...8s
Lyon)  13s. 3d. Card  8s
Vaucluse  10s- ®d. Isere  s
yar   9s. Id. Aude  
France.
Statistics, oats, and barley; but the pasturages are less rich and ex-
tensive.
Seine et Oise 17s. 3d. Oise 13s. 6d.
Seine et Marne 13s. 7d.
The district around Paris forms the centre of the above
departments. There the average return is stated at /2s. 9d
per acre ; bu.
a peculiar case, we proceed to the next great division ot
open country.1 _
Alsace, though in some parts mountainous, is in others
level and fertile, particularly adapted tc pasture and the cul¬
ture of wheat.
Bas Rhin 14s. 3d. Haut Rhin 12s. 6d.
Brittany has in several parts good pasturage, and a soil
adapted to the culture of wheat. Many other parts, how¬
ever, consist of unproductive heaths. The general back¬
wardness and poverty of the province are but too strikingly
exemplified by the following return :
life et Vilaine  8s. lOd. Morhihan 6s. 8d.
Loire Inferieure 8s. Od. Finisterre 6s. 8d.
Cotes du Nord 7s. 7d.
Central Here are also extensive landes or heaths. Vines are par-
division of tially cultivated, but the general produce consists of wheat,
oats, barley. The pastures are extensive, though less rich
than in Normandy.
Eure et Loire  10s. 4d. Mayenne 8s. 3d.
Orne   9s. 7d. Loiret 8s. Od.
Maine et Loire  9s. 6d. Indreet Loire 7s. 2d.
Sarthe   9s. 5d.
Of this great tract parts are level and parts are mountain¬
ous. The climate, though in general steady, is very different
in its degree of warmth, according to the elevation of the
^nd ".art f gi’0^nd- Hence a considerable discrepancy in the relative
Burgundy, fitness for pasture, for corn culture, or for vineyards. Un¬
luckily the water communication is limited, there being
few canals, and the rivers being too near their source to be
navigable.
Aime  12s. Od.
Haute Saone  10s. 8d.
Sadne et Loire 10s. Od.
Jura  9s. Id.
Ain   8s. 8d.
Cote d’Or  8s. 3d.
The six following departments, similar to the above in
latitude, and not materially different in climate, are of veiy
inferior productiveness ; in some parts, from the mountain¬
ous nature of their surface ; in others, on account of exten¬
sive heaths, moors, marshes, and tracts of sand. The objects
of culture continue to be wheat, oats, and rye; vines and
maize are raised in the warmest exposures.
Loir etCher  6s. 9d. Allier  6s. Od.
Nievre 5s. 8d. Cher 4s. 3d.
Vienne 5s. Id. Indre  4s. Id.
Lorraine is a mountainous country, containing extensive
tracts of sheep pasture. Its chief agricultural products are
oats and wheat.
Meurthe 8s. Od.
Ardennes 5s. 8d.
lid.
lOd.
2d.
8d.
Od.
7d.
Cham-
jmgne,
Franche
Conite,
Tarn et Garonne 13s,
Lot et Garonne Hs.
Gironde (including
Tarn Bordeaux) ...10s
Charente Inferi¬
eure 10s. 2d.
It remains that we notice
6d.
Aube  7 s. Od.
Yonne  7s. Od.
Doubs  7s. Od.
Marne  6s. lOd.
Haute Marne  5s. 8d.
Herault   9s. Id. Dr6me 5s. lid.
Of the following ten departments, some are indebted for South-west
the amount of their return to the extent of their vintage, division,
which necessarily varies, and which, for the last five or six
years, owing to the vine disease, has been singularly unpro¬
ductive ; others to their productiveness in wheat or maize.
In pasture or in cattle these departments are far from abun¬
dant.
Haute Garonne  10s. 2d.
Charente   8s. lid.
Tarn   8s. 4d.
Gers    7s. 8d.
Dordogne   7s. Od.
Lot  6s. 2d.
a few departments so particu- La Vendee
larly circumstanced as not to fall under any of the preced¬
ing heads. La Vendee, so peculiar in its surface, and not
likely to recover for ages the devastations of civil war, is
naturally fertile. Its products are wheat, oats, and, in the
warmer situations, maize.
Deux Sevres  8s. Od. Vendee 6s. 8d.
Three-fourths of this department consist of sandy downs; Lands m
the remainder produces maize, wheat, and vines; but t le
average annual produce is only 2s. Id. per acre. , ,
Here the degree of fertility becomes less and less as we Pyrenees,
approach to the elevated line which separates France from
Spain. This rugged region contains great tracts of pasture.
The corn raised is maize, wheat, oats, or barley, according
to the altitude and temperature of the district.
Basses Pyrenees 5s. 7d. Arriege ...^ 6s. Od.
Pyrenees Orientates....5s. 7d. Hautes Pyrenees  s.
Lastly comes the still more lofty barrier of France to the
south-east, the products of which are a little wheat in the
valleys ; and in the higher grounds pasture, with corn ot
the higher species.
Hautes Alpes   2s. Id. Basses Alpes   2s.
Od.
Moselle  8s.
Meuse    7s.
Vosges 6s.
7d.
6d.
3d.
Auvergne. This extensive province, and the departments to the
south and south-west, are in general mountainous, cold, con¬
sidering their latitude, and thinly peopled. Ihe chief pro¬
duct of the high grounds is rye. The best departments are
those of the
Ardeche 6s. 6d.
Haute Loire 6s. 2d.
Loire 8s, 4d.
Puy-de-Ddme 8s. Id.
IT. divisions, civil and ecclesiastical.
Nothing can be more simple and uniform than the tern-
torial divisions of France since the first Revolution. n Roman
stead of old provinces or counties, disproportioned in size, Catholic
and having frequently their chief town at one or other ot lleforme(
the extremities, the departments of France have almost al-audJewil
ways the capital in the centre, and, in their extent, appioxi
mate in a great degree to equality. Each department is
divided into three, four, five, or more arrondissements;
each arrondissement into seven, eight, or nine cantons,
and each canton into twelve, fifteen, or more communes.
The communes in France are nearly similar to pansies,
though they are constituted communes by having a civi
1 It should be observed that since
1851 and 1852 house rent has risen in many instances a third in the better localities, and in less
favoured quarters a fourth,"alifth^or a sixth, on the rents paid in 1830. In the manufacturing ^^^^“^ ^rVen per cent. It
such as Lyon, Rouen, Havre, &c., rent, always high, has augmented generally ten an in some lirofit and the rent of houses
should be observed generally that these averages can only be approximate, the rent of land, the farmers p ,
being uncertain and fluctuating.
FRANCE.
Statistics, instead of a clerical functionary. The numbers of each class
are as follows :—
Departments since the peace of 1814 (including Corsica)...86
Arrondissements   363
Cantons      2,847
Communes 36,835
A far different result this from the gigantic empire of
Bonaparte, which, after his latest acquisitions in 1810, ex¬
tended to Rome in the south, and to Hamburg and Liibeek
in the north, comprehending above 130 departments, and a
population of forty-four millions. But of all these splen¬
did conquests, none, with the exception of the Netherlands,
formed a substantial addition to the power of France. The
Italian provinces, separated by a vast natural barrier, were
inhabited by a people who bore the ascendency of their
northern neighbours only until circumstances should enable
them to throw off the yoke, and become incorporated into
one great and independent state; whilst the Germans, still
more distinct in habits and language from the French, were
indignant at their humiliation, and eager to rise with the
first appearance of foreign aid. Belgium alone had no na¬
tural barrier, no political attachment, to oppose to a union
with France.
The ecclesiastical division of France is into archbishoprics
and bishoprics. These, before the revolution, were nume¬
rous, there being eighteen archbishops and a hundred and
twelve bishops ; but as that great political change bore par¬
ticularly hard on the clergy, of whom, as of the noblesse,
the great majority were adherents of the Bourbons, the
number of prelates was reduced, first to eighty-five, and
eventually (in 1801) to fifty,—nine archbishops and forty-
one bishops. On the restoration of the Bourbons, mea¬
sures were taken to augment their number; and in 1817
a new concordat, concluded with the court of Rome,
announced the creation of nine additional archbishoprics
and thirty-three bishoprics, carrying the totals respectively
to eighteen and seventy-four. There are now (1855) fifteen
archbishops and sixty-five bishops of the Roman Catholic
faith. The eighty dioceses contain 3301 parishes, 28,201
chapels of ease, and 6486 vicarages. All religions are freely
professed in France, but only the Roman Catholic, Pro¬
testant, Jewish, and Mohammedan are acknowledged and
paid by the state. The Reformed and Jewish religions
have a considerable number of consistories. The number
of Roman Catholic clergy of every hierarchy and grade in
France is 40,000; or 50,000, if the pupils studying theo¬
logy in eighty-six seminaries and 120 secondary schools are
included. The Protestant (Lutherans) has 388 ministers,
the Reformed of the confession of Augsburg 387, total
775. There are 111 Jewish rabbis and one chief rabbi.
A further distribution of the French territory is into mili¬
tary divisions, or great districts, comprising four or five de¬
partments. Of these there are in the whole kingdom
twenty-two, each having a general of rank and a body of
officers stationed in a central town.
III. HARBOURS, NAVIGABLE RIVERS, CANALS, ROADS,
BRIDGES.
In this important point France is considerably inferior to
England, her long tract of coast washed by the Atlantic and
the Bay of Biscay being indifferently provided with sea¬
ports, and those on the southern shore of the channel form¬
ing a striking contrast to the spacious maritime inlets on
the English side. To begin from the north-east, Dun¬
kirk has a small harbour, but improved in the interior of the
town, approached on the Dutch plan by a canal leading
from the sea. Boulogne has a roadstead—which, however,
243
has been much deepened and improved—indebted for its Statistics,
celebrity under Bonaparte to the facility of giving protec-
tion, by land batteries near its entrance, to a numerous as¬
semblage of small craft. The port of Dieppe is exposed,
and of course unsuitable for winter; that of St Malo is
better; whilst Cherbourg, on which immense sums have
been expended, is now a port and arsenal of great utility
and importance to the imperial navy. On doubling the
projecting part of Brittany, we find, in the south-west of
that province, L’Orient. Brittany also possesses Brest,
the great maritime port of the Atlantic for the navy. Pro¬
ceeding further to the south, we find Rochefort, at La
Rochelle, a small but secure harbour, and at Bordeaux a
river nearly equal in width to the Thames at London. From
this there is no seaport until we reach Bayonne, a place of
no easy access. On the Mediterranean, France has the
ports of Cette and Marseilles, the latter spacious and se¬
cure, and the great maritime port, arsenal, and dockyard of
Toulon, which, with Cherbourg, Brest, L’Orient, Rochefort,
and Toulon, are called in ordinary parlance ports militaires.
Nantes, though a large commercial town, adjoins a shal¬
low part of the Loire, and vessels of burden are obliged to
load and unload at Paimbceuf. The great dockyards and
naval stations of the kingdom are at Brest and Toulon, both
excellent harbours, and at Rochefort, which is situated on
the river Charente, near its mouth. In all these the accom¬
modation for shipping is the gift of nature; but at Cher¬
bourg the case is very different, that port containing works,
of which the labour and expense (see the article Break¬
water, vol. v. p. 302) have been very great. Its roadstead,
extensive but open, has a sea-wall, affording protection from
the swell of the sea; and its spacious dock, excavated since
the beginning of this century, at an expense of L.3,000,000
sterling, is capable of containing fifty sail of the line. Le
Havre de Grace, the best mercantile harbour in the north
of France, has also been formed at a large expense.
The square form of France, favourable as it is for military Inland na-
defence, subjects the greater part of the country to the want vigation.
of those ready and economical means of transport by sea
which form the great physical advantage of Great Britain and
Ireland. Unluckily, this want is very imperfectly supplied
by the inland waters, canals being very little extended, and the
navigation of the great rivers subject to many obstructions ;
occurring in one part from rapidity, in another from shallow¬
ness ; at one season from drought, at another from overflow.
The application of steam to navigation has corrected in part
this most inconvenient tardiness; but the accommodation
which is afforded by the Loire in the interior, the Rhone
in the south, the Seine in the north, and the Garonne, with
its Canal du Languedoc in the south-west, is but a small
portion of what is furnished by our numerous intersections
in England, or of what is wanted for so extensive a terri¬
tory as that of France.
The Canal of Languedoc, or the Canal du Midi, as it is
now generally called, begun in the reign of Louis XIV.
and completed in the year 1668, was the first example in
Europe of inland navigation on a great scale. It is the
most stupendous undertaking of the sort that has been exe¬
cuted in France. Its general breadth is sixty feet, its
depth six and a half feet. It has 114 locks and sluices, and
in its highest part it is 600 feet above the level of the sea.
As a scientific work, it did honour to an age as yet little ad¬
vanced in engineering ; but in a pecuniary point of view it
was unproductive, the tolls never having paid the interest
of the very large sum (upwards of L.1,200,000 sterling)
expended upon it.1 The canal begins at Toulouse on the
Garonne, remounts the valley of the Lhers, traverses the
chain of the Monts Corbieres, which joins the Cevennes to
1 The cost of the canal was 17,000,000 francs, representing, according to M. Ernest Grangez (see Precis Historique et Statistique des
votes navigables, p. 404), according to the present value of money, a sum of 30,000,000 francs.
F RANG E.
244
Statistics, the Pyrenees, descends the valley of the A ude at Carca-
V J sonne, which it leaves at Ginestas to pass by Beziers, where
it traverses the river d’Orb. Passing through Herault above
and near Agde, it ends at 1’fitang de Thau, at the place
called le Port des Onglous. The navigation is however
continued to the port of Cette by the canal of Cette, and
thus the Atlantic and Mediterranean are united.
The canal of Briare is of earlier date, and of much less
extent. The object here was to open a navigation from
the Loire on the south to the Seine on the north, by a
canal running almost due north, a distance of forty miles.
It then receives from the west the canal of Orleans, com¬
menced in 1675, and proceeding also from the Loire;
after which the canal is continued to the north, under the
name of Canal de 1’Oing, till it reaches the Seine. This
canal was begun in 1605, in the reign of Henri IV., and
was completed in 1642, under Louis XIII. There are,
besides this great work, several other important and exten¬
sive canals in France. The Canal du Centre unites the
Saone and the Loire in the upper part of the course of the
latter. It is seventy-two English miles in length, and was
completed in 1791, at an expense of L.456,000. Its sum¬
mit level is about 240 feet above the level of the Loire at
Digoin. It has eighty-one locks, five and a half feet of
water, forty-eight of breadth at the water’s edge, and thirty
feet at the bottom. The canal of St Quentin, twenty-eight
English miles in length, was completed in 1810, but the
navigation was far from perfect. In 1826 the necessaiy
expenses to render the canal perfect were estimated at
4,000,000 francs. A concession of the canal was made to a
Sieur Honorez in 1827, for a period of twenty years. On
the 11th July 1847, the state entered into full and entire
possession of the line which it had conceded. It joins the
Scheldt and the Somme. The canal of Besan^on is exten¬
sive. It joins the Saone, and consequently the Rhone, to
the Rhine. From the Saone it stretches a little above St
Jean de Losne, byDole, Besanqon, and Mulhausen, to Stras¬
bourg, a distance of 200 miles, where it joins the Rhine. The
canal of Burgundy joins the Rhone to the Seine. This canal
was opened along its whole line in December 1832, by way
of trial, and in the past, year, 1854, it was completely opened.
The canal of the Ourcq was dug, not for a commercial pur¬
pose, but to convey the water of that little river to Paris, for
the consumption of the inhabitants. At a village called La
Villette, on the north side of Paris, there was some years ago
excavated, at the cost of a million sterling, a basin, ap¬
proaching in size to our London docks, and adapted, when
the necessary canals shall be completed, for the deposit of
merchandise brought from Havre and Rouen on the one side,
and from Flanders and Champagne on the other. In the south
of France there is a short canal proceeding from the Rhone,
near Tarascon, in a S.W. direction, to the Mediterranean,
called, from its vicinity to a well-known annual fair, Canal
de Beaucaire. This canal traverses a great extent of maish,
which it has had the effect of draining. This water-way
was opened to supply the imperfect navigation of the lessei
Rhone, and of the two canals by which the communication
from the Garonne to the Rhone was formerly carried on.
These are among the chief canals of France. In the year
1836 there were seventy-four canals, having a total length
of 3,699,913 metres, nearly equal to 2280 English miles.
But since then large sums have been allocated by the state
for canalization. In the fifteen years between the 12th July
1837, and the 28th March 1852, M. Ernest Grangez, chef-
de-bureau at the ministry of commerce and public works,
tells us that, for this purpose, extraordinary credits have
been taken for 241,936,361 francs. Of this sum 227,695,500
francs had been expended on 31st December 1853. In
1854, a credit of 8,000,000 francs had been granted.
The canalization of the Mayenne from Laval to Mayenne,
of the Vire from the Pont de Gourfaleur to Vire, of Reims
to the Marne, of Bouc to Martigues, from Caen to the sea, Statistics,
from the Charente to Marennes, from La Rochelle to Ma-
rans, and from Saint I hebault to the lateral canal of the
Loire, is in course of execution. But it is probable that
this improved mode of communication may be superseded
by the still greater improvement of the railroad, which had
to a considerable degree, engrossed the public attention in
France. There are, however, obstacles to the ptogiess of
these improvements, arising partly from the mode of manage¬
ment adopted, and partly also from the high price of the
materials required. All great works for the benefit of the
community at large, such as canals, railroads, docks, and
the like, are carried on at the expense, for the benefit, and
under the control of the government. Plans and estimates
must be made out and laid before the minister of the inte¬
rior, who refers them to other public functionaries, namely,
the prefect of the department, and afterwards to the bureau
des ponts et des chausse.es; and when all these persons are
satisfied, a public officer is then appointed to superintend
the work. This tedious official routine, through which all
public undertakings have to pass, tends to discourage indi¬
vidual enterprise, and accounts perhaps for the comparatively
few works of this description which have been undertaken in
France. The high price of iron, in consequence of the tax on
foreign iron, has likewise operated as a great discouragement
to the construction of railroads in France ; and thus we have
an additional illustration of the ruinous effects of this tax in
obstructing the domestic improvement of the country.
The great roads in France are managed, not, as with us, Roads,
by county commissioners, but by government bureaux or
boards, the chief of which are at Paris. These boards are
all under the direction of the minister of public works. 1 he
extent of road under their direction is about 30,000 miles ;
and the annual expenditure from L.1,300,000 to L.1,500,000,
the whole of which is defrayed without one toll or turnpike.
An attempt was made under Bonaparte to levy tolls ; but
this excited so much clamour in a country where commer¬
cial intercourse is carried on almost wholly by land-carriage,
that it was found indispensable to seek the necessary funds
from another source—a tax on salt. 1 he great roads
in Fi’ance are in general in tolerable condition ; but no epi¬
thet can convey an idea of the wretched state of the cross
roads in almost every department; full of hollows, encum¬
bered with stones, or inundated with water, they receive
hardly any repair, but are abandoned, year after year, to
the effects of the weather. Notwithstanding the little done
by government to favour locomotion, the traffic on roads in¬
creased tenfold in the thirty years between 1811 and 1841.
The great roads in France are much wider than in Eng¬
land, exhibiting frequently a long straight avenue lined on
each side with chestnut or other large trees. Roads in
France are classed under three categories, imperial roads
14 metres in breadth, departmental roads about 11 metres
broad, and the chemins vicinaux. 1 hey are often paved
like a street for many miles in succession ; the art of road¬
making being as yet too little understood to prevent mate¬
rial injury from the heavy waggons and ill-constructed
wheels, without resorting to this unpleasant alternative.
Travelling is thus much less agreeable than in England,
particularly as the villages want neatness and cheerfulness,
whilst most of the towns along the road are disfigured by
narrow crooked streets, in which new stone buildings are
often mixed with antiquated wooden structures, such as
have disappeared from our provincial towns for nearly a
century past. The mails are now conveyed as with us by
the railroad, but where there is no rail, in a kind ol chariot
called a malle-poste. The diligences, though somewhat im¬
proved in structure, are still clumsy and lumbering.
During the twenty years between 1828 and the 24th Feb- Railroa s.
ruary 1848, the railroad conceded to private companies in
France only amounted to 2237 miles. The revolution of
FRANCE.
245
Statistics.
February put a sudden stop to all enterprises of tins kind.
There was not a single concession made in 1848, 1849, or
18d0. Indeed, some companies, unable to carry on the
work confided to them, were either sequestrated or taken
possession of by the state. The concession of the line from
Paris to Reims was made on the 16th July 18ol, of the line
round Paris on the 11th December 1851, of the line from
Paris to Lyon 5th January 1852, of the line from Lyon
to Avignon 3d January 1852. These and other conces¬
sions in 1852 added 2050 miles to the extent of rail. In
1853 the progress continued, and concessions to the extent
of 1326 miles were granted. The year 1854 has been con¬
secrated to the execution of the works, and more than 372
miles have been opened between the 1st January and the
31st December 1854.
At the breaking out of the February revolution, the
concessions for railways amounted to 2237 miles; in 1854
they amounted to more than 6214 miles. At the end of
1855, 3728 miles additional were opened to the public. The
length of lines conceded and executed have thus increased
threefold in the space of a few years. About L.80,000,000
have been expended on these enterprises.
The credit required in the budget of 1856 for railways
is equal to that of 1855—namely, 55,435,999 francs. At
present (1855) the branch rail from Strasbourg to Reims,
from Bee d’Allier to Clermont, with a branch to Nevers, from
St Germain des Fosses to Roanne, from Mons to Laval,
from Marseilles to Toulon, from Caen to Cherbourg, from
Bordeaux to Bayonne, and from Narbonne to Perpignan,
are in course of construction. Some of these lines are to
be opened this year, some in 1857, and some in 1858.
Railway Returns.
Eng. Miles.
1853.. .Value received  32,634,856 fr. Length  2478
1854.. . Do  40,145,632 Do  2554
Bridges. The French have as yet but few cast-iron bridges, all
their great structures of this description being of stone. Of
these, the chief are the bridges over the Loire at Orleans,
Tours, and Nantes; those on a smaller scale over the Seine
at Paris ; and those over the Saone and Rhone at Lyon.
The Pont du St Esprit above Orange, over the Rhone, is
a long structure of sixteen arches. At no great distance from
it is the Pont du Gard, one of the most entire, stupendous,
and beautiful monuments of Roman architecture, composed
of a triple tier of arches, erected for the purpose of conducting
an aqueduct over the river Garden. This magnificent
structure is 157 feet in height, 530 feet in length at the
bottom, and 872 at the top. Of the lately erected bridges
in France, the most remarkable are those over the Seine at
Neuilly near Paris, and over the Oise at St Maixent, with
two of larger dimensions, viz. one over the Garonne at Bor¬
deaux, the other over the Seine at Rouen. Bridges as well
as roads and all other means of intercommunication are un¬
der the direction of the minister of public works ; a special
school for the formation of engineers of bridges and roads
is established at Paris. The territory of France is divided
into 16 inspectorships of ponts et chaussees.
Telegraphic communications are principally made by
means of the electric telegraph, of which the government
reserves to itself a monopoly, but private persons are allowed
to avail themselves of it.
IV. AGRICULTURE.
The agriculture of France is in a very different state from
that of England or Scotland, being marked by a degree of
backwardness not a little surprising in a country so far ad¬
vanced in many departments of art and science. The causes
of this, however, are not of difficult explanation. France
enjoyed for scarcely more than 38 years, i. e. from 1814
to 1848, the advantage of a representative body; and
the condition of the peasantry was long far inferior to that Statistics,
of the same class in England. No ecclesiastical reformation i ^ ^ >
had taken place to remove a valuable part of the national
territory out of the hands of indolent life occupants; and
the grands seigneurs, the other great body of landholders,
devoted their attention to Paris and Versailles, without be¬
stowing a thought on their lands or their tenantry, except
to extract from them the means of defraying their expenses
in the capital. To this was added a system of taxation,
less heavy indeed than that to which we are subjected in
England, but extremely crude and impolitic, as evinced in the
gabelle, or tax on salt used in private families, and in the
corvee^ or obligation on the peasantry to labour on the high
roads. To these were joined the humiliating enactments
of the game-laws, and the more substantial injury of tithes ;
for the clerical body in France levied this pernicious assess¬
ment as in England, though possessing in property lands of
the computed rent of five millions sterling.
Another great drawback on French agriculture was the
insignificant size of the occupancies, whether held as farms
or as property. A French agriculturist on a small scale has
little idea of selling his paternal acres, and converting the
amount into a capital for a farm. He is much more likely
to go on as the proprietor of eight or ten acres of land, and
the cultivator of as many more. The mode of paying rent
was equally singular; money rents were general only in
the north or most fertile parts of France ; they did not, on
the whole, exist in more than a fifth or sixth of the king¬
dom before the Revolution. A more frequent species of
tenure was by a grant made under the reservation of a fine,
of a quitrent, or of certain servitudes, of which the least
burdensome were sending corn to the mill, or grapes to the
press, of the proprietor. But of all indications of poverty
and backwardness, the most striking wras the system of
metairie (rent in kind); a practice by which a tenant,
having little capital of his own, receives from the pro¬
prietor the live stock and implements necessary for culti¬
vating his petty tenure, and divides with him its produce.
This wretched method was and still is common, not indeed
in the north or north-east of France, but in many of the
poorer districts of the centre and south. There are, it is
to be remarked, several distinctions in this system ; the
landholder, in some parts, providing only half the cattle
and seed, and in others the whole. There is of course a
corresponding difference in the apportionment of the produce.
La Revolution a tie faite pour le cultivateur is a com- Effects of
mon saying in France. Indeed, that great convulsion im-theRevolu-
proved so much the situation of the agriculturists, by can-tion-
celling, at one decisive blow, the tithes, the game-laws, the
corvee, and other relics of feudal servitude, that, after all
the horrors of Jacobinism, and all the tyranny of Bonaparte,
a strong attachment to the Revolution survives among this
pacific class. Further, the sale of the church lands trans¬
ferred a valuable mass of property from indolent into active
hands. But with this must terminate the eulogy on the
Revolution, the further progress made by agriculture hav¬
ing been caused less by any political change, than by
the gradual effect of experience, and the diffusion of infor¬
mation. The degree of agricultural improvement in France
since the first Revolution has certainly been less than in
England and Scotland, and in one very material point that
memorable convulsion has tended to retard it; we mean
by the law, suggested by a jealousy of the ascendancy of
the noblesse, which obliges the owner of property, whether
in land or money, to make an almost equal division of it
amongst his children. The parent of two children has the
free disposal of only one-third of his property, and the pa¬
rent of three children of only one-fourth, the residue be¬
ing shared equally among all. The claim of primogeni¬
ture is thus in a manner annulled; and a law which is
apparently wise and equitable, proves the source of great
246
FRANCE.
Statistics injury to agriculture, by multiplying the petty plots of land
^ throughout a country where they were previously far too
numerous.
The following table, taken from official documents pub¬
lished by M. Duchatel, exhibits in hectares the physical and
agricultural division of the French territory, which has not
materially changed within the last 20 years.
Cultivable land 25,559,152 Ground occupied by
Meadows  4,834,621
Vineyards  2,13-4,822
Woods  7,422,314
Orchards and gar¬
dens   643,699
Willow and elm plant¬
ations, &c  64,489
Pools and watering-
places  209,431
Downs, pastures, and
heaths  7,799,672
Navigable canals  1,631
Diverse cultures  951,934
In England it is 9 for 1. The total value in the United Kingdom statistics.
978,500,000 fr. at 25 fr.; in France 1,400,000,000 fr. at 20 fr. the v y
hectolitre. The arable land of France in 1840 was 22,240,090 *r v
hectares. The value of the cereals, fallows, and artificial meadows
in France reaches 2,351,518,907 fr., and their mean value 106 fr.
per hectare. The vines in 1840 covered 1,972,340 hectares. The
total return of French cultivation in agriculture reaches—
Cultivated ground, to the value of 5,092,116,220 fr.
Pasturage, &c ■••• 646,794,905
Woods and forests  283,258,325
buildings   241,842
Roads, paths, places,
&c .'... 1,215,115
Rivers, lakes, and
brooks  454,365
Forests, and unpro¬
ductive domains  1,209,432
Cemeteries, churches,
and public establish¬
ments     17,774
Hectares, 52,762,693
(Acres, 130,772,475.)
Estimate of the Principal Article?, cultivated in 1840.
Wheat  1,324,189,591
Straw of all kinds 761,767,460
Natural meadows.. 462,598,000
Vines, wine  441,398,000
Oats  362,413,000
Rye  355,551,000
Artificial meadows,
—hay  203,765,000
Woods and forests 206,600,000
Potatoes  202,106,000
Meteil  173,004,000
Barley  165,146,000
Gardens  137,094,000
Fallows, herbs  92,285,000
Pastures  91,910,000
Hemp  86,287,000
Statement of the area of France, distinguishing approxi¬
mately the various kinds of soil of which the surface is
composed.
Maize  86,135,000
Cider  84,422,000
Nurseries   76,657,000
Buckwheat  60,389,000
Brandy   59,059,000
Beer   58,036,000
Flax........  57,507,000
Dry pulse   52,008,000
Rape seed  51,127,000
Mulberry-trees  42,779,000
Beet  28,979,000
Olives  22,776,000
Chestnuts  13,528,000
Madder  9,343,000
Tobacco  5,484,000
Sandy soil  5,951,377
Soil of clay  2,232,885
Marshy and swampy
soil   284,445
Soil of various kinds... 7,284,242
Hectares, 52,762,693
(Acres, 130,772,475.)
Total,
6,022,169,450 fr.
Primary Crops in 1853.
Potatoes 
Wheat 
Spelt 
Meslin 
Buckwheat...
Rye 
Barley 
Oats 
Maize  
Acres culti¬
vated.
2,278,320
13,805,748
11,696
2,251,044
1,609,311
6,368,862
2,936,186
7,414,996
1,561,089
Crop, Qrs.
per Acre.
35-90
4-28
989
4-46
4-78
3- 71
4- 67
5- 43
4-02
38,237,252
Value.
L.3-462
3-125
2-709
2-505
1-492
1-823
1-833
1-593
1-799
Total Production.
L.7,995,833-3
43,858,333-3
31,948,750-0
5,783,333-3
2,414,583-3
11,716,666-6
5,462,500-0
11,954,166-6
2,850,0000
L.123,984,166-4
Secondary Improved Crops in 1853.
Mountainous country, 4,268,750
Heathy ditto, or
landes  5,676,188
Soil of rich moulds.... 7,276,368
Soil of chalk, or lime¬
stone   9,788,197
Soil of gravel    3,417,893
Stony soil  6,612,348
The surprising proportion of land in France under tillage
is owing to the smallness of the occupancies, the cheapness
of labour, and the general use of bread instead of animal
food by the humbler orders. The last is connected with an¬
other remarkable circumstance; the very slender proportion
of land under pasture, of which the main cause is the diy
climate of the southern and central part of the kingdom. In
the proportion of poor and unproductive land France and
England are nearly on a par, but the French incur a very
heavy disadvantage by using wood instead of coal lor fuel,
and covering with forests many tracts which might be made
available for either pasture or tillage.
All France in 1840 gave 13T4 hectolitres per hectare.
The total value of cereals in 1813 was 1,780,478,000 fr.,
or 9387 fr. per hectare, or 59 fr. per head. In 1840 (which
was the last account) it was calculated at 2,565,238,000, at
18,900 fr. per hectare, or 77 per head.
In 1840 there were 5,586,787 hectares in wheat. In England
2,130,000 hectares. The wheat product in 1840 was 6 07 for 1.
Productions.
Vine land 
Gardens 
Pulse 
Mangold Wurzel
Hops 
Rape 
Hemp   
Hemp Seed 
Flax 
Flax Seed........
Madder  
Tobacco 
Olives 
Chestnuts 
PastureMeadows
Acres.
4,873,934
891,332
733,745
142,493
2,043
468,751
435,288
242,768
36,262
19,658
312,599
1,125,326
14,277,564
23,561,771
Qrs.
per Acre.
Value per
Acre.
2-56
1-60
36-18
•144
1-80
1-35
1-05
87-60
94-84
24-76
4-08
18-95
L.3-363
6- 975
2-773
7- 957
18-861
4-706
7-755
9-768
10-080
10-913
2-850
•470
1-624
Total
Production.
L.18,960,416
6,214,583
2,058,333
1,147,916
39,583
2,018,750
1,425,000
2,256,250
356,250
197,916
870,833
554,166
25,729,166
L.61,829,162
Nett Return of Land in France, reckoned by the English
Acre, and calculated from Official Surveys.
t. d.
Tillage (average of poor and fertile soils).
Vines1 
11
37
Meadow land  ^7 0
Natural pasturage, chiefly mountainous  3 6
Woods    ^ ^
Chestnut plantations  1 ®
Orchards  ®
Kitchen gardens •••• ^
Various kinds of culture, viz., nurseries, hop-grounds, olive
grounds, &c    I® ®
General average of all France, per English acre  9 1
We proceed to add a few remarks on French agriculture,
with reference to articles less known or less generally raised
in England. Buckwheat is cultivated extensively in Brit¬
tany, Normandy, and the north of France, partly as green
food for cattle, partly for the diet of the peasantry; it is
generally sown in June and reaped in the end of Septem¬
ber. Wheat and meslin are principally cultivated in the
north, but the produce of the south, though less abundant,
1 It is impossible to say what effect the O'idium Tuclceri will have on the nett return of land under vine culture in Fiance. ^ora®
conceive that the culture of the vine will remain stationary, others that the finer qualities of vine are perishing, an la le an no
occupied by vines will hereafter grow corn. These are after all but the speculative opinions of agriculturists and statistical writers.
FRANCE.
247
Statistics, is generally preferred. Barley and oats are also more
^common in the north. Rye is raised pretty equally in all
parts of France. Rape-seed is very general in French
Flanders and Normandy; it supplies oil for the market and
food for cattle, either when green or in cakes. Colza (cole¬
seed) is raised for the same purposes. Tobacco would be
generally cultivated in France, were it not monopolized for
the benefit of the state ; hence its cultivation is confined to
certain licensed districts, which are chiefly in Alsace and Pi¬
cardy. The quality of the article produced under the royal
monopoly is greatly inferior to that produced by private cul¬
tivators abroad, whilst the price being 400 per cent, higher,
the latter is smuggled into France in great quantities, not¬
withstanding all attempts to prevent it. Flax is raised very
generally, not merely in French Flanders, Alsace, and Nor¬
mandy, but in the provinces of the west and south, where
the family of almost every peasant rears a little stock an¬
nually to be spun by his wife and daughters. Hops are almost
exclusively grown in those parts of France bordering on
Belgium. Hemp also is raised in many parts of France,
particularly in the north. Maize is a plant of great import¬
ance, whether for the food of man or of cattle ; when in¬
tended to stand for harvest, it is planted in rows with very
little seed, and yields more than twice the quantity of wheat
that would be produced on the same space. During its
growth the leaves are stripped regularly for the food of cat¬
tle ; and in some districts it is sown thick and mown merely
for that purpose. Maize and millet are chiefly grown in the
east and south-east. Such valuable substitutes have as yet
prevented turnips from being generally introduced into
France. Even potatoes were long very little known, and it
is only during the last half century that the dislike to this
tuber has disappeared. Potatoes are more cultivated in the
east than in any other district. Chestnuts are most com¬
mon in the central part of France, where they supply no
inconsiderable portion of the food of the peasantry. In the
south the fruits are chiefly olives, almonds, mulberries, figs,
and prunes; oranges are partially cultivated in the south¬
eastern extremity of the kingdom, on the verge of Italy, but
with great uncertainty, for a severe winter is fatal to these
trees, and in some measure also to the olives.
Irrigation is little understood in the north of France, but
in the south the want of frequent rain renders it a primary
object of attention ; it in fact determines the ratio of pro¬
ductiveness, since the warmth of the sun seldom fails to
ripen whatever has received an adequate supply of mois¬
ture. According to M. Becquerel, there has been a pro¬
gressive annual increase in the number of hectolitres pro¬
duced since 1813. There has been a very decided progress
in agricultural improvement in every part of France, but
notably in the west and south-west. The increase in produc¬
tiveness in all manner of grains is estimated at 2,141,217
hectolitres.
Vines. The culture of the vine extends more or less over fully
the half of France, beginning as far north as Champagne,
and spreading over the country to the south and the west.
This culture is, however, very limited in Champagne, and
even in Burgundy; in Provence and the lower part of
Languedoc the climate is warmer, and the culture general,
though not managed with such skill as along the banks of
the Garonne, where the spirit of improvement is excited
by a demand for foreign markets. As vines succeed in
light and unproductive soils, their culture gives a value to
much ground which would otherwise be useless ; and the
petty subdivisions of land are here less injurious than in the
case of corn. From the great variety of soil and climate,
the quality of French wines is very various. The amount
produced has been considerably increased since 1790, as Statistics,
well from the division of many large estates, as from the v—'
quantity of waste land which has been brought into culture.
It is, however, remarked by M. Moreau de Jounes (Statis-
tique de VAgriculture de France, 1848), that the consump¬
tion of wine in France has remained stationary since 1791,
and that the quantity consumed by each individual is not
more than it was half a century ago. Considering the
increase of wealth and population, M. Jounes calculates that
the consumption should have increased 50 per cent. It is
computed that nearly 5,000,000 acres of land are planted
with vines, and that the value of the annual produce is from
L.28,000,000 to L.30,000,000 sterling, of which about a
tenth or twelfth part only is exported.
Quantity of Wine produced in France during the follovnng
seven years, in imperial gallons.
Imp. Galls.
1848   1,135,687,344
1849   782,214,686
1850   983,786,166
1851   867,343,038
Imp. Galls.
1852   626,793,222
1853   498,557,774
1854   237,377,118
Average annual produce before the oidium appeared,
924,000,000 gallons, worth L.22,516,220 sterling.
Number of imperial gallons of Wine distilled during the
following seven years into Spirit of Wine and Brandy,
the proportions being about two-thirds Spirit of Wine
and one-third Brandy.
Wine. Spirit. Wine. Spirit.
Imp. Galls. Imp. Galls. Imp. Galls. Imp. Galls.
1848.. .151.800.000 19,800,000
1849.. .206.800.000 24,200,000
1850.. .178.200.000 23,100,000
1851.. .215,600,000 28,600,000
1852.. .211.200.000 27,500,000
1853.. .110.000.000 13,420,000
1854.. . 92,400,000 11,990,000
The Exports of Wine and Brandy from France for the fol¬
lowing four years are as follows :—
Wine.
Imp. Galls.
1851   50,149,078
1852   53,991,190
1853   44,130,438
1854   28,808,912
Brandt.
Imp. Galls.
1851  
1852   7,433,448
1853   5,898,794
1854   3,412,442
It is a curious fact that the effect of the didium or vine
disease has for the last few years caused an importation of
foreign wine into France for home consumption. The fol¬
lowing is an account of the imports of foreign wine and
spirits for the years 1852-4:—
Wine.
Imp. Galls.
1852   76,494
1853   98,494
1854  2,670,580
Spirits.
Imp. Galls.
1852   285,978
1853   280,302
1854  1,338,458
It will be observed, that the import immensely increased
during the last year, owing to the large quantities used for
the supply of the French army in the Crimea.
Of the spirits in the above table, 802,019 gallons were
rum imported from England.
A quantity equal to about a sixth of the wine is made
into brandy, for brandy is distilled wherever vines are
grown : and of it also the best in quality is in the vicinity of
the Garonne. This important and staple branch of French
industry has been very seriously injured by the prohibitory
system of customhouse laws, which were extended and in¬
creased in rigour during the reigns of Louis XVIII. and
Charles X., and were not much mitigated during the eighteen
years’ reign of Louis Philippe. Many of the leading states¬
men of France still evince a most mistaken partiality to the
prohibitive system. France, by excluding the produce of
It is very difficult to say to what extent the vine disease and the excision of vine branches in consequence thereof has affected the
production of wine either in quantity or quality. It has unquestionably had the effect of raising the price of the finer wines from 25 to
35 per cent., and of raising the price of brandy during the last two years nearly 300 per cent.
248
Statistics.
Beet sugar.
Pasturage.
FRANCE.
other nations, virtually deprives, or greatly limits, by the same
laws, the reception of her own produce into foreign countries.
It is clear that they must pay for the wines of France with
their own produce, which, if France refuse to receive, they
have no other equivalent to give her in return ; they must
procure an equivalent from foreign countries, and the effect
of this is to restrict the trade, by raising the price of French
wines. Accordingly, it appears that whilst France exported
to England from 16,000 to 20,000 tuns of wine when the
population was only five millions, this supply had fallen off,
partly owing to the heavy duties imposed in Great Britain,
and partly to the prohibitory duties imposed in France on
British produce, to 1800 tuns, whilst the population of the
country had in the mean time greatly increased; a melan¬
choly illustration of the effects of that illiberal policy which
pretends to improve commerce by prohibiting the free in¬
tercourse of commercial countries.
France is the largest producer of beet sugar in the
world. The origin of the manufacture must be traced
from the year 1807, but forty years elapsed before the
manufacturer of this article was enabled to cope success¬
fully with colonial sugars. From France the culture spread
through the different countries of Europe, even into the in¬
terior of Russia ; and it is calculated that there is now pro¬
duced of this kind of sugar on the continent of Europe not
less than three hundred and sixty millions of pounds, nearly
one-half of which is manufactured in France. In the vicinity
of Lille the average yield of the sugar is sixteen tons per
acre, and at Valenciennes nineteen tons; in some localities
twenty-five tons are produced. The annual manufacture of
sugar is about forty thousand tons, and the non-crystallized
matter extracted from lees and dregs furnishes enormous
quantities of sweetening matter to breweries, and also to the
wine-doctors and wine-falsifiers of Cette and the Gironde.
Nor is this the only use to which beet is turned, as a large
quantity of spirit is distilled from it.
The minuteness of the Cadastral survey has led to of¬
ficial calculations in France, of products which have not yet
engaged the attention of other governments. Madder is
cultivated on a small scale, partly in the north, partly in the
south of France; its chief use is in dyeing woollens and
cottons. Woad is used for yellow and green colours; saf¬
fron, cultivated formerly to a great extent, is now confined
to one district (the Gatinois) in the south of France; hops
are raised only in Picardy and French Flanders.
Subjoined are the values of the following articles pro¬
duced annually in France:—
Wine 4 L.23,000.000
Raw silk  600,000
Hemp  1,200,000
Flax  800,000
Madder  200,000
Wood for fuel, and timber of all kinds  5,600,000
Olive-oil, rape-seed, and cole-seed  2,800,000
Tobacco  300,000
Chestnuts  300,000
L.34,800,000
Of the pasturage ground of France, occupying one-eighth
of its territory, the chief part is in Normandy, Brittany, and
other humid quarters of the north and west. In the south,
the natural pasture is confined to particular districts, chiefly
mountainous; in the low grounds, the grass, whether na¬
tural or sown, is brought forward only by means of irrigation.
Clover and sainfoin are cultivated in France, but chiefly in
the north and north-east; lucerne is much more general,
being raised not merely in the north, but in tbe central and
southern provinces, wherever irrigation is practicable and
the soil and climate are favourable. The art of improving
cattle by breeding is little understood in France, nor is
there much judgment shown in gradually fattening them by
a removal to richer pastures. Still the beef and mutton of Statistics,
the north and west are very good, more especially what is
called the pres salle mutton, i. e. sheep fed on the salt
marshes. Their price varies from province to province, but
very seldom from year to year; the general rate was 30
per cent, less than in England, but within the last four or
five years the price of meat has risen much in France, and
closely approximates to the price in England. Butter is
made and used throughout the chief part of France, as in
England, but cheese comparatively little. In the south,
however, even butter is little known, and its place in cook¬
ing is supplied by olive oil, which is largely used throughout
southern Europe. One of the latest novelties in French pas¬
turage is the introduction, in 1819, of a large flock of Cash-
mere goats, which were sent to browse in the Eastern Py¬
renees, and are said to experience but little inconvenience
from the change of climate.
In the number of horses, as well as in their size and Horses,
beauty, France is greatly inferior to this country. In the
performance of labour, however, the inferiority is much less
conspicuous ; large, old-fashioned carriages, drawn by four
or six horses, are seen proceeding along a paved road much
more easily than we should anticipate from the weight of
the vehicle, the knotted harness, and the diminutive size of
the animals. The same observation is applicable to the
ploughs, the carts, and the waggons of France, which are
awkwardly built, but all dragged on with expedition, the
strength of the horses surpassing the promise of their ap¬
pearance. A French diligence, in the provinces in which
such carriages still run, performs only five miles an hour;
but this is owing less to inferiority in the horses than to the
state of the roads, and to the general want of despatch at
post-houses.
Of the aggregate of horses in France more than half
belong to the northern provinces—Normandy, Brittany,
Picardy, Alsace, and the Isle of France. In the central
and southern departments a great proportion of the work
is done by oxen, which are more suitable to petty farms and
mountainous districts.
Sheep are reared in almost every province of France, the Sheep,
gentle elevations of the north and the mountains of the
south being alike favourable to them. The mutton is good;
but in the art of improving the fleece, the French have as
yet much to learn. Merinos were first brought from Spain
in 1787, and formed into a royal flock at Rambouillet. I he
consumption of meat in the country then was small, and
consequently the first desire was to improve the wool. rI he
quality, originally good, has been progressively improved,
and distributions of Merinos have been successively made
to proprietors of sheep pastures in all parts of the kingdom.
The consequence has been, that in many districts the weight
of the fleece has been nearly doubled. The sheep farming
of France appears just now to be in a transition state ; its
past history offers many points of instructive deduction,
while from its future we may expect very beneficial results.
These imported sheep were used for crossing with the
native breeds, to which but little attention had been paid
either as regarded the carcass or the fleece. As time ad¬
vanced these crossed breeds increased with varied success;
in some districts the wool produce was permanently im¬
proved by continuing to introduce pure blood, in others it
was found more advantageous to develop the physical or¬
ganization of the animal. The result has been that, not¬
withstanding the laudable endeavours of the flockmasters to
obtain a breed associating both weight and quality of wool
with the production of meat, that end has not been satis¬
factorily obtained; the flocks still remain in an inter¬
mediate condition, neither producing the fine quality of
wool of the Saxon, nor the weighty fleece or carcass of the
English sheep. To encourage the rearing of sheep, a duty
of twenty per cent, was in 1822 laid on foreign wool.
FRA
Statistics. Mules are almost as little known in the north of France
as in England ; but in the central and southern parts they
are very generally reared. Poultry, in France, are both larger
in size and more abundant than in England, more especially
in Normandy and the department of La Sarthe.
Value of Productions of the Soil at different Enochs.
Years. Inhabitants. Fr. Fr.
1700  19,600,000 1,500,000,000 Per bead 77
1760 21,000,000 1,526,000,000 ... 73
1788  24,000,000 2,031,233,000 ... 85
1813  30,000,000 3,336,971,000 ... 118
1840  35,540,000. 6,022,169,000 ... 180
with the domestic animals, 7,502,905,000 and 224.
Even in the north and north-east of France, the farms
are of small extent. To occupy 200 acres, or to pay a rent
of L.200 a-year, places one in the foremost rank of farmers.
Larger possessions are common in pasture districts, that
department of agriculture admitting, in France as in Eng¬
land, of a greater concentration of capital and extension of
business than in the case of tillage. But such districts are
rare : and in by far the greater part of France the farms
under tillage are of fifty, forty, thirty, and often as small
as twenty or even ten acres, there being, it is computed, no
fewer than three millions of such petty occupancies in the
kingdom. In the south of France the system of metairie
(paying rent in kind) is still prevalent, and nearly on the
same footing as in Lombardy and Tuscany. That such
insignificant occupancies are adverse to all enlarged ideas
of farming, is sufficiently obvious ; and to their many disad¬
vantages there can only be opposed this single benefit, that
no spot of tolerable soil is neglected, even the space given
by us to hedges being reserved for culture.
The beneficial effect of long leases is. as little understood
in France as it still unfortunately is in a great part of Eng¬
land. The common method is to let land for periods of
three, six, or nine years. The peasantry, though illiterate,
are not slow or phlegmatic. They exhibit, as Frenchmen
in general do, no small share of intelligence, of sprightliness,
and of activity in the individual, with very little concert or
combination in the mass. They are content to hand down
the family occupancy from father to son, without any idea
of altering their mode of life. The dwellings of the far¬
mers, and still more of the cottagers, are like those of our
forefathers half a century ago ; the outside having frequently
a pool of water in its vicinity, whilst the inside is miserably
bare of furniture.
In the comparative trials that were made at the French
Exhibition of 1855 the superior character of the English
agricultural implements over those of France was made
very evident—in none, perhaps, more than in the ploughing
trials, when the dynamometer showed that while it required
only a force equal to 17*01 to turn over a certain quantity of
earth in a certain time with the best English plough, it re¬
quired a force of more than 27* to do the same work with
the best French one.
The diet of the French peasantry is exceedingly simple.
Bread and cider, with soup, pease, cabbage, or other vege¬
tables, form its chief ingredients in the northern provinces ;
whilst in the central and southern ones the same aliments are
in use, with the substitution of thin wine (vin du pays) for
cider, and of chestnuts for the pears and apples of the north.
Butcher-meat is reserved for the tables of the middle and
upper classes.
The landholders in France give little or no attention to
beautifying the country; its aspect is consequently mono¬
tonous, without plantations, seats, or cheerful cottages. The
peasantry live in villages, frequently ill built and incon¬
veniently situated. The purchase of land, however, is the
favourite mode of investing money in France. It sells, in
general, for twenty-five years’ purchase ; whilst the public
funds seldom fetch above sixteen or eighteen. There is at
vol. x.
N C E. 249
Paris a society similar to the Board of Agriculture in Eng- Statistics,
land, and forming, like it, a central point for corresponding
with the different agricultural societies in the kingdom. It
holds its sittings twice a-month, and a public meeting an¬
nually for the distribution of prizes. The French have also
(since 1819) a corn law, permitting imports and exports only
when the home market shall be above or below a specific
rate.
The chief difficulty the French government have to con¬
tend with in regard to the corn trade, is the popular pre¬
judice that freedom of export raises the home price.
Of the 18,350,093 acres which are covered with wood, Timber,
in 1836 there belonged to government 2,547,800 acres,
which were divided into 1473 forests. A very small part
of this is allowed to grow into large timber. The rest is sub¬
ject to an annual cutting and sale,, for fuel; coal being
very little used in France, except for forges, glass-houses,
and other large works. In the government-forests gross
mismanagement took place during the disorders of the first
Revolution. Extensive tracts were sold for an insignificant
consideration, whilst in those that remained timber was
felled with a lavish hand, and without any regard to the
ultimate effect on these valuable properties. In 1801, how¬
ever, a special board, appointed for the care of the forests,
introduced the most beneficial regulations. In the years
of financial pressure (1815, 1816, and 1817)* it was pro¬
posed to effect sales of these great domains; but a fair price
being unattainable, government continues to keep them.
During the monarchy the revenue derived from the wood
annually cut and sold amounted to L.700,000 or L.800,000
sterling.
The administration of the forests is (1855) placed under
the direction of the minister of finance. The French terri¬
tory, comprising Algeria, is divided into 30 arnondissements
forestiers, at the head of which is placed a conservateur who
corresponds with the administration, and who has under his
orders a number of inspectors and sub-inspectors. Under
these are t\\e gardes generaux. Every one employed in the
forests must be twenty-five years of age, but this provision
may be dispensed with if the employe be a pupil of the
Ecole Forestiere. There are (1855) 32 conservateurs, 200
inspecteurs, 100 sorts inspecteurs, and 500 gardes generaux
of forests in France.
Fuel being comparatively little wanted in the south of
France, the forests are confined to remote and rugged situa¬
tions. These, like most of the forests of the kingdom^, harbour
a multitude of wolves, which are frequently destructive to
the sheep and lambs. Regular officers, called lieutenants de
louveterie, are appointed for wooded districts ; and on occa¬
sions of heavy loss, recourse is had to a general battue,
which seldom results in any sensible reduction of the
number of wolves. Bears also are found in the forests;
but they are much more rare, being confined to the elevated
districts in the Alps and Pyrenees.
Y., MINES AND QUARRIES.,
France yields in this essential article of produce, not
only to Britain, but to Germany, to Russia, to Sweden,
and to Hungary. According to the most approved works
recently published, the mines of France may be classed
into five groups, namely, the mines of the Vosges and the
Black Forest; those of the central provinces of France;
those of Brittany ; those of the Pyrenees ; and those of
the Alps. It is not many years since the mines of the
Vosges yielded above 30,000 cwt. of lead, and a small quan¬
tity of silver, besides copper mixed with silver. The pro¬
duce did not, it is probable, repay the expense, as they have
since been abandoned. There are now a very few copper
mines in the Vosges. In the central part of France there
are numerous mines of lead, but thev are not productive.
2 i
250
FRANCE.
Statistics. They are chiefly situated in the department of La Lozere ;
and they yield annually, along with the lead, 1600 marcs
of silver. The only metallic mines of any consequence
in Brittany now are the three great mines of galere ar-
gentifere of Poullaouen and Huelgdet; and there is one
mine of what is called in the divisional nomenclature
of the minister of commerce and public works, plomb
argentifere. In the chain of the Pyrenees there is only
one mine of copper, which has long since been abandoned.
There are, however, numerous iron mines, which furnish
materials for more than 100 forges. The chain of the Alps
contains many mines of iron, but is not rich in other metals ;
it possesses some unproductive mines of lead, and one of
silver, which has long been abandoned. There are some
appearances of gold in the department of the Isere, but
not such as to encourage any trial of their value. If there
are few other mines, those of iron are in great abundance,
being thirty-eight in number, scattered throughout the
country, and of these the produce is every day improv¬
ing. The whole value of the metallic produce of France
was estimated in 1828 to be equal to L.3,199,595. The
number of mines was estimated in October 1854 at 824,
viz., 448 of coal, 177 of iron, 199 of other substances; and
the number of workmen they employed in 1851 at 33,634.1
The working of mines is impeded in France by the want of
good roads and canals by which to convey the ore and the
coal for smelting it. The production of iron has been encou¬
raged by heavy duties on foreign iron. In 1814 a duty was
imposed of fifteen francs per fifty kilogrammes, or 12s. 6d.
per 110 lb. imperial, on all foreign iron imported, which
was, in 1822, including the decime or the tenth added to all
duties, raised to L.l, 2s. lid. on all coal-worked foreign
iron. But this prohibition did not bring prosperity to the
trade, though by these duties the price ot iron in France
was L.23, 9s. 2d. per ton, whilst English iron was sold at
L.9, 6s. 8d. It is estimated that these heavy duties on fo¬
reign iron cost the agriculturists of France, in the additional
expense of ploughs and other implements ot agriculture, a
sum varying from L. 1,500,000 to L.2,000,000 a year.2 Es¬
timating the annual consumption of iron in France to be
160,000 tons, and the difference of price between French
and English iron to be L.10 per ton, the law of 1814, which
imposed a duty on foreign iron, and the law of 1822 which
increased that duty, cannot have cost the French people
less than L.30,000,000 sterling of direct loss; whilst it is
scarcely possible to calculate the indirect evil of this mono¬
poly or protecting duty in favour of the iron masters. One
reason of the high price of French iron is the want of coal,
an evil which is aggravated by the heavy duty on foreign coal,
in consequence of which the French are compelled to employ
wood in their forges; and it is calculated that one-fourth part
of the wood cut down in the forests is consumed in the manu¬
facture of iron. Coal has been discovered in more than hall
the departments of the kingdom (in forty-five departments),^
and would doubtless be traced in others ; but the want of
water communication limits the consumption of this article
almost to the place where it is produced. In a report to the
present Emperor of the French in 1854, by the minister of
commerce and public works, that functionary attributes the Statistics,
high price of native coal in France not to the method of work- 's—
ing the mines or to the insufficiency of the machinery, but
to the want of better intercommunication both by land and
water.3 It is a fact that more than half the departments
that consume the coal of the Loire pay for it a price
four, five, and six times higher than it costs at the mouth of
the pit.4 One-fifth part of the coal consumed in France is
used in the department Du Nord. At St Etienne, near
Lyon, are excellent coal mines; but there being no iron
mines in the vicinity, nor of course iron works, there is no
consumption of fuel on a large scale. T. he coal is only
used for domestic fuel, and for the manufacture of hard¬
ware. M. Costaz, in an estimate contained in his work
on the agriculture and commerce of France, makes the coal
produced in France to amount to 15,310,687 metrical quin¬
tals ;5 the value of which he estimated at between L.700,000
and L.800,000. The quantity of coal imported from Great
Britain amounted in 1831 to 40,000 tons, though subject to
a heavy duty of one franc sixty-five cen. per hundred kilo¬
grammes, or Is. 4^d. per 220 lb. imperial; and there were
imported from Belgium, the duty being thirty-three cen.
per hundred kilogrammes, 440,000 tons.6 The importation
of coal in 1853 rose to 2,824,555 tons of iron (fonte brute),
to 73,689 tons. In December 1853 the importation of
iron went on increasing. The heavy duty on coal ope¬
rates most injuriously on the industry of France. It is a
most serious impediment to the working of the iron
mines, for the encouragement of which such heavy duties
are imposed on foreign iron. But such is always the
effect of the prohibitory system. It pulls down with
one hand what it builds up with another. The iron
masters and the coal owners have each a monopoly ol
the home market. But is it not clear that these two
monopolies run counter to each other, and that the iron
trade is encouraged by the one, whilst it is most seriously
discouraged by the other, and the whole inhabitants of
France are taxed in a much higher price for fuel by the
heavy duty laid on the importation of this useful article ?
Steam-boat navigation is also discouraged, so that no steam¬
boats regularly ply between any of the Atlantic ports of
France. A steam-boat which in England could be navi¬
gable at an expense of L.2280 for coal, would cost in
France L.5700, about eighteen per cent, on the capital em¬
ployed. It is the owners of forest property who are the
most zealous supporters of this duty, an impost which be¬
nefits them at the expense of the whole of France, and in¬
directly depresses the national commerce and industry in
its most important branches. For many years only a small
portion of Paris was lighted with gas, which is ascribed to
the high price of iron pipes ; and the supply of water is also
impeded by the same cause.7 The mines, like other large un¬
dertakings in France, are under the direction of government,
being superintended by a board at Paris {Conseil General),
and having an Ecole Imperials with public teachers, the
whole under the control of the minister of the home depart¬
ment. This, however, does not prevent their machinery
being in general very clumsy and antiquated.
1 Travaux Statistiaues des Mines de 1847 d 1852. Imprimerie imperiale, Octobre 1854.
2 See First Report on the Commercial Relations between France and Great Britain, p. 28.
3 Resume des Travaux Statistiques des Mines de 1847 jusqu a 18o2.
^ Rapport addresse d VEmpcreur par le Minislre ou department de l Agriculture et du Commerce, 1854.
® Histoire de VAdministration en France de VAgriculture, et des Arts utiles, &c. Par Cl. Anthelm Costaz, tome ii., p. 14.
6 First Report on the Commercial Relations between France and Great Britain, p. 23.
7 An imperial decree of the 22d November 1853 materially reduces the customs duties on the importation of coal and iron. . Coal paid
with the decime 55 centimes perlOO kilogrammes upon the greater part of the French frontier from the Sables d Olonne to Dunkirk ; upon
the remaining portion of the frontier it paid 33 centimes, by the land frontier, except in certain places by the Meuse, and in the depart¬
ment of the Moselle. Henceforth the great zone from the Sables d Olonne, and from that by land to Helluin, is to have but one duty
amounting to 33 francs for French, and to 88 francs for foreign vessels. The rest of the maritime frontier is assimilated to the principal
part of the land frontier. A double duty to that levied on coal was charged on coke. Henceforth coke is only to pay a half beyond what
is levied on coal.—As to iron, from the 1st January 1855 there is no distinction between iron smelted by coal or wood. The/onfe brute
is to pay 4 francs 40 centimes the larger bars, 11 francs the smaller bars, and steel 33 francs. Hails for railroads are to pay 132 francs.
The greatest reduction is on steel.
FRA
Statistics. Turf fit for fuel, or peat, is found in various parts of
France, and will be more used as wood becomes progres¬
sively scarcer. This article is produced in the depart¬
ments of Gard, Isere, the Lower Rhine, the Somme,
Pasde Calais, Loire-Inferieure, I’Isere, Seine-et-Oise, Oise,
Aisne, Doubs, Marne. The cutting and preparation of turf
is computed to occupy the labour of from 50,000 to 55,000
workmen on an average of forty days. The greatest turf-
producing department in France is La Somme.1
Salt is made in various parts of the kingdom. The works
corresponding to the salt mines, or rather to the brine
springs, of Cheshire, are called, from their position, Salines
de VEst, and are situated at the small town of Salins in
Franche Comte ; they are wrought by undertakers on lease,
yield about 20,000 tons a year, and afford a considerable
revenue to government. The heat of the climate on the
south and south-west coast of France is favourable to the
evaporation of salt vrater, and consequently to the formation
of bay-salt, the name given to salt made, not by the action
of fire, but by the heat of the sun, operating on sea water
inclosed in a shallow bay. The duty raised from salt in
France is nearly L.2,000,000, a sum of great importance to
the treasury, but attended with fully as much injury to the
productive powers of France as was formerly our salt tax to
those of England. Since 1848 the droits on salt have been
reduced two-thirds. The first Revolution began by abolish¬
ing entirely the odious gabelle ; and salt being soon after¬
wards made in great quantities, and sold very cheap, became
the object of a most extensive consumption, being given to
cattle as food, mixed with manure on the fields, or scattered
as a stimulant to vegetation at the foot of olive trees. But
this extended use of salt was of short duration. No sooner
was the power of Bonaparte consolidated, than he ventured
to impose a tax on salt, less impolitic and oppressive in¬
deed than the gabelle, but which had the effect of limiting
the use of this article to such a degree that the value of
bay salt consumed, instead of amounting to L.1,000,000
sterling, did not in 1836 exceed L.100,000. It was thought
that a considerable increase in the consumption of salt
would take place from the year 1849. There has no doubt
been a certain increase, but it has in no degree corres¬
ponded with the diminution of the duty.
In 1847 the quantity of salt produced was 350,210,300
kilogrammes; in 1848, 465,435,700; in 1849, 479,438,400;
in 1850, 495,183,900; in 1851,599,175,200; but in 1852
the quantity produced fell to 428,037,600 kilogrammes.
The price of the metrical quintal of salt in 1847 was 3
francs 47 cen. In 1851 it fell to 1 franc 66 cen., in 1852
it was 1 franc 83 cen. The amount of salt produced from
all the salt mines and saline sources in France in 1852 was
724,002 metrical quintals, valued at 2,865,556 francs.2 The
consumption is confined to domestic purposes, and to a
trifling export; yet the few cattle which still receive salt as
a part of their food are visibly in better condition than those
that are deprived of it.
France is in general much better supplied with quarries
than England. The vicinity of Paris abounds in quarries
of freestone. The case is similar in the mountainous dis¬
tricts, and even in several, such as Lower Normandy, that
are comparatively level. The houses are consequently
built of stone in those cities which, like Paris or Caen, are
in the vicinity of quarries. In other situations they exhibit
a mixture of stone and brick. Slates being comparatively
rare, the roofs of the houses are generally of tile; and the
annual value of this rude species of productive labour, the
manufacture of bricks and tiles, may be computed at nearly
L.1,000,000 sterling. There are marble quarries in several
°t the mountainous districts, but not situated so as to admit
N C E. 251
of export. Fine variegated marbles are quarried at Cam- Statistics.
pan, in the Upper Pyrenees. It appears from official docu- ■. ,  j
ments published by the government that in the year 1846
there were 22,000 quarries in course of working, which em¬
ployed 75,396 workmen. The value of the material sent
into the market was 41,047,519 francs. In 1849, 86,379
persons were employed in quarrying; and in 1850, 87,486.
VI. MANUFACTURES.
Our historical notices of French manufactures are very
imperfect until towards the year 1600, when the wars of
religion were brought to a close, and peaceful industry re¬
ceived encouragement from Henri IV. and his minister
Sully ; a minister, however, who had a horror of luxury of
all kinds, and who was much more favourably disposed to
agriculture than to manufactures. It was under the “ roi
vaillant,” however, that the patronage of government was
extended to the manufacture of silk, glass, jewellery, gold
and silver tissues ; also of the finer woollens and linens, the
coarser kinds having been established many centuries be¬
fore, But the great extension of the finer manufactures of
France took place after 1668, during the reign of Louis
XIV. and the ministry of Colbert. It was then that work¬
men were invited from Genoa, Venice, and Holland, and
induced to settle at Sedan and Abbeville, places still cele¬
brated for their woollens. In the south of France also
establishments were formed for making the light cloth suited
to the Turkey market; so that towards the year 1700 the
manufactures of France, as well of woollens as of other arti¬
cles, had made considerable progress. Cloth serges were
improved under Colbert, and point de Genes and point
de Venise introduced. In 1656 stocking weaving, which
had been introduced into France from England by two
manufacturers of Nimes, was extended and improved.
The manual labour of the French workmen was in¬
genious ; the machinery extremely imperfect; the linen,
the paper, and in some measure the woollens and hard¬
ware, found their way abroad, because in the rest of
Europe these manufactures were very backward, and, in
particular, because the exports of England were then very
limited. The repeal of the Edict of Nantes was a very im¬
politic measure, but its consequences have been overrated,
for England has profited very little by the extension of her
silk fabrics ; and Brandenburg, the chief resort of the French
emigrants, has never become an exporting manufacturing
country.
Another and a more important error is the current no¬
tion that French manufactures were formerly (from 1650
to 1750) more extensive and flourishing than at present,
also that they underwent an almost total extinction during
the Revolution. These, like many other impressions in
regard to France, rest on mere loose allegations. Official
data, far from sanctioning such fluctuations, are decidedly
in favour of a progressive though slow increase.
To begin with the oldest and most widely diffused branch, Woollens.
woollens,3 wTe find that the relative numbers of workmen at
three distinct intervals, and in very different parts of the
country, were as follows, viz.:
1789. 1800. 1812. 1840.
Carcassonne    8,000 9,000 7,000
Limoux, Chalabre, &c  4,400 4,500 6,200 5,000
Clermont, Herault  ... ... 4,500
Lodeve, Herault  ... ... 8,000
St Afrique, Aveyron, &c.... 6,700 8,500 10,000 7,500
Chateuroux    ... ... 2,000
Roubaix, Nord  alternately in wool and cotton, 30,000
Elbceuf      ... ... 25,000
Louviers  ... ... ... 6,500
Sedan, Ardennes   ... ... 11,500
^ Statistique de Vlndustrie Minerale, Paris, Octobre 1854. Imprimerie Imperiale.
Costaz, Sur VAgriculture et les Manufactures de la France, p. 108.
2 Ibid.
252
Statistics.
Shawls.
FRANCE.
Lisieux also in the north had nearly the same number of workmen
(5000) throughout.
The finest qualities of black woollens are made at Sedan in Ar¬
dennes, and at Louviers in Normandy. In these the only material
is Merino wool. At Elbceuf and Darnetal, and in Normandy, the
qualities are very various, the prices being from 6s. to 28s. the Eng¬
lish vard. Carcassonne and Limoux owed the origin of their ex¬
tensive manufactures to the abundant supply of wool from the pas¬
tures in the Pyrenees. Since the reduction of their exports to the
Levant, an alteration in the quality of their cloths has opened to
them amarket in the interior of France. The mountainous districts
in Languedoc contain great numbers of sheep, and are the seat of
the manufacture of serges, tricots, and other coarse woollens, most
of which are made, not by workmen collected in a factory, but in
the hamlets or villages of the departments of the Tarn and Aveyron.
Almost every house has its loom ; and during the evenings in winter,
or in the daytime when the weather is adverse to country labour,
the women employ themselves in spinning, and the men in weaving.
A highly finished species of the woollen manufacture, viz., shawls,
veils, ladies’ cloth, &c., has been introduced in the present age into
France. Reims is the seat of this important branch, and employs,
in the town and neighbourhood, no less than 20,600 workmen. Simi¬
lar articles are made at Paris. The bounties granted on fils et tistus
de laine in 1852 amounted to 7,500,000 francs.
Shawls became fashionable in France as an indispensable article
of female apparel after the expedition of Bonaparte to Egypt. The
first lady in France wTho wore one (in 1801) was Madame Gaudin,
the beautiful Duchess of Gaeta, a -Greek by birth, whose husband
was then a high functionary. Many of the officers who were at¬
tached to the army brought back presents of shawls, and they were
imported in great quantities from Constantinople, Moscow, Vienna,
and London. These shawls, however, brought an enormous price
when imported into France, which necessarily limited their con¬
sumption to the richer classes. The great demand turned the atten¬
tion of manufacturers to this important article—attempts were
made to imitate the Cashmeres, and specimens were exhibited at
the Exposition of 1801. -Ordinary shawls are now made of Merino
and other wools. But this was only a step in the progress of the
manufacture; and a finer species of w'ool having been imported
from the countries to the north of the Caspian Sea, the ingenious
manufacturers with these materials at last produced shawls which
rivalled in beauty those of the East, and in w hich it required the
most practised and skilful eye to discern any difference. In 1819 M.
Jaubert proceeded on the part of the celebrated shawl manufac¬
turer Ternaux to the countries between the Black Sea and the Cas¬
pian to buy a numerous flock of Astracan goats for the purpose of
using the wool for shawl-making. The speculation w as a complete
failure; and the French government, which was interested in it,
lost 300,000 francs.
Two towns very remote from each other, Lodeve in the south
and Vire in the north-west of France, manufactured, under Bona¬
parte, very largely for the army. French woollens are, in general,
much thicker than ours. In the fine qualities the raw material
forms (Chaptal, vol. ii., p. 131) somewhat more than half the cost.
In ordinary qualities it is somewhat less; but it is only in the slight
qualities that the price of labour goes considerably beyond that of
the materials. The computation for the whole country is, that a
value of L.4,000,000 sterling in wool becomes converted into a
manufactured value of L.9,000,000, of which a tenth only is ex¬
ported. The cloth in France which corresponds to our superfine,
and which is worn in general by the upper ranks, is very fine and
durable, but heavy, w'ith the exception of the superfine black. The
price of the cloths produced at Sedan varies according to a gradu¬
ated scale from 15 to 50 francs the yard, and of .kerseymeres irom 7
to 24 francs. The duty on foreign wrool has been very injurious to
the French woollen manufacturers; because, by compelling the
French to pay a high price for the rawr material, it prevented them
manufacturing woollen cloth as cheaply as their English competi¬
tors, to whom the foreign market, where the raw material had now
fallen to a lowr price, was open.
Wool and Woollens imported into France.
1820.  4,912,000 kilo. Consumption in value 8,351,000 fr.
1830  7,214,000 ...    12,872,000 ...
1835. 14,845,000 ...   '34,219,000 ...
1840 13,456,000 ...    29,987,000 ...
Belgium, Spain, Germany, Turkey, Barbary, Algiers, and Eng¬
land, send wool to France. The exportation of woollen goods in
1839 reached 60,600,000 fr. In 1838 the exportation wras 2,578,487
kilo., valued at 65,823,346 fr. The wool produced in France
amounts to 20,350,000 kilo, of fine wool,
20,000,000 -do. common.
Total ... 44,350,000 ; about half that of England.
The wool imported from England in 1853 was 21,537 quintals, in
value 9,481,836 fr., and the cloth 231,419 kilo., valued at 5,795,332 Statistics,
fr. The worsted or thread was 19,630 kilo., valued at 385,844 fr.
The importation of the Thibet fur or hair was in value in 1839
3,576,480 fr., but has since declined to 2,058,920 fr. This mate¬
rial is spun in Paris, employing 500 or 600 persons. The wool of
France is of an inferior quality. Its annual value averages about
120,000,000 fr., being 60,000,000 kilo. There are 5,500,000 sheep
of a superior breed, Saxons, Merinos, and those imported from Eng¬
land ; and 24,000,000 of indigenous race. Since 1829 the French
sheep have increased .9 per cent.
The manufacture of merinos and bombazines employs 17,000
hands: 6000 are employed at Amiens in the manufacture of alepines,
and about 36,000 pieces are made there, about a third of which are
exported. The bonneterie in wool employs 15,000 workmen, 800,000
kilo, of coloured wool worth 8,000,000 fr., and returns 17,500,000 fr.
in manufactured goods. Coverlets are made at Reims, Rouen,
Beauvais, Lille, Lyon, Orleans, and at Sommieres (Gard). This fa¬
bric is valued at 20,000,000 fr., and employs 10,000 hands, besides
auxiliary assistance to the extent of 25,000 more.
Carpets are made to the annual value of 3,500,000 fi., the larger
part at Aubusson and Felletin, two towns in the department of the
Creuse, employing 1800 hands, and producing goods to the value of
1,500;000 fr. Carpets are also made at Abbeville, at Amiens, Tur-
coing’ and Besan^on. The finest and richest velveted carpets, called
“ de Savonnerie,” are made at Beauvais, and at the Gobelins in
Paris. These are only made to order, and are not articles of traffic.
The exports of woollen goods reach on an average the sum of 65,600,000
or 66,000,000 fr., consuming 2,578,487 kilo, of wool. They consist of
coverlets, carpets, cloth, casimirs, and merinos, varied stuffs, shawls
woven or made by hand, bonneterie, ribbon of worsted, and similar
light goods, and stuffs of mingled materials. Machinery has been
used for spinning wool in place of tlie hand only since 1809. Reims
is the great centre of French wool-spinning, it being situated in
that part of the country where sheep are most numerous. There are
at Reims 275 establishments for spinning carded wool, and nearly
55,000 spindles, or 60 establishments, for combed wool. The num¬
ber of workmen is 50,000. France annually exports woollen yarn
to the value of 2,000,000 fr. and upwards. Neapolitan flannels,
English flannels or “ bolivars,” circassiens, lastings,-cloths, casimirs,
merinos, mousseline-de-laine, cuir-de-laine, made at Cartres first in
1819, and poplins, are noted manufactures.
The cotton manufacture was introduced into Amiens in Cotton.
1773, the raw material being supplied, not Irom America,
but from the Levant, with machines procured from Eng¬
land. In 1784 a privilege was eonlerred on an inhabitant of
Seine and Oise for a manufactory; and soon afterwards the
manufacture passed to Rouen, St Quentin, Paris, Lille, and
other parts in the north, extending with a rapidity surpassed
only by that of England. At present, as for many years
past, the great import of cotton is from the United States.
In this great department of manufacture the hrench have
only followed in the footsteps of Great Britain, whose ma¬
chinery, after the lapse of a certain time, the French manu¬
facturers have imitated ; and though they have equalled the
British manufacture in durability, they have generally been
inferior in cheapness. This is, in a great measure, owing to
the centre of the manulacture being at Rouen and Paris,
places where the support of workmen, including the extra
price of fuel, is not less expensive than in Lancashire. 1 he
districts most remarkable for the cotton manufacture are
Alsace and Normandy. The manufacture of cotton velvet
was begun at Amiens so early as 1765 ; and in 1784 M.
Martin of Amiens obtained, under the title of “the first
importer from England of machines invented there for spin¬
ning cotton,” the authority to establish a cotton factory with
special privileges. Nimes is celebrated for its fine but not
very durable cotton stockings. There are also manufactories
oi bonneterie de cotton at Besanqon, Vitry, Bar le Due, &c.
Cotton yarn is often made in a different place from cotton cloth.
Paris and the northern departments are the chief quarters for the
supply of the former article, which is sent in quantities to Rouen,
St Quentin, and other places. In former years, cotton yarn used
to be smuggled in great quantities from England; but this is now
limited to the finer qualities. The cotton manufactures of the
more substantial kind, called bonneterie, such as stockings and caps,
are carried on in the Ardennes, in Normandy, and in the depart¬
ment of the Gard in Languedoc.
The average annual value of the importation of cotton for the
FRANCE.
253
Statistics.
five years antecedent to 1833 is calculated by M. Costaz1 at about
L.3,700,000. The cotton manufacture is prosecuted in many parts
of France, and presents a great variety of fabrics and an extensive
division of labour. In one place the weaving alone is followed ; in
other places the manufacture of threads, which are sold to those
who weave them into cloth. Such is the case in the department
Du Nord, which exports a great quantity of thread to the cloth
manufacturers. In other places they bleach the linens, which
are afterwards dressed and stamped. The workmen employed in
the cotton manufacture were estimated 20 years ago at 260,000,2
and they now amount to 355,000. Still, however, France is de¬
cidedly inferior to Great Britain in almost every branch of the
cotton manufacture ; and the consequence is, that as the importa¬
tion of English cotton goods is prohibited, they are smuggled into
the country in great quantities. Among these, the introduction of
cotton twist is most extensive; and as the French mills cannot
manufacture the higher numbers, from 170 to 200, which are re¬
quired in the fabrication of bobbinet, it has been found impossible
to repress the contraband importation of this article. “ It makes
its way,” say the writers of the Report on the Commercial Rela¬
tions between Great Britain and France, “ both by land and sea, in
spite of all interdictions, and to a continually increasing amount.”3
The English can be sold also at half the price of the French article,
which presents an additional inducement to the smuggler. The
annual value of the manufactures thus illicitly introduced was esti¬
mated in 1833 at L.500,000 sterling; but smuggling has been re¬
duced more than a fourth since that time. It is difficult to estimate
the amount introduced, but very experienced persons in the trade
doubt if it much exceeds L.250,000. English bobbinet was also
smuggled 20 years ago into France to the estimated annual value
of L.625,000 sterling ; but it is questionable whether the amount
of illicit traffic now amounts to L.300,000, though English bobbinet
sells at from seven to eight per cent, above the price of French goods
of the same nominal quality. Quiltings, cambrics, and muslins are
also largely introduced by the illicit traders; and the delivery of
these goods is insured at a premium of from 18 to 50 per cent., ac¬
cording as the risk is greater or less in the case of heavy or of light
goods. In 1852,1,760,000 fr. were paid in bounties on Jils et tissus
de coton. The average wages of men employed in the cotton trade
is 2 fr. 50 cen. per day ; of women 1 fr. 20 cen.; children are paid
50 cen. The value of the cotton fabrics of Normandy is 105,000,000
fr., that of Alsace 80,000,000 fr. In the last district 70,000 hands
are employed in weaving; from 12,000 to 15,000 in printing; and
1000 in the bleaching grounds. In Normandy and vicinity, includ¬
ing a part of the Somme, Pas de Calais, Aisne, Eure, and Manche,
129,000 hands are employed, namely, 60,000 weavers for the Rouen-
nerie, 20,000 for the calicoes, and 49,000 in other divisions of the
labour. Alsace produces principally cotton cloths for printing, and
exports a part into Switzerland. The number of pieces of printed
cotton and muslins made is calculated at 1,100,000, valued at
40,000.000 fr. They are of three kinds and prices, but are unable
to cope in cheapness with the English. Tulles, at first made only
in Normandy, are now manufactured wherever cotton fabrics are
made; to the extent of 32,725,000 fr., of which 20,000,000 fr. is
the cost of the embroidery. The most important of this branch of
the manufacture is carried on at and near Calais, where from 600
to 700 looms, and 4800 men, women, and children, are in constant
employment. The manufactures of muslins are most in arrears of
all, owing to the fineness of the thread required, which is not yet
made in France, but imported for the purpose. Tarare is the seat
of this manufacture, valued at 20,000,000 fr. These muslins are
generally embroidered. Blonds and lace are made at Caen, Bayeux,
and above all, at Chantilly (Oise), where 70,000 persons are em¬
ployed. Cotton bonneterie is made at Troyes to the value of 7,000,000
fr., employing 10,000 looms, and from 10,000 to 12,000 hands. Rouen
is also noted for this manufacture. The exportation of cotton goods
from France in 1840 reached 5,000,000 kilo., valued at 105,753,743
fr. The importation of cotton thread from England in 1853 was
90,002 kilo., in value 1,559,311 fr. That of raw cotton in 1839 was
40,534.278 kilo., in value 71,204,784 fr. ; in 1840, 52,941,581 kilo.,
in value 94,005,975 fr.
The cotton manufactures of France consume between fifty and
sixty million kilo, annually imported, valued at 94,005,9.75 fr.
Cotton wool in transit   57,191,970
Cotton thread used at home     1,218,034
Cotton thread in transit   383,356
Cotton cloth consumed in France —   305,256
Cotton cloth in transit   34,413,978
187,518,569 fr.
In 1803 the import of cotton wool had reached 10,711,665 kilo., Statistics,
and in 1820 had doubled that amount. The cost of the raw mate- v ^
rial in France, and its manufacture, are enhanced by the expense
of fuel and carriage. The profits, deducting all outlay and wear
and tear of machinery, and making allowance for every expense,
are considered to be about 30,000,000 fr. It appears, that prior to
the legal permission to import cotton thread free, when above No.
143, not less than 5,000,000 kilo, were smuggled, when the duty
was from 70 to 80 francs the kilogramme. This traffic has not yet
ceased. The spinners number from 80,000 to 90,000, and the mean
wages of adults and children are 1 fr. 50 cen. per head, who attend
to 3,500,000 spindles. No. 132 of the French thread corresponds to
No. 120 of the English, because of the difference between the Eng¬
lish pound weight and the French demi-kilogramme. In the year
1806 the utmost degree of fineness attained in cotton thread was
No. 110. In the year 1809 it had reached No. 150. In general
the French thread remains much below the English, but it continu¬
ally improves. No. 180, which in France sells at 39 fr. or 40 fr.,
•costs in England only 18 fr. In the Seine Inferieure at Rouen, and
vicinity, there are about a million of spindles at work. In the ar-
rondissement of Lisle 600,000 are worked by 82 steam-engines, of
850 horse-power in all. St Quentin works 210,000 spindles, with
200 horse-power of steam, besides water-power. The spinning in
Alsace employs 18,000 persons of all ages. The dyeing of cotton
occupies 87 establishments at Rouen and its vicinity alone. The
principal part of the weaving takes place in Normandy, Alsace,
Amiens, St Quentin, and Troyes. The looms are above 270,000,
and employ 385,000 hands, the mean of whose wages is 75 cen. per
day. Many of the looms there are worked by hand. The princi¬
pal products are calicoes for printing.
In the departments of the Seine Inferieure, Somme, Pas de Calais,
Aisne, Eure, and La Manche, the spinners, weavers, dyers, muslin
fabricators, machinists, cardmakers, amount to 107,000. The indi¬
viduals connected with the manufacture in other ways, the wrhole
comprising 150,000 families, carry the total number concerned up
to 400,000. Of the workmen immediately designated the number
is 107,000, employed thus :—
Spinners    -  21,000
Machinists     5,000
Loom weavers    65,000
Dyers -  5,000
Muslin fabricants  9,000
Cardmakers and others      2j000
Total ...107,000
In Alsace, including the Haut and Bas Rhin, the Vosges, the
Meurthe, Haute Saone, and Doubs, above 100,000 persons are em¬
ployed :—
Spinners  17^000 to 18;000
Loom weavers   70,000
Printers   12,000 to 15,000
Bleachers     1,000
104,000
The principal places for the manufacture of yarn in Alsace are
Mulhausen, Wesseiling, St Mary aux Mines, and Guebwiller. In
the other parts of France the principal are St Quentin, Rouen, Caen,
Amiens, Bar le Due, Lille, Roubaix, Turcoing, Lyon, Paris, Darne-
tal, Bolbec, Troyes, Gisors, &c. The yarn made in the Seine Inferi¬
eure exceeds the whole made in Alsace. In the departments of the
Somme, Pas de Calais, Aisne, Eure, and Manche there are 60,000
weavers of Rouenneric, 20,000 of calico, and 49,000 in the other
branches of the manufacture.
In the extent of her linen manufacture, France is greatly
superior to England ; not that her soil is better adapted to
the growth of hemp and flax, but because England depends
on importations of linen from Ireland and Germany, and
the spinning of flax does not form the occupation of our
female peasantry. In France, particularly in the north,
every farmer, and almost every cottager, covers a little spot
with hemp or flax to employ his wife and daughters in spin¬
ning throughout the year ; a stock of linen being the usual
dowry of these humble occupants of the soil
The manufacture of this article is not exclusively concentrated in
the towns, like that of the other fabrics : many of the weavers re¬
side In villages and hamlets ; and the hemp and the fiax are spun
by the hand. This is a most valuable branch of domestic industry,
1 Costaz, L1 Agriculture, et les Arts utiles, tome ii., p. 394, 395. 2 VAgriculture, et les Arts utiles, &c., tome ii., p. 504.
3 See First Report of George Villiers and John Bowring on the Commercial Relations between Great Britain and France. Presented
to Parliament 1834.
254
FRANCE.
Statistics.
Linen.
which gives employment to females under the roof of their parents;
but it is destined, in the progress of capital and industry, to be
superseded by machinery and great establishments. In Normandy,
Lisieux, Dieppe, the neighbourhood of Havre, Yvetot, Bolbec, and
the more inland towns of Vimoirtiers and Domfront, are all re¬
markable for one or more branches of the linen manufacture. The
more backward province of Brittany manufactures, at Rennes, St
Malo, and Vitre, quantities of coarse linen, canvas, and sacking; but
Anjou affords a much superior article; the toiles de Laval have long
been in repute, and give employment, in Laval and the contiguous
towns, to nearly 25,000 workmen. Lille and its populous district
have very extensive manufactures of hemp and flax; for the num¬
ber of workmen so employed, directly or indirectly, in this part of
French Flanders, is not short of 50,000. Since 1790, fine linen has,
in France as in England, been in a great measure replaced by fine
cotton; and the two together employ, at St Quentin (in Picardy)
and the neighbourhood, more than 30,000 workmen. In another
part of the kingdom, the province of Dauphin^, there are carried on
linen manufactures of various qualities, the prices being from 1 fr.
10 cen. to 5 fr. the yard.
The value of the linen manufacture of France of every kind is no
less than 525,000,000 fr. The raw material grown in France is
valued at 30,941,840 fr. for the hemp, and 19,000,000 fr. for the
flax. The hemp imported, and the thread together, give 35,699,003
fr. value. About 1,000,000 fr. is the worth of the flax imported.
Total, 20,000,000 fr. The manufacture gives—
For the hemp   107,097,009 fr.
The flax   75,000,000
182,097,009 fr.
The manufactures of hemp and linen employ 600,000 workmen.
The exports of linen, principally to England, were, in 1840, nearly
6,167,731 kilo. The manufacture has doubled since the first Revolu¬
tion. Lille, Dunkirk, Essonne, Pont Remy, Bellais, Vernon, and
Alenfon, are noted places for their linen manufacture. Normandy
sends to Paris annually 20,000 pieces of linen. The linens of Brit¬
tany are mostly consumed at home. The fine linen cloths called
toiles de mulquinerie are principally made in the departments of
the Aisne and Nord. St Quentin was once noted for them; now
that town, Cambray, Valenciennes, and Solesmes, produce cloths so
fine, called batiste and linon, that 70,000 pieces are exported to Eng¬
land. The beautiful batist embroidery employs 13,000 persons at
Nancy. Coutils, a cotton cloth crossed with thread of linen, are
woven in the department of Mayenne, where 4500 looms are em¬
ployed upon this article.
French linen differs in quality according to the place of manu¬
facture ; but in general it is thicker and stiffer than Irish linen,
whilst in whiteness it is inferior to the linen of Inlanders and Hol¬
land. It is, however, a substantial and durable article.
Cambrics, thread, gauze, and lawn, rank among the leading manu¬
factures of the north-east part of France. They are made at St
Quentin, Valenciennes, Cambray, and to a smaller extent at Douai,
Chauney, and Guise. Lace is still more general, being made in
quantities at Valenciennes, Dieppe, Alenin, Caen, Bayeux, and
Argentan. Machinery had, up to 1820, been very little applied to
this manufacture in France, and the number of women employed
in it was very great. There are considerable manufactures of
printed linens ; and the dyeing of linen thread gives rise to an ex¬
tensive commerce. At Rouen, and in the surrounding districts,
this branch of industry is carried on; and many stuffs of great
variety, and for which there is a brisk demand, are produced. In
1822 the duties on foreign thread and linen were raised by the
French government till they were nearly prohibitory ; and the
annual importation from Germany and Belgium, which formerly
amounted to a million and a half, almost entirely ceased. The
price of home-made linen rose 25 and 30 per cent.; the consumers
had recourse to cotton as a substitute; the French dyeing trade fell
off, and also the entrepdt trade in foreign linens, both of them
sources of great business.
The value of the hemp annually grown in France may be com¬
puted at L.1,200,000, the quantity imported at L.200,000; together
L.1,400,000; a value which is doubled in the coarse manufactures,
and tripled in the finer. Of this quantity of hemp, the half is made
into canvas and thread, a third into cordage, and the remainder
into cloth for domestic use. Of the flax annually employed, the
value is about L.800,000; a sum which is tripled when it is made Statistics,
up into thread, linen, and mixed stuffs, and much more than tripled . , - ^ i
in the finer qualities.
France had in 18oo about 569 furnaces, of which more Iron.
than 300 are said to be blast-furnaces. It is, however, almost
impossible to ascertain the exact number of blast-furnaces,
the position of which is regulated by that of the iron mines.
They are chiefly in the mountainous departments of the
Dordogne in the south-west, and of the Haute Marne, the
Haute Saone, and the Cote d’Or, in the east of the king¬
dom. Of forges for malleable iron, called/o7’<7es a la Ca-
talane, there are eighty-six scattered throughout different
departments, but chiefly in the hilly part of Languedoc.
There are also a number of ware-works in France, in which,
as in the blast-furnaces, there has been since 1790 a pro¬
gressive but very slow increase, altogether different from
the rapid advance of the iron-works of England previously
to 1815.
The stationary character of these works has evidently been owing
to the deficiency of fuel and of water communication; disadvan¬
tages which prevent the hardware manufactures from being con¬
centrated in cities or populous districts, and cause them to be spread
over the country in petty towns or villages, with a very limited
division of labour, and a consequent inferiority of execution. The
result is, that France does not export hardware, and that in nothing
is the inferiority of domestic accommodation in that country more
conspicuous than in articles which belong to the province of the
locksmith and cutler. The amount of pig-iron annually made in
France appears to be about 100,000 tons.1 The value of the hard¬
ware of the kingdom, including cutlery, arms, and other articles of
nice workmanship, is computed at L.8,000,000 or L.9,000,000 ster¬
ling. Fine cutlery in former times was largely smuggled into
France, but now to a much smaller extent. The annual import of
iron and steel2 is only from L.2,000,000 to L.3,000,000. The high
price of iron is a great obstruction to the progress of the hardware
manufactures; and this circumstance places in a strong light the
impolicy of the heavy duties on foreign iron, by which, notwith¬
standing the change in the scale of duty in 1838, all those impor¬
tant -branches of industry in which iron is used are stunted in their
growth. In copper, the importations greatly exceed the home pro¬
duce. From Great Britain the quantity imported for the last ten
years has increased from 200 to 20,000 hundredweight. Of lead,
also, the chief part is imported. The manufacture of steel has only
been lately introduced into France. Prior to 1786 there was no
manufactory of this useful article; and it was only after accounts
had been published by scientific persons of the composition of that
article, and after repeated experiments, that in 1809 manufactories
of steel were established, which have been since extended to several
departments, especially to those of the Loire.
As regards silk, France possesses, both from physicalSl]k>
causes and from the long-established manufacture, a decided
superiority. Mulberry trees were introduced in the fifteenth
century, and were first planted, not in the south, but in the
central part of the kingdom, near Tours. That town was
the seat of the earliest silk manufactures, and it was not till
1600 that the culture of the mulberry was carried southward.
The mulberry thrives in a variety of soils, and may be
planted with success in neglected borders or in waste lands.
The labours of the silk-worm last only six weeks, after
which the cocoons are in a state to be purchased for wind¬
ing or carding. These processes reduce the quantity so
much that the produce of an average year does not exceed
560,000 lb. soie grege, worth 20s. or 21s, the lb.; and
322,000 lb. organzine silk at 25s. France has not, however,
sufficient silk for her own manufactures. She imports silk
from the Levant (chiefly Persian silk), from Italy, Sicily,
and Spain.
The cost of manufacture nearly doubles the value of the
1 In 1846, 30,000,000 of metrical quintals were extracted from the iron mines, which were worth 7,800,000 francs, or 260 francs per
metrical quintal. In 1836 the total weight of iron extracted amounted only to 20,000,000 of metrical quintals, which was worth 4,386,000
francs, or 217 francs per metrical quintal. In 1846 there was manufactured 5,224,000 metrical quintals of cast-iron, worth 80,500,000 of
francs, or 15-30 centimes the metrical quintal. The manufacture of cast-iron and “gros fer” in 1846 amounted to more than
41,000,000 francs, and in 1836 of 20,000,000 only.
2 The manufacture of steel in France in 1846 rose to 129,549 metrical quintals, worth 78 francs 12 centimes the metrical quintal; ir
1836 it was 59,454 metrical quintals, worth 70 francs the metrical quintal.
255
FRA
Statistics, raw material in the plainer qualities ; and in the highly
s—finished, such as fine ribbons, it may be said to triple it.
The manufacture of silk is considered as an important branch of
French industry, not only on account of the variety and beauty of
the fabrics, but because the raw material is an indigenous product
of the country. It was estimated,1 twenty years ago that the amount
of the annual sales to foreigners was thirty millions of francs ; that
the home consumption of the kingdom amounts to L.3,333,334; and
that the w'hole annual value of the silk manufacture was equal to
L.4,598,889. The manufacture of silk is not confined to any par¬
ticular spot. It is carried on in different parts of the country, in all
of which it diffuses prosperity. It has enriched the poor of Nimes,
of Avignon, and of Tours; St Chamond and St Etienne owe a great
part of their prosperity to the manufacture of ribbons, and the town
of Ganges to bonneterie; Paris derives immense profits from her
manufactures of silk stockings, and other fabrics, either of silk or
with a mixture of silk, or of wool and cotton. Silk is also the great
staple manufacture of Lyon, in which it is carried on in all its
branches with astonishing success; and since the Revolution, in ad¬
dition to fabrics of silk, all sorts of stuffs mixed with silk, and with
cotton and wool, have been manufactured; and to these manufac¬
tures Lyon is indebted for its riches, having risen not only to be
the second town of France, but one of the most opulent and flou¬
rishing cities in the world. It was twenty years ago estimated
that about 60,000 or 70,000 individuals, young and old, were sup¬
ported by the silk manufacture in Lyon and the adjacent district;
but the number has increased 25 per cent, since 1835. The dyeing
of silk being an important branch of the manufacture, many ex¬
periments were made to bring it to perfection ; and, in particular,
a dye of perfect black that would retain its colour was a desidera¬
tum. This dye was invented by a common dyer at Lyon, who
received a pension, besides being made a member of the Legion of
Honour. Prior to this the black dye which was used changed in a
few days to a brown, and came off the stuff when it was hard pressed
by the hand. Another improvement which was made consisted in
procuring a silk cf a permanent white colour. The eggs of the
worm w’hich produced this silk were brought from China, not, how¬
ever, with the desired success. The worm was afterwards pur¬
chased from a merchant of Alais, and distributed in the northern
departments of the country ; and the produce of white silk is now-
very considerable, and of great importance in the manufacture of
gauzes, crapes, and tulles. Other inventions were devised for
saving labour in the various stages of the silk manufacture, by
which, in this branch of industry, France w as long enabled to out¬
strip all her neighbours, though of late years the silk manufacture
has made immense advances in Great Britain.
There were in 1820 no less than 9,631,624 mulberry trees in
France for the nourishment of the silk-worm. These supplied food
for cocoons producing in 1819, according to Chaptal, 5,147,609 kilo¬
grammes of cocoons. In 1835 the product had increased to 9,000,000,
yielding 278,000 kilo, of silk grege, and 161,000 kilo, organzine.
At present (1855) the quantity of silk furnished amounts to
1,600,000 kilo.; w hich, at 55 fr. per kilo., the average price, gives
a sum of 88,000,000 fr. as the value of the amount produced. In
1810 the amount w as only 4,073,198 kilo, of cocoons, at 3fr. 45 cen.
per kilo. In 1830 it had risen to 9,007,967, at 3 fr. 82 cen.; while
the wound silk (greges filees), w hich in 1810 only reached 350,629
kilo, at 45 fr. 12 cen., in 1835 had increased to 876,016 kilo., at
58 fr. 64 cen. per kilo. But the home growth not being enough to
meet the demand, importations took place to the extent of 1,154,956
kilo., valued at 53,731,538 fr.,and they still increase. Italy,Switzer¬
land, Turkey, and Greece, supply the larger part; a small quantity
is obtained from Austria and Sardinia. The exportation of silks,
plain and flowered, from 1787 to 1789, on a mean of ten years,
was 37 J millions of francs in value. In 1829 it was 111 millions,
and in 1836, 206J millions of francs, consisting of 2,720,914 kilo.,
under twenty-tw-o different denominations of goods. The United
States, England, Germany, then Belgium, and lastly Spain, are the
principal outlets for the silks of France ; but South America, Russia,
and Switzerland, are also considerable purchasers. France exports
silks to a large amount in the w^ay of transit. Lyon, Avignon,
Tours, and Rimes, are the principal seats of the manufacture of silk
stuffs ; and St Etienne, St Chamond, and Paris, for that of ribbons.
In the arrondissement of Lyon, and Ville Franche, there are 31,083
looms. The manufacture of ribbons at St Etienne employs 20,000
workmen and 30,000 looms, producing 27,473,000 fr. value an¬
nually. The fabrication is divided into the manufactures unfs and
fa^onnes. Under the first head are those with the prefix gros, as
gras de Naples; those called pou de soie, fontard, crepes, which
last are subdivided; then satins and the like. The ribbons are in
like manner distinguished by different appellations, after the nature
N C E.
of the fabric. St Etienne employs in all 279,000 spindles (broches) ;
of which 165,000 W'ork organzines and trames, and 114,000 work
the silk intended for crapes and gauze ribbons. The number of
looms has been estimated in all at 65,000 for wearing silks, and
80,000 for ribbons.
The raw silk or silk-wool consumed in France in 1840 was valued
at 53,731,536 fr.; while the value of the silks in transit reached
40,134,301 fr. Plain and flowered silk consumed at home,
= 5,299,490 fr.; that which passed in transit = 37,204,483 fr.:
being a total of 136,369,810 fr. A decree of the 18th August
1852 permits the free exportation of silk.
The silk-w'ool of French production exported in 1840 was valued
at 3,738,103 fr.; the foreign grown silk-w'ool exported at
47,491,154 fr. The value of the export and import together was
thus 380,256,696 fr. The following are the most important districts
of the mulberry, with the grow-ths respectively, and the cocoons
produced in 1840 :—
Hectares. Kil"I™e3-
cocoons.
Gard  14,941 2,696,000
Drome  6,212 2,585,352
Ardeche  5,602 1,765,121
Vaucluse  3,986 660,600
Herault  2,592 1,248,972
Isere    2,073 539,507
Bouches du Rh6ne  1,546 549,780
Rhone  1,295 471,560
Ain  836 74,716
Var  787 491,750
39,770 11,053,358
Statistics,
About 500,000 kilo, of cocoons are produced in the other depart¬
ments. The importation of English woven silk into France in
1853 was 52,703 kilo., in value 5,464,699 fr.
Articles of leather are in France much cheaper than in
England.
Jewellery is made in Paris to the value of50,000,000 francs Jew ellery,
Lyon, Marseilles, Bordeaux, Clermont, and Strasbourg, are porcelain,
also famous for jewellery. Watch and clock making are car- 'Sc¬
ried on to a great extent in France, particularly at Paris. A
timepiece is there a much more frequent article of orna¬
mental furniture than in England, and the number of clocks
and watches made annually in the kingdom is not less in
value than 30,000,000 francs, employing 10,000 hands. The
works in bronze are chiefly manufactured in the capital,
and reach in their different branches and stages, of which
gilding is the chief, a further annual value of 37,000,000
francs.
Paris is remarkable for other fabrics of taste and luxury ; in par¬
ticular, the porcelain of Sevres, near St Cloud, and the beautiful
but very expensive tapestry of the Gobelines. The materials of
the latter are silk and the finest woollen thread ; the subjects woven
into the work are taken from paintings executed on purpose. Both
the establishments have been long conducted by government at a
sacrifice, and both are now on a reduced scale, the articles being far
too costly for ordinary fortunes. The articles more frequently
purchased axe passementerie, by which is understood artificial flowers,
fringes, gold and silver lace, with a variety of trifling but tasteful
articles, all sufliciently adapted to a city where so much more is
thought of display than of utility.
The value of all the soap made in France is computed atSoan.
30,000,000 francs. The main ingredient is olive oil; and
Marseilles was formerly the seat of this manufacture for
almost all France—an advantage owing both to the extent
of the olive-grounds in the south-east of the kingdom, and
the vicinity of Marseilles to Italy, the Levant, and Spain,
whence soda and olive oil were imported in vast quantities.
A million of francs were paid for bounties on the export of
soap in 1852. The export of soap from France in 1838
was 2,911,631 kilo., valued at 2,941,631 ff. The disorders
of the first Revolution, and the establishment of similar manu¬
factures in other parts of France, have caused to Marseilles
the loss of a third of its soap works ; they are still, however,
very extensive. Of the oil used in France, whale oil forms Oil.
a very small proportion ; the great supply is of vegetable oil,
1 See Costaz, Sur VAgriculture et les Manufactures de France.
256
FRANCE.
Statistics, viz. that extracted from the rape and cole seed of the north,
and the olive oil of the south.
Liquors. Beer, formerly little drunk in France, has become of ex¬
tended consumption since 1790; but even at present the
quantity used does not exceed L.2,000,000 sterling, its
place being supplied by cider in the north, and by wine in
the south. Within the last few years there is a considerable
consumption of English bottled stout and porter, and a
lesser though increasing consumption of English ale. The
breweries have increased and are increasing in Paris as well
as in the northern departments. The consumption which
corresponds to that of our home-made spirits, and our rum,
is in brandy, of which the value annually made is between
E.2,000,000 and L.3,000,000 sterling. The distillation
varies in amount with the season. The brandies of Cognac,
Jarnac, and Angouleme, are most in esteem. The best
brandy is made in a district called Champagne, comprehend¬
ing a part of the Saintes, Jonzac, and Cognac territory. In
Franche-Comte and Alsace a brandy called Kirsch is made,
but little of which is exported. The Herault, Aude, and
Gard, supply the largest quantity of spirit of wine. The best
is called that of trois-six.. The amount varies from 40,000
to 80,000 pipes of 80 veltes, 5 of which form a quintal. A
velte is 7-61 litres= 1-675 gallon. Beer is brewed in the
northern and eastern departments, viz.:—
Quantity. Value.
Nord Oriental   3,115,615 hectolitres. 41,419,432 fr.
Nord Occidental   527,378 do. 9,429,261 ,,
Midi Oriental  160,942 do. 5,447,719
Cider is made everywhere, in largest quantity in the Nord
Occidental, and the best in LaMancha and Calvados. Some is
distilled for brandy. The quantity is estimated at 11,000,000
hectolitres, at 7 fr. 75 cen.. Normandy furnishes half. I he
whole is worth 34,000,000 fr. There is also a considerable
distillation of spirit from potatoes; which, says Chaptal
(vol. ii., p. 197), has been generally approved, and has been
brought into competition with brandy..
Lesser Of hats, the manufactures, formerly concentrated at
manufac- Lyon and Marseilles, are now diffused throughout several
tures. towns; and the value annually made is about twenty-four
millions of francs. The hat manufacture of Paris is esti¬
mated at an annual production of 1,200,000, of the average
value of 5 fr. each, and employing 2000 men and 2500
women.. Superior qualities of silk hats are sold to the
retail tradesman at from 9 fr. to 11 fr.,. for which the latter
obtain from 15 fr. to 18 fr. The hat manufacture in France
employs 17,000 hands, and yields a value of 19,500,000 fr.,
in 1159 workshops. The second order of hatters, who finish
the hats according to the different tastes required, elevate
the value of the trade to 24,375,000 fr. I he manufacture
of gloves—-principally made at Grenoble, though called
“ Paris gloves.”—employs 25,000 persons. In 1839 the
value of the gloves made in France was 9,436,000 fr.; in
1840, 5,556,000 fr. The tanneries prepare 33,286,004
kilo, of leather, valued at 82,864,706 fr., for boots, shoes,
saddlery, &c. Perfumery is made extensively in Paris, and
in the south, chiefly at Montpellier, where, from the mild¬
ness of the climate, aromatic plants are abundant. 1 he
value of the manufacture is about 13,000,000 fr. Paper
being exempt from the heavy duties of England, is sold in
France upon very reasonable terms, whilst in quality it is
equal to our own. The value annually used in printing
and in writing is computed at 25,000,000 of francs, and the
paper employed in the hanging of rooms is estimated at an
equal value. Of glass, the manufacture has been much im¬
proved and extended during the present age. Whether for
mirrors, for windows, or for bottles, this article in France is
good and of a moderate price. The number of glass-houses
in 1818 was 185, and is now over 220. Small mirrors are
manufactured much cheaper in France than in England.
Bohemia is the country with which the French manufac¬
turers state they cannot compete. As to earthenware, it is Statistics,
only since 1790 that English pottery has been successfully
imitated in France. It is now made to the value of
29,000,000 fr.; whilst the coarse earthenware, fabricated
in almost every province of the kingdom, is computed at
15,900,621 fr.," employing 10,433 hands. French earthen¬
ware is very inferior to. English,
Saltpetre, till lately a monopolized manufacture, is now
unrestricted. Sulphuric acid has, since the beginning of
the present century, been greatly low'ered in price and in¬
creased in quantity.
The manufacture of sugar from beet-root was introduced Sugar,
into France during the reign of Napoleon Bonaparte, when,
the coasts of France being blockaded by the fleets of Bri¬
tain, the importation of foreign articles, and among others
that of sugar, was rendered dangerous and difficult; and its
price was so high as entirely to preclude its consumption
by the middle classes of society. Various articles were
resorted to as substitutes, such as honey, the juice of raisins,
&c., but they were not relished by the taste of the people;
and in this case experiments were tried by eminent che¬
mists to extract from beet-root the sugar which it contained.
These experiments were successful. There were in 1831
more than 200 establishments, from which were produced
annually 7,480,000 lb. of raw sugar; and there were in
1854 303, producing 62,205,600 lb. The largest sum
paid by the administration of the customs has been for re¬
fined sugar. It amounted in 1852 to sixteen millions of
francs.
The manufactory of machinery has greatly increased. Machinery.
Steam-engines have been introduced into Trance from
Great Britain, where they are now employed in every de¬
partment of industry. It was in the year 1779, at the vil¬
lage of Chaillot, near Paris, that the first steam-engine was
established in France ; but, owing to prejudices, and attach¬
ment to old customs, it was long before these engines came
into very general use. Prejudice, however, gradually faded
awray before the productive powers and manifest utility of
this extraordinary application of science to the business of
life, and there are now many establishments for the manu¬
facture of these machines. The scarcity of coal is a great
obstruction to the extensive use of steam-engines ; and the
tax on foreign coal is in this view peculiarly impolitic, and
injurious to the general interests of the community, Ihe
tax, though lately reduced by the imperial government, re¬
quires still further reduction.
In 1836, of 1749 steam-engines in France, 1393 were
homemade. In 1839 the import surpassed the export. Since
that year the reverse has been the case. The metallic cast¬
ings in France are still very inferior to those of England.
Paris is the principal seat of the manufacture of Trench
machinery, then Arras, Creuzot, Rouen, Mulhausen, and
Nantes. Locomotive engines are made at Bitschwiller in
the department of the Haut-Rhin ; machinery for steam-
vessels at Indret,
The value of French industry has been estimated in the
mean product as follows
Francs.
Iron from the ore to the perfect state, minerals, &c. 124,000,000
Copper, zinc, and lead    26,500,000
Glass, crystal, and looking-glasses...,,      47,500,000
Tiles, bricks, lime, plaster   66,500,000
Porcelain, pottery, &c   2.7,500,000
Chemical manufactures, the products 22,000,000
Hemp and Flax (supposed to be no less than 525
millions of francs)   360,000,000
Cotton      500,000,000
Wool  400,000,000
Silk   "    230,000,000
Leather and skins  300,000,000
Sugar,  45,000,000
Paper, coloured and figured  25,000,000
Printed paper, books,    25,000,000
Machinery  10,000,000
FRANCE.
257
Statistics.
Francs.
Clocks and watches  30,000,000
Bronzes   25,000,000
... plated ware   6,000,000
jewellery and goldsmith’s work  50,000,000
Distilleries, breweries  206,000,000
Different branches of industry  135,000,000
Mechanics and domestic arts  250,000,000
L.116,440,000 = 2,911,000,000
General Labour in Paris is as much dearer relatively to the pro-
observa- yincial towns of France, as labour in London is relatively
to those of England. It still remains for us to remove from
our capital some manufactures which have been most inju¬
diciously established there; but the French have carried
this false calculation much further, Paris being the centre
not only of ornamental fabrics, such as jewellery, bronze,
sculpture, cabinet-making, and the vast variety of elegant
trifles comprised under the term “ articles de Paris,” but of
anumber of coarser employments, which averyslight change
of plan might transfer to a cheaper quarter. Periodical
exhibitions of French manufactures are held at Paris
every three or four years, at which are present the sove¬
reign, the princes, the nobility, and all eminent men of
science. In 1855 was opened in Paris an Exhibition of the
Industry of all Nations, similar to that which took place in
London in 1851, and in Dublin in 1853. The Parisian
exhibition, like the Dublin one, contained a branch dedi¬
cated to the fine arts. This exposition continued open from
May till the middle of November. It was twice visited by
her Majesty Queen Victoria between the 20th and 25th
August in her nine days’ visit to France. There is also in
that capital a Conservatoire des Arts et des Metiers ; a col¬
lection, on a large scale, of models of all instruments or
machines that relate to arts and manufactures. It is more
the practice also in France than in Britain to encourage in¬
genious inventions in the mechanical arts, by premiums,
orders of merit, and other honorary marks of distinction.
Yet, with all these advantages, industry has not made the
same progress as in this country.
To prescribe the mode of manufacture was formerly a
favourite course with government in England as in France.
From the time of Colbert (1660) the French ordonnances
prescribed peremptorily the length and breadth of serges,
of druggets, in short, of every kind of cloth calculated for
export, under the plausible idea that all these precautions
were necessary to establish a reputation for quality. It is
a curious fact, that these rules were desired by the manu¬
facturers themselves, and were long considered as the safe¬
guard of French industry. A change was introduced in
1779, and permission given to every manufacturer to follow
his own method, provided he distinguished the goods thus
made from those which were in conformity with the regu¬
lations. But this was of very short duration. The power
of habit and prejudice prevailed. New ordonnances, issued
the succeeding year, revived the former limitations; and
the manufactures of France were not put on an unrestricted
footing till the Revolution. Much inconvenience had also
been sustained from the absurd law which prevented a
workman from settling in business in any town excepting
that in which he had served an apprenticeship. This law
was abrogated in 1767.
The manufacturing industry of France is confined, far
more than ours, to the home market, whether we look to
. the supply of the raw material, or to the export of the
finished articles. Her imports are large only in cotton and
silk; in wool and iron they are not considerable; whilst in
flax, hemp, and leather they may be termed insignificant.
In exports the limitation is still more striking, her hardware,
her linen, her woollens, her cotton, her leather, and, in a
great measure, her silk, being confined to the home mar¬
ket; a restriction owing partly to our manufacturing supe¬
riority, but more to the capital of our merchants their ability,
vol. x.
to give long credit, and to deal with foreign traders and Statistics,
merchants in a liberal and not in a petty retail spirit. The
productive industry of France is consequently much less
subject than ours to sudden fluctuation. It follows nearly
the same routine year after year. On the occurrence of a
war, or other political change, the commerce and manufac¬
tures of our neighbours, to borrow a phrase of Talleyrand
(Letter to Mr Fox, 1st April 1806) se replient sur eux-
memes.
VII. COMMERCE, COLONIES, FISHERIES, SHIPPING.
In no country in Europe has trade been laid under such Commerce.
galling restrictions as in France; and it is remarkable that
this system of restriction has in a great measure been the
creation of modern times. The ancient legislation of the
kingdom was rather friendly to foreign trade. It encou¬
raged importation in preference to exportation. This lat¬
ter privilege of export was in 1577 claimed by Henri III.
as his royal and seignorial right; and he regulated by his
ordonnances the export duty on a variety of articles, whilst
the produce of foreign countries was admitted on payment
of an ad valorem duty of two per cent. Louis XIV. in¬
troduced a sort of navigation act, by which he levied a tax
of fifty sous on all foreign ships. In 1667 further restric¬
tions were introduced; and in 1687 the exclusive system
was established in its full rigour. The statesmen of France
seem to have imagined that a flourishing commerce could
be created by legal authority, and that domestic industry
could only be encouraged by the exclusion of all foreign
competition ; and hence all the vices and obsolete maxims
of the mercantile system will still be found in the commer¬
cial policy of our neighbours. The extension of the re¬
strictive system was promoted by the authority of Colbert,
a minister who, though he introduced order into the finances,
and improved in many particulars the system of taxation,
and was indeed a great master of detail, adopted the most
erroneous maxims of commercial legislation. It is justly
observed, in the Report of Villiers and Bowring on the
commercial relations between Great Britain and France,
that the “ whole of the bounties by which he induced ad¬
venturers to enter into remote speculations, as well as the
excessive duties which he imposed on cheaper foreign arti¬
cles, were almost uncompensated sacrifices; while, on the
other hand, of the manufactures which he transplanted into
France, and which he protected by the exclusion of rival
productions, scarcely one took permanent rootand even
those which he intended to support by special encourage¬
ment would all of them have been more prosperous, but for
the regulations with which his mistaken zeal retarded the
progress of manufacturing industry. His whole system was
an attempt to regulate by law what would have been better
left to the sagacity of individuals, and to give a forced and
artificial direction to the national capital. Thus he encou¬
raged a trade to the West Indies by granting a bounty of
25s. on every ton of goods exported, and of 41s. 8d. on
every ton imported. He boasted of setting up 40,000 looms
by virtue of legal enactments, without considering that the
capital employed in these establishments would have taken
a more natural direction, and been more profitably em¬
ployed, but for his interference. The restraints also which
were thus laid on domestic industry were often enforced
by the despotic authority of the government. Many of the
absurd and pernicious regulations of Colbert were broken
down by the first French Revolution ; but others remained,
and the tariff of 1791 was from beginning to end a system
of prohibition, the object of which was to encourage the
home manufacturer by freeing him from all foreign compe¬
titors. It must be confessed that England set the example
of illiberality; and it was no wonder that the French of
that day should be jealous of a country which excluded her
silks and cambrics, and laid a discriminating duty of 33^
2 K
258
Statistics.
F II A
per cent, on French wines; and whose parliament, under
the reio-n of William III., declared the trade with France
to be a nuisance. The commercial treaty concluded with
France in 1786 by Mr Pitt, was the earnest of a better
system. Since this period the legislators of this country
have been impressed with the injurious tendency of all com¬
mercial restrictions. But in France the progress of im¬
provement has been slower, and it has besides been re¬
tarded by political events. The long and sanguinary war
wao-ed between Great Britain and France subjected the
latter to the maritime hostility of her powerful opponent,
the consequence of which was, that her trade with foreign
countries was interrupted, and the supply of many of
their staple articles of produce greatly diminished, and
raised enormously in price. It became a great object, in
this case, to produce these articles at home. In addition
to the existing restraints upon the importation of foreign
manufactures," special encouragements were given to the
production of articles for which neither the soil nor the cli¬
mate of France was peculiarly fitted. Thus when the ma¬
ritime blockade of France was raised by the peace of 1814,
her industry, partly from ancient and mistaken maxims,
partly from the pressure of war, received a very artificial
direction, and was oppressed by ruinous and complicated
restrictions. At the restoration of the Bourbons in 1814,
the tariff of 1791 was the law of the land. It had under¬
gone a few modifications, but these were mostly in the re¬
strictive and prohibitory spirit, and were accommodated to
the hostile position which France occupied in regard to sur¬
rounding nations. W hen the barrier to a free intercourse
with foreign nations was at length thrown down by the
peace of 1814, the exclusive provisions of the tariff of 1 /91
were brought into full operation ; and when the obstacles to
the commercial intercourse of France with foreign nations
raised up by the war were withdrawn, a no less effectual
line of circumvallation was drawn around her commerce by
the restrictions and prohibitions of her own erroneous po¬
licy. It is remarkable, indeed, that a committee of the
Chamber of Deputies, in reporting on the budget in 1832,
enters into an exposition and defence of the restrictive
system, the principle of which is to encourage domestic
industry by the exclusion of the cheaper and better manu¬
factures of foreign nations.
The tariff of 1791 either excluded from France, or laid
under heavy duties, almost all the great staple manufac¬
tures of other countries. Manufactured iron in every shape,
manufactured steel, copper, tin, cutlery, and all articles ma¬
nufactured from any of the metals ; all fabrics of wool, cot¬
ton, silk, or tissues of hair, saddlery, spirituous liquors, grain,
refined sugar, tobacco, toys, and various other inconsider¬
able articles, are included in this charta of domestic com¬
merce. The inconsistency, and the fallacies on which this
system is founded, are well exposed in the Report of \ fi¬
llers and Bowring. The passage, though somewhat long,
is replete with instruction.
“ It requires merely to state some of the objections to importa¬
tions, in order to show their narrow and anti-commercial spirit.
The introduction of manufactured tin, for example, is opposed be¬
cause it might benefit England, which is rich in tin mines, as if the
importation into France could take place without equally benefiting
her. The reasons, too, which are grounded on the superiority of
other countries; as, for example, ‘dangerous rivalryj in the case
of manufactured steel; ‘cheapness ’ of foreign article in the case of
shipping ; threatened ‘ annihilation of the French manufacture in
that of cutlery; ‘ extra advantages of the English ’ in plated ware ,
‘ apprehension of the English ’ in articles of pottery ; ‘ imprudence
of admitting English saddlery,’ as so many persons, regardless of
price, prefer it; ‘ advantages of machinery ’ in works of iron ; all
are modes of announcing the superiority of the foreign articles, and
the power which foreigners possess of supplying them on cheaper
terms than they can be produced at home.
“ There are other grounds of prohibition by which particular
French manufactures are avowedly sacrificed to the interest of other
branches of French industry. The importation of extracts of dye-
N C E.
woods is disallowed for the purpose of encouraging the importation Statistics,
of the dye-woods themselves ; the interest of the dyer, the manu-
facturer, and consumer, being wholly forgotten. The importation
of iron of certain sizes is prohibited, lest small manufacturers should
establish fabrics, and supply the markets at a less cost than the
larger establishments. Woollen yarn is not allowed to be imported,
because it can be produced in France, though the high price must
be a oreat detriment to the woollen manufacture; and cast iron of
a great variety of sorts is prohibited, on the ground that a suffi¬
ciency may be obtained at home, though the cost is notoriously
more than double that of many articles of foreign cast iron. Mo¬
lasses are not allowed to be introduced, because the price in France
is so low, and the exportation so large, on the ground that importa¬
tion will lower the prices still more, though the lowness of price
would obviously make importation unprofitable; and the fact of
considerable exportation is the best evidence that the average prices
are low in France. Rock salt was prohibited in 1791, and the pro¬
hibition is now justified on the ground that mines have lately been
discovered. The prohibition of refined sugar was supported on the
ground that its admission would not benefit the treasury ; but it is
clear, if the interest of the treasury were kept in view, that all pro¬
hibitions would be suppressed, or superseded by a system of duties.
While some articles are prohibited because the production is small
in France, and requires protection, others are prohibited (dressed
skins, for example) because the production is great, and engages a
large number of hands.”
There is another branch of the French legislation re¬
garding commerce, which is equally exceptionable with the
prohibition to import foreign manufactures ; namely, the
system of drawbacks and bounties on the exportation ot
domestic produce. Having by special encouragements
created a surplus of certain articles at home, and which the
high price prevented from being sold to foreigners, the
public were called upon to pay the difference between this
high price and the price abroad ; and thus they were taxed,
by the exclusion of the foreign article, in a higher price for
what was consumed at home, and also taxed for all that
was consumed abroad, in the bounty which was paid on the
exportation of the article. This is a double iniquity, which
has gone on increasing in France. In 1817, the whole
amount of what was conceded on this account amounted to
L.3o00 per annum, whilst in 1830 it amounted to L.600,000,
nearly one-fifth of the nett amount ol the whole custom¬
house revenues of France; and as it was going on pro¬
gressively, it might soon have absorbed the whole custom¬
house income, without in the least benefiting, but rather
injuring, the general interests of commerce. During the
first nine months of the year 1832 premiums or bounties
were paid to the amount of24,448,375 francs, or L,1,018,682.
The commerce of France, obstructed by these restrictive duties,
has not made the same advances as her agriculture and manufac¬
tures. The internal produce of every country necessarily increases
with its population ; and the inhabitants of France having increased,
since 1780 to 1855, to full 36,000,000 (for the census of 1851 makes
the population 35,781,628) from 24,800,000, must produce as well
as consume more. But in the mean time her commerce has not kept
pace with this increase in her population. The value of the im¬
ports into France amounted in 1787 to 631,790,/00 francs, or about
twenty-five millions sterling, and engaged 888,868 tons of shipping;
and her whole imports only amounted in 1830 to twenty-five and
a half millions sterling, and employed 1,009,454 tons of shipping,
which is far from being an increase corresponding to her augmented
population. According to the last accounts, the value of imports
was in 1853, L.65,240,000, of which to the value of L.44,120,000
remained for home consumption, and engaged 4,605,000 tons of
shipping. The whole trade of France with its own colonies and
foreign powers amounted for the year 1853 to an official value of
3443 millions of francs, which was an increase of 12 per cent, on
the year 1852, and an increase of 32 per cent, on the average of the
years between 1844 and 1848. The foreign commerce of England
was, in the year 1787, about seven millions less than that of France,
or about eighteen millions sterling, and employed 1,349,419 tons of
shipping. Her population was nine millions. In 1830 her foreign
trade had increased to L.69,700,748, including L.17,127,/64 to the
colonies, which employed 2,860,515 tons of shipping. Thus, whilst
the official value of the commerce of England had nearly quad¬
rupled, and her shipping nearly doubled in forty-three years, not
above one-fiftieth part was added to the foreign commerce of
France ; a fact which strongly illustrates the pernicious influence
FRANCE.
259
Statistics, of monopolies in damping the energies of individual enterprise, and
v j thus obstructing the national prosperity.
Official value of Imports and Exports.
Imports. Exports.
Years. Er. Er.
1849  1,142,000,000 1,423,000,000
1850  ...1,174,000,000 1,531,000,000
1851  1,158,000,000 1,629,000,000
1852  1,438,000,000 1,682,000,000
1853  1,632,000,000 1,861,000,000
Total 6,544,000,000
8,126,000,000
The intercourse of France with its colonies and foreign states in Statistics.
1853, exports and imports united, formed a sum in official value v , _ J
equal to 3,493,000,000 francs, being an augmentationof 373,000,000
francs over 1852. The actual value of the imports in 1853 was
1,217,000,000 fr. against 1,006,000,000 fr. in 1852, and of the ex¬
ports the actual value was 1,572,000,000 fr. against 1,278,000,000
fr. in 1852. The ocean imports were in actual value 1,070,000,000
fr., and those by land 626,000,000 fr. The exports by sea were
1,633,000,000 fr. actual value, and those by land 420,000,000 fr.
The following tables will be found to contain, from official do¬
cuments, a comprehensive view of the value and extent of the com¬
merce of France at different periods.
Trade and Navigation of France with Foreign Nations—Actual Values.
Nations.
Russia 
Sweden 
Norway 
Denmark 
England 
German Association.
Hanse Towns 
Netherlands 
Belgium  
Switzerland1 
Portugal 
Austria 
Spain 
Sardinia  
Tuscany 
Roman States 
Two Sicilies 
Greece 
Turkey 
Egypt    
Barbary  
Africa, West Coast...
Mauritius 
Africa, East Coast....
English East Indies, including I
Java, Sumatra, and New South \
Wales J
Dutch East Indies 
Philippines 
China and Cochin-China.
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
Value.
Imports.
Fr.
27,255,165
58.853,979
5,840,697
7,707,154
13,326,660
19,214,908
77,709
7,329,923
111,181,981
201,490,531
47,324,482
103,661,586
6,654,524
7,022,584
22,801,018
33,984,969
156,620,134
267,630,168
123,777,710
221,620,584
2,414,166
4,308,287
6,932,209
6,745,678
43,861,339
88,211,169
91,245,671
117,643,939
12,281,131
15,981,113
3,350,214
2,601,095
22,581,432
24,262,548
1,081,081
3,325,131
54,266,664
60,189,958
9,586,161
17,435,283
21,808,551
8,579,124
4,502,514
9,232,228
72,247
632,962
287,008
2,154,367
33,274,310
52,469,742
5,342,007
10,664,620
1,706,567
1,168,517
1,585,970
2,723,534
Value.
Exports.
Fr.
20,146,540
3,862,520
1,265,163
2,578,604
2,134,130
1,935,281
1,288,077
4,055,140
312,119,023
536,643,810
50,983,390
62,556,573
15,646,264
18,321,208
14,911,230
29,272,053
113,690,547
153,690,829
93,047,246
124,438,776
3,898,688
9,469,053
10,357,565
10,296,286
86,629,133
79,595,735
71,731,977
87,141,008
24,533,550
23,689,080
5,264,172
6,612,661
17,097,039
20,691,260
3,836,596
4,000,061
31,677,194
40,608,396
10,532,807
7,685,450
4,937,036
4,492,767
2,128,676
3,964,868
5,057,132
6,662,509
593,612
3,819,818
4,287,420
5,767,690
1,338,228
1,706,440
120,881
339,786
336,887
3,858,397
Ships.
In.
136
43
29
29
15
42
6
4
2878
3082
16
6
96
64
80
25
73
55
54
135
17
6
361
832
606
623
238
330
53
51
170
138
4
342
310
93
103
209
95
89
112
6
72
98
21
Out.
71
3
5
12
3
1
8
9
3211
1546
19
3
137
76
98
32
143
90
18
43
20
11
125
269
589
645
213
226
27
22
68
36
15
7
200
250
54
63
121
62
49
43
17
2
6
18
46
8
Tonnage.
Entering. Outward
17
19,274
8,930
2,985
2,796
1,520
4,147
412
325
223,213
301,590
1,516
591
9,333
5,119
10,227
1,364
5,272
4,033
6,216
17,326
2,038
642
30,198
68,225
36,018
63,160
13,282
33,207
4,141
4,236
24,541
23,634
502
71,393
75,230
21,399
21,206
22,272
14,227
14,931
23,155
1,149
2,245
23,215
34,609
6,999
879
819
2,205
9,225
795
857
1,181
262
101
651
997
210,040
115,525
1,914
235
14,048
6,451
12,355
2,882
10,554
6,971
1,875
7,813
2,113
1,341
8,465
21,283
35,825
63,723
12,133
25,634
1,978
2,275
11,235
7,122
1,784
966
47,845
70,385
13,400
13,955
14,021
9,289
9,553
9,418
5,793
627
2,368
5,736
17,593
3,682
792
5,600
Crews.
1,266
458
198
190
102
284
36
26
21,990
27,938
104
41
990
390
1,330
168
458
345
410
1,359
138
43
2,369
5,553
4,236
6,928
2,141
4,091
321
345
2,020
2,475
31
5,836
5,609
1,526
1,565
1,911
1,698
891
1,166
46
93
391
319
42
39
85
Outward.
758
62
42
81
19
7
50
64
23.880
15,306
128
20
1,207
474
1,552
242
819
515
170
675
141
95
768
1,829
3,711
6,666
2,023
3,226
169
240
1,221
1,038
115
89
4,072
5,629
937
1,112
1,359
1,111
551
486
261
24
101
284
f 740
I 121
42
269
1 The trade between France and Switzerland is carried on by land by Colmar, Strasbourg, St Louis, Belfort, Nantua, Seyssel,
Morteau, Pontarlier, Les Rousses, Montbeliard, &c.
260
Statistics.
FRANCE.
Trade and Navigation of France ivith Foreign Nations—Actual Values continued.
Statistics.
Mexico 
United States of America, East....
United States, West 
Guatemala 
New Granada 
Venezuela  
Brazil 
Uruguay 
Rio de la Plata 
Ecuador  
Peru       
Bolivia 
Chili 
Haiti 
Spanish American Possessions, 1
Islands, &c   J
English Possessions in America,
Islands, &c 
Dutch Possessions in America...
Danish Possessions in America.
Isle of Bourbon 
French Guyana 
Martinique 
Guadaloupe  
Algiers 
Senegal 
French India 
St Pierre and Miquelon, &c 
Mayotte, &c. and Madagascar...
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
1850
1854
Value.
Imports.
Fr.
3,616,758
4,015,878
132,130,326
190,771,342
44,903
714,288
308
1,166,733
931,133
1,147,741
2,937,081
6,492,216
17,087,782
27,970,169
987,881
5,991,240
10,753,839
10,390,020
390,990
297,428
6,381,244
7,863,258
4,273,120
4,257,504
8,250,901
10,150,125
26,394,272
29,210,434
199,830
253,687
153,646
3,122
105,014
191,754
18,309,419
29,908,188
1,311,401
1,156,196
11,045,108
18,987,405
9,322,364
17,114,518
6,263,239
49,422,025
3,920,745
6,932,825
3,333,342
10,369,437
19,931,116
18,902,278
Value.
Exports.
404,741
Fr.
21,129,723
24,310,946
278,354,956
332,090,943
7,586,238
9,568,935
403,154
982,871
5,049,735
3,494,501
3,497,615
5,792,518
27,234,483
44,048,500
2,220,347
10,662,537
13,580,718
23,610,663
316,691
192,972
12,603,342
18,759,998
49,850
372,251
14,023,123
21.421.197
3,480,770
5,331,759
10,330,924
17,939,202
622,626
3,059,869
165,095
68,663
5,0C3,481
6,4C0,481
11,591,628
18,319,000
2,029,849
4,571,300
14,805,110
20,144,217
11,251,741
16.276.198
67,371,988
90,918,877
6,321,551
8,744,316
474,896
445,725
5,424,677
6,148,157
90,036
222,756
Ships.
In.
43
43
50
34
4
8
6
16
26
87
95
8
16
53
26
1
20
34
59
75
123
113
9
1
2
4
50
81
13
10
81
115
51
116
704
1036
48
75
6
19
Out.
Tonnage.
Entering.
53
41
39
23
38
16
12
6
14
21
90
87
16
45
63
46
2
1
14
16
20
22
23
32
32
40
2
4
17
13
83
105
21
28
104
119
83
110
1072
946
62
84
8
4
Outward.
8,986
9,780
13,179
9,562
699
1,148
1,634
1,252
2,848
4,382
18,378
22,544
1,662
3,656
11,380
6,238
393
6,320
15,118
1,662
2,911
11,305
14,455
29,274
28,641
2,512
303
158
890
15,422
26,913
2,302
2,017
18,432
28,314
11,246
22,139
74.769
133,155
6,270
11.769
1,637
5,320
208
Crews.
9,989
8,645
7,210
8,161
12,906
6,557
635
2,252
1,108
2,488
3,418
19,402
21,757
3,524
12,775
13,358
11,364
599
244
4,613
7,227
5,797
9,984
4,114
5,670
8,427
10,812
622
1,406
3,662
2,864
24,242
36,537
3,775
5,732
24,230
28,482
18,594
24,352
115,125
121,155
8,569
154,095
2,097
1,257
1,140
Total for 1850.
f Outward hound, 7,540 ships; 787,560 tonnage; 76,246 men.
\ Inward do., 7,494 do.; 837,526 do. 74,277 do.
15,034
1,625,086
150,523
Total for 1854.
f Outward bound, 5,726 ships; 796,713 tonnage; 73,156 men.
| Inward do., 9,307 do.; 1,131,702 do.; 96,413 do.
489
523
593
464
34
56
96
78
194
272
1,084
1,261
95
215
628
336
17
323
629
73
141
640
807
1,502
1,428
133
15
14
48
767
1,337
161
120
994
1,431
589
1,226
6,940
12,262
437
734
84
272
13
15,033
1,928,415
169,569
571
483
383
356
571
304
25
154
67
161
222
1,122
1,147
203
638
729
583
32
12
215
296
306
435
244
327
440
557
22
63
212
156
1,251
1,677
251
317
1,289
1,483
974
1,373
9,@80
11,368
569
879
101
59
66
Observa¬
tions on
the trade
tables of
France.
During the four years from 1850 to 1854 inclusive, the
value of French commerce has augmented 303,329 francs,
and the number of seamen employed has increased 19,046.
The exports to Russia, owing to the war, were reduced in
1854 to three outward-bound vessels. The commerce with
England has increased with great rapidity, having nearly
doubled the amount in 1850. With Sweden and Norway
the increase has also been considerable. With Austria, on
the other hand, there has been a diminution, and also with
the Roman states. With China there is an increasing trade,
as well as with the United States of America, but with
Rio de la Plata and Ecuador there has been a falling off.
Most of the other states with which France carries on a
commercial intercourse exhibited an increase which, if small,
augmented the general commerce so much as to show that
the country was entering upon a more active career of traffic
FRANCE.
261
Statistics, than she has exhibited since the revolution. The inter-
\ course of France and twelve of the great European states
increased considerably between 1852 and 1853.
Mercantile intercourse of France in 1852 and 1853 with
twelve of the most important states :—
1852.
Tons.
England  1,478,320
United States  446,086
Russia  141,733
Sardinia  241,927
Norway  160,892
Two Sicilies  185,050
Spain  124,617
Turkey -.  110,982
Tuscany  80,160
Sweden  73,853
Low Countries  68,296
Egypt  37,708
Total 3,149,624
1853.
Tons.
1,627,891
414,243
277,949
237,167
180,164
177,955
167,234
147,021
82,129
66,812
64,110
59,951
3,502,626
Exportations from France to England, 1853.
Silk tissue L.6,793,108
Woollens  1,766,939
Silk (bourre)  926,365
Cotton cloth  850,057
drain  601,807
Brandy and spirits of
wine   538,496
Skins  491,337
Clockwork  329,348
Flour  328,572
Wine  313,573
Jewellery, &c  292,303
Seed grain  278,614
Skins, prepared  266,451
Eggs  265,052
Mercery and buttons 234,983
Madder  229,209
Linen cloth  226,332
Pottery, glass, crystal 173,156
Straw in bundles  172,757
Household effects  171,929
Tools, articles in
metal  164,585
Paper, books, and en¬
gravings   163,548
Extracts of dyewood.. 130,075
Beasts     129,856
Meat  120,442
Woollen thread, white 112,141
Table fruit  107,127
Salt butter  100,251
Fish, marinaded, or
in oil  93,682
Potatoes   91,053
Wool  L.82,628
Table ornaments, &c. 76,322
Hides, raw  68,630
Indigo  60,554
Copper  56,596
Oilcake  48,398
Perfumery  47,577
Straw hats  46,470
Seeds for oil  43,461
Dry pulse and their
flour  41,005
Hemp and flax  40,485
White wax  39,369
Tartrate of potash  38,158
Volatile oils  37,745
Fashions  35,598
Coral not set  34,917
Horses  !  32,139
Skins  31,998
Building materials.... 28,186
Ultramarine  26,864
Oil of olives  25,537
Cotton wool   25,083
Musical instruments.. 24,052
All kinds of grain.... 22,807
Plumes of feather .... 22,289
Corkwood  ,... 22,083
Pure bitumen   17,538
Furniture   15,056
Basket work  13,705
Stearic acid  12,354
Other articles  565,553
Total official value L.18,136,327
Importations into France from England, 1853.
Tools and works in
Silk (bourre de sole) L. 1,098,148
Cotton tissue  453,343
Coal  418,091
Wool, raw  371,836
Grain  299,768
Copper  280,927
Woollen stuffs  227,268
Iron   219,435
Silk tissue  214,301
Linen or hempen
cloth  151,645
Machinery   131,860
Cashmere shawls  121,048
Zinc  116,123
Hair for spinning  91,344
Rice  88,764
Rawhides  74,514
Skins  73,225
Cotton wool  66,338
Wheat flour   61,880
Cotton thread  61,157
Flax, cleaned  52,070
Fine pearls  41,882
metal  L.38,933
Household effects  28,646
Linen and hemp twist 27,916
Works in India rub¬
ber  27,630
Paper, plates, books,
&c   25,240
Mercury  25,140
Lead  25,060
Horses  24,522
Iron anchors and
cables  23,401
Skins not prepared... 23,050
Building materials... 22,275
Bundles of straw  21,536
Tin  20,387
Sewing needles  18,736
Porcelain earth  18,388
Acids   15,937
Woollen thread  15,131
Indigo  14,802
Wine ..   14,228
Linseed  L.12,138 Beer    L.5,502 Statistics.
Metallic pens.
Mercery and buttons
Combed wool 
Marbles  
Engraved coins,
plates, &c 
Lead, mineral 
11,397 Jewellery    5,422
11,349 Pottery, glass, crystal 5,383
9,017 Fruit for the table.... 4,257
8,276 Other articles  190,968
Official value...L.5,425,100
Real value  5,751,409
Imports of France.
8,230
7,236
1851.
Breadstuffs  L.80,000
Coal  1,480,000
Cotton  4,160,000
Raw silk  3,680,000
Wool    1,360,000
Iron   200,000
1852.
L.200,000
1,520,000
5,120,000
5,360,000
2,600,000
240,000
L.10,960,000 L.15,040,000
Exports of France.
1851. 1852.
Breadstuff's  L.3,800,000 L.2,360,000
Cotton manufactures... 6,600,000 6,000,000
Silk manufactures  8,120,000 9,040,000
Woollen manufactures.. 5,280,000 5,120,000
Linen manufactures.... 1,080,000 1,200,000
Gloves and hosiery  3,200,000 3,400,000
Wines  1,480,000 1,480,000
1853.
L.3,840,000
1,680,000
5,320,000
5,200,000
1,720,000
440,000
L.18,200,000
1853.
L.1,160,000
6,560,000
11,520,000
5,840,000
1,360,000
3,030,000
1,800,000
L.31,270,000
L.29,560,000 L.28,800,000
Imports of Coal and Iron in 1852.
Fkom England. Ebom Belgium.
Tons. Tons.
Coals  664,632 1,792,155
Coke  2,732 169,398
Iron, pig    15,002 26,416
Iron, bar  1,841
Steel...   270
Returns of the customs duties levied on the principal
merchandise imported into France during the nine months
of 1855, ending on the 1st of October, give an amount
of L.5,927,030. Compared with those of 1854 they show
an augmentation of L, 1,723,976. The receipts during the
month of September were L.465,688, or L.40,383 less than
in the corresponding month of last year. The salt-tax
produced during the nine months of 1855, L.930,891.
The value of exports in 1853 reached L.74,640,000, of
which L.54,520,000 represented French produce, and
L.20,520,000 was foreign produce re-exported. The
imports for home consumption showed an increase of
L.4,680,000, and the exports of French produce an in¬
crease of L.5,200,000 above 1852.
The following is a brief sketch of the trade of France with other
countries.
The corn, the hemp, the flax, the tallow, which form such im¬
portant articles of export from the north of Europe to England, are
comparatively unnecessary to France. Their timber and pitch are
imported there, but the quantities required by a people where ship¬
building is so limited are necessarily of little consequence. It
would appear, however, that in the progress of the present war
against Russia many articles imported from the north of Europe
have become more necessary to France, and by a decree published
in the Moniteur on the 20th October 1855 building timber, wood for
cabinet-making of a certain thickness, rough castings, bar and sheet
iron, hemp, &c., may be imported for three years free from import
duty. Pitch, tar, and tallow, when employed in ship building, may
be imported at a duty of 10 per cent, if it can be proved they have
been used bona fide for the purpose within a year. The further articles
of import are iron, copper, lead, salt fish, all likewise on asmall scale.
The returns from France are no longer in the sugar and coffee, which,
before the loss of St Domingo, f urnished an annual export to the north
of fully two millions sterling. They are limited to wine and brandy,
luxuries of which the consumption is confined to a few large towns,
such as Petersburg, Hamburg, Lubeck, Stockholm, and Dantzic.
With Germany the exchanges of France are now carried on by
steam canal and land carriage, and for lighter articles and articles
de Paris by railroad and river navigation.
From Holland are imported spirituous liquors, spices, butter,
cheese. The returns from France consist chiefly of wine, silks,
brandy, and dried fruit. When the Netherlands were subject to
France, this intercourse was very active.
262
F K A N C E.
Statistics.
From Italy France imports raw silk, corn, rice, olive oil, and
fruit, chiefly lemons, oranges, figs, and raisins. The returns, va¬
rious in kind, hut small in quantity, consist of wine, brandy, cattle,
woollens, linen, leather, hats, stockings, jewellery, glass, hardware.
From the Levant, the imports, though less than formerly, still con¬
sist of raw silk, cotton, wool, corn, dried fruits; the exports, ma¬
nufactured silks, woollens, stockings, and, in a small degree, hard¬
ware. paper, liqueurs, linens, lace. AVith Spain the intercourse is
more extensive : the exports from France consist of corn, flour, salt
fish, wine, brandy, also woollens, cottons, silks, leather, linen, lace,
hats ; all ^articles which have passed through some process of ma¬
nufacture, and bear testimony to the industry of the French. The
Spaniards, on the other hand, true to their character-, make no re¬
turns except in produce and raw materials, viz. wool, silk, fruit,
sweet wines, along with some iron and copper. During the years
1854 and 1855 there have been considerable exportations of Spanish
wine into France for the use of the French troops serving in the
Crimea. With Portugal the trade of France is not considerable, the
staple products, wine and brandy, being the same in both countries.
The intercourse between the French and Americans should be
great, but the Americans require long credit, and to give credit
exceeds the means of the French. The cotton, tobacco, and rice of
the United States are paid partly by wine and brandy, but in a
slight degree by manufactures. This branch of trade will increase
with the population and wealth of the United States. At present
the intercourse with England is more considerable than with almost
any other country; but a reduction of the custom-house duties
would extend greatly the mutual trade of the two countries. Great
Britain would supply France in greater quantities with imports,
consisting of cottons, hardware, earthenware, copper, tin, iron,
coals, &c.; whilst a corresponding increase would take place in the
French exports, of which the staple articles are wine and brandy, the
smaller silks, olive oil, fruit, butter, poultry, corn, and butcher meat.
The chief commercial business of Paris is necessarily inland ; but
it is the centre of exchange transactions for France, foreign as well
as inland; as London is for England, and Amsterdam for Holland.
Havre de Grace is the channel of the maritime intercourse of the
capital, the outlet for its exports, and the medium through which
it receives colonial produce, raw materials, and foreign manufac¬
tures. Bordeaux is a seaport of great activity, as well for the ex¬
portation of wine and brandy, as for the importation of sugar, coffee,
and cotton. Marseilles, a larger but a less bustling city, continues
the emporium for the trade with Italy and the Levant. Nantes has
suffered greatly by the loss of St Domingo, as well as by the aboli¬
tion of the slave trade, of which it was the centre. It still exports
to Martinique and Guadeloupe linen, hardware, printed cottons;
and, like Bordeaux, receives in return sugar, coffee, and raw cotton,
liouen, though accessible to vessels of burden, is, like Lyon and
Lille, chiefly remarkable for manufactures.
The mercantile marine ot France recently presented the
following results, which are remarkable while England and
America are building vessels of such superior tonnage.
Tonnage.
700 to 800
600 to 700
600 to 600
400 to 500
300 to 400
200 to 300
Mercantile Marine—1853.
Vessels.
1
3
4
35
150
533
Total
Tonnage.
717
1,881
2,091
14,599
50,866
130,829
Tonnage. Vessels.
100 to 200 1,365
60 to 100 1,561
30 to 60 1,301
30 and below 10,647
Total 15,600
Total
Tonnage.
197,947
123,149
58,740
81,681
662,500
Manned, including the men of the fisheries, by 83,000 men
and boys.
The steam and sailing vessels of France and the nations
trading with her from 1848 to 1853 were as follow.
Navigation for 1848 to 1853 inclusive
Tonnage {Commercial) of Steam and Sailing Vessels,
inwards and outwards.
Steam and Sailing Vessels.
Yrs. French. Foreign
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
Mean
of first
5 Years.
1,520,000
1,596,000
1,625,000
1,699,000
1,756,000
1,862,000
1,639,000
1,626,000
1,721,000
2,110,000
2,389,000
2,546,000
2,743,000
2,079,000
3,146,000
3,317,000
3,735,000
4,088,000
4,302,000
4,605,000
3,718,000
Sailing Vessels only.
French. Foreign
1,208,000
1,300,000
1,324,000
1.378,000
1,377,000
1,464,000
1,318,000
1,131,000
1,235,000
1,429,000
1,552,000
1,799,000
1,851,000
1,429,000
Total..
2,339,000
2,535,000
2,753,000
2,930,000
3,176,000
3,315,000
2,747,000
Statistics.
The coasting trade of France employs a number of ves¬
sels which in the returns vary from 80,000 to 90,000 en¬
tries and departures, with a tonnage of 2,250,000 and
254,150 men ; to 2,500,000 tons and 330,000 men.
The circulation of the Bank of France has increased
since 1848, first, in consequence of smaller notes being put
into circulation (for notes of 100 francs are now current),
and, secondly, because of the establishment of branch banks
facilitating intercommunication with all the principal cities
of the kingdom. The circulation in 1853 and 1854 ex¬
ceeded 500 millions. But in those years the amount of
specie in the bank cellars exceeded the amount of the whole
circulation; so that the substitution of paper for gold was
not of so much service, or so economical to the country, as
it might have been under other circumstances.
The currency of France consists chiefly of gold and sil- Currency,
ver, in which larger payments are effected, and of copper
coins for the smaller sums.
It appears that from 1803 to 1814 there were coined, with the
effigy of Napoleon, at the different mints, of which there are
thirteen in France, in gold to the value of L.22,001,018, and in
silver to the value of L.36,992,502. From 1814 to 1828, the amount
of the coinage w7as L.17,081,635 in gold, of twenty and forty franc
pieces; and in silver the amount in pieces of five francs dow n to
five sous was L.36,996,560, bearing the effigy of Louis XV III. and
Charles X. On the above data, the amount of circulating specie in
the kingdom was estimated, on the 1st of January 1828, at
2,713,731,183 francs, equal in value to L.113,072,132 sterling. rlhe
gold and silver currency, prior to the llevolution in 1789, was
estimated at L.87,500,000 sterling. We can scarcely, however,
draw any positive inference from the quantity of gold and silver
coined in France, respecting the amount of the specie actually cii-
culating, as within the last twenty-seven years the exportation of
coin has been freely permitted. The coinage of France hasaccoid-
ingly become an article of trade; and bullion and coin have been
freely exported or imported, according to the necessities of com¬
merce. For the ten years preceding 1830, the quantity of bullion
imported exceeded the quantity exported by L.39,089,667.
The amount of the gold and silver coinage in I ranee for 18o3,
with the value in francs and in sterling money, was :
Gold. Coinage. Value. Value Sterling.
20-franc pieces 15,641,500 312,830,000 fr. L.12,513,200
10 do. do  1,763,346 17,633,463 705,336
Total gold  17,404,846 330,463,463 L.13,218,536
Silver  5,090,236 20,089,778 803,588
Copper   30,869,285 1,974,939 78,976
53,366,367 352,528,180 L.14,101,120
This bank, which is the city privileged bank in France, Bank of
received its charter in 1803 for fifteen years, which was France,
afterwards extended in 1818 to the year 1845. It was again
extended in 1840. The law of the 30th June 1840 limited
the existence of the bank to the 31st December 1367, re¬
serving to the government the right to cause its privileges
to cease on the 31st December i855. An agreement was
entered into between the government and the bank on the
3d March 1852, by which the former agreed to waive its
right, in consequence of certain advantages conceded by the
bank to the executive government. It is under the direc¬
tion of a governor, named by the head of the state, whethei
emperor, king, or president, with a salary of 100,000 francs
F R A
Statistics, a-year. It has, besides, two deputy-governors, paid by the
✓ bank but appointed by the government, and a general coun¬
cil of fifteen regents and three censeurs, subdivided into
six committees, and assisted by a council of discounts
composed of twelve members chosen from among such
of the shareholders as are merchants. This bank issues
notes of the amount of 10,000, 5000, 1000, 500, 300,
200, and 100 francs. The 200-franc notes were first cir¬
culated in 1846, the 100-franc notes in 1848, and the
10,000 and 5000 franc-notes have been issued since 1843,
which are payable in specie on demand by the holder. Its
capital, which consists of 67,900 shares at 1000 francs,
making a total of 67,900,000 francs, is employed in dis¬
counting bills of exchange, in making advances of money
in government securities, and in deposits of bullion or fo¬
reign coin, diamonds, shares in public companies, at the
rate of one per cent, per annum.
Not less than the value of 10,000 francs is received as a deposit,
and discount for forty-five days is deducted from the amount of the
sum advanced; nor, if the deposit he redeemed the next day, is
any part of the discount refunded. The paper of the Bank of
France chiefly circulates in Paris and the neighbourhood ; at a dis¬
tance from Paris its notes pass at a discount of one-and-a-half per
cent., as they are not received in payment of taxes or custom-house
duties in seaports; so that remittances to Paris must be made in
cash, for which a charge of five per cent, is made at the post-office :
the dividend of the bank on each share has been thirty francs half-
yearly, or at the rate of six per cent, per annum. A surplus fund,
which had accumulated, was, in consequence of the reiterated de¬
mands of the shareholders, put in a course of distribution ; and in
the year 1831 two entire dividends were made of fifteen francs and
six francs per share, besides two other payments, under the name
of a bonus of reserve, the one amounting to seven francs fifty cen¬
times, and the other to three francs, per share. The balance of the
reserved fund amounted in 1830 to 6,974,398 francs, which would
give a further bonus of 146 francs 95 centimes on each share ; and
for the qmrpose of authorizing the distribution of this sum, a law
was passed in December 1831. By this law the bank was bound
to hold a third part of its profits in reserve^ after paying the regu¬
lar dividend of six per cent, per annum. The Bank of France has
now comptoirs or branch banks in from twenty to twenty-five of the
principal cities of France. The issue of these branch banks was
limited to 350 millions of francs by a decree of 1848. The shares
of the bank, which, antecedent to this decree under the government
of Louis Philippe, had risen to 3550 francs, became depreciated,
and fell to 1250 francs. In January 1852 these actions or shares
were quoted at 3100 francs. In August 1850 the Bank of France
was authorized to resume its payments in specie. A decree of
the 13th August 1850 suppressed the cows force of the notes, and
extended the circulation. These two decrees restored confidence,
augmented by the weekly publication of the accounts of the esta¬
blishment.
Credit The society of the Credit Foncier de France M as autho-
Foncier. rizecl by the decrees of the 28th March and the 10th De¬
cember 1852. Its operations extend over the whole of
France, with the exception of six departments. The capi¬
tal consists of 60,000,000 of francs, and the society cannot
lend to any one individual more than a million, nor less
than 300 francs.
Credit The Societe Generale de Credit Mobilier, established by
lobilier. a 0f j3tb November 1852, is a species of bank, the
partners in which have not given their names. Its principal
operations consist in purchasing or acquiring shares in public
companies, provided they be en societes anonymes. Se¬
condly, in circulating its own securities for a sum equi¬
valent to the shares or stock purchased. Thirdly, in sell¬
ing and exchanging all actions and obligations so acquired.
Fourthly, in lending on public securities on the deposit of
actions and obligations, &c., &c.
The capital of the society is fixed at 60,000,000 francs,
and it is represented by 120,000 shares of 500 francs each.
The society can circulate its own obligations” for a sum
six times as large as its capital.
Fairs. Land carriage in France, or roulage, costs only from 2s.
to 2s. 6d. per cwt. for a hundred miles ; a cheapness which
facilitates the transport of merchandise to the various an-
N C E. 263
nual fairs which are still held in every great town in the Statistics,
kingdom, exactly as was done by our forefathers a century
ago. This periodical routine begins by the foire de Long-
champs, which is held annually at Paris in spring, and is
followed by a long list of provincial fairs, of which the chief
are those of Beaucaire in Languedoc, and Guibrayin Nor¬
mandy. The roulage of France is now only had recourse
to for heavy goods, and in lines of country where there are
neither rivers, canals, nor railroads. The law of France has
many provisions as to roulage and as to rouliers, the drivers
or waggoners who conduct merchandise, and generally
travel at the rate of from eight to ten leagues a-day.
The colonial possessions of France are quite unsuited to Colonies,
her greatness in other respects. The insurrection engen¬
dered by the first Revolution deprived her of the western
half of St Domingo, a rich and beautiful territory, contain¬
ing formerly more negroes, and exporting more produce,
than all the British West Indies together. The French
government seems to have relinquished the hope of regain¬
ing this country, at least by military means, and to limit its
ambition to the remaining colonies, Martinique, Guadaloupe,
Cayenne, in the West Indies. The first two are, like most
of our West India islands, cultivated to a considerable ex¬
tent, but capable of much improvement. The petty island
of Marie Galante is in a similar state ; but Cayenne forms
a part of a most extensive tract, of which one corner only
is as yet rendered productive, and which may eventually
become a great settlement; though on the score of health
it is as unpromising as the adjacent colonies of Demerara
and Surinam. Before the loss of St Domingo the annual
import into France amounted to 70,000 hhds. of muscovado
or brown sugar, 60,000 hhds. clayed, and nearly 20,000 of
fine clayed. Of this very large supply there were ex¬
ported nearly 40,000 hhds. of brown, and above 60,000
hhds. of clayed, forming, exclusively of any duty, an annual
value of between L.2,000,000 and L.3,000,000 sterling, and
affording a most acceptable exchange for a number of im¬
ported commodities. The sugar thus imported from St
Domingo has long been lost to France, no sugar being now
exported from that country.
Among the colonies of France is Algeria, which the Algiers
government has retained since its conquest in 1830. Of
this dependency Algiers is the capital, the seat of go¬
vernment, of a prefecture, and of a bishop’s see since 1838.
Algiers also possesses a government printing office, an aca¬
demy of public instruction, a court of appeal, a tribunal of
first instance, a tribunal, and a chamber of commerce. A
bank has been recently established. Several newspapers
are published at Algiers. The Moniteur of Algiers is the
official paper. There is also the Ahhbar, the Mobacher,
the official journal in Arabic, the Atlas, &c.
The population of Algiers, according to the last returns,
amounted to 55,682 Europeans, of whom 23,147 were
French, and 24,996 natives, of whom 17,858 were Mussul-
men, 1380 negroes, and 5758 Jews. A Protestant church
was commenced in Algiers in 1843 and finished in 1845.
There are at Algiers four large mosques and about thirty
lesser ones, two great and twelve lesser synagogues. There
are few manufactories in the capital unless of silks, carpet¬
ings, woollen tissues, fire-arms, saddlery, jewellery, leather,
&c. From the last published official returns there entered
Algiers within the year 2279 ships, measuring 209,642
tons; of these 255 were government vessels, 1134 French
commercial bottoms, and 120 native ; the remaining ves¬
sels were under foreign flags. There sailed outward from
Algiers, in the last year of which M7e have any official re¬
cords, 2297 ships measui’ing 208,319 tons. Of these 249
Mrere government ships, 1148 French ships, and 117 na¬
tive. By a decree of the present Emperor of the French,
a bourse Mas created at Algiers on the 16th April 1852.
For a more detailed account, see Algiers.
264
Statistics.
Commerce,
&c.
FRANCE.
In Africa the French possess Goree and some factories near the
mouth of the Senegal. In the East they have the Isle of bourbon,
and Pondicherry, Chandernagore, and some smaller factories on the
mainland of India; and their vessels are, like the Americans, ad¬
mitted to trade with Calcutta, Madras, and other British settle¬
ments, on payment of moderate dues. The retention of the Mauri¬
tius by England, at the peace of 1814, deprived them of the great
receptacle for their privateers in the East; and in the continent of
North America, they retain nothing since the cession of Louisiana
to the United States in 1803. Since 1841, when the sovereign of
the island of Mayotte placed himself under the protection of France,
this island, situated at the extremity of the Mozambique Channel,
is to all intents and purposes a French settlement. Mayotte is ca¬
pable of feeding a population of 20,000 souls, and of regularly fur¬
nishing provisions to a squadron of ships. France also possesses
an establishment in Australia, for since the 22d March 1854, Cap¬
tain Dubouzet has been commandant of the Marchesas and imperial
commissary at the Society Islands and New Caledonia. There is
also an unimportant French settlement at Madagascar, and an at¬
tempt at a penal colony has been made at Guyana, where, to the
disgrace of the French government, political prisoners have been
mixed with the refuse of the galleys. In the seas of Europe, Cor¬
sica is almost the only insular possession of the French. They have
no great maritime fortresses, like Gibraltar or Malta, and no de¬
pendencies of the nature of the Ionian Islands.
The commerce of France with her colonies is regulated
by the same narrow maxims as the other branches ol her
foreign trade. The colonies and the mother country are
mutually bound to trade exclusively with each other. The
staple produce of the French West India colonies, as well
as the Isle of Bourbon in the East, is sugar ; and it appears
that the price of this article in the European markets will
not repay the expense of its cultivation in those countries.
The colonists, therefore, insist that all other sugars shall
be excluded by heavy duties from the markets of France ;
that they shall have the exclusive privilege of supplying
these markets ; and on a complaint that the duties imposed
on foreign sugars were not high enough to give them the
monopoly of the home market, an additional duty was, in
1822, on the suggestion of the director-general of the cus¬
toms, imposed on all foreign sugars. In return, France
possesses the exclusive privilege of supplying the colonies
with all the manufactures and other European goods which
they require. On this principle of mutual monopoly the
trade is now conducted. The effect of this system is to
levy a tax on the inhabitants of France, in order to indem¬
nify the colonists for the losses which they incur in carrying
on an unprofitable trade. They cannot furnish a supply of
sugar to France at the ordinary rate of the European mar¬
ket ; and the price must therefore be artificially raised in
that country, in order to enable them to carry on the culti¬
vation of their estates ; whilst, on the other hand, they are
not at liberty to buy the goods which they require in the
cheapest market, but must take them at whatever price they
can be afforded by the mother country.
Another evil of this colonial monopoly is, that the colo¬
nies supply more sugar than France can consume. But it
cannot be sold in other countries at the price which is paid
to the colonies by the mother country ; and hence it be¬
comes necessary to find out the means of forcing a sale of
the surplus which cannot be consumed at home. A bounty
is accordingly granted on all sugar exported from France ;
and in 1831, whilst the duty on the importation of sugar
produced L, 1,636,030, there was paid back for bounties
L.483,951, which was more than one-fourth of the gross
receipts. The loss which France has incurred since the
peace of 1814 by this erroneous system is estimated in
Bowring and Villiers’ Report, at L.4(),000,000 sterling; and
in return for these great sacrifices, the colonies afford but
a limited demand for the manufactures of the mother coun¬
try ; in 1852, it amounted to 23,482,000 kilogrammes ; in
1853, to 26,481,000 kilo.; in 1854, to 33,297,000 kilo.
The republican government of 1848 proceeded to greater
lengths in granting bounties than either of the governments
of the Restoration or the government of Louis Philippe Statistics,
for the primes or drawbacks of 1818, 1820, 1823, 1826, 's—
1833, 1836, 1841, and 1845 were increased to 50 per cent,
from the 15th June 1848. Restored to their former rate,
these drawbacks in the three years antecedent to 1854 rose
to a sum varying between 25 and 27 millions of francs.
General Trade of France with its Colonies.
Colonies.
Martinique 
Guadeloupe 
Bourbon 
Senegal   
Cayenne 
India   
Algiers 
St Pierre & Miquelon, &c.
Isles Mayotte, and 1
Madagascar   J
1853
1853
1853
1853
1853
1853
1853
1853
1853
Importations.
L.652,441
423,655
851,647
287,206
56,833
669,723
1,132,304
617,631
8,627
Exportations.
L.765,577
570,434
684,946
392,369
184,044
21,384
3,395,966
278,637
36,584
The trade to Bourbon island, Guyana, Martinique, and Guada-
loupe, out and home, employed in 1848, 492 ships; in 1849, 541;
1850, 486; 1851, 602; 1852, 677 ; 1853, 583. The mean of the
first five years 560 vessels.
The trade to Algiers, Senegal, India, Madagascar, out and home,
in 1848, 1843 vessels; 1849, 1938 ; 1850, 1902; 1851, 2194; 1852,
2443; 1853, 2177 ; mean of the first five years 2064.
All along the north coast of France, the fisheries consist, Fisheries,
as on our side of the Channel, of cod, mackerel, herrings,
and pilchards. On the shore of the Atlantic, and still more
on that of the Mediterranean, are caught great quantities
of sardines, a fish of passage, which appears periodically in
shoals, like the herring. The fishery of sardines is said to
give employment to 3000 seamen, and the sales resulting
from the produce amount to between 3,000,000 and 4,000,000
of francs. The tunny, a fish not known in northern lati¬
tudes, is found in the Mediterranean in the early part of
summer. It varies in weight from ten to twenty-five pounds,
and is in like manner caught in shoals.
These home fisheries, little calculated for forming seamen, have
been left to their natural progress, whilst repeated attempts have
been made by government to extend the fishery in America ; a de¬
sign favoured by the early possession by France of Newfoundland
and Canada, as well as by the long peace that followed the treaty
of Utrecht. Towards the middle of last century the French fish¬
eries in America employed annually about 5000 seamen ; but the
unsuccessful contest with England in 1756 reduced them greatly,
and deprived them of their principal station, Cape Breton. The
peace of 1783 was concluded under better auspices. The islands
of St Pierre and Miquelon were ceded to France by the treaty of
Versailles, and the rights of fishing and of drying fish from the
Cape St John to Cape Ray. In the Gulf of St Lawrence her rights
were subsequently recognised, by the treaties of 1802 and 1814, at
three leagues distance from the coasts belonging to Great Britain ;
but within the gulf, at a distance of fifteen leagues from Isle Royale,
and thirty leagues from New Brunswick.
For the encouragement of the French fisheries, enormous
pecuniary sacrifices have been made. By the law of the
22d July 1851, bounties are granted to the fisheries till
1861, at the rate of 120 francs the ton. A ship of 600 tons
thus receives 72,000 francs bounty, which would be 2000 to
3000 francs per man. The only time they were ever in a
prosperous state was, not when they were protected by the
artificial encouragement of the mother country, but when
the French colonists, being in possession of a large tract ol
the American sea-coast, were in consequence compelled to
trust to prudence and economy alone for the success ol
their adventures. During the session 1833 of the Chamber
of Deputies, a committee, appointed to inquire into this sub¬
ject, made their report, in which they state—
il That the French fishermen have now to compete with those
who are always on the spot; who carry on their fishing concerns
in small boats, and at a trifling cost; who pay no charge of outfit;
who lose no time in voyages; who employ the cheaper labour of
FRANCE.
Statistics, children, women, and old persons; who have their drying and salt-
'w*^**''* *n£ establishments in the neighbourhood; and who can accommo¬
date all their proceedings to the urgency of circumstances.” It is
to counterbalance these advantages that France has resorted to the
system of bounties, which has been carried to a great length in or¬
der to force the establishment of a trade in the face of natural ob¬
stacles.1 The result of the investigations of the committee was the
recommendation to government to grant such a premium to those
who adventured in the fishery as should place them on a level with
their more fortunate rivals. In 1816 a bounty was granted of fifty
francs per man for the cod-fishery, fifteen francs per man for the
herring fishery, and twenty-four francs per cwt. on the introduc¬
tion of the fish into the colonies. In 1818 these premiums were
raised by royal ordonnances to forty francs per cwt., which is more
than 100 per cent, on the value ; and the market price of the fish
became in consequence a nett profit to the adventurer. This pre¬
mium was reduced in 1822 to thirty francs per cwt. But a new
law was passed in 1832, which was valid till 1837, and which allowed
a premium of fifty francs for every' seaman engaged in the cod-
fishery of St Pierre and Miquelon ; thirty francs for each engaged
in the fisheries of the Great Bank of Newfoundland, or Iceland;
fifteen francs if on the Dogger Bank ; and fifty francs in every case
if the fish are dried at St Pierre or Miquelon. An additional pre¬
mium was allowed of twenty-four francs per metrical quintal or 2
cwts. on cod-fish shipped from France to the French colonies, thirty
francs if shipped direct from the fisheries, twelve francs per quintal
if shipped to other ports from France, and ten if direct from the
fisheries ; also twenty francs per quintal as a premium on cod-roes.
The effect of these bounties was and is to place the adventurer in
the French fisheries beyond all risk of loss. In many cases they
were equal to the whole expense of the outfit, the voyage, and the
return ; and, though no cargo is brought home, no loss can be in¬
curred. The whole expense and hazard of the trade is thus borne
by the public. Two-thirds of the products of the French fish¬
eries are consumed in France, the other third is exported to the
French colonies or to foreign countries. It is to this last third that
the varying scale of bounties is applicable, and the sums paid in
this way it is calculated yearly take from France a sum varving
from 3,000,000 to 3,500,000 francs.
The bounties paid for the cod-fisheries in 1852 absorbed
between 6,000,000 and 7,000,000 of francs, which was
more than double the sum paid on the avera°'e of the five
years between 1820 and 1830.
The vessels equipped for the fisheries of Newfoundland,
St Pierre, Miquelon, &c., proceed from the ports of St Malo,
St Brieuc, and Granville. Ihe vessels proceeding to Ice¬
land sail from Dunkirk.
The French fish are of very inferior quality to those
caught by the Americans, the latter selling at forty-seven
francs thirty-five centimes per quintal, whilst the French
cod-fish only brought twenty-six francs ninety-five centimes.2
With all this expense, however, the French fisheries are not
adequate to the supply of the colonies, which receive con¬
siderable quantities of fish from foreigners, as will be seen
from the following table.
Fishery and Export of Cod from 1848 to 1853.
265
Years.
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
Ships.
354
324
363
396
419
421
Men.
11,142
10,606
11,710
12,649
13,648
13,588
Expenses
of
Shipping.
L.13,931
20,000
22,202
24,140
25,994
25,347
Exportation
from allports
cwts.
311.733
338.733
306,030
408,351
400,154
372,715
Total ex¬
penses.
Fr-anch Cod-Fishery Importations and Exportations—fresh. Statistics.
dried, oil, fyc. ; and Importations of Whale-Fishery.
L.112,340
123,204
117,482
154,982
145,174
133,190
Statement of the whale-fishery from the French ports 
Havre, 5 vessels, of 2045 tons and 127 men; return of
product, 22,142 cwt. of oil of the whale; 30 cwt. of the
cachalot; 1608 cwt. of whalebone.
Years.
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
Cod-Fishery.
Imported.
Cwts.
412,431
388,374
376,132
403,377
378,862
345.541
Exported.
Cwts.
82,964
88,251
62,070
85,410
54,400
55,307
Whale-Fishery
Imported.
Cwts.
10,711
19,047
20,157
17,477
3,889
12,081
Fhe mean of the first five years is above 391,915 quintals.
Vessels of France employed in the fisheries generally 
1848, 849; 1849, 685; 1850, 838; 1851, 925; 1852
959 ; 1853, 943. The mean of five years is 851 vessels.
The total amount of cod-fish exported in 1853 from all
the ports of France amounted to 1,537,971 kilogrammes or
55,307 quintals. ’
The whale-fishery was established in France in 1784, Whale-
by means of encouragements held out by Louis XVI., who fishery-
ordered that no duty should be collected on the articles
exported, and that the produce of the fisheries should pay
no import duty. 1 J
He guaranteed the adventurers against loss, and ultimately paid
in addition to L.12,500, which he advanced without interest an
additional sum of L.6695, being the balance of loss on seventeen
voyages. Notwithstanding these encouragements, the whole pro¬
ject was abandoned in 1787. In 1816 the offer of bounties attracted
new adventurers into this branch of trade. The premium offered
by the government was fifty francs (L.2) per man, and two-thirds
of the crews were allowed to be foreigners. In 1819 forty francs
were allowed to foreign vessels having a crew half French, fifty
francs when the captain and one-third of the crew were French •
the premium to be doubled if the vessel passed Cape Horn. In
1829 a new ordonnance granted ninety francs per ton on vessels
wholly equipped by Frenchmen, forty francs when only two-thirds
were Frenchmen, and thirty francs if the captain was a foreigner
The premium was doubled if the vessel passed Cape Horn. A supl
plementary premium was allowed to vessels fishing to the south¬
east of the Cape of Good Hope, and the double premium was given
to all vessels fishing at a higher northern latitude than sixty de¬
grees ; and as the fishing is seldom or never prosecuted at a lower
latitude, this premium of 180 francs per ton (L.7, 4s.) was invariably
paid. The law of 1832, which regulates the whale-fishery of France
established a bounty of seventy francs per ton from March 1832 tQ5
March 1833, if the whole crew were French ; the bounty to be
diminished four francs yearly till it reached fifty-four francs. If
one-third of the crew be foreigners, the bounty to be forty-eight
francs per ton, to diminish two francs yearly till it reached forty
francs per ton. A supplementary bounty to be given of fifty francs
per ton if the crew be French, decreasing three francs per annum
per ton; and twenty-four francs if one-third be foreigners, decreas¬
ing one franc per annum, to be paid to vessels doubling Cape Horn
or reaching sixty-two degrees of south latitude, if returning with
less than half a cargo, or after an absence of sixteen months; five
hundred tons to be the minimum for a single whaler.
With these extraordinary encouragements, capital was
attracted to this new line of industry; and in 1831 three
vessels cleared out for the Greenland whale-fishery, and
thirteen for the South Sea fishery, which employed 6412
tons of shipping, and were manned by 551 men. Not¬
withstanding all the bounties given to the whale-fishery,
France has very few vessels engaged in it. There were
only seventeen ships in the trade in 1849, and seven only
re-entered French ports. There were but five vessels
left Havre in 1853, of a tonnage of 2045 tons, and with a
crew of 127 men. The return of the product was 112,485
the prhoeducr:eftrfidferent TuUntleS aP?llC?,ble t0 the cod-fishery, one calculated on the scale of the number of the crew, the other on
according to the plfces^of destination? ^ glVen ^ ^ dried C°d‘fish Sent t0 the f0reign markets’ and this bounty 011 exportation varies
tion^thatTt'r^n 32’i S°.bad ™.as the Frencl1 eod-fish exported to the West Indies (with a view merely to receive the bounty on exporta-
were thrown overboard.^ USed ^ manUre ; °f three CarSoes of French cod-fish exported to Oporto in 1849, two were so bad thaf they
VOL. X
2 L
FRANCE.
266
Statistics, kilogrammes of the whale, 1589 of the cachalot, and 81,710
^ kilogrammes of whalebone.
It was estimated by the minister of commerce, in his report on
this subject to the Chamber of Deputies more than twenty years
ago that the 550 seamen employed in the whale-fishery do not cost
the’state less than 1,000,000 francs, at the rate of L.72,12s. per
man, or L.6 a month. The wages granted by the budget to seamen
employed in ships of war amounted to L.l per month ; so that the
allowance to the seamen employed in the Greenland fishery is six
times the ordinary allowance of seamen in the public service. It
is remarkable that France was granting these extravagant allow¬
ances for the encouragement of the whale-fishery exactly at the
time that Great Britain was withdrawing the bounties by which
she had formerly endeavoured to promote this branch of trade as
a nursery for seamen. Yet in 1830 the number of vessels that
cleared out for the fishery in England was 123, consisting of 40,166
tons, navigated by 5044 seamen ; being thus about eight times the
quantity of tonnage employed by France. The government of
Louis Philippe, alarmed at the large outlay in bounty, endeavoured
to lessen it, and to render it transitory and temporary only. M.
d’Ar"ont, the minister of commerce, insisted that these bounties
exhausted the resources of the state, and decreasing bounties were
after a period adopted, but M. Cunin Gridaine, who was minister
of commerce, relapsed into the old error by introducing supple¬
mental bounties. The provisional government of 1848, by one de¬
cree augmented the bounties, and by a second extended the term
of the law to 31st December 1851. On the 22d July 1851, the
National Assembly voted for the continuance of the bounties to
1861.
Shipping. France seems destined, by the natural advantages which
she possesses, to become a maritime power of the first rank.
Her sea-coast exceeds in extent that of any other conti¬
nental state. On the Atlantic she has 130 leagues of coast,
150 on the Channel, and ninety on the Mediterranean;
whilst her position between northern and southern Fmope,
and her numerous ports and navigable rivers, are eminently
favourable to the extension of her navigation. But in this,
as in all other branches of the French trade, the piejudicia
effects of the restrictive system have been abundantly ma¬
nifest. France, in forcing a trade with her colonies, con¬
taining less than half a million of inhabitants, has sacrificed
her trade with other tropical countries and their numerous
population, to the great injury of her shipping interest.
A treat increase has taken place in the tonnage employed
in the coasting trade of France, a fact which affoids cleai
and convincing evidence of the extending resources of the
country, which would have equally occasioned an increase
in the shipping employed in the foreign as well as the do¬
mestic trade, if this important branch of industry had not
been stunted in its natural growth by the monopolizing
system. The navigation of France no doubt suffered grie¬
vously during the last war, under the maritime hostility of
Great Britain. But in the course of nearly twenty years
it would have recovered from this state of depression, if the
natural energies of the country had been allowed free scope
in this line of industry.
Butcher’s The Revolution of 1830 did not alter the system pre-
meat in vailing antecedently with respect to the trade m butcher s
Paris' meat, but modified it. The same may be said of the Re¬
volution of 1848. It did not change the system but modi¬
fied under certain heads the practice of the trade. ie
droits d'octroi et de caisse de Poissi/ were at fii st suppresse ,
then re-established, but with a radical change in this respect,
that the duty was levied by the weight of the cattle and not
at so much per head as before. This alteration had long
been ineffectually demanded by the agricultural breeders.
Butchers from the interior of France were also to provide
stock and meat for the Paris market as well as their brethren
of the capital. These regulations and modifications satis¬
fied neither agriculturists nor butchers. In the month
of January 1851, the National Assembly directed an
inquiry into the production and consumption of butcher s
meat. The commission charged with this inquiry seri¬
ously engaged in it, but the events of the 2d December
1851 prevented it from finishing its task. From the por¬
tion of the report, however, that has been printed, we know Statistics,
that it was the opinion of the committee that there should ^'
be liberty of commerce in meat, and that the local authori¬
ties should, under no pretext whatsoever, be allowed to inter¬
fere with this cardinal principle. The committee considered
meat, like spice, silk, or cloth, a mercantile commodity, and
were of opinion that the police should only interfere as to
frauds in reference to the quantity or quality, or as to the whole¬
someness of the victual as an article of food. This was only
returning to the principle professed in the laws of the 14th
and 17th June 1791, and the 1st Brumaire An. vn. On
the question of the octroi they were of opinion that it in¬
terfered with the price and consumption of food, and that it
should be abolished from the 1st January 1860. Since this
report was published the price of butcher s meat has increased,
and the supply has diminished at Poissy, the great market
which supplies Paris. In consequence of this, recourse was
had to an expedient which sound political science has proved
to be utterly ineffectual. An ordonnance appeared in the
Moniteur of the 11th and 12th October 1855, of which the
following is the substance :—
On and after the 16th of the present month, butcher’s meat shall
he sold at prices taxed by the authorities.
The price shall be fixed every fortnight for every kind of meat,
according to the returns made at the Caisse de Poissy, and to the
weight of meat ascertained to have been sent from the public
slaughter-houses of Paris during the preceding fortnight.
(Then follow instructions regulating the manner in which the
different kinds of meat are to be divided and arranged as to prices.)
In the shops established in the markets, meat shall be sold at 10 c.
at least per kilogramme (about a halfpenny per lb.) below the fixed
price.
This decree, which violates every sound principle of po¬
litical economy, appears to have been well received by the
poorer classes of the population, who had long complained
of the dearness of meat, and of the exorbitant profits of the
butchers. But the way to reduce the profits of the butcher
is to destroy the monopoly, and to render trade in meat fiee.
VIII. RELIGIOUS AND CHARITABLE ESTABLISHMENTS.
The condition of the church and clergy forms a most im¬
portant feature in the history and present situation of Fi ance.
In former times, the Gallican church, without desiring a
separation from the holy see, had often advanced a claim
to independence, and maintained long and animated dis¬
cussions, or rather controversies, familiar to those readeis^
of the French annals who have attended to the history of^
the Jansenists and Molinists. Jlie result of these, and of
the general progress of knowledge in trance, was an ex¬
emption from a part at least of the interference in eccle¬
siastical affairs, exercised so despotically by the court of
Rome in Spain, in Portugal, in Italy, and now in Austria.
As to pecuniary means, though the income of the lower
ranks of the clergy was extremely small, the church of
France was on the whole richly endowred; antecedently to
the first French Revolution the rent of land and houses
appropriated to abbeys, priories, bishoprics, archbishoprics,
and benefices of every description, being computed at five
millions sterling, exclusive of the tithes levied, with more or
less strictness, throughout the whole kingdom. As a poli¬
tical body, the French clergy were differently situated from
the English, having no voice in legislating, but aiming at,
and frequently attaining, the highest offices in the execu¬
tive government.
In 1789 a number of the clergy, both in the upper and
lower ranks, participated in the general wish for a political
reform, and evinced that disposition by their readiness in
coalescing with the tiers etat, at a time when the majority
of the noblesse refused to do so, until compelled by the call
of the people, and the positive order of the court. In the
highly interesting discussions that ensued during the yeais
FRA
Statistics. 1789 and 1790, some of the leading orators were Homan
Catholic clergymen, nor did they in general take the alarm,
until the menacing aspect given to public affairs by the too
rapid progress of the Revolution. The National Assembly
stripped the church of her lands, and declared them the
property of the public, providing, indeed, for the income of
the clergy, but making the payment of it dependent on go¬
vernment. All this might have passed and been forgiven
in the ardent hopes of national benefit from the Revolu¬
tion ; but the assembly did not stop here. Considering
both the court of Rome and the court of France invete-
rately hostile to the Revolution, they determined to detach
the clergy from both, and sought to compel their adherence,
by imposing on them an oath of fidelity to the new consti¬
tution, on pain of forfeiture of their livings. The sincerity
of the clerical body was now put to the test, and a striking
proof was given of their being actuated by that conscien¬
tious feeling for which the public in Protestant countries
are so little disposed to give them credit. In every rank,
whether prelates, vicars, or the humble curates, the ma¬
jority preferred the hazard of losing their livelihood to
taking an oath at variance with their conscience. The
violent party continued to triumph at Paris, and the non-
conforming clergy had no alternative but to fly their coun¬
try. Hence the crowds of emigrants who, in 1791 and 1792,
sought refuge in Italy, Germany, and, above all, in Eng¬
land. Those who remained in France were exposed to all
the atrocities of the Jacobins. Hundreds of them were sa¬
crificed in the massacres of September 1792, and hundreds
more were brought to the guillotine in the dreadful years
1793 and 1794. With the fall of Robespierre (July 1794)
the executions ceased ; but a tone of hostility to the church
Mas still kept up, and accounted an indispensable part of
the policy of the revolutionary government. The only class
allowed to remain in quiet were the cures, whose humble
station and scattered position created no political alarm.
It was not till the established sway of Bonaparte (in 1801)
that circumstances admitted of cooler calculation, and en¬
abled that skilful ruler to seek in a hierarchy a prop to his
own power, and an engine of opposition to the liberal party,
which still hoped to secure to France advantages from the
Revolution. With this view he affected great respect for
the Roman Catholic Church, concluded a concordat with
the pope, and made a pecuniary provision for a specified
number of sees. His next step was to frame and circulate
throughout all France a catechism, calculated to impress
the rising generation with a profound veneration for a so¬
vereign who had been “ anointed by the pope, and received
his mission from the Almighty.” The power of Bonaparte
received in this manner a most substantial support, and
would have taken deep root with the lower orders, had he
not counteracted it by his subsequent quarrel with the pope,
u'hich assumed an angry aspect in 1809, and became more
and more aggravated during the remainder of his reign.
On the restoration of the Bourbons in 1814, the Catholic
clergy hailed the change with enthusiasm ; but the public,
at least the great majority of the middling classes, soon
showed a marked distinction between their cause and that
of the king. The conduct of Louis in regard to the clergy
was marked by moderation and judgment. He sought to
revive similar impressions among his subjects, to enforce
the observance of the Lord’s day, and to relieve from in¬
digence the country curates. But he placed no clergymen
in political situations, nor attempted to give the bishops or
archbishops seats in the House of Peers.
Concordat. A concordat or compact between the pope and the king
is a transaction of high importance in a Catholic country,
where the public are impressed with the belief, that in all
that relates to religion, reference ought to be had to the
court of Rome, and that their temporal sovereign possesses
authority in such affairs only as far as it is delegated by
N C E. 267
the holy father. The object of a concordat is to define Statistics,
the respective powers of the pope and the king. In France ^ ^
the aim of the executive government has long been to
secure the patronage of the church, and to stipulate that
no bulls, briefs, decrees, or other acts of a nature to agitate
the public mind, should be promulgated without the royal
or imperial sanction, or the sanction of the head of the
executive power. Three centuries ago, when the alarm of
the Reformation, and some urgent political considerations,
made it of importance to the court of Rome to attach to
its cause the reigning sovereign of France, there was passed
between Leo X. and Francis L a concordat, declaring that
the power of nominating the archbishops and bishops of
France resided in the crown, the sanction of the pope being
required only for their inauguration {institution canonique).
This compact was considered a kind of charter or standard
document in the long discussions which afterwards ensued
about the independence of the Gallican church, until the
wdiole sunk into insignificance before the storm of the Re¬
volution. During the ferment of that convulsion, the Ja¬
cobins, and even the Directory, made no proposition for
accommodation with the holy see, and bade, or affected to
bid, it defiance. Bonaparte, more politic, concluded a con¬
cordat, which, though it reinstated only 50 of the 130 sees
existing before the Revolution, stamped him in some measure
a restorer of the church. That he did not afterwards
augment their number, is to be accounted for solely by a
dread of alarming the revolutionists. The Bourbons, on
their restoration, appear to have felt all the delicacy of such
a measure ; and there appears no ground for believing that
they intended to restore the lands, the tithes, or temporal
influence of the clergy. Negotiations for a concordat were
early begun with the court of Rome, but its conclusion was
delayed till 1817; and the interest with which it M?as re¬
ceived in France can be comprehended only by persons
resident among a people still agitated by political division,
and dreading the influence of the clergy as an engine for
the revival of all past abuses. From this, and from differ¬
ences with the court of Rome that are foreign to our sub¬
ject, the execution of the new concordat was very tardy.
The prelates of the church of France are as follows :—
Cardinals, at present six in number, with an annual income
of about L.1000; 15 archbishops, average income about
L.600, except the archbishop of Paris and the cardinals
being archbishops ; 65 bishops, average income about L.400.
The next in rank are the vicars-general, to the number of more
than a hundred; and the ehanoines or canons, who also exceed a
hundred; after which come the curls or parish priests, in number
nearly 3300, and divided into three classes (first, second, and third),
with incomes of only L.4‘0*, L.50, or L.60, hut with certain emolu¬
ments from surplus fees, which vary according to the population of
their respective districts. Lastly come the desservaixts, or acting
curates, of whom there is one in almost every country commune or
parish in the kingdom, amounting in all to 26,000, hut with incomes
of only between L.20 and L.30 a-year; a pittance equal to about
L.40 in England, but still too small to provide for even the limited
wants of a state of celibacy. There are also a number of succursales,
or chapels, appended to large parishes; but of these a considerable
number (at present about 2000) are vacant from want of funds, bad
repairs of the building, and other causes. These various appoint¬
ments are all paid out of the public treasury. The expense of the
Catholic Church is about L.1,100,000 sterling a-year ; but as there
are other heads of disbursement, particularly salaries to Protestant
ministers, the total ecclesiastical charge is about L.1,300,000.
The nomination of all clergymen, whether Catholic or Protestant,
under the Bourbons, was vested in the crown. As to political feel¬
ing, the Roman Catholic clergy are generally hostile to the interests
produced by the Revolution; but when the republic was in the
ascendant they busily planted trees of liberty. In fact they cling to
anything established, or that promises stability.
Female convents have all along existed in France, with the ex- Convents,
ception of a few years of the worst part of the Revolution, when their
inmates were obliged to forsake their establishments, and to seek
an abode with their relations. They are now (1855) very numerous
in Paris and throughout France. The most famous and fashionable
268
FRANCE.
Statistics convent under the Restoration and under Louis Philippe still exists
' —the Convent de PAbbaye au Bois. Monasteries are not now very
1 numerous, and no idea is entertained of re-establishing the abbeys,
priories, and other endowed establishments} but since the establish¬
ment of the empire the power of the clergy has increased, and
Jesuits are again openly conducting educational establishments,
and preaching in the pulpits of Paris and the great towns.
Protes¬
tants.
Hospitals.
What, it may be asked, have been the effects of the first
Revolution on "the state of religion in France ? There can
be no question, that within the three years between 1852
and 1855 there has been an evident reaction, and in some
sort a revival of the religious sentiment among all classes of
Frenchmen ; the Romish churches and chapels are better
attended by the younger and middle-aged men, and are
crowded by women of all ages. The first Revolution
undoubtedly has subverted the power of the Church,
and, what is much more serious, the belief of Chris¬
tianity in the minds of the young and the middle-aged
of the male part of the population ; but with the elders
of that sex, and with almost all females, the Roman Catholic
creed preserves undiminished sway—a sway which extends
much farther than can readily be conceived by Protestants.
The extent of this influence is owing to various causes ;
in part to commendable conduct in the clergy, who in gene¬
ral act the part of careful pastors, and attentive visitors in
sickness or distress; but in part also to that blind credu¬
lity with which the tenets of the church are received both
by the hearers and their spiritual guides, whose education
has by no means kept pace with the general progress of
knowledge ; for it does not embrace the philosophical course
of the universities of France, but is conducted in separate
seminaries, and upon a much more confined plan.
The Protestants in France amount to above 2,000,000,
and are most numerous in the south, particularly at Nimes
and its vicinity. The Bourbon government received with
attention the applications of the Protestants, whether for
increase of pastors or I'epair of churches. They form an
industrious and valuable portion of the population ; but they
are animated by a strong esprit de sects ; and during the
reigns of Louis XVIII. and Charles X. they evinced con¬
siderable distrust of the reinstated government. The
Lutherans in France have 387 pastors, the reformed reli-^
gion^of the Augsburg confession) 387, making a total of
775 pastors.
The hospitals of France are numerous, and derive their revenues
from three sources, namely:—
Francs.
Permanent revenues 24,453,654-90
Casual sources  16,164,117,36
Sums reimbursed (it is pre • 1 ^gg ggg.42
sumed by the state) J ’ ’
54,116,660'68
The value of the property from which the permanent revenues are
derived is about 500 millions of francs. The necessary deductions for
repairs and management render the clear sum available under this
head 11,291,878-56 francs. The sources styled casual or accidental
are derived from sums voluntarily granted by the communes to the
hospitals within their boundaries out of their revenues. Before the
Revolution, or in 1780, there were only 870 hospitals ; there are now
1270. The revenue now, 54,000,000 francs, was then only 20,000,000
francs. At the first period only 110,000 indigent sufferers were
relieved, now 126,500. The rate of mortality was nearly the same
in 1847 as in 1780, notwithstanding the great ameliorations intro¬
duced in all such establishments.
The poor. The poor in France are reckoned as 1 in 8 of the population. The
poor are relieved by what are called the bureaux de bienfaisance,
which number in all 9336, and possess a revenue of 17,381,267
francs, arising from various sources, such as monts de piete, a tax on
the theatres, confiscations, legacies, rentes, casual receipts, &c. Of
the above sum 683,346 francs are expended in medicines, above
8,000,000 in corn, and above 2,300,000 in cash relief; a fifth part of
the total revenue is defrayed in its management. It would appear
the poor are but insufficiently succoured. The differences in the
numbers of indigent in different parts of the empire are remark¬
able. In the north the indigent are as 1 to 9, the mendicants as 1
to 62; in the east as 1 to 14, and 1 to 181; in the south as 1 Statistics,
to 18, and 1 to 130 ; and in the west as 1 to 11, and 1 to 106. v trr ^ >
In Paris there is one indigent to 12 inhabitants, and 1 mendicant
to 397; in Lyon 1 to 10, and 1 to 532 ; in Marseilles 1 to 7, and
1 to 1429; in Bordeaux 1 to 7, no mendicants; in Rouen 1 to 31,
no mendicants; in Toulouse 1 to 33, and 1 in 310; in Lille 1 in 3
are paupers, and 1 in 307 mendicants. The mean relief rendered
by the bureaux de bienfaisanee is 12 francs 70 centimes per head.
Before the Revolution the poor in France, as in Italy Charitable
and other Catholic countries, were supported chiefly by the establish-
abbeys, priories, or other beneficed establishments. Onments-
the absorption of these sources of income by the first revo¬
lutionary government, a provision for the poor became a
subject of legislative inquiry; and, after long investiga¬
tion, it was determined to avoid a poor-rate on the English
plan, but to provide for the aged and helpless an annual
fund to the proposed amount of L.2,000,000 sterling. Seve¬
ral years elapsed before this was acted on, and the fund
eventually provided consisted of a revival of part of the old
octrois, or dues levied on wine, cider, spirits, and other ar¬
ticles of consumption, on their entrance into towns ; a tax
from which the Revolution had relieved the public, and
which was now disguised under the specious name of octroi
de bienfaisance. These dues, however, were soon extended
and applied to the general expenditure of the government,
after retaining a portion, which at present constitutes the
only regular fund for the poor. Further sums are collected
by subscription in the depth of winter, or on the occurrence
of extraordinary distress. From the public treasury, like¬
wise, there are made occasional issues, in a season of hard¬
ship, on the application of the mayors or local magistrates.
There are at Paris a number of hospitals, of which by far
the largest is the Hotel Dieu. In the provincial cities there
are in general two hospitals for the poor—one for the sick,
the other for the aged; besides other charitable institutions.
The money advanced for the succour of mendicity in
France varies according to circumstances, such as the cus¬
toms and resources of the localities. In each commune or
parish there exists a committee composed of the mayor, the
parish priest, rector, or curate, the Protestant minister, if
there be one, and two or three of the principal inhabitants.
This committee procures exact information upon the wants
and resources of each family, and provides the quantity of
head-meat and firewood necessary. A species of voluntary
subscription is raised the more easily, as it is levied in kind.
The farmer gives bread or wood, the butcher meat, the
physician his attendance, the apothecary his drugs. A
strict discipline is preserved in the division of the alms, and
in fixing the preliminaries and conditions of good conduct.
In France the proportion of persons who are succoured by
eleemosynary aid is 1 in 10 in the great towns and 1 in 15
in the country. In France a pauper is maintained all the
year at L.l a-head, whereas in England the cost is L.4.
IX. ESTABLISHMENTS FOR EDUCATION.
The organization or framework of the system of public Educa-
instruction in France is one of the happiest applications
which has yet been made of the principle of centralization. 18 rae
It is due to the genius of Napoleon. In 1808 he promul¬
gated his decree for establishing the University of France,
the provisions of which, being full of the wisdom and fore¬
sight so characteristic of his civil acts, have engrafted them¬
selves on the institutions of the country, and, with a few
slight modifications suggested by experience or by the
course of events, are now in full operation, and producing
the happiest eftects. By this decree the establishments
for education throughout France, whether endowed or
not, from the village school, through all the gradations of
grammar schools, academies, and colleges, up to the facul¬
ties and universities, were comprehended under one great
central administration, called /’ V nicer site Imperiale de
269
FRANCE.
Statistics. France. The term University, therefore, in the sense first
introduced by Napoleon, and now naturalized and generally
adopted in France, does not describe, as in Britain and else¬
where, an institution for liberal education, but a branch of
the administration or government of the state. Napoleon
applied his system of centralization to the university as
well as to the government and army. The university
has, nevertheless, so much of the nature of a corporate
body, that it possesses large disposable funds of its own,
consisting partly of real property, partly of pecuniary en¬
dowment secured on the public revenue, and partly of the
produce of a tax levied on every institution for educating
the children of the wealthier classes, which is called retri¬
bution universitaire. All professors, public teachers, and
schoolmasters are necessarily members of this vast body,
called the University, the control and direction of which
rested under the government of the Restoration.
Administrative Body of the University.
1. The grand master, who was at the restoration also minister of
public instruction, with a seat in the cabinet. The grand master,
under the kingly government, appointed all the officers of university
administration, and filled up all the vacancies in colleges and schools,
only, however, upon the recommendation of the inferior local autho¬
rities, and after rigorous examinations and comparative trials by
them.
2. The second university authority under the kingly govern¬
ment was the royal council of public instruction, composed of ten
members, selected from the names most eminent in the various
branches of science and literatnre. They held their sittings in
Paris, and were generally distinguished members of the Institute.
Their province was to suggest and sanction improvements in the
method of teaching ; to direct and superintend the compilation of
books to put into the hands of youth, and to see that they be adopted
in schools and colleges; to judge and remove incompetent teachers,
upon the reports of general inspectors ; in short, to watch over the
concerns and interests of public instruction in all its branches.
3. The university, or, in other words, the whole territory of
Prance, as far as regards the purposes of education, was, under
Louis Philippe, divided into twenty-seven academies, each compre¬
hending three or more departments; for the term academy, like
university itself, no longer designates a local institution for the
training of youth, but a certain territorial extent of educational
jurisdiction. In the central town of each academy resided a rector,
whose business it was to superintend all the schools, colleges, and
faculties within the departments forming his district, to promote
their moral and intellectual improvement, to collect the reports
of the inspectors employed to visit and examine all places of
education under his jurisdiction, to transmit the result to the cen¬
tral administration at Paris, and to serve as the organ of commu¬
nication with the minister of public instruction. He was assisted
and controlled in the exercise of his functions by an academical
council of ten, who were partly official persons connected with the
university, with the department, and with the municipality, and
partly respectable inhabitants of the town, the seat of the academy.
4. Attached to the conseil royal were ten inspectors-general of the
university. Prance being divided into ten districts, each visited
once a-year by a different inspector, for the purpose of making a
survey of the principal establishments, controlling their adminis¬
tration, and reporting to the minister of public instruction.
Besides these inspectors, or agents of the central adminis¬
tration, each rector has, acting under him, two or more inspec-
teurs d'academic, to examine more minutely every primary school
or college within the limits of his jurisdiction, and report to him on
the general condition of the establishments, on the progress of the
pupils, and on the conduct and character of the teachers.
With regard to the constituent parts of the great corps enseignant,
beginning with the highest, there are,
1. Les facultes. The faculties under the imperial system are five;
the sciences mathematical and physical, letters, law, medicine, and
theology; and all these faculties, with their complement of pro¬
fessors, a dean at the head of each, and an attendance of students
more or less numerous, are established in eight towns, namely, Paris,
Caen, Toulouse, Strasburg, Dijon, Poictiers, Rennes, and Metz.
It is by the faculties alone that degrees can be conferred, and
these degrees are of three kinds : Bachelor's (Ze baccalaureat), which
cannot be obtained before sixteen years of age; licentiate’s (la li¬
cence), which presupposes the former, and at least one additional
year of age and study ; and doctor’s degree (le doctoral), granted to
licentiates when still further advanced in age and acquirements.
2. Subordinate to the faculties, and intended to be a preparation
for them, are the colleges; institutions which resemble a good deal .
the schools of Eton, Harrow, Westminster, &c. The French colleges a U 1CS
are either royal or communal. Of the former there are at present
39, of the latter 320. Of the 320, by far the greater number are in
a very imperfect and inefficient state. The College Royal in the
time of Louis Philippe was under the special management of the
government. Its directors and professors were paid out of the funds
of the nation. The whole was conducted at the charge of the state,
and the course of instruction was higher than in the communal
colleges. The professors at the college communal are paid out of
the funds of the commune.
3. The third and lowest stage of national instruction is that of
the icoles primaires, corresponding to our parochial and village
schools. The law of the 28th of June 1833 new-modelled and added
greatly both to the number and value of the ecoles primaires. It
ordains that there shall be a school in everyone of the 37,187 com¬
munes or parishes into which Prance is divided.
This law provides also for a somewhat fuller and more compre¬
hensive education of the children of the middle class and wealthy
burghers in large towns, by ordaining that in every commune which
contains above 6000 souls (the number of these in France is 273)
there shall be en ecole primaire superieure, corresponding to and
borrowed from the Burger or Mittel-schule of Germany, in which a
considerable extension is given to the list of subjects taught in the
primary schools. It is also provided that departments may unite
themselves to neighbouring departments with a view to have ecoles
primaires. By the law of the legislative assembly, 15th March 1850,
there are to be two species of primary schools—the schools founded
or sustained by the communes and the departments of the state,
which take the name of ecoles publiques; and the schools founded
by private individuals or associations, which take the name of
ecoles libres. The inspection of primary teaching is confided in
each arrondissement to an inspector named by the Minister (after
having taken the opinion of the Academic Council), and to the
cantonal delegates, the mayor, the parish priest, the pastor, or the
delegate of the Israelite consistory.
Primary instruction is gratuitously given to children whose
parents are not able to pay for it. In order to exercise the pro¬
fession of instituteur primaire, in public or free schools, the teacher
must be a Frenchman of the age of twenty-five, and possess a cer¬
tificate or brevet of capacity, but it may be dispensed with in
cases in which the academic council certifies that the individual
has during three years taught, in public or free schools, the sub¬
jects which form the basis of primary instruction; likewise where
the candidates have the diploma of bachelor, or a certificate stating
that the bearer has been admitted into one of the special schools of
the government. A clergyman, too, of any of the religions recog¬
nised by the state, who has not been revoked or interdicted, may
be an instituteur primaire.
Instituteurs communaux are named by the municipal council of
each commune. Every commune is bound to maintain one or
more primary schools. Every commune of 800 souls is bound, if
its resources permit, to have a school for girls. The academic
council also can compel communes of a less population, if they
have the means, to maintain a girls’ school. All communal schools
or girls’ free schools kept by lay teachers or by religious associa¬
tions, cloistered or uncloistered, in so far as regards teaching, are
submitted to the inspection and surveillance of the authorities in¬
stituted by the law of the 15th March 1850.
The educational system of France may be considered as now
happily established, and rendered permanent and efficient, by
two other parts of the system. One of these is the ecole normale,
established at Paris by Napoleon in 1808, for the purpose of main¬
taining 300 pupils, and training them not only to considerable ac¬
quirements in literature and science, but to the art of communicating
their knowledge to others in an attractive and interesting form,
and thus to become able regents in the colleges and professors in
the faculties. None are admitted into this institution who are un¬
der the age of seventeen complete, and who have not distinguished
themselves in the previous stages of their education. The pupils
are divided into two sections, that of the sciences and that of let¬
ters, and remain three years in the one or the other. The first two
years are employed in confirming and extending their acquirements
by a rigorous and effectual discipline under the best professors and
teachers that Paris can afford. During the last year they are re¬
garded as future teachers, and trained particularly, both by the¬
ory and practice, to the art of communicating instruction. The
other security is an extension and application of this noble concep¬
tion of Napoleon, so as to embrace a preparatory course of discipline
for the teachers of the primary schools. This idea, though origi¬
nated and even acted upon long before the revolution of 1830, never
was followed out with energy and effect till after that event; and
even so late as 1828 there existed only three ecoles normales pri¬
maires, as these seminaries for schoolmasters are called.
270 FRANCE.
Statistics. The Institute of France is divided into five academies,
v v ; viz., the French Academy, the Academic des Inscriptions
et Belles Lettres, the Academic des Sciences, the Aca¬
demic Royale des Beaux Arts, and the Academic des
Sciences Morales et Politiques.
The Academic de Medicine now replaces the Royal Society
of Medicine and the Academy of Surgery.
X. ESTABLISHMENTS FOR THE PURPOSES OF WAR.
Army. The French army first assumed a regular form under
Henri IV.; but its peace establishment, including both
horse and foot, did not then exceed 10,000 men, whilst the
whole charge for the war department, including ordnance
and half pay, was L.500,000. In 1610 Henri carried his
army to a war establishment of 40,000 men. In 1640,
under the able administration of Richelieu, France took an
active part in the war of Germany, carrying her force at
one time to 100,000 men, and her expenditure to the then
unexampled sum of L.4,000,000 sterling in one year. In
1659, Louis XIV., already full of ambitious projects, kept
up a peace establishment of 70,000 men ; and the war of
1672 having brought Germany, Holland, and Spain into the
field against France, the force of the latter country was car¬
ried to the number of 160,000 men. From 1679 to 1688
there was peace ; but Louis passed the interval in preparing
for war; and the introduction of the funding system now
enabled France, England, and Holland, to surpass all their
former exertions. The contest begun in 1688 required on
the part of France a force of between 200,000 and 300,000
men. The peace of Utrecht gave a long repose to ex¬
hausted France, and the war of 1741 did not, until con¬
ducted in its advanced stage by Marshal Saxe, call forth a
military force equal to that of Louis XIV. In the war of
1756 the French army was less numerous, and far less ably
commanded. During the continental peace of thirty years
(from 1762 to 1792) its establishment was kept, with little
fluctuation, at 100,000 men.
The war of the Revolution began with a force on the
part of France1 of only 140,000 men; but this was speedily
augmented by the compulsory levies of February 1793, and
by the still more comprehensive operation of the requisition
in September. It was Carnot, the author of the Eloge de
Vauban and VEssai sur les Machines, who organized the
camp of Chalons, and who at the end of 1793 was enabled,
by his indomitable energy, industry, and perseverance,
working sixteen hours out of the twenty-four, to oppose to
the coalesced enemies of France no less than fourteen dif¬
ferent armies.2 Carnot’s was the head and hand which alone
directed the war office, and which traced the plans of the
different campaigns. During his ministry the finest cam¬
paigns of Napoleon and Moreau were organized. It was
he who conferred with the generals, and who, without the
aid of a secretary, corresponded with the fourteen armies.
The republican spirit was now at its height; and the unli¬
mited issue of assignats led to the maintenance of a force
hitherto unexampled in the annals of any country, ancient
or modern. In 1794, the Frenchmen in actual service in
the Netherlands, on the Rhine, in Piedmont, the Pyrenees,
and La Vendee, appear to have amounted to between
500,000 and 600,000; a force which, though imperfectly
disciplined and officered, baffled the greatest confederacy
that had at that time been formed in Europe. In 1795 the
assignats lost their value, and France was obliged to reduce
her army by a third ; but its discipline was now greatly im¬
proved. During the campaigns of 1795, 1796, and 1797,
as well as those in 1799 and 1800, the force maintained by
France and Holland was between 300,000 and 400,000.
Were the soil of France threatened, or a new declaration
of Pilnitz proclaimed, voluntary battalions would assemble Statistics,
as in 1797. France had then 690,000 men under arms,
which number could be increased in a few months to
871,000. At the peace of Amiens, Bonaparte kept up a
peace establishment of 300,000 men ; and after the re¬
newal of war it was raised to 400,000 ;3 a force with which
he triumphed in 1805 over the united arms of Austria and
Russia. His annual levy of French conscripts, though ap¬
parently only 80,000, amounted (see Declaration of the
Minister at War, 18th September 1809) to 100,000; a
supply which, joined to the recruits of his allies in Ger¬
many and Italy, kept up his numbers, and even increased
them, notwithstanding the wasteful campaigns of 1806 and
1807 in Poland, followed by the no less wasteful campaigns
of Spain. In 1812 the force of France and her allies reached
their maximum, Bonaparte having led against the Russian
empire a mass of 360,000 men, whilst there remained in
Spain, Germany, and France, a number which carried the
aggregate to between 500,000 and 600,000. Need we
then wonder that, even after the almost total loss of his
troops in Russia, there remained a force competent, with
the aid of fresh levies, to withstand the efforts of the allies
during two campaigns ?
In 1815 Bonaparte, in returning from Elba, found under
arms in France about 120,000 men, all of whom, with the
exception of a few thousands, rejoined his standard. But
so sick were the French of war, that the greatest efforts
during the next three months added only 60,000 to this
number, and the loss of one battle exposed all the hopeless¬
ness of resistance to the allies.
On the second restoration of the Bourbons in 1815, the
army had fallen into a very disorganized state, the disci¬
plined soldiers being dispersed, and the ranks slowly filled
by new levies. This led to the legislative act of the 10th
March 1818, which revived the conscription, but in a miti¬
gated form, and allowing a great latitude in providing sub¬
stitutes. A recurrence to this method of raising levies was
held to be the only effectual method of filling the ranks with
men of steady habits; for the army in France, never a re¬
ceptacle for the refuse of the populace, has in general been
composed of young peasantry and labourers of good charac¬
ter. Such was its constitution in the war of the Revolu¬
tion, and its discipline was exemplary, until Bonaparte
adopted the unprincipled practice of making war without
magazines, and obliged the soldiers to live at free quarters
on the inhabitants. The conscription of the Bourbons was
indeed greatly modified, the numbers annually required be¬
ing limited to 40,000, and the term of service to six years;
but the measure is still compulsory, and falls heavily on the
middle and lower classes ; the alternative for a youth, when
drawn, being either to give up his intended profession, or
to pay L.40 or L.50 for a substitute. In 1832, the French
army amounted to 411,816 men, including 19,036 officers
and 3794 children. The infantry, then including the guards,
amounted to 264,141 men, including 9505 officers; the
cavalry, consisting of various denominations of chasseurs,
dragoons, cuirassiers, and hussars, to 51,235 men, includ¬
ing 2805 officers; and the artillery to 32,594 men, includ¬
ing 1190 officers; besides gendarmerie, engineers, &c.;
the latter being a numerous and well educated body of
officers.
The army is now composed of the imperial guard, the
gendarmerie and regiments of cavalry and engineers, and
the troop connected with the administrative service of the
army. The imperial French cavalry is composed of 12
regiments of cavalry of reserve, i.e., 10 of cuirassiers, and
2 of carbineers; of 20 regiments of cavalry of the line,
comprising 12 of dragoons, 8 of lancers, and 1 regiment of
1 Jomini, Traite des (Srandes Operations Militaires.
2 Ohampagnac sur Varmee de France, Memoirs sur Carnot.
3 Tableau Historique des Guerres de la Revolution.
FRA
Statistics, guides; of 21 regiments of light cavalry, comprising 12
of chasseurs, and 9 of hussars. There are besides 3 regi¬
ments of spahis, and 4 of chasseurs d’Afrique d cheval.
The organization of the artillery is based on the effective
strength of the army in cavalry and infantry. The amount
of the corps of engineers is on well-defined principles of
military administration, determined by the number of divi¬
sions of infantry to which they can be attached, the strong
places to defend, and the reserve required for sieges. Troops
in France are now said, by the official exponents of the
imperial system, to be recruited by voluntary enlistment,
and by an appeal to young men of twenty years of age.
The effective force of the French army in 1854 before
the re-establishment of the guard, and before the new or¬
ganization of the artillery, amounted in round numbers to
570,000 with 178 field batteries and 1008 guns. By the
budget provisoire of 1855 the expenses of the ministere
de la guerre were fixed at L.12,635,911.
The word conscription, which signifies the raw material or le¬
vies from which the French army is taken, is somewhat new to the
French language, dating only from the year VI. of the Republic
(1798). A law of the 10th of March 1818 re-establishes the con¬
scription on bases which, though modified, have not been essentially
changed. Every young man is liable to the conscription, and once
a year may be selected by “ tirage” to serve his country by becom¬
ing “ chair a canon/’ To say that the conscription is popular in
France, would be to disguise the truth; for large sum s are given
to procure substitutes, and many compagnies d’assurance have been
formed to obviate its inconveniences and unpopularity. Every con¬
script should be sound in wind and limb, but the standard of height
required in the French service is much lower than in ours, being
only 4 feet 9 inches. Mutilated, lame, gouty, scrofulous, and consump¬
tive men, as well as those who have lost an eye or a finger, who are
near-sighted, deaf or dumb, or have lost the incisive teeth, are re¬
fused. In time of peace, though less frequently in war, maladies are
simulated in order to escape selection. But such poltroons would in¬
cur universal odium at a time when the soil of France was threatened.
In all military schools, and, indeed from the moment a Frenchman
is destined for the service, he is subjected to a military government.
Each school has its uniform. The scholars are formed into com¬
panies, and are commanded by officers, so that from the earliest
years they are subjected to a military hierarchy with but one mo¬
tive power. Thus the aptitude of the nation for war is strength¬
ened, formed, and created by habit, by education, and by the disci¬
pline of the government. (See Conscription.)
There is a perfect organization through intermediate
steps, by which a direct relation is established between
the meanest soldier and the minister of war. This minis¬
ter is in correspondence with all commanders and gene¬
rals of divisions of the army. He receives all military
despatches; orders the movements of troops; directs and
controls all the general and extraordinary expenses of mili¬
tary expeditions. He has the charge of the recruiting,
clothing, provisioning, and paying of the army ; has the di¬
rection of the asylums for invalids at Paris and Avignon ;
has the sole control of the gunpowder and saltpetre manu¬
factories ; of the barracks, military hospitals, arsenals, de¬
pots, and magazines of military stores, government found¬
ries and manufactories of fire-arms. His department pays
all officers on active service, on half-pay, or on retired pen¬
sions, as well as the allowances to officers’ widows and or¬
phans. The war minister is the head of the ordnance, and
has the direction of the military schools. He lias likewise
the organization and inspection of the gendarmerie as well
in Paris as in the departments, and he issues general orders
as to the regulation and discipline of the army.
The chief marshal, minister of war, has three aids-de-camp, and
four officers on his staff. Independently of these, his private Ca¬
binet is presided over by a chef-d'escadron of the staff, and in this
Cabinet the opening and registering of despatches takes place, and
the departure of military couriers is regulated. In this office are
managed what is called Centralization du travail avec VEmpereur,
affaires de franchise et contre-seing, public audiences, communica¬
tions with the journals, secret affairs, and affairs which are not
within the specialty of any department of the offices.
N C E. 271
The direction (personnel), which is the first, is under a general of Statistics,
brigade and a colonel of the staff. It contains seven bureaux, each ^ ,
under a chief with a multitude of clerks. The first bureau is de-
voted to Correspondance generale “operations militairesA The second
to the staff1 and military schools; the third to recruiting ; the fourth
to military justice ; the fifth to the gendarmerie; the sixth to the
infantry; the seventh to the cavalry.
The second direction or division is the artillery, with sections for
the personnel, the materiel, and the comptabilite. The third direction
is the engineers, with sections of personnel, materiel, and compta¬
bilite. The fourth direction is administration, in which there are five
bureaux,comprisingintejidancemiZitaire, hospitals, clothing, bedding,
camp-furniture, pay-audit, internal administration, &c. The fifth
direction is devoted to the affairs of Algiers. The sixth to what is
called the depdt de la guerre, with two sections, comprising geo¬
desy, topography, drawing, engraving, military history, military
statistics, archives, maps, and plans. The seventh direction is de¬
dicated to audit and control of accounts, with sections devoted to
pensions, aid, military law, &c.
Independently of these, there are eight consulting committees,
composed of from six to fourteen superior officers, one a consult¬
ative committee for the staff, one for the infantry, one for the
gendarmerie, one for the artillery, one for fortifications, one for
Algiers, &c. There is also a Council of Health in the army, a com¬
mission d^Hygiene Hippique, and a mixed commission of public
works, all under the eye and in the offices of the minister of war.
The minister of war is also represented at the Conseil d’etat by a
general of brigade, by four counsellors of state, three maitres des
requetes, two auditors, and a secretary.
The ministry of war, with its general directors, chiefs of
division, chiefs and subchiefs of bureaux, subordinate'
employes, comprising the administrative service; the vic¬
tualling service, with their directors, accountants, head
clerks, writing clerks, porters, servants, messengers, &c., em¬
ploys about 3000 persons, all working under the immediate
direction of one individual. The expense is immense, but
there is certainty, celerity, efficiency, and unity of action.
No wonder that under a system like this such a genius as
Napoleon entered Berlin after a campaign of eighteen days,
or that his Austrian campaign scarcely lasted three months.
It was the business of the minister of war of that day, and
is his business now, to consider the frontiers of the enemyq
the advantages and disadvantages of the ground, to obtain
information of the resources of the country, and the dispo¬
sitions and feelings of the army to which the troops ot France
were and are opposed. With the minister of war there can be
no divided power—no opposing interests, no clashing of juris¬
dictions. He has sole and undivided authority and respon¬
sibility in command of the army, and all functionaries con¬
nected with the service are not merely subordinate, but
obedient to him. There is no board of ordnance, treasury,
paymaster-general, secretary-at-war, to interfere with the mi¬
nister-of-war. The garrison service of France, an open con¬
tinental country touching the frontiers of Belgium, Prussia,
Baden, Switzerland, Savoy, Spain, Holland, imposes on the
military service the necessity of being always prepared.
Numerous changes of garrison take place with a view to
relieve the monotony of the service ; and portions of the ar¬
tillery are always at Paris, Vincennes, La Frere, Toulon,
Metz, Strasburg, Besangon, Lyon, Toulouse, and Rennes.
The system of military education is better in France System of
than in England, and the military profession is viewed as military
it was at Athens, at Sparta, and at Rome ; and valour and education,
military skill are more regarded and more appreciated than
great civil qualities among us. Skill and address in the art
of war are more admired than civil wisdom, or, we fear we
must add, than civil liberty. The French cultivate in their
military schools gymnastics and bodily exercises, as well as
the theory of strategy and war. Young men are instructed
in these sciences by rule and precept, illustrated by practice.
They read and ponder on the lectures that have been de¬
livered to them ; they discuss questions of strategy among
themselves ; and in all their barracks and garrisons there are
libraries of reference, to which they can have recourse. In
France, whenever war occurs, it assumes an intellectual
272 FRA
Statistics, complexion, and officers and men devote to it all their viva-
cious energy and strength.
The French, like the Roman soldiers, are inured to fatigue, and
hardened by exercise. Drilled to walk at quick paces, carrying
heavy burdens, to climb steep acclivities, and to creep along the
sides of precipices, they are early taught that success in warfare
is a more constant attendant on boldness, intelligence, address, and
audacity, than on mere numbers and brute force. The military
art, in truth, becomes among the French a national and patriotic
sentiment, and every feeling, thought, and aspiration of the soldier
is bound up in the service of his country. No nation is so vain of
military successes as the French, and this is one of the reasons why
they more easily become soldiers than other men. The French¬
man is by nature and disposition a campaigner. He is of an eager
and adventurous disposition, gay, jocund, and somewhat reck¬
less, and disposed to make the best of everything in this world.
No man more easily accommodates himself to circumstances, or
makes himself more at home in a strange land. He is an excellent
marcher, an expert forager, and above all, a skilful cook. He
can bake, and roast, and stew, and make sauces, and dress eggs,
and produce omelettes in scores of ways. He can darn his own
stockings, patch his own coat, and wash his shirt in a running
brook, or cobble his shoes under the shade of a tree. He can hut
himself with the ingenuity of a beaver, pitch his tent in a salu¬
brious spot, and sing and dance with real light-heartedness. He
can subsist on much less than would satisfy an Englishman. There
is scarcely a French regiment that does not contain, among
officers and men, voluntary societies established for a daily review
of their individual progress in military and stratagetical know¬
ledge. They discuss and question each other, and enter on parti-
v cular illustrations most profitable in a professional sense. Tactics,
fortification, military geography, and military maxims are in turn
handled, so that any man with ordinary intelligence and industry
may become a most competent soldier.
The gradations of rank in the French service are sous-
lieutenant, lieutenant, capitaine, chef d’escadron, colonel,
marechal-de-camp, lieutenant-general, marechal de France.
The number of the marshals of France is limited to twelve ;
the number of the other ranks, even that of lieutenant-
general, is very large ; for the etat major, or staff of the
army, after a reduction in 1818, consisted of 430 lieuten-
ants-generaux, and 260 marechaux de camp. There are
on full pav twice as many officers as are necessary for the
duty ; but the number of half-pay officers exceeds all pro¬
portion ; for this part of Bonaparte’s vast machine has
remained, whilst most of the private soldiers have sunk
tranquilly into the occupations of the lower classes.
Promotion in the French army never takes place by
purchase, and not often by special order ; seniority at pre¬
sent determines more than half the appointments, a course
which renders promotion extremely slow.
Of the military seminaries of France, the one of highest
repute is the Ecole Polytechnique ; a school for the in¬
struction of young men in mathematics and drawing for
the engineer and artillery corps. None but candidates of
talent are admitted; and it is well entitled to the name of
a nursery {pepiniere) of intelligent officers. This school
was founded in the year m. of the Convention (1794), and
no man laboured more to place it on a secure basis than
Carnot. It was above all things destined to produce
engineers, and some of the most celebrated military and
civil engineers of France have been bred within its walls.
The number of pupils is fixed at 300, and the age of ad¬
mission is from sixteen to twenty, and to twenty-five for
military men who have two years of effective service sous
drapeau. Some of the most celebrated men have been pro¬
fessors and teachers in this school, as Lagrange, Laplace,
Berthollet, Fourcroy, Guyton de Morveau, Pelletier, Chaus-
sier, Porny, Poisson, &c.
The charge to government of a foot soldier in France
does not, in time of peace, exceed L.20 a year ; that of the
cavalry soldier is nearly double. The pay for either officer
or soldier is little more than half the rate in England,
and its inadequacy is much complained of. The whole
charge of the war department under Bonaparte was about
L.20,000,000 sterling. In the year 1833 it amounted to
N C E.
L.8,564,470. The war budget twenty years later, i.e. in Statistics.
1853, was 324,232,663 fr., or about thirteen millions ster- s—
ling. The war budget for 1855 is 339,861,842 fr.
The gendarmerie are not a part of the regular army, but
a corps charged with the police duty, and scattered in small
divisions throughout all France. The gendarmerie is now
(1855) composed of twenty-six legions for the eighty-six
departments, and for Algeria; 2dly, of the colonial gendar¬
merie ; 3dly, of a regiment of 2 battalions of the regi¬
ment of gendarmerie of the Imperial Guard, formerly called
gendarmerie mobile, and then gendarmerie delite ; 4thly,
of a squadron of gendarmerie a cheval of the Imperial
Guard; 5thly, of the garde de Paris, formerly garde re-
publicain, and before that called garde municipals ; 6thly,
of a company of veteran gendarmes, amounting in all to
about 25,000 men. The gardes nationales corresponded
to our yeomanry and volunteers.
The National Guard rendered incontestable services by
its courage and moderation during the reign of Louis
Philippe, first, during the process of the ministers of Charles
X. in 1830; secondly, on the 6th June 1832; and thirdly,
on the 13th April 1834. In 1848 (see History of France)
the reform banquets had many partisans among the National
Guard ; and after the revolution of February the provisional
government suppressed the compagnies d?elite of grenadiers
and voltigeurs, whence the abortive manifestation called
bonnets d poil. On the 26th June 1851 the National As¬
sembly promulgated a law which organized the National
Guard in all France by communes in the departments, and
by municipal arrondissements at Paris. By this law it was
provided that the National Guard should be composed of
all citizens, and that the right of suspension and dissolution
should remain with the president of the republic. I ill this
period the officers, sous officiers, and corporals of the Na¬
tional Guard were named by universal suffrage. A mode
of election was now adopted somewhat resembling the
system under Louis Philippe. The chefs de bataillon and
the porte drapeau were elected by the officers of their bat¬
talion, and by an equal number of delegates named in each
company; and the chefs de legion and the lieutenant-colonels
were elected by all the officers of the legion, united with
the before-named delegates. This law remained in vigour
till the decree of the President of the Republic of 11th
January 1852. In consequence of this decree the National
Guards were dissolved and re-organized upon new bases, in
such localities only as their co-operation should be deemed
necessary for the defence of public order. In the depart¬
ment of the Seine the general commanding was charged
with this re-organization, which took place by battalion.
From the period of the promulgation of this law special
corps of cavalry, artillery, or engineers, could only be au¬
thorized by the minister of the interior. The chief of the
state (now the Emperor) names the officers of all grades on
the recommendation of the superior officer commanding in
the department of the Seine, and on the recommendation
of the prefect in the other departments.
The chief fortifications of France, on the side of Belgium,
are the towns of Lille, Valenciennes, Conde, and Douai;
on the side of the Alps, Embrum, Grenoble, and Antibes;
on the side of the Pyrenees, Perpignan, Bellegarde, Mont-
Louis, and Bayonne. The fortified sea-ports are Brest,
Toulon, Cherbourg, Rochefort, and Boulogne.
The superiority of the English navy over the French The navy,
existed in ages when our pecuniary means were far infe¬
rior ; and though, during the middle of the reign of Louis
XIV. the French, by financial sacrifices, obtained a nume¬
rical superiority, one great battle, that of La Hogue, in
1692, was sufficient to restore our ascendancy. Ihe war
of 1741, however successful on the part of France by land,
was, particularly towards its close, unfortunate to her at
sea. In the succeeding interval of peace, great efforts were
FRANCE.
Statistics, made to reinstate the French navy ; but the war of 1756,
though the French admiral De la Galissoniere boasted of
a success over Byng, proved doubly disastrous, and at last
swept it almost entirely from the ocean. A very different
scene opened in the war of 1778, when France, unembar¬
rassed by a continental struggle, was enabled to direct all
her disposable resources to her marine, an object of great
care and solicitude to Louis XVI. She was then enabled
to keep in an effective state about seventy sail of the line,
the crews of which, added to those of the frigates and cor¬
vettes, formed a total of 60,000 seamen. The injuries sus¬
tained by this force, towards the end of the war, were re¬
paired with great diligence during the peace; and to pre¬
pare young officers for the sea in preference to the land
service, became a favourite object in several of the govern¬
ment schools. In 1791, an official report stated the effec¬
tive French navy at seventy-four sail of the line, sixty-two
frigates, and twenty-nine corvettes; a state of preparation
which accounts for the resistance made to our navy by the
revolutionary government under all the disadvantages of
an unparalleled continental struggle. This proud force,
however, disappeared progressively at the capture of Tou¬
lon, the victory of the 1st June 1794, and still more in the
victory of Aboukir ; so that Bonaparte, on his accession to
power, found the French marine in a very reduced state.
He laboured, however, to reinstate it; the years of conti¬
nental peace, 1801, 1802, 1803, and 1804, were favourable
to his efforts; and in 1805 he boasted of having in equip¬
ment sixty sail of the line, a force destined to an early di¬
minution at Trafalgar and St Domingo. The Bourbons,
on recovering their crown, found little more than half the
force which existed previously to the Revolution. It has
since been augmented, and in 1831 it amounted to thirty-
five ships of the line, forty frigates, twenty-three corvettes,
fifty-seven brigs, twenty-nine galliots and cutters of eight
and four guns, twelve steam-boats, sixteen armed store-
ships, thirty-two armed transports, two yachts; total, two
hundred and eighty-four; and in 1854, according to the last
authentic account, it consisted of—
__ , _ Guns.
53 vessels—9 carrying 120, 14 = 100, 19 = 90,
11 = 80 or 82 guns—total  5 096
58 frigates —42 = 50 to 60, and 16 = 40 to 46  3,955
39 corvettes  g5g
101 brigs, schooners, and cutters  ] 066
39 corvettes de charge and gabarres  78g
273
290
Steam Fleet.
3 vessels of the line,
20 frigates,
30 corvettes,
64 other vessels,
11,773
Amounting together to
28,750 guns.
407
(1855)
In the present year (1855) 14 ships of iron (9 being ves¬
sels of the line) have been launched, and 32 new vessels
are on the stocks.
On the 1st January 1855 the officers of the French navy
consisted of 2 amirals, 17 vice-amirals, 37 contre-amirals,
108 capitaines, 238 capitaines de fregate, 658 lieutenants’
614 enseignes.
XI. REVENUE AND EXPENDITURE.
In France the ancient system of taxation and finance was
extremely unequal and oppressive. Her various provinces,
though they were united under one head, retained many of
their own peculiar laws and privileges, which were absurd
in themselves, and opposed to the general interests of the Statistics,
empire. Among these was an exemption from certain im-
posts, to which some were subjected, and consequently
over-taxed; and others, again, contributed a certain quota
of revenue to government, which they raised by taxes im¬
posed by their own local authorities. The consequence
was, that no uniform system of taxation could be established
throughout the country. The taxes on many commodities
were higher in one province than in another; and custom¬
houses were accordingly established on their respective
frontiers, to prevent the importation of goods until they
had paid the duties. In this manner, owing to the ine¬
quality of taxation, commodities could not freely pass from
one district of the country to another; and the kingdom
was thus broken into separate divisions, to the great inter¬
ruption of trade. The partiality shown to the privileged
orders was another serious grievance in the ancient system
of French taxation. I he taxes by which the public re¬
venue was raised were, first, the taille, a tax on real pro-
perty, or on income derived from commerce and industry.
From this tax the lands of the noblesse and clergy were
exempt. “ The tax was called taille” says Borel, “ be¬
cause the peasant collectors, not knowing how to write,
marked down what they had received on a wooden tally.”
Secondly, the vingtieme was a tax of one twentieth on pro¬
perty, from which the clergy alone were exempted.1 Thirdly,
a poll tax was levied on all classes indiscriminately. Many
of the taxes were farmed by rich capitalists called farmers-
general or fermiers-generaux, who paid annually into the
treasury a fixed sum, and collected the taxes from the
people. Those farmers-general held the monopoly of the
manufacture and sale of tobacco and salt; and also the octroi,
which was a duty on all articles entering Paris and other large
towns. The power delegated to these contractors was the
source of grievous oppression to the people. The duties called
ozdes were imposed on spirituous liquors and other articles of
consumption ; they also included duties on all articles worked
in gold or silver, on wrought iron, playing cards, leather,
paper, starch, &c. These duties levied by collectors for
the benefit of government were abolished by the National
Assembly in 1790. The corvee, which consisted in so many
days’ labour annually, of men, horses, oxen, carriages, &c.,
was nominally applicable to the maintenance of roads. The
tax was payable either in money or in labour. This system
of taxation, so prejudicial to internal commerce, was to a
certain extent reformed by Colbert, the minister of Louis
XIV., who, though his views in regard to the principles of
commerce were narrow and illiberal, yet improved in many
particulars the system of taxation, by rendering it more
uniform, and thus breaking down the barriers which ob¬
structed the free intercourse between the different provinces.
Under his administration the public revenue of France
amounted in 1682 to L.5,000,000.
The long and expensive wars of Louis XIV. produced
a great accumulation of debt (nearly L.l00,000,000 ster¬
ling), which, after his death, was lessened by an appeal to
a singular privilege, of which advantage has often been
taken in France, viz. that a new sovereign is not bound to
pay the debts of his predecessor in full. During the
eighteenth century the revenue of France increased pro¬
gressively, but more slowly than that of England; the
vicious system of farming the taxes still continued. Nec-
ker, appointed to office in 1776, endeavoured to teach the
French court the value of publicity in financial statements,
and exhibited the rare example of a war conducted for se¬
veral years without new- taxes, the supplies being found by
loans, the interest of which was provided for by successive
r^^l's tax was established in 17o0, and was levied upon all property of whatever description,
ot income arising from personal industry.
VOL. X.
In 1754 it was taken off the amount
2 M
274
FRANCE.
Statistics, retrenchments in the public expenditure. His successor,
M. de Calonne, pursued a very different course, and was
found altogether incapable of the measures necessary to
remedy an annual deficiency of L.2,000,000. The reve¬
nue of France was then about L.22,000.000 sterling. The
sum required for payment of the interest of the public
debt was nearly L.10,000,000/ leaving only L.12,000,000
for the army, navy, civil list, and other public expenses.
Such was the state of the French finances at the era of
the Revolution of 1789, which was followed by invasion on
the frontier, and in the interior by all the confusion conse¬
quent on the reign of terror. In this era of confiscation
and judicial murder, the national debt could hardly be re¬
spected. It was not, however, openly cancelled, but the
interest was issued in assignats of no value ^except for pur¬
chases of national property. At last, in 1798, on an ap¬
proximation to regularity in the management of public
business, there was passed a law declaring that one-third
of the old national debt should be sacred, and the interest
on it payable in bom, or paper receivable in discharge ot
taxes. This third was called la tiers provisoire, but its
price in the market continued very low until Bonaparte
succeeded to power, and placed Guadin, afterwards Duke ot
Gaeta, at the head of the treasury, when means were found
to redeem the public funds from their depression, and to
resume the payment of the dividends in cash. The amount
of the revenue was greatly impaired by the general confu¬
sion of the revolution. In 1799 the expenditure exceeded
the receipt by L.8,000,000 sterling.1 2 A partial reduction
of expenditure, and improvements in the collection of the
taxes, brought in 1803 the receipts to L.l9,500,000, whilst
the expenditure was L.20,000,000. In subsequent yeais
both received a progressive augmentation, and in 1813
the revenue derived from France, exclusive ot conquered
territory, was about L.27,000,000. On the restoration
of the Bourbons in 1814, the public debt, funded and
unfunded, did not exceed L.123,000,000;3 its interest
L.7,900,000. France had thus a fair prospect of financial
prosperity, when the return of Bonaparte, and a second
invasion ‘by the allied troops, overthrew public credit, and
produced a national loss and a general derangement of
trade. It has been estimated that the return of Napoleon
from Elba, which led to the second invasion of France by
the allied troops, occasioned a loss to the country of
4,000,000,000 of francs. The direct loss, which included
the expenses paid to the allied powers, and those inclined
by the maintenance of their armies, placed in cantonments
throughout France, may be estimated; but the indirect
evils occasioned by the ravages inseparable from the inva¬
sion of a hostile army, by the confusion and derangement
of all commercial relations, and the impossibility of collect¬
ing the revenue in such a time of trouble, cannot be summe
up in money. At the same time there aie scarcely any
national difficulties which may not be overcome by the en¬
ergies and industry of a free and intelligent people such as
the French. With an inconsiderable addition to her debt,
France has defrayed all these heavy expenses, the contribu¬
tions imposed on her by the allied powers, the expenses o
the temporary maintenance of their armies, and her own war¬
like expenses. For this purpose, however, it became ne¬
cessary in 1815 to impose additional taxes. In 1817 a
loan was required of 392,989,000 francs; and in 1818, to
defray the extraordinary contribution of 575,807,197 fianca,
paid in that year to the allies, the minister had recourse
to another loan of 220,510,718 francs ; whilst by the taxes
which had been imposed, the revenue of that year was car¬
ried to L.35,000,000.
Mean Revenue of France in the ten years betiveen 1832 Statistics.
and 1842.
1832.
Francs.
Direct Taxes 341,386,157
Registrations, Stamps, &c..181,108,061
Forests, &c  27,080,175
Customs and Salt 152,855,890
Indirect Taxes 198,188,051
Post Office  1
Algerian Revenue  I 4^468,948
Prod. Universitaires |
Prod. Eventuels, &c J
Divers Sources  14,018,509
1842.
Francs.
401,900,335
230,896,780
34,700,000
181,107,236
240,568,321
47,025,500
4,349,082
19,127,972
2,390,000
12,519,749
954,105,791 1,174,584,975
The Expenditure of 1853 was as folloivs:
r Francs.
Interest on Public Debt,   
Dotations—Civil List, &c   17,208,580
Expenses of various Ministries—Justice, Forel&n A
Affairs, &c  787,553,516
Expense of Collecting and Paying Taxes, &c 
Drawbacks, Discounts, Bounties, &c  j j
1,412,274,991
Travaux Extraordinaires or Additional Works  72,738,334
1,485,013,325
Besides the public revenue of the empire, the communes raise a
revenue for their own local expenses. According to the latest pub¬
lished accounts, this revenue arises partly from octrois which amoun
throughout France (there being 1436 octrois) to 95,176,602 fiancs,
and partly from other sources, the whole of which amounted to
230,633,909 francs in 1850. The total of the ordinary ways and
means of France in the Budget Provisoire of 1855 amounted to
1 528 110,288 francs. During the administration of M. \ ilele, tne
five per cents, in France were converted into a three per cent, fum ,
at the rate of 133-33 cents, for every hundred of the five per cent,
stock; so that the whole five per cent, stock, bearing an annual
interest of 30,574,116 francs, was converted into a three per cent
fund, of which the capital was increased one-third. The effect ot
this transaction was in reality to reduce the interest on the five per
cent, stock to four per cent., by which he saved annual interest to
the amount of six millions, though by a very useless complexity m
his operations. The interest on the public debt of 1 ranee, thus
reduced, may be stated as follows:
It amounted in 1855 to 418,370,442 francs. The sink¬
ing fund or caisse d’anwrlissement, ceased altogether its
operations on the 14th July 1848. In the thirty-two years
of its operation the caisse d’amortissement liberated the
country from liabilities to the amount of 1,633,474,090
francs, and placed at the disposition of the treasury, irom
1833 to 1848, 1,016,693,856 francs. of
The ancient system of taxation in France was subverted
by the National Assembly in 1791, and new taxes were
substituted in lieu of those formerly in^ force. I hese con¬
sisted of direct and indirect taxes. T he direct taxes are,
1. Contribution fonder e, or land-tax; 2. Contribution per-
sonelle et mobiliere ; 3. A tax on doors and windows j •
Droits de patente, or a license duty on particular trades and
professions, and a duty on mines.
The contribution fonciere is raised equally on all lands and houses
in proportion to their nett revenue. There are no longer any ex
emptions in favour of the nobility since the first revolution in
The imperial domains and the property of the state are a one ex
empted. The contribution personelle et mobiliere is divide in o wo
parts. The first is a species of poll-tax, rated at three days a our,
calculated in money value to be from 10 to 30 sous per ay, an
levied on all males above eighteen years of age. w l<f
mobiliere is a house-tax levied on all rents from 200 to - f
For the contribution personelle, the octroi, which is a custom u y
on all goods entering a town, is substituted in Paris an o ter arfe
cities. The tax on street-doors, gateways, and w indows, varies
1 Report of Camus to the National Assembly in September 1790.
3 Bignon, Expose Comparatif de la France.
Gaudin, Notice Historique des Finances de la France.
FRANCE.
275
Statistics, proportion to the size of the town in which the house is situated,
t u j and also in proportion to the size and value of the house and the
/ number of windows. It is regulated by a tariff, in which are two
divisions. The droits de patentes or license-duty is levied on every
person following a profession, trade, or business; and is divided
into two heads—the proportional tax, or the fixed tax, which de¬
pends on the extent and population of the town where he exercises
his profession. A merchant pays from 40 to 500 francs per annum,
according to the population of the place where he resides, and an
additional ten per cent, on the rent of his dwelling-house. Bankers
in all cases pay 500 francs a-year; and there is in like manner a
fixed rate for other inferior trades and professions. The duty on
mines is in proportion to the extent of the surface, and also to their
nett produce.
The law which fixes the amount of the direct taxes also
determines the quota which each department is required to
pay. This is announced by the minister of finance to the
prefect of the department, who communicates it to his sous-
prefect and to the mayors. The sum thus assigned by the
prefect to each arrondissement is subdivided by the councils
of the arrondissement and by the communes; and the
amount allotted to each is apportioned among the inhabitants
by persons appointed for that purpose, called reparliteurs or
assessors. These assessors regulate the amount of taxable
property, and they fix the scale. The land-tax is however
very unequally assessed, amounting in some departments to
six per cent., whilst in the department of the Seine it is seven¬
teen per cent. The equalization of the land-tax has always
been accounted a capital object in the financial policy of
France; and with this view a minute survey and measure¬
ment of all the landed property in France (termed the
cadastre) was begun in 1808, and finished in 1847. The
cadastre, accurate as it generally is, cannot, however, be
considered as the expression of actual facts. The proprietes
imposable, or taxable property, consists, according to the
of25,581,658hectaresofcultivable land; 5,159,226
hectares of meadows; 2,090,533 hectares of vines ; 628,235
hectares of orchards, nurseries, and gardens; 4,175 hectares
of mines ; and 17,400 hectares of lakes, ponds, &c. The ine¬
quality of the land-tax has long been a subject of loud and
just complaint; and various plans have been adopted for a
more accurate classification of the land. But these have
generally proved inefficient and unsatisfactory.
The indirect taxes consist chiefly of fourteen principal
kinds—of the droits reunis or excise duties on articles of
consumption, of stamp duties, registration duties, duties on
carriages, on canals and ferry-boats, on gold and silver plate.
A revenue is raised from the monopoly of tobacco and gun¬
powder ; from the post-office ; the octroi, or custom duty on
all articles entering large towns, one-tenth of which goes to
the imperial treasury, the remainder being applied to local
expenses. The customs form an important branch of the
French revenues.
The droits rkunis or excise duties are laid on wine, brandy, &c.,
which pay one-and-a-half francs per hectolitre of 120 English quarts,
on being removed from one place to another.1 Wine in bottles pays
10 francs per hectolitre on its removal; cider, perry, and mead, pay
80 centimes per hectolitre. Ten per cent, of the above duty is
paid on their removal from the wholesale warehouse. Prior to 1830 a
duty distinct from the octroi was levied on the entry of all wine or
spirituous liquors into communes the population of which amounted
to 1500 and upwards. All communes whose population does not
amount to 4000 are exempted from this tax; and a new tariff has
been established, rising progressively from 4000 to 5000 inhabi¬
tants, in proportion to the estimated wealth of the departments, Statistics
which are divided into four separate classes—a very vague, as we
should suppose, and uncertain standard of taxation. There is a
further duty on wine and liquors sold by retail, which since 1830
has been reduced from fifteen to ten per cent. A reduction of three
per cent, on this duty is made to dealers, and of twenty-five per cent,
if the wine be grown by the retailer himself. Strong beer pays a duty
of 2 fr. 40 c., and small beer a duty of twelve sous, per hectolitre.
Retailers of liquors must take out a distinct licence, which varies, in
proportion to the size of the town, from six to twenty francs.2 Pro¬
prietors of public carriages pay one-tenth of the price of each place
for passengers, a third being deducted for vacant places, and one-
tenth of the price received for merchandise. Private carriages are
subjected to a moderate duty, according to their size, of 40 fr. per
annum for a carriage with two wheels, and holding two persons; and
of 150 fr. per annum for a carriage with four wheels, and holding
nine persons. The enregistrement, or registration duties, embraces
a variety of transactions, where property is conveyed or given away
by marriage-settlement or otherwise. There is a duty on gifts inter
vivos, which increases with the distance of the relation between the
parties. It was modified by an ordonnance of Louis Philippe in
1832. The duties payable on registry are either fixed or ad valo¬
rem ; the fixed or certain duties apply to common certificates, those
of life or residence, account books, bills of lading, appointments of
arbitrations, valuations of furniture, and the like. The ad valorem
duty applies to all bonds or obligations, discharges, judgments,
deposits or releases of sums of money, and for every transfer of
property, &c. The stamp duty applies to receipts, bills of exchange,
newspapers, handbills, playbills, admission cards to public places,
and upon paper used for civil and judicial actes.
The total received from the impot direct in 1854 was
411,273,000 francs. In 1853 the sum received was
420,064,000 francs, which shows a deficit of nearly nine
millions of francs in 1854.
The total receipts of the impots indirects in 1854 were
847,260,000 francs. The impot on salt produced in 1854
a sum of 33,270,131 francs. The total of “droits” received
in 1854 amounted to 149,337,510 francs.
Land carriage or roulage 31,000,000 of tons, the
mean transport at 15 leagues, at the mean price
of 1 franc per ton  465,000,000 fr.
The public voitures which travel 18 leagues per
day, in place of the common carriages of 8 or
10 leagues, yield, per annum  60,000,000 „
The duty on the public conveyances returns
6,000,000 francs; three-fourths are derived
from the passengers, and one-fourth from the
goods they convey.
The share capital of the French railways in 1848 was L.49,044,000
sterling.
The total merchandise conveyed per transit in 1844, was in value
229,820,795 francs. In 1854, = 54,926,640 francs official value.
Value of wine, spirits, beer, and cider consumed in France,
reckoned at 500,000,000 francs, give 311,000,000 francs wine,
54,000,000 francs brandy, 59,000,000 francs beer, and 76,000,000
francs cider.
The duties levied on this branch of the French revenues pro¬
duced L.5,483,765 in 1852 and L.5,505,686 in 1853. In France
these duties are laid on in many cases more with a view to restric¬
tion and monopoly than to revenue. France sacrifices a large
revenue for the encouragement of the colonial monopoly ; paying
for the produce of the colonies an exorbitant price, and afterwards,
as in the case of sugar, the staple article that is imported from the
colonies, giving a great portion of the duty as a bounty on its ex¬
portation to foreign countries, to indemnify the exporter for the
loss that he would incur if he were selling the sugar at its ordinary
price in the markets of Europe. In 1830 the gross receipts from
the sugar duty amounted to L.1,397,340, of which one-third, namely,
L.420,903, were paid back in bounties on the exportation of the
surplus. Thus the nett duty only amounted to L.976,437, while in
1 According to the existing law in France, wine, cider, perry, and hydromel are subject to three principal duties or imposts ; 1. Droit
de circulation ; 2. Droit de detail; 3. Droit d'entree. Any one of the liquors named may be subject to two of these imposts, but never to
three at the same time. Alcohol pays a droit particulier de consommation, to which is added the droit dJentree into the localities subject
thereto. Beer only pays a droit de fabrication. Wholesale dealers, retailers, distillers, liqueur makers, are subject to a droit de licence.
The city of Paris is, however, under special regulations in this respect, and the droit de circulation is subject to a variety of minute modi¬
fications only interesting to the French retailer of wine, beer, or spirit. Every sale less than a hectolitre in cask, or 25 litres in bottles,
is considered a retail sale. The droit d'’entree and the droit de consommation are also the subject of minute regulations and exceptions,
into which it is not necessary to enter. Paris wine-merchants pay no licence, nor are there any private bonded cellars as in England.
2 In a majority of the departments, distillers pay 50 francs and brewers 30 francs licence, and marchands en gros de boissons 50 francs.
A tarif du droit d'entree, based on the population of the communes of four different classes, ranging from 50,000 to 4000, as well as a tarif
des droits de licence will be found appended to the Enquete Legislative sur Vimpot des Boissons, ordered by the law of the 20th Dec. 1849.
276
Statistics.
Cadastre.
FRANCE.
1822, though the quantity of sugar consumed was only 1,086,596
cwts., or 281,075 cwts. less than in 1830, the nett amount of the duty
was L.1,234,653. The consumption of sugar in France in 1847 only
reached’to about 2,570,000 cwts. It is by means of heavy cus¬
tom-duties that the French legislators endeavour to preserve the
monopoly of the home market to their own manufacturers, by which
policy they compel the French community to buy at a high price
the inferior articles of their own manufacture, rather than the better
articles of the foreigner at a lower price.1 The increased numbers
and superior vigilance of the custom-house officers have been still
counteracted by the new expedients and persevering ingenuity of
the smuggler.
The frontier of France is the scene of this persecution
against commerce, where all the illegal, daring, and inge¬
nious resources of the contraband traders are called into ac¬
tivity. Amongst other expedients, they trained packs of
dogs, according to Messrs Villiers and Bourtry, to carry
prohibited goods across the frontier. These dogs being
conducted to the frontier, are kept without food for many
hours ; they are then beaten and laden with goods, and are
started on their travels when it begins to grow dark, and
reach the abodes of their masters as soon as they can, where
they are well treated, and receive a full meal. According
to the accounts of the French custom-house, 40,278 of
these dogs were destroyed in the year 1830, on which ac¬
count premiums were paid to the custom-house officers to
the amount of 40,278 francs. That the trade, though it
may be obstructed, is not prevented, is evident from the
circumstance that there are regular rates of insurance on
the conveyance of contraband goods into France, varying
from ten to seventy per cent. A revision, and if possible
a reduction, of these heavy duties would be the true policy
of France.2 Monopoly was never yet the source of com¬
mercial greatness in any country.
XII. NATIONAL INCOME AND CAPITAL ; POPULATION.
Of the official surveys of the French territory, by far the
most minute and accurate is the cadastre, a survey which
became indispensable from the time it was determined to
exchange the taxes on consumption for taxes on produce.
A return of the rent of land, such as was made under the
property-tax act in England, would not have been practi¬
cable in France, where so many thousands of petty lots are
cultivated by their proprietors. At first the cadastre pro¬
ceeded on the plan of an estimate par masses de culture, or
continuous valuation of extensive tracts ; but this proving
unsatisfactory, it has been conducted since 1807 on a plan
of such minute detail, as to give the value of every separate
parcelle or patch of land. The progress of this minute sur¬
vey of the landed property in France has been retarded by
many causes ; and in 1830 not above two-thirds of the land
had been surveyed. It was estimated in the report of one
of the committees of the chamber in 1832, that it would
still require from that period about eight years, and an ex¬
pense of above L.2,000.000 sterling, to complete it. 1 hey
had only surveyed thirty-one millions of hectares, or sixty- Statistics,
eight millions of acres. The annual expense of the survey
is L.120,000.3
The wages of mechanics are so fluctuating and various,
that a satisfactory statement of them can scarcely be pro¬
duced. It may, however, be assumed that they are gene¬
rally twenty or thirty per cent, lower than in England. The
rate of wages of the agricultural population was thus esti¬
mated in 1851 :—
Francs.
6 millions of men, at 1 franc 50 centimes per diem...1,800,000,000
6 millions of women, at 75 centimes „ ... 900,000,000
6 millions of children, at 25 centimes „ ... 3,000,000
18 millions of agricultural labourers paid yearly 3,000,000,000
A quarter of a century ago the difference in the expense Expense of
of living in France and in England was about a third lessliving-
in favour of England. As far as regards provisions, this
difference was somewhat greater; but it received a coun¬
terpoise in the cheapness of our fuel. Paris is now as ex¬
pensive compared to the rest of France, as London is com¬
pared to the rest of England. In 1855 prices were gene¬
rally on a par with prices in London, and in house-rent
and the prices of lodgings and fuel, Paris exceeds London.
In the end of the seventeenth century, the territory of
France, when very nearly equal to its present extent, ap¬
pears, from the report of the intendants or provincial go¬
vernors, to have contained about 20,000,000 of inhabitants.
This number was found, by the census made by order of
the National Assembly, to have increased nearly a third in
the course of a century; the amount, in 1791, being
26,363,600, a number which, by computation, made in 1817,
had further increased to above 29,000,000. In the year
1820 the population was 30,451,187 ; and, according to the
ordonnance of January 1832, it amounted to 32,661,678.
By the census of 1851 it appears that the population of
France was 35,781,628. The marriages in 1832 and 1833
were annually about 236,996, and the deaths about 785,268,
of which 395,250 were males, and 388,018 females. The
births were 967,533, of which there were 498,70/ boys and
468,826 girls. The number of illegitimate children was
then 68,081. In 1852, twenty years after the period here
spoken of, the total number of births was 965,080, of which
895,236 were legitimate, and 69,844 illegitimate. The
number of children still-born in 1852 amounted to 37,901,
the number of deaths to 811,695, and the number of mar¬
riages to 281,360.
Population of France, 1851.
Old Provinces. Departments.
{Seine 
Seine et Oise  
Seine et Marne 
Oise   
Aisne 
Picardy  Somme 
Artois  Pas de Calais 
Population.
.1,422,065
.. 472,554
.. 345,076
.. 403,857
.. 558,989
.. 570,641
.. 692,994
1 On the 1st Au/mst 1847 a uniform duty of 45 francs per 199 kilogrammes was imposed on Sucr& brut Franqms, native as well as
colonial. In the space of three years the native product has more than doubled. Native sugar to the value of 30,000 000 fr. was manu¬
factured in 1844 and to the value of 67,000,000 fr. in 1847. We know from reports made to the council of state by M. Behic. and to tne
legislative assembly by M. Beugnot, that the production of sugar in the French colonies has fallen lower than it has been for twenty years.
2 The duties upon matures premieres and upon corn date from the restoration. The first republic and the first empire favourably con¬
sidered the raw material so necessary to labour ; under the restoration the object in laying on these duties was in the hope, the vain nope,
of creating a territorial aristocracy as in England. Impelled by the scarcity of 1853, recent decrees of Louis Napoleon liave relaxed the
prohibitive system and given a provisional liberty to the trade in corn and meat. An imperial decree of the 22d November 1853 reduces
the import duties on coal and iron. Coal paid with the decime, 55 centimes per 100 kilogrammes, from Sables d Olonne to Dunkirk;
on the rest of the French coast it paid 33 centimes. On the land frontier the duty was 165 centimes, excepting by the Meuse and in the
department of the Moselle, where the duty was 11 centimes. Thence from d’Olonne to Dunkirk, and onward by land to llallum, there
is but one duty of 33 centimes by French ships, and 88 by foreign bottoms. The rest of the maritime frontier is assimilated to the greater
part of the land frontier. . , . -.ocr
3 It is positively stated in the Statistique de la France, published by the minister of agriculture, commerce, and public works, in 1800,
that the cadastre was finished in 1847, and it is as positively averred by M. Ackille de Vaulabelle, the historian of the restoration, and
minister of public instruction under the republic, that the work is unfinished, that there are not merely arrondissements, but whole
departments not cadastre. One thing is certain, that in some departments proprietors pay 8 per cent, of their nett revenue, whereas in
others they pay twice and thrice as much.
FRANCE.
277
statistics. Old Provinces.
. Flanders 
Champagne,
Lorraine
Alsace 
Franche Comte.,
Burgundy
Orleannais
Normandy
Maine
Anjou
Brittany ,
Poitou ...
Touraine.
Berry ....
Nivernais 
Bourbonnais 
Marche 
Aunis 
Saintonge et Au
goumois 
Limousin 
Auvergne
Guienne et Gas¬
cony  
Bearn  
Foix  
Roussillon
Languedoc,
Lyonnais.
Dauphine.
Venaissin.
Provence.
Corsica....
Departments. Population.
.. North  1,158,285
Ardennes    331,296
/Marne   373,302
J Aube   265,247
j Upper Marne  268,398
^ Meuse  328,657
(Moselle  459,684
■l Meurthe  450,423
I Vosges  427,409
f Lower Rhine  587,434
] Upper Rhine  494,147
. Doubs  296,679
f Upper Saone  347,469
| Jura  313,361
/Ain    372,939
J Saone et Loire  574,720
4 Cote d’Or  400,297
( Yonne   381,133
f Loiret  341,423
< Loir et Cher  261,892
( Eure et Loire   294,892
{Eure   415,777
Lower Seine  762,039
Orne  439,884
Calvados   491,210
La Manche  600,882
f Mayenne  374,566
{ Sarthe  473,071
,...Maine et Loire  515,452
{Lower Loire   535,664
Ille et Vilaine  574,618
Morbihan  478,172
Cotes du Nord   632,613
Finistere  617,710
/Vendee  383,734
, v Deux Sevres  323,615
l Vienne  316,738
....Indre et Loire a  315,641
f Indre  271,938
\ Cher   306,261
 Nievre  327,161
....Allier  336,758
,...Creuse  287,075
....Lower Charente  469,992
’ | Charente  382,912
| Upper Vienne  319,379
' { Correze  320,864
f Puy de Dome  596,897
\ Cental   253,329
/Gironde  614,387
Dordogne  505,789
Lot et Garonne  341,345
Lot  296,224
Avignon   394,183
Tarn et Garonne  237,553
Gers  307,479
Landes   302,196
Upper Pyrenees    250,934
...Lower Pyrenees  446,997
..Ariege  ... 267,435
f East Pyrenees  181,955
\ Upper Garonne  480,794
I Tarn  363,073
Aude  289,747
I Herault  389,286
^ Gard   408,163
Lozere  144,705
Ardeche  386,555
t Upper Loire    304,615
f Loire  472,588
\ Rhone   574,745
r Isere    603,497
I Drome  326,846
( Upper Alps  132,038
...Vaucluse   264,618
/ Mouths of Rhone   428,989
< Lower Alps  152.070
(Var  357,967
...Corsica  236,251
The estimates of population in France subsequently ti
1791 are formed, not like our population returns on ai
actual survey, but by adding for the period which has in¬
tervened, the births, and deducting the deaths, of which an
accurate record is kept in the public offices.
Statistics.
Population of Towns with 18,000 Inhabitants and upwards
in 1832 and in 1851.
1832. 1851.
Paris  774,338 1,053,262
Marseilles ...145,115 185,082
Lyon 133,715 156,169
Bordeaux  99,062 123,935
Rouen 88,086 91,512
Nantes 77,992 91,303
Lille 69,073 68,463
Toulouse  59,630 85,554
Strasbourg 49,712 64,642
Amiens 45,001 49,139
Metz 44,416 43,484
Nimes  41,266 49,480
Caen 39,140 40,569
Reims 35,971 43,643
Montpellier ...35,825 40,222
Angers 32,743 43,088
Avignon  29,889 31,812
Brest  29,860 36,492
Nancy  29,783 40,289
1832. 1851.
Rennes 29,680 33,066
Besamjon 29,167 35,345
Versailles 28,477 29,975
Toulon 28,419 45,510
Clermont-Fer¬
rand  28,257 30,563
Limoges  27,070 37,010
Montauban ...25,460 23,314
Dunkirk  24,937 26,886
Grenoble  24,888 26,852
HavredeGrace23,816 26,410
Troyes  23,740 25,636
Tours 23,235
Poitiers 23,128 25,818
Aix 22,575 24,255
Boulogne 20,856 29,488
St Omer  19,344 19,226
L’Orient 18,322 22,561
The ratio of the increase of population in France is
greatest in the lower classes ; the middling and upper ranks
have seldom large families. In that country, as with us, the
population evidently increases faster since the adoption of
vaccine inoculation.
XIII. GOVERNMENT.
The charter in virtue of which Louis XVIII. ascended
the throne of his ancestors was the basis of the government
of France so long as it continued a monarchy.
By that instrument, the king was declared the supreme
head of the executive power, in whom was vested the power
of declaring war and making peace ; the command of the
national force, whether by land or sea; and the nomina¬
tion of all ministers, ambassadors, and other public func¬
tionaries, civil and military.
The legislative power was exercised under the monarchy
by two chambers, the Chamber of Peers and the Chamber
of Deputies, in conjunction with the king, without whose
concurrence no measure had the authority of law.
The Chamber of Peers consisted under the monarchy of Chamber
no definitive number, as the king had the unlimited power of Peers-
of creating peers. The number of peers in 1826 was 214,
and in 1827 it was increased to 290 by the creation of
seventy-six new peers. But this great and sudden addition
to the peerage being considered as an unconstitutional ex¬
ercise of the prerogative by Charles X., was declared null
and void after his abdication; and in 1833 the number of
peers, including five princes of the blood and several new
creations, only amounted to 262. Louis XVIII. could by
his prerogative convoke this chamber when that of the De¬
puties was not sitting. But this power was withheld in
the new charter of 1830, excepting in the case of the cham¬
ber sitting as a court of justice ; and on such occasions it
is strictly confined to its judicial functions. No meeting of
the chamber could take [)lace except by an express order of
the king; and it is convoked by his majesty at the same
time as the Chamber of Deputies, the session of the one
commencing and finishing at the same time with that of
the other. A peer of France under the monarchy of the
elder and junior Bourbons was admitted into the chamber
at the age of twenty-five ; but was not admitted to the ex¬
ercise of any prerogative until he had completed his thir¬
tieth year. The chamber under Louis XVIII., Charles X.,
and Louis Philippe took cognizance of high treason, and of
all crimes committed against the security and peace of the
state. Those who were members of the senate during Bona-
278
FRANCE.
Statistics, parte’s reign were created peers after his abdication, and
their pensions of L.1500 a-year were confirmed. By an or-
donnance of Louis XVIII, no person could be created a
peer unless he possessed a certain entailed property in trust
or in the funds, producing, in order to enable him to sup¬
port the title of a duke, a clear income of 15,000 francs, or
L.600 per annum ; for the title of a marquis, 10,000 francs ;
and for viscounts and barons, 5000 francs. In order to ex¬
ercise the privileges of a peer of France, double the amount
of clear income is required.
Chamber of The popular branch of the French legislature consisted
Deputies, under the monarchy, according to the original provisions of
the charter, of 258 members, who were elected by a com¬
mittee of voters {college electoral), each paying direct taxes
to the amount of L.40 per annum, and who were delegated
to elect a deputy by a lower class of electors, whose quali¬
fication was the payment of L.12 per annum of direct taxes.
One-fifth of the chamber was to be renewed every year ;
so that every five years the whole would be re-elected anew.
In 1817 a law was passed abrogating the intermediate class
of electors, and giving to all the voters the right of imme¬
diately electing the deputy ; and in 1821 the plan of renew¬
ing the chamber by one-fifth at a time was also abrogated,
and a law was passed for dissolving and re-electing the whole
assembly at once. In 1831 a new electoral law was passed,
reducing the qualification of the electors to 200 francs
(L.8, 6s. 8d.), and also the age from thirty to twenty-five
years, and reducing the qualification of deputies from forty
to thirty years of age, and the pecuniary qualification from
1000 to 500 francs. It was estimated, that by thus lower¬
ing the pecuniary qualification of electors, the number
would be increased from 100,000 to 190,000. (See His¬
tory of France.)
The French Chamber of Deputies under the monarchy
consisted of 430 members, chosen for 86 departments. The
original charter of Louis XVIII. assigned to the monarch
the exclusive right of proposing all public measures; and
it was necessary in proposing any new law to move an
address to his majesty, praying that it might be presented
to the chamber for its adoption. The charter of 1830 dis¬
pensed with this form, and gave the right of initiating laws
to all the branches of the legislature, with the exception of
taxation bills, which originated with the representatives of
the people. When the session commenced under the mo¬
narchy, bureaux, or special committees, nine in number,
were formed, and were periodically renewed ; and when any
new lawwas presented to the chamber on the partof the king,
it was referred in the first instance to these special com¬
mittees ; if the law was approved by two or more of them,
it was reported by the chamber, when the principle of the
measure was discussed by the chamber, and the clauses
voted article by article. The decision of the bureaux was
reported by the chairman or rapporteur to the whole cham¬
ber ; which frequently pronounced an opposite decision.
The special clauses of a law were voted by assis et levee ;
those who are for the law, the ayes, rising, and those who
are against the law, the noes, keeping their places. The
vote on the whole measure was by secret scrutiny, the ayes
being indicated by white balls, and the noes by black ones,
thrown into an urn placed on the tribune of the chamber. The
sittings of the chamber were, under Louis XVIII., Charles
X., Louis Philippe, and the Republic, public; but on the de¬
mand of any five members, all strangers were excluded. No
deputy couid be arrested for debt during the sitting of the
chamber, nor within six weeks previous to its assembling,
or six weeks subsequent to its prorogation in the time of
the monarchy ; and if arrested at any other period, he must Statistics,
be liberated during the session; nor could any deputy be
arrested or prosecuted for a criminal charge, except he were
detected in the act, unless by permission of the chamber.
It will be remembered (see History) that the Duke de
Praslin was not arrested by the police. The senators of
Bonaparte received each a salary of 10,000 francs per annum.
The deputies to the chamber received no salary under the
monarchy. The president, the secretaries, and the officers
attached to the chambers, such as questeurs, huissiers, &c.,
were the only persons paid. The salary of the president
was, under the elder Bourbons, 100,000 francs per annum,
besides a furnished hotel, horses, equipage, &c. But it was
reduced to 4000 francs per month, payable only during the
session in the reign of Louis Philippe.
The executive department of the government was ad- Executive
ministered by the king and his cabinet council, consisting govern-
ment.
of nine ministers, viz.—
1. The minister of finance, whose business it was to receive the
taxes from the receivers-general, and all the other revenues of go¬
vernment. He disbursed, and still disburses the payments for the
other departments of the state, for the interest of the public debt,
and all pensions, &c. To this ministry are attached certain other
offices, the chiefs of which are called directors ; namely, directors-
general of taxes, customs, registries and domains, ports, woods and
forests, and the mint. The salary of the minister of finance was
reduced by the Chamber of Deputies under Charles X. in 1828,
from 150,000 to 120,000 francs per annum ; and the salaries of the
directors vary from 40,000 to 50,000 francs per annum. The re¬
venue was under the monarchy, and is still, conveyed to the trea¬
sury through various subordinate offices. There is a percepteur or
collector in each commune, who pays his collections to the special
receiver for each arrondissement, who transmits the revenue to the
general receiver of taxes for the department, by whom it is, lastly,
remitted to the office of the finance minister.
2. The minister of the interior. This minister was, under the
monarchy, and still is under the empire, one of the most important,
if not the most important of the functionaries of the state. He is
in direct correspondence with all the civil authorities of the king¬
dom ; no local tax can be imposed, nor any disbursements made, in
any of the departments, districts, or communes, without his autho¬
rity. The general police of the kingdom, with all its various details,
is under his superintendence; besides poor-houses,charities, and hos¬
pitals, the national guard of France, the censorship of the theatre,
the royal institute, the public libraries and government archives,
the examination of all passports, and all reports from prefects and
sub-prefects of departments. He takes cognizance also of the press.
He has directors under him, who relieve him from the trouble of
details. His salary is 120,000 francs, and there are at least 204,000
officials under his orders.
3. Minister of justice and keeper of the seals. He is at the head
of the law department, though he seldom presides in any court of
justice. He corresponds with the law officers of the crown through¬
out France, and takes cognizance of all cases of criminals after
conviction, and of all applications for royal mercy. There are more
than 30,000 officials under his orders. His salary is 120,000 francs.
4. Minister of marine, who has the direction of the navy and the
colonies of France. The dockyards and maritime prefects are under
his authority ; 10,000 workmen and mechanics are employed in the
building or repairing of ships, under about 400 maitres entretenues.
The colonial affairs of the empire are also under the supervision of
this minister. His salary is 20,000 francs.
5. Minister of foreign affairs. His duties are expressed in his
designation. All passports to cross the frontiers must be nominally
countersigned by him. His salary is 150,000 francs.
6. Minister of war. He superintends of course the whole service
of the army. He has also the sole control of the gunpowder and
saltpetre manufactories, barracks, military hospitals, &c., and the
government founderies and manufactories of small arms. He has
also the charge of organizing and inspecting the corps of gendar¬
merie of Paris, as well as in all the departments. Salary 120,000
francs.
7. Minister of ecclesiastical affairs.1 His salary is 120,000 francs.
8. Minister of public instruction. His functions are strictly con-
1 The ministry of ecclesiastical affairs was suppressed in 1829, and the duties were transferred to the minister of public instruction.
Under the elder Bourbons the minister of ecclesiastical affairs was in direct correspondence with the court of Rome. He then published
all briefs, bulls, &c., nominated all archbishops, bishops, and other clerical functionaries, and had the administration of the expenses of
cathedrals, churches, &c.
FRANCE.
279
Statistics.
The coun¬
cil of state.
Audit
office.
fined to secular education. He nominates the different function¬
aries in the public academies and faculties, authorizes the opening
of private boarding-schools for both sexes, and regulates the works
to be used in these seminaries ; he grants diplomas in law and me¬
dicine, superintends the receipts of colleges, fixes the pensions of
retired functionaries, grants aids and indemnities to collegiate cor¬
porations, and generally takes cognizance of all institutions for
public instruction. He has now a superior or imperial council of
public instruction. His salary is 100,000 francs.
9. Minister of commerce and manufactures. This is a new office,
of which the business partly belonged to the minister of finance
and the minister of the interior. In 1829 the minister of com¬
merce was suppressed, and the business was transferred to the
home office. In 1830 a ministry of public works was created. The
minister of commerce corresponds with the chambers of commerce;
nominates exchange-brokers, with the exception of those in Paris,
who are nominated by the minister of finance ; examines all de¬
mands made for the establishment of assurance offices, their rules
and regulations; grants patents for inventions ; establishes or sup¬
presses fairs or markets ; decides on the qualifications of candidates
for the office of judge in any of the commercial courts; and has an
especial jurisdiction over all that may promote the prosperity of
commerce and manufactures. His salary is 120,000 francs.
Besides these cabinet ministers, the Bourbons had a privy coun¬
cil, the members of which were seldom summoned, the public
business being entirely managed by the cabinet council.
Under the last monarchy each of these ministers presented to the
Chamber of Deputies his own budget of expenses, which was
examined by a committee specially appointed for the purpose. It
was competent for these committees to propose a reduction in the
items of these ministerial budgets, which might be adopted by the
chamber. After these various budgets had been considered and
discussed, the general account of the national expenditure was con¬
sidered and put to the vote.
Ministers of state were nominal functionaries under the mo¬
narchy, and the appointments were generally given to retired
cabinet ministers, as a reward for past services. The pension was
formerly 20,000 francs per annum, but after the revolution of 1830
it was restricted to 12,000 francs a-year.
The council of state was a favourite institution of the Emperor
Napoleon, and under the consulate and the empire he loaded it
with administrative business. Sometimes he used it to control the
acts of his ministers, and generally he submitted to it the most
delicate and thorny affairs of his government. The first restora¬
tion reconstituted the council of state by royal ordonnance of the
29th June 1814, The peculiar organization then given to it was
suppressed in the Hundred Days, and again re-established by the
second restoration on the 23d August 1815. After the revolution
of 1830 seven projects of law were submitted to the Chambers with
a view to improve the council of state. The seventh alone was dis¬
cussed, and carried in the session of 1845. It had scarcely been more
than put into execution before the revolution of February broke
out. The provisional government commenced by reducing the
number of councillors of state from thirty to twenty-five. It at¬
tached great importance, however, to the council of state, a whole
chapter being dedicated to that subject in the republican constitu¬
tion. The imperial decree of the 25th January 1852 has defini¬
tively regulated the council of state, rendering its functions among
the most important in the empire, imposing on it the preparation
of all projects of law, and the sustaining of those projects before
the legislative body. The council of state is necessarily called
upon to give its opinion upon all decrees concerning the public
administration.
The council of state now (1855) consists of a president and vice-
president, of from forty to fifty councillors of state in ordinary
service, of councillors of state out of particular sections, whose
number cannot exceed fifteen; of councillors of state in extraordi¬
nary service, whose number cannot exceed twenty; forty maitres
des requites divided into two classes of twenty each; a general
secretary having the title and rank of a maitres des requetes. The
ministers have their rank, seats, and voice in the council of state,
and the members are named by the emperor. Neither councillors
of state nor masters of requests can be senators or deputies of the
legislative corps, their functions being incompatible with all other
salaried functions. The councillors of state on actual or ordinary
service received under the monarchy a salary of 12,000 francs
a-year, a deduction being made if they enjoyed any other situation
of emolument under government. To the council of state are at¬
tached the maitres de requetes, appointed likewise for ordinary and
extraordinary service, but some are merely honorary. Their busi¬
ness is to draw up all acts of council, for which they receive
a salary of 6000 francs a-year. The office of maitre de requetes was
considered as the first step towards the rank of councillor of state.
Audit office, or cour des comptes. It is the business of this court
to receive and examine all the accounts of the different ministers, Statistics,
and those of the receivers-general and prefects of the departments ;
and to certify the correctness of the general accounts published
every year by the minister of finance. The ordinary business of
this court was under the monarchy managed by three chambers,
each having a president; and there was then also a chief presi¬
dent, who sat when these chambers were united ; but a fourth tem¬
porary chamber was instituted by decree of 15th January 1852.
There is also a councillor of reference in each chamber (referendaire),
whose duty is the verification of the accounts; also a procureur-
general, whose office corresponds to that of solicitor of some of the
public offices in England, and who sees that all the necessary ac¬
counts are delivered into this office within the period fixed by law,
and who, in case of neglect, proceeds against the offending parties
for the penalties they have incurred. There is likewise a chief
registrar, in whose custody remain all the accounts and vouchers
transmitted to his office. The court is composed of a first presi¬
dent, 3 presidents, 18 conseillers, maitre de comptes, 80 conseillers
referendaires, in all 103 magistrates. The whole court meets every
three months in public to go over the accounts of the three pre¬
ceding months.
The revenue of the king, or the civil list, in the time of Revenu.e
the monarchy, was fixed at the restoration, by the budgetoftIiekins'
of 1814, at 15,510,000 francs per annum; and a further
grant was made to the other branches of the royal family of
4,000,000 a-year. By the budget of 1816 the income of
the king was augmented to 30,000,000 ; but at the acces¬
sion of Charles X. it was fixed at 25,000,000, whilst the
allowances to the other branches of the royal family were
increased to 7,000,000 a-year.
The royal household, as it was designated, included the follow¬
ing appointments:
Lord steward (grand maitre)  140,000 fr.
One maitre d’hotel    40,000
Four chamberlains of the household  40,000
Nine stewards    72,000
Four under stewards  20,000
Four cooks  12,000
Chief purveyor of fish  3,000
Ten assistants  20,000
Wine      172,000
Kitchen consumption    585,000
Charcoal        65,000
Other expenses, 528,700    1,697,700 fr.
In the department of the king’s chamberlain the ex¬
penses amounted to  988,000
There were, besides, thirteen palaces, each with a separate and
expensive establishment; a large sum was annually paid in pen¬
sions ; and, under the heads of music, the wardrobe, medical esta¬
blishment, stables, the annual disbursements amounted to between
two and three millions of francs. The support of the magnificent
manufactory of porcelain at Sevres, and the manufactory of tapes¬
try at Gobelins in Paris, cost a large annual sum; the expenses con¬
nected with the garde meuble, where the crown jewels and royal in¬
signia were kept, and the expense of coining medals, were consider¬
able ; the establishments for the support of the museum of painting
and sculpture at Paris amounted to nearly 3,000,000 of francs
a-year ; an annual sum of 80,000 francs was allowed for the support
of the Italian opera, and a sum of 45,000 francs for the encourage¬
ment of sacred music. After the revolution of 1830, the civil list
of Louis Philippe was settled in 1832 ; and in fixing his allow¬
ances the Chamber had two matters to deal with ; the royal domains,
which had hitherto been appendages of the crown, and the money-
grant of an annual allowance. The real property of the crown con¬
sisted of the Louvre; the Tuileries with their dependencies; the
Elysee Bourbon ; the chateaux, houses, buildings, manufactories,
lands, meadows, farms, woods and forests, composing the domains
of Versailles ; Marly; Saint Cloud ; Meudon ; St Germain-en-Laye ;
Rambouillet; Compiegne ; Fountainebleau; Strasbourg; Bordeaux;
Pau, and others. Of these, the chateau of St Germain-en-Laye, and
those of Strasbourg and Bordeaux, with several other items, amount¬
ing to L.626,000, were taken from the crown, and made applicable
to the purposes of the state. The money allowance to the king was
fixed at 12,000,000 of francs, or L.480,000 per annum; and the
annual sum of 1,000,000 francs, or L.40,000, was allowed to the
prince royal; and the allowances to the daughters were regulated
by special laws.
The imperial government of France is based on the imperial
sovereignty of the people and the great principles of 1789. govern-
The title of the chief of the state is Emperor of the French ment.
280 FRA
Statistics, by the grace of God and the national will.1 The crown
is hereditary in the male line only, and by right of pri¬
mogeniture. The members of the imperial family are alone
eligible to the throne. The emperor exercises legislative
power conjointly with the senate, the legislative body,
and the council of state. The emperor is alone invested
with the executive power, is completely independent of
great state functionaries, and enjoys all the prerogatives
pertaining to sovereign powder. The members of the legis¬
lative body, as well as the councils general and of arron-
dissements, are said to be named by direct universal suf¬
frage. The emperor is responsible to the French people.
He is chief of the state ; commands the land and sea forces ;
declares war; makes treaties of peace, alliance, and com¬
merce ; nominates to all employments; and alone initiates
the laws. The ministers depend on the chief of the state.
They, as well as all persons employed by the state, take an
oath of obedience to the constitution and of fidelity to the
emperor. The senate, whose number shall not exceed 150,
is composed of cardinals, marshals, admirals, citizens, &c.,
named by the emperor. The dignity is for life.2
The constitution was modified by a senatus-consulte of
23d December 1852, by which it was decreed that the em¬
peror has the right to pardon and to grant amnesties; and,
when he thinks fit, to preside over the senate and council
of state. It was also decreed that treaties of commerce have
the force of law with respect to modifications of tariff therein
stipulated. All works of public utility are ordered by the
emperor. The ministerial departments under the Emperor
Louis Napoleon amount to nine, namely, the minister of
state and of the household of the emperor ; the ministers of
justice; of foreign affairs ; of finance; of the interior; of war;
of marine and the colonies ; of agriculture, commerce, and
public works; and of religion and public instruction.
Provincial The system of provincial government throughout France
govern- js gimpie an(l effective. The kingdom is at present divided
into 86 departments, with their capital towns. These de¬
partments are subdivided into 363 arrondissements or dis¬
tricts, 2847 cantons, and 36,835 communes. In each de¬
partment the prefect is the chief magistrate, and, as well as
the sub-prefect, is paid by government in proportion to the
population and the extent of his jurisdiction, the salary vary¬
ing from 40,000 to 10,000 francs a-year, whilst that of the
sub-prefect is 4000 francs. The prefect of the department
of the Seine has 100,000 francs a-year.
Councillors rp0 each prefecture and sub-prefecture are attached councillors
of prefec- (conseillers de prefecture, and conseillers d'arrondissement'), who are
ture. likewise paid by government; and each has, besides, a general coun¬
cil, composed of the most opulent and respectable persons in the
department, appointed by the king, which he convokes when ne¬
cessary ; and before this council he lays all public- matters for its
approbation. He- is at the head of the police and of the national
guard within his prefecture. It is his business to superintend all
necessary repairs of public buildings, bridges, fortresses, walls of
towns, &c.; to direct the cleaning and paving of streets and high¬
roads; to inspect ports, quays, common sewers, poor-houses, &c. He
superintends public libraries, museums, primary schools ; fixes the
price of bread ; and grants passports. He is in correspondence with
all the subordinate functionaries in his department, as well as with
the minister of the interior, from whom he receives instructions to
settle the question of all general taxes, and to provide for the pub¬
lic expenses of the department. He receives the produce of the
octroi, a custom-duty levied on all articles of general consumption
as they enter the town ; and of all the rents of government entre¬
pots; of stalls and shambles in public markets ; of slaughter-houses;
of the proceeds from the sale of manure ; as well as fines of police,
and other imposts. One-tenth only of the octroi was under the mo¬
narchy paid to the government; and out of the remainder, and from
other funds, was defrayed all the local expenses of police, lighting
and cleaning streets. All the accounts are transmitted to the min¬
ister of the interior, who sends them to the cour d.es comptes. The
functions of a sub-prefect are the same as those of a prefect. A
juge de paix is at the head of every canton, who has also similar
N C E.
duties, and is, besides, employed in deciding civil suits to a certain Statistics,
amount. The mayors of the communes possess similar powers to i ■i_J
those of the prefects of departments; and their receipts and ex¬
penses are provided for in a similar manner. In case of their re¬
quiring any extra funds for local expenses, they have the authority
of the legislature to raise a contribution called centimes communaux
from the inhabitants of the commune. To the office of mayor are
attached municipal councillors, who have the same functions as the
general council of the prefecture. The mayor may celebrate mar-
ria<res, and at the mairie of the commune a marriage register is
kept, as well as one of births and deaths ; a notice of which the re¬
latives of the parties are obliged to deposit at the office of the mayor,
under a penalty of a fine in case of neglect. There is in every town
a commissary of police, who is paid according to its population.
Paris is divided into twelve mairies, called municipal arrondisse¬
ments, in each of which is a mayor with two assistants. It is also
distinguished from all other cities by having a prefect of police,
who has very extensive functions, exercising all the multifarious
duties of police within its precincts, having under his immediate
orders the whole corps of police officers, the 48 commissaries of
police belonging to Paris, and the corps of firemen.
The most comprehensive, though the least ancient order, Legion of
is that of the Legion dfHonneur; an order instituted by Honour.
Bonaparte, and maintained on nearly the same plan by the
Bourbons. The usual title to admission is the discharge of
functions, either civil or military, with distinction; and, in
time of war, the performance of an action of eclat. The
gradations are, chevaliers, of whom the number is unlimited,
and very great; officiers, who amount to no more than 2300;
commandeurs, grand officiers, and grand croix. A member
must serve several years as a chevalier before becoming an
officer, and the same progressively through the other ranks.
Admissions take place once, and frequently twice, a-year;
a specific number being allotted to each great department
of the public service, the military, the judicial, and the ad¬
ministrative.
The other orders under the monarchy were, that of St
Louis, which is strictly military ; that of St Michel, which
dates from 1469, is limited to a hundred members, and is
conferred as a recompense for distinction in science, litera¬
ture, or the arts. Eminent professional men and artists, and
the authors of discoveries of public utility, constitute the
members of this order. The order du St Esprit, created
in 1578, and of the very highest rank, comprised princes
of the blood, prelates, and members of the order of St
Michel; the whole being limited to the number of a hundred.
XIV. LAW, AXD ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE.
In this great department France shows nothing of the •
backwardness apparent in her situation in many other re¬
spects, but is entitled to the particular attention of other
nations, and of none more than our own. Law does not
rest on tradition, nor is it necessary to study it in a never-
ending accumulation of decisions. It is reduced to a com¬
pact and definite form, the result of a code formed recently,
and with all the benefit of the application of the knowledge
of an enlightened age to the principles of jurisprudence.
Nothing could be more heterogeneous than the administra¬
tion of justice in France before the revolution. The first
stage of a process took place before judges appointed, not by
the king, but by the seigneur or lord of the district. These
judges had power to impose a fine, to decree a short im¬
prisonment or other correctional punishment, and to give,
in a civil suit, a decision subject to appeal. The seneschals
and baillis ranked a degree higher, and were entitled to
give a verdict in cases of importance, subject, however, to
an appeal to one or other of the parliaments, of which there
were in all thirteen in France; and which, very different
from the parliaments with which we are familiar, were com¬
posed of judges and public officers of rank. The whole of
this inharmonious mass was reduced into a simple and uni-
1 Preamble of the Constitution of 1852.
2 Moniteur Universel, 15th January 1852.
FRANCE.
281
Statistics, form system by the National Assembly, in 1791. Indeed,
on the famous night of the 4th August 1789, seignoral and
ecclesiastical judges may be said to have been buried in the
ruins of feudal institutions, and on the 24th August 1790
a system entirely new, and founded on the territorial divi¬
sion of the country, was instituted. The seignoral judges
were replaced by justices of the peace, and every district
of importance (arrondissemeni) obtained its court, or tri¬
bunal de premiere instance. The higher courts were not
added till afterwards, but the judges of every description
were elected by the inhabitants of the province, a right
which continued with them until the rule of Bonaparte.
Afferent But there remained for the National Assembly another
odes. and a much more laborious work. Each province had its
peculiar code, or coutoumier, some founded on the Homan
law, others on tradition and local custom, but the whole
replete with ambiguity and discrepancy. To digest a com¬
plete body of law, that might suffice for the country at
large, and supersede the provincial codes, was the labour of
many years, and of a number of eminent lawyers. It was
not completed until the beginning of the present century,
when it was promulgated under Bonaparte, and gave to the
jurisprudence and judicial constitution of France nearly the
form they at present bear. This body of law consisted of
five codes, entitled respectively, 1. Code Civil; 2. Code
de Procedure Civile; 3. Code de Commerce; 4. Code
(IInstruction Criminelle ; 5. Code Penal. To these have
been added the Code Forestier, the Loi relative d la Peche
Fluviale, and other laws too numerous to mention here.
A Code Administratif (in which, however, some progress
has been made since the work of Cormenin), a Code Mili-
taire, and a Code Maritime are still wanting. The five
codes were the result of the deliberations of the most emi¬
nent jurisconsults, in which Napoleon himself took part, and
aided the men of science by his genius, his vast experience,
and intuitive sagacity.
The Code Civil, the first and by far the most comprehensive of
these divisions, defines the rights of persons in their various ca¬
pacities of citizens, parents, sons, daughters, guardians, minors,
married, unmarried. It next treats of property in its respective
modes of acquisition and possession, as inheritances, marriage por¬
tions, sales, leases, loans, bonds, and mortgages.
The Code de Procedure Civile prescribes the manner of proceed¬
ing before the different courts of justice, beginning with the huge
de paix; also the mode of carrying into effect sentences, whether
for the payment of damages, the distraining of goods, or the im¬
prisoning of the party condemned. It declares likewise the course
to be followed in transactions distinct from those of the law courts ;
as in arbitration, taking possession of an inheritance, or a separation
of property between man and wife.
The Code de Commerce begins by defining the duties of certain
officers or commercial agents, such as sworn brokers and appraisers:
it next treats of partnerships ; of sales and purchases ; of bills of
exchange ; of shipping, freight, and insurance; of temporary sus¬
pensions of payment, and bankruptcies.
The Code d,Instruction Criminelle explains the duties of all pub¬
lic officers connected with the judicial police, whether mayors, as¬
sistants of mayors (a djoints),procureurs du roi,juges d’instruction, &c.
After prescribing the rules regarding evidence, it regulates the man¬
ner of appointing juries, and the questions which fall within their
. competency. Its further dispositions relate to the mode and nature
of appeals, and to the very unpopular courts authorized to try
state offences, termed Cours Speciales under Bonaparte, and Cours
PHvotales under the Bourbons.
The Code Pinal describes the punishment awarded for offences
in all the variety of gradation, from the penalties of the police
correctionnelle to the severest sentence of the law. All offences are
classed under two general heads; state offences, such as counter¬
feiting coin, resisting police officers, sedition, rebellion; and of¬
fences against individuals, as calumny, false evidence, man¬
slaughter, murder.
1 hese codes, the first attempt to reduce the laws of a
great nation to the compass of a volume, consist of a num¬
ber ^f
sections and short paragraphs, each paragraph
parked by a number, as a means of reference. The stvle
Js as concise as is compatible with clearness. The arrano-e-
vol. x.
ment is minute and elaborate. The whole, together with Statistics,
the Code Forestier and the Code de la Peche Fluviale, i |M- ^ z
the work of the restoration, are sold for a few shillings, in
the shape of an octavo or of two duodecimo volumes ; and
copies of it are in the possession, not only of all judges,
pleaders, and attorneys, but of agents, merchants, and persons
in business generally, who, without being enabled by it to
dispense with the aid of lawyers in a suit, find in it a variety
of useful explanations relative to questions of frequent oc¬
currence in their respective occupations.
The juges de paix are very numerous, there being one for each JUges de
canton, and consequently nearly three thousand in the kingdom. Paix.
They never are, as in England, clergymen, and seldom country
gentlemen, but persons acquainted with law, and in circumstances
which make the salary, small as it is (from L.30 to L.40), an ac¬
ceptable return for a portion of their time. They are sometimes
provincial attorneys, or avocats retired from business. The juge
de paix is authorized to pronounce finally under fifty francs, or
L.2 ; and in questions of greater amount up to a hundred francs, to
give a decision subject to appeal. He takes cognizance likewise
of disputes about tenants’ repairs, servants’ wages, and the dis¬
placing of the landmarks of property. No action can be brought
before a court of justice in France until the plaintiff has summoned
his adversary before a juge de paix, with an amicable intent {cite
en conciliation), and received from the juge a proces verbal, showing
that the difference could not be adjusted. The number of juges'de
paix is about 3000, and their salaries amount to about two amjl a
half millions of francs.
Of the Primary Courts there is one for every arrondissement, Primary
making above three hundred and sixty for the whole of France • courts.
Each is composed of three or four members, of two or three sup-
pleans, or assistant members, and of a procureur du roi acting on
the part of the crown. In populous districts, cours premiere instance
comprehend six, seven, eight, or more members, and are divided
into two or three chambers. They are chiefly occupied with ques¬
tions of civil law, and hold, in the extent of their jurisdiction, a me¬
dium between the limits of the juge de paix and the large powers of
the cour royale; their decisions being final wherever the income
from a property does not exceed forty shillings, or the principal
forty pounds, but subject in greater matters to an appeal to the
cour royale. The members of these inferior courts are named, like
other judges, by the crown, and hold their places for life; the sa¬
lary of each is only L.80 a-year; their number throughout all
France, including suppleans procureurs-generaux, is about 4300, and
their salaries, in round numbers, amount to 6,000,000 francs.
A section of the Tribunal de Premiere Instance is appropriated to
the trial of offences, under the name of Tribunal de Police Correc-
tionelle ; and here the English reader must be careful to distinguish
between judicial and government police; the former having no re¬
ference to state offences, such as libel or treason, but comprehend¬
ing a very numerous list of another kind, viz. all offences which
do not amount to crimes, or subject the offender to a punishment
afflictif ou infamant. These offences, when slight, are called con-
travensions de police, and are brought before a juge de paix, or the
mayor of the commune ; when of a graver stamp, and requiring a
punishment exceeding five days’ imprisonment, or a fine of fifteen
francs, they are brought before the court now mentioned, whose
sentences, in point of imprisonment, may extend to the term of
five years. The trespasses brought before a justice of the peace or
mayor are such as damaging standing corn, driving incautiously in
the highway, endangering a neighbour’s property by neglecting
repairs. The offences referred to the Tribunal Correctionnel are
such as assault and battery, swindling, privately stealing, using
false weights or measures, &c.
We now come to the higher courts of justice, which Cours
equal in jurisdiction our courts in Westminster Hall tm&royales.
on the circuit, but with the material distinction, that in
France the civil courts are always stationary. The Cours
Royales, in number twenty-seven, are attached to the
chief provincial towns throughout the kingdom. They
are all formed on the same model, and possessed of equal
power, though differing materially in extent of business
and number of members. The number of the latter de¬
pends on the population of the tract of country (generally
three departments) subject to the jurisdiction of the court.
In a populous quarter, like Normandy, a cour royale com¬
prehends twenty, twenty-five, or even thirty judges, and is
divided into three or four chambers, of which one performs
the duty of an English grand jury, in deciding on the bills of
2 N
282
FRANCE.
Statistics, indictment {raises en accusation^); another is for the trial
0f offences {police correctionnelle) ; and a third, with per¬
haps a fourth, is for civil suits. These courts are often
called Cours (VAppel, as all the cases which come before
them must have been previously tried by an inferior court.
The collective number of judges in these higher courts is
not short of twelve hundred ; an aggregate hardly credible
to an English reader, and which would prove a very serious
charge on the public purse, were not their salaries very
moderate, viz. from L.100 to L.300 a-year, according to
the population of the town where the court is held. In
the financial pressure of 1816 and 1817, a reduction of
this numerous body was much called for ; but no diminu¬
tion was made in the number of the courts, whatever
gradual decrease may be allowed to take place in the
members from decease or retirement. The salaries of these
1200 magistrates do not annually exceed five millions or
francs.
Paris does not, like London and Edinburgh, absorb almost
all the civil business of the country. It has, it is true, a
cour royale on a large scale (five chambers and fifty judges),
but confined in its jurisdiction to the metropolis and the
seven adjacent departments. There is a procureur du roi
for every tribunal de premiere instance, and a procureur
general for every cour d’appel.
Assize
courts.
Cours
specia les.
Tribunaux
de com¬
merce.
Cour de
cassation.
The assize courts take cognisance exclusively of criminal cases ;
that is, of the crimes or serious offences referred to them by the
cours royales. They consist, since 1837, in the departments where
a court of appeal is situated, of three judges, members of the cours
royales, hut never belonging to the section that finds the indict¬
ments. The grand accompaniment of a French assize court is a
jury, which, as in England, consists of twelve members, and decides
on the facts of the case, leaving the application of the law to the
fudges. Complete unanimity was at no time necessary in a F rench
fury At first a majority of ten to two was required ; but this was
subsequently altered, in 1835, to a simple majority, with the quali¬
fication that, in case of condemnation by only two .voices (seven to
five), the verdict should be re-considered by the judges, and the
party acquitted, if, on taking judges and jurymen collectively,
there was a majority in his favour. The assizes are the only courts
that are not stationary. They are generally held in the chief town
of a department once in three months. The costs of suit are exactly
defined by a printed tariff and it is a rule in criminal as in civil
cases, that the party condemned is liable in all expenses.
The special courts were constituted out of the usual course for t e
trial of state offences. The cours speciales were appointed by Eona-
parte, the prevotales during the period of political e ervescence
(fortunately short-lived) which succeeded the second entry of t e
king, and the misfortunes brought on the nation by Lonaparte s
return frm Elba. In both cases the courts were considered as
under the influence of government, and were of course obnoxious
to the enlightened part of the public. The prevotal courts esta¬
blished in 1815 were abolished in 1818.
The name of tribunal, or court, is given in France to a committee
of five merchants, or leading tradesmen, appointed by the mercan¬
tile body in every town of considerable business or population.
Their competency extends to all disputes occuiring in mercan i e
business, and falling within the provisions of the code de commerce.
Their decisions are founded on that code, and on ® cu om8 0
merchants. They are final in all cases below L.40. The presence
of three members is necessary to form a court. The duty is per¬
formed gratuitously. There are about 220 special tribunals of com¬
merce in France. The number of commercial affairs decided be¬
tween 1846 and 1850 amounted to 201,207. The tribunal of com¬
merce of the Seine determines about 50,000 commercial causes
a-year. Lyon, in round numbers, 10,000; Rouen, 500 ; * arsei es,
5000; Bordeaux, 3500. . . , ., ,
The court of cassation, the highest in the kingdom, is e a
Paris, and is composed of three chambers, each of fifteen mem ers
and a president, making, with the premier president, a procureur-
general, and six avocats-generaux, a total of fifty-two. T le ree
chambers are called chambre des requetes, chambre de cassation >
and chambre de cassation criminelle. Its province is to deci. e e
nitively in all appeals from the decrees of the cours royales ; mves i-
gating not the facts of the case, but the forms of law, and ordering,
wherever these have been infringed or deviated from, a new tria
before another cour royale. This revision takes place in criminal Statistics
as well as in civil cases. The royal court chosen for the new trial
is generally, for the convenience of the parties, the nearest in situa¬
tion to the other. The cour de cassation has farther powers, and of
the highest kind. It determines all differences as to jurisdiction
between one court and another, and exercises a control over every
court in the kingdom. It has power to call the judges to account
before the minister of justice, and even to suspend them from their
functions; acting thus as a high tribunal for the maintenance of
the established order of judica ture.
The minister bearing the title of keeper of the seals and minister Ministry
of justice may be compared to the chancellor of England, though his justice,
patronage is much less extensive, and his functions much more suit¬
able to the station of minister. He rarely acts as a judge, but exer¬
cises a general superintendence over the judicial body. He is the
medium between the head of the state and the courts of justice, in
the same way as the minister of the home department in regard
to the civil authorities. The expenses of the judicial body fall
under his cognizance. The procureurs-generaux and procureurs^ du
roi throughout the kingdom address their correspondence to him;
and it is his province to report to the king on the alleviation of
punishment, or pardons; in short, on all disputed points, whether
of legislation or administration.
Juries were introduced into France soon after the first Juries,
revolution in 1789, and confined at first to criminal trials.
After the revolution of 1830 all cases of libels were tried
in the courts of assize by a jury. During several years
there were in France grand juries constituted as in England;
but under Bonaparte their functions were transferred to the
cours royales, on the plea that none but judges could be
made to understand the difference between bringing to trial
and bringing to punishment; and that the consequence
frequently was a discharge, when a true bill ought to have
been found.
One of the chief improvements made by the r rench state of
National Assembly was a general mitigation of the penal crime,
code, or rather the substitution of punishments likely to be
enforced, for others of such severity as in general to put
their application out of the question. Stealing privately in
a dwelling-house was formerly punishable in France by the
rack and death; an extreme which prevented respectable
persons from bringing delinquents before a court, and thus
tended to the increase of crime.
There still exists in France the singular practice of
parties engaged in a law-suit visiting the judges in private ;
a practice originating in an age when suitors thought a pei-
sonal interview the only effectual mode of explaining their
case, and continued in more enlightened times fi'om that
over-complaisance which is the groundwork of several of
the defects of the national character. Such interviews are
little else than an exchange of compliments; nor have the
judges ever been charged with acting under the influence
of such ex parte statements.
The salaries of French judges must appear insignificant
to an English reader ; but there are in that country many
men of small patrimony and good education who are dis¬
inclined to the exercise of trade or professions, but attach
much importance to government employment; moreover,
the functions of judges and of public officers in France en¬
gross much less time than in England.
The law style of the French is much more brief than
ours ; their deeds, such as leases, mortgages, and sales,
being generally contained in a very few pages, and free
from obscure or antiquated phraseology.
Prior to the year 1825 there existed in France no au¬
thentic documents respecting the administration of crimina
justice in France; and in order to know the nature and the
number of the crimes committed during the preceding
years, it would have been necessary to look back into t ie
records of every prefecture throughout the country ; an
such a work, besides its extreme difficulty, would have been
too incomplete to be of any utility.1 Within the last quar
See Essaisur la Statistique Morale de la France, par. A. M. Guerry, p. 5-
FRANCE.
283
Statistics, ter of a century, however, the statistics of crime and of cri-
, ^ ^ y minal justice in France have been made familiar to the
world by a series of official reports, in which the details of
the criminal calendars throughout France are brought to¬
gether and perspicuously arranged. In these reports, the
crimes and offences brought under consideration are divided
into three great branches: the first relating to such crimes
as are tried before the courts of assize, with the assistance
of a jury : the second to offences of minor importance, de¬
cided by correctional tribunals; and the third to such as
are disposed of by the ordinary magistrates of police. Of
6962 persons tried in the courts of assize in the year 1830,
3910 were for crimes against property, and 1158 for crimes
against the person. The proportion between the number
of persons judicially accused of offences, and the general
population of the kingdom was, in 1829, as one in 4321 ;
and in 1830, as one in 4576. Of the 6962 brought to trial
in 1830, 5608 were men, and 1354 were women There
were 5440 accusations brought before the courts of assize
in 1853, affecting 7317 persons. Of these 2403 were for
crimes against the person, and 4914 for crimes against pro¬
perty. If the number of accused persons in 1853 be com¬
pared with those of the two preceding years, a gradual dimi¬
nution appears in the number accused of crimes against the
person. In 1851 the number accused was 2773. In 1852
the number was reduced to 2487, and in 1853 to 2403.
The number of crimes against property has on the con¬
trary increased from year to year. From 4298 in 1851
the number increased to 4609 in 1852, and to 4914 in
1853.
The accusations, in the mean, from 1831 to 1835, were
7466 ; for the next 5 years, to 1840, 7885 ; and from 1840
to 1845, 7209. Of 7195 accused, 2031 were for crimes
against the person, and 5164 for crimes against property,
and 5898 were men, 1297 women. The proportion of per¬
sons criminally accused is generally 1 in 4500; the mean for
19 years being 1 to 4445. On 5000 condemned in each of
four years, the following were the sentences: —
Death   50 42 50 51
Perpetual hard labour... 178 174 196 209
Limited term  930 918 929 961
Seclusion   875 858 905 827
Banishment   10 0 0
Imprisonment   11 0 0 0
Civil degradation   1 1 1 0
Correctional penalties...2946 2682 2777 2825
Correctional detention... 24 27 26 29
5016
4702
4884
4902
Of 100 accused, about 30 are acquitted. Most of the
accused are illiterate, the women especially. Before 1840
there were 56 in 100 who could not read ; after 1844 the
number fell to 52. Between 1846 and 1850 crime aug¬
mented considerably, especially crimes of a heinous cha¬
racter.
The public peace is maintained by an armed police, or
gendarmerie, partly on foot and partly mounted ; and in all
emergencies, when this force is found insufficient for the
preservation or execution of the laws, the national guards
and troops of the line may be called in to assist, being, how¬
ever, subject to the orders of the police.
In France, the prisons, which constitute an important
department of the criminal police, are under the special
direction of the minister of the interior. His delegates are
the prefects; and the jailors or governors of the prisons are
called directors. In every city containing a prison there is
an inspector-general, who attends to the proper distribu¬
tion of the provisions, and sees that they are of good qua¬
lity ; he daily visits the prisons, listens to the complaints of
the prisoners, and attends to their comforts. The depart¬
mental prisons are for the confinement of debtors, for per¬
sons to be brought to trial for crimes, and for those who are Statistics,
condemned to imprisonment for a shorter period than a
year. The annual expense of these prisons makes part of
the budget of the minister of the interior. The other pri¬
sons (maisons centrales) are nineteen, for the confinement
of prisoners whose sentence is for a longer term than a
year.
It is estimated that during the last thirty years the mere
building of prisons in France has cost more than 60,000,000
francs, and that the maintenance of these prisons has cost
annually 12,000,000 fr., including the support of 100,000
detenus of all categories of crime. More than 4,000,000
francs has been annually paid for the expenses of pro¬
secutions, and a like sum for the expense of police *
and surveillance. Labour was carried on in the prisons of
France antecedently to the revolution of 1848, though se¬
veral complaints were made of the rivalry thereby encou¬
raged with legitimate trade. For instance, the Chamber of
Commerce of Troyes complained to the minister of the in¬
terior of the ruinous rivalry produced by the prison labour
of the Maison Centrale of Clairvaux, where 2000 detenus
were confined, and chiefly employed in the fabrication of
bonneterie. In the Maison Centrale of Melun a great ma¬
nufactory of ironmongery was established. In the peni¬
tentiary of St Germain they made hats and horn buttons;
and a printing-office also was established, where, among
other things, the Moniteur was cheaply reprinted. In ] 848
the provisional government suspended prison labour, but this
decree had no other effect than to throw the prison into
disorder. By a law of the 9th January 1849, labour in
prisons was under certain restrictions renewed. The average
price of a day’s work is fivepence. The labour of 11,865
men in the 21 maisons centrales of France has a value of
1,749,000 fr., that of 3457 women 400,000 fr., forming a
total of 2,100,000 fr., a small sum when compared with the
products of free labour. The produce of prison labour is
thus divided:—Those condemned to travauxforces receive
3-lOths, the reclusionnaires 4-10ths, the correctionnels
5-lOths.
FRENCH WEIGHTS AND MEASURES.
The weights and measures of France were reduced, as is
well known, to a very simple and uniform scale soon after the
first revolution; but there has been much difficulty in ac¬
customing the inhabitants, particularly in country districts,
to the adoption of the new system, which unluckily pre¬
served none of the names with which they were familiar.
In 1812 a kind of compromise took place, government sanc¬
tioning the retention of the old names, such as pounds,
ounces, ells, and bushels ; but requiring that their contents
should be calculated by a reference to the new standard.
It is accordingly on this footing that business is now trans¬
acted in France. The new weights and measures are in
general larger by a fraction than the old, and the use of the
latter is prohibited by law.
The fundamental standard adopted in France for the
metrical system of weights and measures, is a quadrant of
the meridian; that is to say, the distance from the equator
to the north pole. This quadrant is divided into ten mil¬
lions of equal parts, and one of these parts or divisions is
called a Metre, which is adopted as the unit of length; and
from it by decimal multiplication and division all the other
measures are derived.
The length of this quadrant was ascertained by MM.
Delambre and Mechain, by measuring an arc of the me¬
ridian between the parallels of Dunkirk and Barcelona, and
has been found to contain 5,130,740 French toises, or
32,808,992 English feet. This number divided by ten
millions gives 3’2808992 English feet, or 39,37079 Eng¬
lish inches very nearly, for the true length of the French
metre.
284
FRANCE.
Statistics.
In order to express the decimal proportions, the follow¬
ing vocabulary of names has been adopted:—
For multipliers the prefix Deca means 10 times.
Hecto ... 100 times.
Kilo ... 1,000 times.
... Myria ... 10,000 times.
For divisors the prefix Deci expresses ^th part.
... Centi ... T^th part.
... Milli ... nnrff^h part.
It may assist the memory to observe that the prefixes for multi¬
plying are Greek, and those for dividing Latin ; thus, decametre
means 10 metres, and decimetre Tl^th of a metre; hectometre
means 100 metres, and centimetre i^th of a metre; kilometre
means 1000 metres, and millimetre T^V^th of a metre. The metre
(as before stated) is the element or prime unit of long measure, and
is equal to 39-37079 English inches.
The Are, which is a square decametre (or 100 square
metres), is the elemental unit of square or superficial mea¬
sure. It is equal to 119‘6033 square yards, or very nearly
parts of an acre.
The Stere, which is a cubic metre, is the elemental
unit of solid measure, and equal to 3o’3166 cubic feet Eng¬
lish, or nearly 35^- cubic feet.
The Litre, which is the cubic decimetre, is the elemen¬
tal unit of all liquid measures, and of all other measures of
capacity. It is equal to 61,02705 cubic inches, or is very
nearly ££ths or T233ffths of an imperial gallon.
Lastly, the Gramme, which is the weight of a cubic
centimetre of distilled water at its temperature of greatest
condensation, is the elemental unit of all weights, and
is equal to 15*432o grains troy, or of an avoirdupois dram
nearly.
Tables of French Weights and Measures, with their values
in the English Imperial Standards.
Millimetre —
Centimetre =
Decimetre =
Metre =
LINEAL MEASURE.
Inches.
•03937079
•3937079
3-937079
Decametre
Hectometre
Kilometre
Miriametre
Centiare
Declare
Are
Decare
Hectare
Killiare
Miriare
Centistere
Decistere
Stere
Decastere
Feet.
39-37079
32-80899
328 0899
= 3280-899
= 32808-99
— 1-093633
Yards.
= 10-93633
— 109.3633 = ^ mile.
= 1093-633 = if mile.
= 10936-33 =6 A miles.
SUPERFICIAL measure.
Sq. Yards.
1-196033 =
11-96033 =
Sq. Feet.
10-7643
Sq. Inches.
= 1550-059
119-6033
1196.033
11960-33
119603.9
1916033-
Acres.
rz -0247114
= -247114
= 2-47114
•- 24-7114
= 247-114
Acre.
Aj nearly.
= 2k
= 24^
= 2475
SOLID MEASURE.
Cubic Inches.
: 610-2705
: 6102-705
: 61027-05
:610270-5
Cubic Feet. Cubic Yards.
z 3-53166
z 35-3166 = 1-30802
z 353-166 = 13-0802
Centilitre
Decilitre
Litre
Decalitre
Hectolitre
Mirialitre
MEASURE OF CAPACITY.
Statistics.
Cubic Inches.
•6182705
6-102705
6102705
610-2705
6102-705
61027-05
— iv gallons nearly.
— 2}
= 22
=220t^ ...
MEASURE OF WEIGHT.-
Grains Troy.
■154325
1-54325
15-4325
154-325 = -35275 oz. av.
1543-25 = 3-5275 oz. av.
15432-5 = 2-2047 lbs. av.
   154325- = 22-047 lbs. av.
The following are some near approximations to the
values of the weights and measures of most frequent occur¬
Centigramme
Decigramme
Gramme
Decagramme
Hectogramme
Kilogramme
Miriagramme
rence.
Metre about.... 1 yard 3 inches.
Decametre 11 yards.
Hectometre... ^ mile.
Kilometre £ or more nearly mile.
One of the old measures frequently used, the toise, is = 2 yards
5 inches.
Are about  acre.
Decare  q acre, or 1 rood.
Hectare  2k acres.
Decistere  3£ cubic feet.
Stere  If cubic yards.
Decastere ISiV cubic yards.
Litre about  f or gallon.
Decalitre  2f gallons.
Hectolitre.... 22 gallons, or 2f bushels.
Myrialitre.... 3J- quarters.
Gramme 
Decagramme...
Hectogramme.
Kilogramme...
Quintal, or 100
Kilogrammes..
£ dram avoird.
f oz. avoird.
3J oz.
2J lbs.
> is 3k lbs. less than 2 cwt.
FRENCH MONEY-.
The French monetary unit of value is the franc, which
in the gold coinage of 20 and 40 franc pieces is equal in
value to 9'525 pence sterling, and in the silver coinage of
francs and five-franc pieces is = 9’70o pence ; but the com¬
mon rate of exchange is twenty-five francs for one sove¬
reign, which gives the value of a franc = 9§ pence sterling.
Centime = -096d.= -384 farth. = f farth. nearly.
Decime = -96d. =3 84 farth. = 3ff farth.
Franc   =9-6d. =9f pence.
Five-france piece... = 4 shillings.
Napoleon or 20-) 16 shm
franc piece J °
In reducing French money to English, from any number
of francs subtract their fifth part, and the remainder will be
their value in shillings. Or multiply the francs by four,
point off the two right hand figures of the product for deci¬
mals, and the result will be their value in pounds and deci¬
mals of a pound sterling. (a. v. k.)
FRA
Isle of Isle of France, or Mauritius. See Mauritius.
France FRANCHE COMTfi, an old province of France, now
II . divided into the departments of Haute Saone, Doubs, and
rancis. jur£U Jts capital was Bcsangon.
—v— FRANCFIISE, in Law, is used as synonymous with li¬
berty, and is defined “ a royal privilege, or branch of the
king’s prerogative, subsisting in the hands of a subject.”
Being thus derived from the crown, a franchise must arise
from the king’s grant; or in some cases it may be held by
prescription, which presupposes a grant. The kinds of
franchise are almost infinite.
For an account of the nature of the elective franchise,
see Parliament.
Franchise is also used to denote an asylum or sanc¬
tuary, where persons are secure from arrest. One of the
most remarkable capitulars made by Charlemagne in his
palace of Heristal, in 779, was that relating to the fran¬
chises of churches. The right of franchise was held so
sacred that even the less rigidly righteous kings scrupulously
observed it; but in course of time it was carried to such
excess, that Charlemagne reduced it, by forbidding the
conveying of provisions to criminals who had fled for pro¬
tection to these sanctuaries.
FRANCIS, Philip, an English versifier and dramatic
writer, but more distinguished for his translations of classi¬
cal authors than for his original compositions. His father
was dean of Lismore, and rector of St Mary’s, Dublin,
whence he is said to have been ejected at the Revolution
on account of his principles. The son received his theolo¬
gical education at Dublin ; but, after taking orders, he
came over to England, and settled at Esher in Surrey,
where he opened a school. He obtained the degree of
LL.D., and was afterwards presented to the rectory of Bar-
row, in Suffolk, and made chaplain of Chelsea hospital. He
wrote two tragedies, Eugenia, 1752, and Constantia, 1754,
neither of which, however, met with a favourable reception
at the time of its appearance, and both have now fallen into
oblivion. But his translation of Horace with notes was
completely successful, and has been often reprinted. In
1757 he published a translation of the orations of Demos¬
thenes and Aeschines, in two vols. 4to. Dr Francis was
also a political writer of some note, and was said to have
been employed by government. He died at Bath in 1773.
Francis, Sir Philip, a distinguished politician, and the
supposed author of the Letters of Junius, was the only son
of the preceding Dr Francis. He was born at Dublin in
1740; received the chief part of his education at St Paul’s
School, London ; and when only sixteen years of age was
placed as a clerk in the Secretary of State’s office by Mr
Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, in whose family Dr
Francis had been tutor. When Mr Pitt (Lord Chatham)
succeeded as Secretary of State, he continued young Fran¬
cis in the office, and seems to have noticed his precocious
talents for public business. More than a quarter of a cen¬
tury afterwards Francis gracefully acknowledged this in
the House of Commons. “ I hope,” he said, “ it will not
appear improper in me to say that in the early part of my
life I had the good fortune to hold a place, very incon¬
siderable in itself, but immediately under the late Earl of
Chatham. He descended from his station to take notice
of mine, and he honoured me with repeated marks of his
favour and protection. How warmly, in return, I was at¬
tached to his person, and how I have been grateful to his
memory, those who know me know. I admired him as a
great, illustrious, faulty human being, whose character, like
all the noblest works of human composition, should be de¬
termined by its excellencies, not by its defects. . .
But he is dead, and has left nothing in this world that re¬
sembles him.” The last allusion is, of course, an insidious,
Jumus-fike blow at Chatham’s son, the second William
1 Ut- Before he had come of age, Philip Francis was
FRA 285
secretary to General Bligh in the expedition against Francis.
Cherbourg, and also secretary to the Earl of Kinnoul on a ^ m-v  
special embassy to Lisbon. In 1763 he was appointed to
a principal clerkship in the War Office, with a salary of about
L.400 per annum. He held his post during the period in
which the Letters of Junius appeared in the Public Adver¬
tiser until the year 1772, when a Mr Chamier was ap¬
pointed over him as Deputy Secretary at War. In con¬
sequence of this slight, Francis resigned his clerkship, in¬
dignant at Lord Barrington, the head of the War Office,
and full of bitterness and contempt towards the new
deputy. It will be recollected how keenly Junius attacks
L°id Barrington, and how he descends from the usual
elevation of his style to pour out low and scurrilous invec¬
tives against Chamier. Of all the subordinate points of
the evidence connecting Francis with Junius, this affair of
Chamier appears to us one of the most convincing. Junius
claimed to be a man of rank, above a common bribe;
but the spirit of the subordinate official—the disappointed
Wai-Office clerk breathes through all his references to
this subject, and destroys his factitious dignity. Having
left the War Office, Francis went abroad, and travelled for
about a year in h ranee and Italy. There was at the same
time a cessation in the correspondence of Junius with his
publisher Woodfall, but he addressed him again in January
1/73, and Francis had then returned from his continental
tour. In June of the same year Francis received from
Lord North what must be considered a splendid appoint¬
ment. He was, on the recommendation of Lord Barring¬
ton, made one of the Supreme Council of Calcutta, consti¬
tuted by Act of Parliament, with a salary of L. 10,000 per
annum each, for the purpose of co-operating in the govern¬
ment of India. The chief of this new board was Warren
Hastings, styled Governor-General, and the councillors
were Mr Barwell (an able servant of the Company in India),
General Clavering, Colonel Monson, and Philip Francis.
The advancement of Francis from a clerkship in the War
Office, and especially through the instrumentality of Lord
Barrington, who formerly thwarted his rise in the public ser¬
vice, to a post of such high trust and emolument, has led to
a belief that the ministry had somehow become aware of
the authorship of Junius’ Letters, and by this important
foreign appointment effectually removed and silenced Fran¬
cis. His talents, however, justified the confidence placed
in him, and Lord Barrington may have been anxious to
repair his former injustice. It is certain that no further
letters from the pen of Junius appeared after Francis had
sailed for India. His seat at the council-board of Calcutta
was not favourable to his peace or happiness. From the
moment of their arrival Warren Hastings disliked his new
coadjutors. He received them with less than the custo¬
mary etiquette, and was jealous of the power they came to
divide with him. Francis, on the other hand, was proud,
unbending, and irascible; and the quarrel rose to such a
pitch, that while the councillor pretty plainly accused his
chief of deliberate fraud, extortion, and cruelty, the latter
stated in a minute delivered to the council-board that “ he
judged of the public conduct of Mr Francis by his experi¬
ence of his private, which he had found to be void of truth
and honour.” A duel was the consequence, and Francis
received a dangerous wound, the ball striking him below
the shoulder, and passing out at the lower part of the
body. He recovered; but finding that Hastings was tri¬
umphant in his Indian policy, and supported by public
favour, as well as by a majority of the board, he returned
to England in the year 1781. A man of strong passions
and implacable in his resentments (which he identified with
public duty and patriotism), Francis now devoted himself
to the impeachment of Hastings, giving his powerful as¬
sistance to Burke, Fox, and the other Whig leaders. He
was proposed as one of the managere of the public im-
286
Francis.
F R A N C I S.
peachment (having been returned to parliament for . the
borough of Yarmouth), but his appointment was negatived
on what were sufficient grounds his duel with Hastings,
and the avowed enmity that had so long subsisted between
them. The result is well known. I he trial of Hastings
fixed the attention of Europe, and has been drawn in im¬
perishable colours by Mr Macaulay in the most popular
and magnificent of his historical pictures. Francis was the
mainspring of the whole. He supplied the information
which Burke and Sheridan expanded into eloquent orations
and burning invective; and these services, as well as his
general support of Whig measures, rendered him conspi¬
cuous among the public men of his day. He was a foicibit
and impressive parliamentary speaker, but wanted fluency,
and this was probably the cause why he so often resorted
to the press, with letters and pamphlets on political ques¬
tions. On the accession of the Whig party to power in
1806 Mr Francis was invested with the Order of the Bath.
He died in December 1818.
A fall statement of the claims of Sir Philip Francis to he con¬
sidered the author of Junius’ Letters would require greater space
than the nature of a work like the present would permit. They
rest upon circumstantial evidence—on the correspondence of dates
and incidents in the life of Sir Philip with the dates and incidents
in the publication of the letters—in the agreement of style, senti¬
ment, and literary ability—and in the similarity of handwriting,
peculiarities of spelling and punctuation, and other minute resem¬
blances. Of all the candidates for the Junius’ laurel, Francis alone
seems to have possessed the requisite intellectual power and tastes
None of his acknowledged productions are so highly finished, bu
they are racy and vigorous in style, and abound in vivid illustra¬
tion and in interesting reminiscences of his early great contem¬
poraries, and past events. He inherited all the friendships and an¬
tipathies of Junius, indulged in strong personal animadversions,
and despised the cold infusions of prudence and moderation m the
discussion of public questions. We have seen Francis s practical
acquaintance with the War-Office, and his resentment at the ap¬
pointment of Mr Cbamier, both so conspicuous in Junius. He owed
his first introduction to the public service to the family of Lord
Holland, and Junius uniformly spares Lord Holland, even when
heavy charges of malversation of the public money impended over
him. He frequently heard Lord Chatham speak, took notes oi Ins
speeches, and gave them to the printer; and Junius gives extracts
from speeches of Lord Chatham closely resembling those of Francis.
During the publication of the letters, Francis was exactly in the
situation to know all the interior movements of the different de¬
partments ; and he is known to have been in close intimacy with
Calcraft, the army agent, a political jobber, who furnished infor¬
mation to Chatham and the Grenvilles. _ Dr Francis, the father of
Sir Philip, may have unconsciously contributed details, for he move
in the higher political circles, was patronized by
mily, and was the favourite chaplain of Lord Chesterfie . ien
the first of the undoubted letters by J unius (signed Atticus ) ap¬
peared, Philip Francis was in his twenty-sixth year, an early age
certainly for so active a plotter and politician, but he had then been
ten years in public employment, had known Chatham and other
statesmen, and was all his life restless and ambitious of personal
and literary distinction. He was twenty-nine before the signature
of Junius was adopted. Late in life-we believe when a septua¬
genarian—Sir Philip Francis entered into a second marriage, and
this lady, his widow, has adduced almost direct testimony to sup¬
port his right to the name of Junius. In a commumcation pub-
lished by Lord Campbell in his Lives of the Chancellors, Lady b ra -
cis states that she never entertained a doubt that Sir Phi XP
author of the letters, though he never avowed himse IJ10r®
by saying he knew what her opinion was, and never con ra ic mg
it. “ His first gift after our marriage,” adds Lady Francis, w <.s
an edition of Junius, which he bid be take to my room, an no e
it be seen, or speak on the subject; and his posthumous presen ,
which his son found in his bureau, was Junius Identified, sea e up
and directed to me.” This work, Junius Identified, was written in
1816, to prove that Sir Philip Francis was Junius; and t e 6vi
dence it contains has been pronounced satisfactory by the a ' es
of our critical judges—by Mackintosh, Brougham, Macau ay,
Lord Mahon, and Lord Campbell. According to Lady Francis,
Lord Chatham gave assistance after the eclat of Junius s con¬
troversy with Sir William Draper, but probably without know¬
ing that Francis was the writer. In Calcraft, however, there was
a ready and safe medium of communication. Since the publica¬
tion of the Grenville Papers it seems pretty clear that Junius re¬
ceived hints from Lord Temple and his brother, George Grenville) Francis-
whose patronage he had in a private letter solicited, stating that cans
he would avow himself when Grenville became prime minister. ||
(See Grenville.) In the case of Sir William Draper, a difficulty Franeker.
has lately been removed by Mr Macaulay. To the military knight
Junius put a direct and searching question—“ When you receive
your half-pay do you, or do you not, take a solemn oath, or sign a
declaration, upon your honour, to the following effect - That you do
not actually hold any place of profit, civil or military ?” Sir William
answered decidedly in the negative : he took no such oath, nor made
any such declaration ; and this not only gave him a great advan¬
tage over his assailant, but seemed to prove that Junius was not so
well acquainted with the forms of the War-Office as Philip Francis
must of necessity have been. But how stands the fact? In the
English War-Office such a declaration was necessary, but Draper
drew his half-pay from the Irish establishment, and the declaration
was not required from him. Francis relied on his official know¬
ledge and did not consider that there might be a difference between
the°practice at Westminster and the practice at Dublin. On the
whole we may conclude that a clearer case of circumstantial evi¬
dence has rarely been submitted than that which identifies Sir
Philip Francis with Junius. That he made no open avowal him¬
self is easily accounted for. We believe he could not have done it
without implicating others. The letters, by their malevolence and
injustice, were as injurious to his moral reputation as they were
honourable to his literary talents. He had received great benefits
from some of the persons he had libelled, and he mixed in society
with the immediate descendants of some of the powerful families
he had wantonly and malignantly aspersed. The letters contain
few great constitutional principles or maxims, like the writings of
Burke and they defend some political measures and opinions (such
as the’ American Stamp Act, and the retention of the rotten
boroughs in our parliamentary representation) which the mature
judgment of Francis must have condemned. In his own family Sir
Philip seems to have all but dropt the veil. He evidently had a
lingering desire for posthumous fame when he made the partial
disclosures to his wife. The letters had cost him great labour.
They were polished to the utmost brilliancy, and inflicted deep and
envenomed wounds, with matchless dexterity and skill. His shafts
had been aimed at the highest quarters, and invaded the most
sacred and private recesses of life—a degree of daring which must
be considered as audacity rather than courage, for the mask of
invisibility was strictly and marvellously preserved. There were
also noble sentiments and bursts of fine feeling scattered through
the letters, which seemed to betoken a great and generous ^aIure
warped by passion, arrogance, and secret motives of faction. These,
however, bear but a small proportion to the rash assumptions, the
bold invective and scandal which, aided by all the graces of style-
unrivalled sarcasm, terse expression, and happy imagery raised
Junius into almost unparalleled popularity, and bid fair to continue
him, now that the mystery and immediate interest are dispelled, as
a great and unique English classic. G1" C~S-'
FRANCISCANS, the followers of the rule ot St Fran¬
cis, constituting one ol the four orders ot mendicant friars.
In the beginning of the fourteenth century the whole Fran¬
ciscan order was divided into two parties; one of which
embraced the severe discipline and absolute poverty ot St
Francis, and were called spirituals ; and the other, who in¬
sisted on mitigating the austere injunctions of theii founder,
were denominated brethren of the community.
The Fife of St Francis was written by Bonaventura, and
has often been published. But ot all the writers who have
given an account of this famous enthusiast, the most minute
is Lucas Wadding, in his Annales Minorum. This work
has been much enlarged by subsequent writers, the edition
of 1731 and onwards extending to 18 vols. folio. See also
the Life of St Francis in Sir James Stephens’ Ecclesiastical
Biographies. See Fratricelli.
FRANCONIA, German Franken, a circle ot the old
German empire, lay between Upper Saxony, Bo iemia.
Bavaria, Swabia, and the Upper Rhine, and had an area ot
about 10,400 square miles, with about l,o00,000 inhabi¬
tants. It is now almost entirely comprised in Bavaria, and
gives name to three circles ot that kingdom. . 1 e soi o
Franconia is reckoned among the most fertile in Germany.
FRANEKER, a town of Holland, province ot Friesland,
10 miles W. of Leeuwarden, on the canal between that tow n
and Haarlingen. A university was founded here in 1580,
but was converted into an athenaeum in 1815. I here aie
F R, A
Frank several other schools, a public library, and a botanic garden,
il The chief manufactures are silk and woollen goods, and tiles.
Franken- pop> (1850) 5288.
tha ' j FRANK, the name by which the Turks, Greeks, Arabs,
&c., designate a Christian. It probably originated during the
crusades, in which the French (descendants of the German
Franks) particularly distinguished themselves. Europe it¬
self, too, was named Frankistan, or the country of the Franks.
The Frank language, Lingua Franca, is a jargon which
is spoken in the Levant, as the common medium of com¬
munication between Europeans and the inhabitants of the
East. Its chief ingredient is Italian, and it probably origi¬
nated during the crusades, which brought so many different
nations together.
Frank-Almoigne {libera eleemosyna), or free alms, a
tenure of a spiritual nature, by which a religious corpora¬
tion, aggregate or sole, holds lands of the donor granted to
them and their successors for ever. The service which they
were bound to render for these lands was not definitively
stated ; but only in general they were to pray for the souls
of the donor and his heirs, dead or alive. Hence they did
no fealty, which is incident to all other services, because
this religious service was of a higher and more exalted nature.
This is the tenure by which almost all the ancient monas¬
teries and religious houses held their lands, and by which
also the parochial clergy, and many ecclesiastical and elee¬
mosynary foundations hold them at this day; but the na¬
ture of the service was altered at the Reformation, and made
conformable to the reformed doctrines of the Church of
England. It was an old Saxon tenure ; and continued un¬
der the Norman domination, from the veneration paid to
religious institutions. This was also the reason why tenants
in frank-almoigne were exempted from all other services
except the trinoda necessitas of repairing the highways,
building castles, and repelling invasions, just as the Druids,
amongst the ancient Britons, had omnium rerum immuni-
tatem. And even at present this is a tenure of a very dif¬
ferent nature from all others, being not in the least feudal,
but merely spiritual; for, if the service be neglected, the
law gives no remedy by distress, or otherwise, to the lord
of whom the lands are holden, but merely enters a com¬
plaint to the ordinary or visitor to correct it. The statute
12th Car. II., which abolished military tenures, expressly
excepts tenure in frank-almoigne.
Frank-PIedge, in Law, signifies a pledge or surety for
the behaviour of freemen.
FRANKENBERG, an important manufacturing town
of Saxony, circle of Zwickau, on the Zschoppau, 7 miles
N.N.E. of Chemnitz. It has extensive cotton and linen fac¬
tories and bleaching-works. Pop. (1849) 6988. This is
also the name of a town in Hesse-Cassel, province of Upper
Hesse, on the right bank of the Eder, 34 miles W.S.W. of
Cassel, with 3250 inhabitants.
FRANKENHAU SEN, a town of Germany, principality
of Schwartzburg-Rudolstadt, on the Little Wipper, 36 miles
N.N.E. of Gotha. It consists of an old and a new town,
the latter mostly rebuilt since a very destructive fire in 1833;
and has an old castle, two churches, a college, hospital,
printing establishment, and mineral baths. In the vicinity
is a salt mine. Pop. 5000.
FRANKENSTEIN, a town in the Prussian province of
Silesia, government of Breslau, and 34 miles S. by W. of
the town of that name. It is connected by a branch with
the Berlin and Dresden railway; and has a considerable
trade. The chief manufactures are linen, woollen, and
cotton goods, straw-hats, &c. Pop. (1849) 6168.
FRANKENTHAL, a town in the Rhenish circle of
Bavaria, 9 miles N.W. of Mannheim, and communicating
with the Rhine by a canal 6 miles in length. It owes its
rise to some Flemish Protestant refugees who settled here
in 1562. It rose very rapidly, so that in 1577 it became a
FRA 287
town, and in 1682 it was the third town in the Palatinate Frankfort-
It suffered severely in the wars of 1688 and 1794-5. The on-the-
manufactures are considerable, including linen, silk, and Maine,
cotton goods, porcelain, &c. Pop. 5000.
FRANKFORT-on-the-Maine (German Frankfurt
Am Main), one of the four free cities of Germany, and so
called to distinguish it from the Prussian town of Frank-
fort-on-the-Oder. It took its name {Franken Furt) from
the river being fordable at this point; and is supposed to
have been founded by the Franks in the fifth century. It
had a palace, the seat of the early dukes of Franconia, and
afterwards the frequent residence of Charlemagne. This
monarch held a council here in 794. Louis the Pious built
a palace at Frankfort in 822, and in 838 surrounded the
town with walls and ditches. In consequence of the treaty
of Verdun in 843 it became the capital of the empire of the
Eastern Franks, and hither the fairs held by the Austra-
sians were transferred. In 1152 Frederick I. was elected
here, and from that time it continued to be the place of
election of the German emperors, a privilege confirmed to
it by the golden bull of Charles IV. in 1356. In 1245
it was erected into a free imperial city. In the history of
the latter part of the middle ages Frankfort occupies a dis¬
tinguished place ; many important assemblies were held
within its walls ; matters of peace and war were discussed;
controversies were settled ; and occasionally its tranquillity
was disturbed by intestine quarrels. From 1562, when
Maximilian II. was crowned here, it continued to be the
coronation town of the emperors till the dissolution of the
empire. The Thirty Years’ war had but little direct influ¬
ence upon Frankfort; but it was not equally fortunate in
the wars of Louis XIV. In 1688-9 it escaped falling
into the hands of the enemy only by its vigorous prepara¬
tions for defence, while some of the neighbouring villages
were plundered and set on fire. In the French revolu¬
tionary war it suffered severely, being alternately in the
possession of friend and foe. In 1806 it became a member
of the Confederation of the Rhine, and was made the capital
of a prince primacy. In 1810 the grand duchy of Frank¬
fort was created, with an area of nearly 2000 square miles.
After the battle of Leipzig in 1813, the allies restored it to
its former independence; and by the Congress of Vienna
in 1815 it was made one of the four free cities of Germany,
and the seat of the Germanic diet.
The city of Frankfort is situated on the right bank of the
Maine, 20 miles above its confluence with the Rhine, in
N. Lat. 50. 6. 43., E. Long. 8. 41. 24. It is connected
with its suburb Sachsenhausen on the opposite bank of the
river by a fine stone bridge of 14 arches. Its fortifications
were destroyed during its occupation by the French, and
their site is now occupied by public walks and gardens. It
still possesses nine gates, which form the entrances to the
town, two of which are in Sachsenhausen. The old town,
with its narrow streets, and quaint wooden buildings, the
gables of which overhang their basement stories, has a very
antique appearance. The new town, however, contains
many magnificent houses, not a few of which are justly en¬
titled to the appellation of palaces. Of its squares, several
are ornamented with fountains. Some of the finest houses
line the quay, which extends along the right bank of the
river nearly the whole length of the city. The Homer or
council-house is not remarkable for its architectural beauty,
but is historically interesting as being the place where the
German emperors were elected. The Wahlzimmer or
election-room is a spacious and handsomely furnished apart¬
ment, appropriated to the meetings of the senate. The
walls of the Kaisersaal, or imperial hall, where the empe¬
rors were entertained on their election, and waited upon by
kings and princes, are covered with portraits of the emperors
—from Conrad I. to Francis II. In the archives of this build¬
ing is preserved the golden bull of Charles IV. which re-
288
F E A
F E A
Frankfort- gulated the mode of election and number of electors. The
on-the- cathedral, or church of St Bartholomew, a Gothic structure
Maine. jn j.jie form 0f a cross, was commenced in the time of the
Carlovingian princes, but the greater part of it belongs to
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries; and its tower, which
is 260 feet high, is still unfinished. It contains some curi¬
ous monuments, among which is one of the emperor Giin-
ther of Schwarzburg, who was slain by his rival Charles IV.
In the Wahlkapelle, or election-chapel, the emperor was
formally elected, and afterwards crowned in front of the
high altar. The present German diet assembles at the
residence of the Austrian ambassador, formerly the palace
of the prince of Tours and Taxis, an edifice of the last cen¬
tury, containing 150 apartments, and richly adorned with
paintings, sculptures, &c. The church of St Leonhard
occupies the site of the old palace, of which no traces now
exist. The Saalhqf, a sombre-looking building of the last
century, stands on the site of the palace erected by Louis
the Pious. The chapel is almost the sole remains of the old
building. Among the other public buildings are the Braun¬
fels or old exchange, the Borse or new exchange, the new
hall of justice, the ancient palace of the knights of the Teu¬
tonic order in Sachsenhausen, the theatre, casino, &c. The
literary and scientific institutions of Frankfort are nume¬
rous, comprising a college, medical institute, natural history
society, geographical society, academy of arts and sciences,
philosophical society, &c. The public library contains about
80,000 volumes and 1500 MSS.; and in the museum of
the Lenkenberg Society of Naturalists is the valuable collec¬
tion of Dr Ruppell, the Abyssinian traveller. The Stadel
museum (so named from its founder, who bequeathed his
collection of paintings and engravings, together with a sum
amounting to about L.83,000 for building and maintaining
a public gallery and school of arts) contains a good collec¬
tion of paintings, chiefly of the Flemish and Dutch schools.
There are also many private collections of pictures. The
celebrated statue of Ariadne seated on a leopard, by Dan-
necker, is exhibited in the garden of Mr Bethmann, and is
considered one of the finest productions of modern art. Im¬
mediately beyond the Friedburg gate is a colossal monu¬
ment to the Hessians who fell there in the defence of Frank¬
fort in 1792. Among the benevolent institutions, which
are numerous, are four hospitals, an orphan asylum, deaf-
mute institution, house of refuge, &c.
The chief manufactures are carpets, table-covers, oilcloth, cotton,
woollen, and silk fabrics, jewellery, tobacco, playing-cards, &c.
Frankfort was made a free port in 1831, and is also one of the four
great emporiums for supplying Germany with merchandise. The
river Maine, which is navigable to Bamberg in Bavaria, where com¬
mences the Donau-Maine Canal leading to Kelheim on the Danube,
and the numerous railways which centre in Frankfort, render it
the industrial and commercial centre of the S.W. and W. parts of
Germany. No German city, with the exception of Berlin, is the
centre of so great a number of railways. Four great lines, and
several others of a more local character, meet in the city. The
Main-Neckar railway leads southward to the Grand Duchy of Baden,
whence railways proceed to Switzerland, AVurtemberg, and Ba¬
varia. The Taunus railway leads west and north-west toMayence,
and to Wiesbaden. From Mayence a railway goes to Ludwigs-
hafen, the harbour of the Bavarian Palatinate opposite Manheim,
thence to Strasburg, and therefrom to Paris as well as to Switzer¬
land. Another branch from Ludwigshafen meets the Strasburg
and Paris railway at Nancy. From Wiesbaden a line is now (1855)
in course of construction to Coblentz. The Main-Weser railway
passes through the greater part of the two Hesses to Cassel, and
communicates with Hanover, Bremen, Hamburg, &c. On the right
its branches lead to Berlin and Saxony, and on the left a line will
soon be opened to Cologne. The Hanau railway connects Frank¬
fort with Hanau and the chief places on the Maine to Bamberg, from
which southward with Nuremberg, Augsburg, Munich and Austria,
and in another direction with Leipsic, Dresden, and Bohemia.
There are also local lines to Offenbach, the chief manufacturing
town of Hesse Darmstadt, to Soden, a much frequented bathing-
place, and to near Romburg, one of the famous spas of Germany.
Frankfort, however, is chiefly indebted for its great wealth to being
the seat of extensive banking, commission, and funding transac- Frankfort-
tions. In proportion to its size, it is probably the richest city in the on-the-
world. There are about twenty first-class banking houses; among Oder
these are the Rothschilds, Grunelius, Metzter, and others, well ^ ,
known in the commercial world. The number of those in the stock
and exchange business amounts to at least 200. A city bank with
a capital of 10,000,000 florins was established last summer, and
has just (1855) commenced business operations. The two fairs of
Easter and Michaelmas are still much frequented. Goethe was born
here in 1749. Civil pop. (1852) 62,361, being 47,100 Protestants,
10,661 Catholics, and 4600 Jews; military, 5650—1717 being Aus¬
trians, 1713 Prussians, 1391 Bavarians, and 829 natives. The popu¬
lation of Frankfort is but slowly increasing, on account of the old
illiberal laws still in force as to admission to citizenship. Only such
are admitted as can prove their ability to maintain a family ; so no
merchant can be admitted unless he prove that he possesses at least
5000 florins, and generally persons possessing that sum, or even
more, are not admitted unless they marry a citizen’s daughter, in
which case the law is more favourable. The ancient law is also still
in force, that none shall mend a shoe or drive a nail unless he be a
master and a member of one of the corporations, and he cannot be¬
come a member unless he be the son of a citizen, or marry a citi¬
zen’s daughter. The restrictions to^which the Jews were long sub¬
ject have now mostly been removed. They are entitled to vote at
the elections of members to the legislative assembly, and may re¬
turn four of their own number; they are also admissible to all
offices not connected with the senate, the permanent assembly of the
citizens, law, religion, or education. The inhabitants of Sachsen¬
hausen are mostly of Saxon descent, and distinguished from their
fellow-citizens in manners, dress, and language, as well as occupa¬
tions, being mostly employed in gardening, fishing, &c.
The city, with a small territory of 38 square miles lying imme¬
diately around it, constitutes the free state of Frankfort. The
government is vested in a senate, a legislative assembly, and a per¬
manent committee of citizens. The senate, which exercises the
executive power, is composed of 44 members, divided into three
benches—^justices, senators, and councillors, and having two presi¬
dents, one chosen from each of the two first-mentioned benches.
The legislative assembly is composed of 94 members, of whom 20
are senators, 20 members of the permanent committee of citizens,
45 chosen annually by the citizens collectively, and 9 deputies from .
the rural districts. The permanent committee consists of 60 mem¬
bers chosen from among citizens of all ranks. The legislative assem-
^blymeets annually in the month of November, and sits for six weeks;
and its sanction is requisite to all new laws, the budget, &c. With
the free cities of Liibeck, Bremen, and Hamburg, Frankfort occupies
the seventeenth place in the Germanic Confederation. It enjoys one
vote in the general assembly {Plenum), and furnishes a contingent
of 683 men to the federal army. Pop. of the state (1852) 77,971.
Frankfort-on-the-Oder, a town of Prussia, province
of Brandenburg, and capital of the government of Frank¬
fort, stands on the left bank of the Oder, 50 miles E. by
S. of Berlin, with which, since 1842, it has been connected
by railway. The town is regularly built, and surrounded
by old walls with towers and ditches. It has three suburbs,
one of which stands on the opposite bank of the river, and
communicates with it by means of a wooden bridge. The
university founded here in 1506 was removed to Breslau
in 1810. Frankfort has a Roman Catholic and six Protes¬
tant churches, a synagogue, gymnasium, obstetric school,
orphan asylum, workhouse, theatre, &c. Being the capital
of a government, it is the seat of a superior and other judi¬
cial tribunals, of boards of taxation, agriculture, &c. Though
inferior to its namesake on the Maine, it is a place of con¬
siderable commercial activity, being situated on the high
road from Berlin to Silesia, and on a navigable river com¬
municating by canals with the Vistula and the Elbe. It
has three annual fairs in the months of February, July, and
November, attended by merchants not only from Germany,
but also from other parts of Europe. It has manufactures
of woollen and silk goods, stockings, gloves, leather, tobacco,
sugar, brandy, mustard, &c. Immediately beyond the
bridge is a monument to Prince Leopold of Brunswick, who
was drowned here in 1785 while attempting to rescue an
unfortunate family from an inundation of the Oder. At
Kunnersdorf in the vicinity, Frederick the Great was de¬
feated with great loss by the Austrians and Russians on 12th
August 1759. Pop. (1849) 29,969.
FRA
Frankfort Frankfort, the capital of the state of Kentucky, North
II America, occupies a very picturesque situation on the east
Benjamin gj^g 0f tjie Kentucky river, 62 miles above its confluence
' raD in‘y with the Ohio. On the opposite bank of the river, which
N^^*^ishere 80 yards wide, stands the suburb of South Frank¬
fort, connected with the town by a chain bridge. Frank¬
fort is well and regularly built, and many of the edifices
are of white marble. It possesses some trade; steam-ves¬
sels of considerable burden come up to the town, and a
railway connects it with Louisville on the Ohio. Among
its public buildings are the state-house, penitentiary, court¬
house, jail, and market-house. It was founded in 1786, and
was made the seat of government in 1792. Pop. (1850)
4372.
FRANKLAND’S Islands, a cluster of small islands on
the north-east coast of New Holland, about six miles from
the land. E. Long. 146., S. Lat. 17. 12.
FRANKINCENSE. See Incense.
FRANKLIN, Benjamin, one of the most distinguished
of Americans, alike in science and in politics, was born at
Boston in New England, Jan. 17 (N.S.) 1706. His pater¬
nal ancestors had lived for many generations on a small
freehold in the village of Ecton in Northamptonshire.
About the year 1682 his father, Josiah Franklin, in com¬
pany with some of his neighbours, emigrated to New Eng¬
land, for the sake of that religious liberty which, as noncon¬
formists, was denied them at home. Of seventeen children
Benjamin was the youngest but two. He early displayed
a strong taste for reading. At the age of eight he was sent
to the grammar-school, his father intending to devote him,
“as the tythe of his sons,” to the church. The cares of a
numerous family soon interfered with this design, and at the
end of a year Benjamin was sent to another master to learn
writing and arithmetic. When ten years old he was taken
to assist his father in his business as a tallow-chandler and
soap-boiler, a pursuit to which the aspiring boy soon mani¬
fested a strong repugnance. He was extremely desirous to
go to sea, but the influence of his father, a man of strong
judgment, who took great pains in the moral training of his
family, prevailed to keep him at home. The boy’s love of
books found little scope in the small library of his father : it
consisted chiefly of works of polemical theology, which were
read through with little advantage, but contained, among
other things, a copy of Plutarch’s Lives, Defoe’s Essay on
Projects, and Mather’s Essay to do Good. The latter, Frank¬
lin thought, exercised considerable influence on his mind.
Already in the practical and tangible, the inquiring but un¬
imaginative mind of the boy, “father of the man,” had
found its congenial aliment.1 His father at length deter¬
mined to make Benjamin a printer; and in his twelfth year
he was bound apprentice to his brother James. He soon
became an excellent workman, and now found more access
than ever to books, to which he devoted all his leisure hours.
As is usual, even with the least poetical of youths, he
essayed rhyme. One or two of his ballads sold well in the
streets ; but the sound advice of his father discouraged him
from further attempts, and impressed him with the neces¬
sity of attention to prose composition. An odd volume of
the Spectator furnished the stimulus to his first efforts, and
the model of his style. By carefully cultivating the practice
of composition, he at a comparatively early age acquired con-
FRA 289
siderable ease and dexterity in writing. His mature style Benjamin
was extremely clear and simple, generally nervous, often Franklin,
lively, and in rare instances touched with eloquence. The
same practical sagacity which so early distinguished his in¬
tellectual efforts was manifested in his control over his
passions. At the age of sixteen he met a book recommend¬
ing a vegetable diet. Fie at once adopted it, saving time and
money by the lightness of his meals, and devoting the gain in
both to his one luxm*y of books.2 About this time he read the
Memorabilia of Xenophon. The Socratic method of reason¬
ing greatly charmed him ; and having already imbibed
sceptical principles from Shaftesbury and Collins, he found
it peculiarly suited to puzzle others without committing
himself to positive assertions. Gradually, however, he left
off this method, retaining only the habit of expressing him¬
self with caution and diffidence, a habit of which his acute
knowledge of human nature afterwards led him to see the
great utility.
In 1721 his brother established a newspaper in Boston,3
and Benjamin was employed at once as a compositor,
printer, and deliverer. Though thus abundantly occupied,
he determined to try his hand also as a contributor, and
accordingly sent in several anonymous essays. They were
highly approved of; but when the authorship was dis¬
covered, his brother, apprehensive of Benjamin’s becoming
too vain, manifested some displeasure. From this time ap¬
parently mutual jealousies sprang up between them. Ben¬
jamin submitted impatiently to the domination of his
brother. “ Perhaps,” he says, “ this harsh and tyrannical
treatment of me might be a means of impressing me with
the aversion to arbitrary power which has stuck to me
through my whole life.” An opportunity soon occurred for
a disruption. An article in the paper gave offence to the
provincial government; James was censured, and imprisoned
for a month, and ordered no longer to print his newspaper.
To evade this order, it was determined to print the paper
in Benjamin’s name; and in order to overcome the legal
difficulty, the apprentice’s indenture was formally discharged,
while a new one was privately signed, binding him to fulfil
his engagement. On the breaking out of new differences
with his brother, Benjamin unfairly took advantage of this
compromise, and asserted his freedom. This he styles one
of the first errata of his life. F is brother having warned
all the printers of Boston against him, Benjamin determined
to leave the city, and accordingly made his escape to New
York, where he found himself, in his seventeenth year, with
little money and no friends. Obtaining no employment,
he set out for Philadelphia. His own account of this jour¬
ney, and of his first appearance in the streets of Philadel¬
phia, eating a halfpenny roll, with another under each arm,
is one of the most interesting passages in his autobiography.
Here he formed an engagement with a printer named
Keimer, who had recently commenced business. Franklin’s
industry and frugality soon secured him a comfortable posi¬
tion. His abilities attracted the notice of Sir William
Keith, the governor of the province, who encouraged him
to set up as a printer on his own account, and even proposed
that he should go to England to procure the necessary
printing-stock. Franklin set sail, accompanied by his friend
James Ralph,4 arrived in London on the 24th December
1724, and only then discovered that his patron’s promises
1 There is an anecdote which seems characteristic of what the boy Franklin may be conceived, as the proper type of sharp irreverent
young America. His father observed the old Puritan fashion of saying very long graces before and after meat, which caused much weari¬
ness to Benjamin. Once, when they were salting the winter store of provisions, he said, “ Father, could you not say grace over the cask,
once for all; it would be a vast saving of time.”
2 He did not practise Vegetarianism long, his good sense yielding to the force of the argument suggested by seeing a small fish taken
out of the inside of a bigger one.
3 The New England Gourant. Franklin calls this the second newspaper published in America. Mr Sparks (Works oj Franklin, vol. i.,
p. 23) shows that it was the fourth. “ About this time, 1771,” says Franklin, “ there are no less than five and twenty.” In 1850 there
were two thousand eight hundred.
4 Afterwards a man of some note as a party writer on history and politics, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad.
VOL. X. 2 o
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
290
Benjamin were entirely delusive.1 He immediately found employ-
Franklin. ment, however. At Palmer’s, in Bartholomew’s Close, he
vvas engaged in printing the second edition of Wollaston’s
Religion of Nature. Some of the arguments appearing to
him defective, he wrote and printed his remarks upon them
under the title, A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity,
Pleasure and Pain. His aim was to prove that “ what¬
ever is is right,” and that virtue and vice are mere names.
This pamphlet was the means of introducing him to several
men of some note, among others to Dr Mandeville. Five
years later he had come to very different conclusions on these
subjects, and wrote a tract demonstrating the fallacy of his
former opinions. Shortly after this he removed to a more
extensive printing-house, where his temperance, intelli¬
gence, and industry, soon gained him respect and influence.
On the 23d July 1726 he left London in company with
a Mr Denham, who was about to open a store in Philadel¬
phia. With him he lived several months, assisting in the
management of the business. About this time he established
a club for mutual improvement and discussion, called the
Junto, which existed for many years, and proved of no
small public utility. On the death ofMr Denham, Frank¬
lin resumed his proper work, and again found employment
with his former master, Keimer. He soon put the busi¬
ness on a good footing, and, besides his duties as printer
and warehouseman, made ink, and even types, for the esta¬
blishment. As the other hands improved under Franklin’s
management, Keimer thought he could do without him,
and, after a quarrel, they separated. Soon after, however,
Franklin was prevailed upon to assist Keimer in executing
an order to print bank notes in New Jersey. His mechani¬
cal ingenuity here became available in the construction of
a copperplate press—the first of its kind seen in America—
and the cutting of ornaments for the bills. On leaving
Keimer, he had resolved, with one of his fellow-workmen,
Meredith, to set up an establishment of their own. Imme¬
diately on his return to Philadelphia this design was put
into execution; and from that time the prudence, indus¬
try, and perseverance of Franklin were rewarded with
steadily advancing prosperity. At this time there was but
one newspaper in Pennsylvania. Franklin determined to
start another. The design came to Keimer’s ears, and he
hastened to forestall it. After a few months of unsuccess¬
ful management he was glad to hand it over to Franklin,
in whose skilful hands it became both influential and profit¬
able. In 1729 the want of paper-money was much felt in
the colony, and the subject was discussed in the Assembly.
Franklin published a pamphlet urging the necessity of a
fresh issue; and on the passing of a bill to that effect, he
was rewarded by being employed to print the money. His
business was now flourishing. On the 1 st of September 1730
he married Miss Deborah Reid, to whom he had been en¬
gaged on leaving America for England. He neglected her
during his absence, and she married another, who soon after
separated from her. Franklin found in her a faithful and
prudent helpmate during a period of forty-four years. At
this time he tells us there was not a good bookseller’s shop
south of Boston. Lovers of literature were obliged to send
to England for supplies. In 1731 Franklin set on foot a
subscription for a library. The scheme began with fifty
subscribers, mostly young tradesmen. It prospered, like
all Franklin’s undertakings ; and in 1742 a charter was ob¬
tained for the “ Philadelphia Library Company,”—“ the
mother of all the North American libraries, now so nume¬
rous.” His command of books was now greatly increased, Benjamin
and in the midst of unrelaxing application to business he Franklin,
daily devoted an hour or two to study. About this time
he conceived the project (characteristic at once of the man
and the age) of arriving at moral perfection, “ to live with¬
out committing any fault at any time.” His plan for attain¬
ing this happy result is described in his autobiography.
While acknowledging that he never arrived at the perfec¬
tion aimed at, he expresses his conviction that he was a
better and a happier man from having made the attempt.
He always intended to enlarge this scheme into a treatise,
to be called The Art of Virtue, but never carried out his
design. It was connected with an extensive project for the
establishment of a universal society for the promotion of
virtue. Even in his old age he does not seem to have re¬
garded this scheme as chimerical.
In 1732 he first published the almanac which, under the
name of Richard Saunders, or Poor Richard’s Almanac,
became so celebrated. Its great aim was, through choice
aphorisms and proverbs, to inculcate industry and fru¬
gality, “as the means of procuring wealth, and thereby
securing virtue.” In the almanac for 1757 these sayings
were collected into a discourse, which has been often re¬
printed and translated into many languages, under the title
of “ The Way to Wealth.” Its influence in Pennsylvania
was thought, Franklin says, to have been considerable, and
there can be little doubt that the general character of his
countrymen still bears testimony to their veneration for the
precepts of Poor Richard. It is to be wished that his fur¬
ther advices on the exclusion of “ all libelling and personal
abuse ” from newspapers were followed with equal fidelity. In
1733 he began to study languages. He soon mastered French,
so far as to read it with ease. He next studied Italian and
Spanish. These he found so helpful to the acquirement of
Latin, that he concluded the modern practice of studying
the dead language first to be grounded on a mistake.
Franklin’s merits as a citizen now began to receive public
recognition. In 1736 he was appointed clerk of the As¬
sembly,2 and in the following year deputy-postmaster-
general of America. “ I now began,” he says, “ to turn
my thoughts to public affairs, beginning, howevei’, with
small matters.” The reform of the city watch and the esta¬
blishment of a fire company were his first services. In 1743
he drew up a plan for the establishment of an academy in
Philadelphia. Finding obstacles in the way, he did not
publish his views for some time. Six years after he was
completely successful. The academy then established was
the foundation of the University of Philadelphia. In 1744
he succeeded in establishing a scientific society, which, after
various changes, became the American Philosophical So¬
ciety, now the American Academy of Sciences. When
war broke out in this year between Britain and France, the
defence of the colony became a matter of serious anxiety.
The governor had in vain striven to induce the Assembly
(chiefly Quakers) to pass a militia bill. The practical
energy of Franklin overcame the difficulty. As was his
usual practice, he promulgated his views in a pamphlet, en¬
titled Plain Truth, which produced an immediate effect.
At a public meeting held soon after 1200 persons subscribed
their names as members of a voluntary defence association.
The number afterwards increased to 10,000. These were
speedily formed into regiments, and provided themselves
with arms. To defray the expense of erecting a battery
below the town, Franklin proposed a lottery; and the
1 “ He wished,” says Franklin, “ to please everybody ; and having little to give, he gave expectations.” He commends him notwith¬
standing as a sensible man and a good governor.
2 One of the members opposed his election in the following year. Franklin’s method of gaining his goodwill indicates his acute know¬
ledge of men. He requested the loan of a scarce and curious hook from the gentleman’s library, and returned it soon after with a courteous
note of thanks. The lender was thenceforth his friend. “ He that has once done you a kindness,” adds Franklin, “ will be more ready
to do you another than he whom you yourself have obliged.”
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
Benjamin scheme was immediately carried into execution.1 Franklin
Franklin, now began to be looked upon as a man of public impor-
tance, and in all matters connected with the militia his
advice was sought by the governor and his council.
The comparative leisure afforded by the increasing pros¬
perity of his business Franklin now devoted to scientific
pursuits, for which his extraordinary ingenuity, acuteness of
observation, and sound judgment, peculiarly qualified him.
Whilst visiting Boston in 1746, he heard a lecture on elec¬
tricity, by a Dr Spence from Scotland. He became deeply
interested in the subject, and thenceforth devoted much
time to electrical experiments. Shortly afterwards Mr Col-
linson, F.R.S., presented a glass-tube to the Philadelphia
Library Company, with directions for its use. To him, in
March 1747, Franklin communicated the first results of
those observations and experiments which contributed so
much to his fame, and ranked his name among those of
great discoverers. Flis views on the nature of electricity,
as is not unusual in such cases, were treated at first by many
of the learned with comparative contempt, afterwards op¬
posed, and finally universally accepted and confirmed. The
Royal Society, in which his first observations on the iden¬
tity of lightning and electricity were laughed at, in 1753 con¬
ferred on him their highest distinction, the Copley medal,
and afterwards elected him into their number without soli¬
citation and free of expense. For a particular account of
his electrical experiments, see Electricity.
Anxious as he was to enjoy leisure for the pursuit of
his favourite studies, he now began to be in request for
public business. He was made a justice of peace, town-
councillor, alderman, and representative. The latter office,
he says, he was glad to accept, as, besides his ambition to
be of use to the public, he had begun to tire of the discus¬
sions in which, though compelled as clerk to be listener, he
could take no part, and used to amuse himself in drawing
magic squares or circles,2 or anything to avoid weariness.
Next year he was appointed with the speaker to negotiate
a treaty with the Indians. In 1751 Dr Bond communi¬
cated to him his plan for the erection of a hospital in Phila¬
delphia. Franklin took it up warmly, and it was speedily
realized. In 1753 he was appointed joint postmaster-ge¬
neral. Under his management the American post-office
flourished as it had never done before. In 1754 he at¬
tended as one of the Pennsylvanian commissioners at the
congress held at Albany, to confer on the means of defence
in the event of a rupture with France. Several of the com¬
missioners came provided with plans for a union of all the
colonies under one government, among the rest Franklin.
His plan received the preference. It was rejected, how¬
ever, by all the assemblies; and the Board of Trade, to whom
it was submitted, did not think it worth recommending to
the crown. The former thought there was too much 'prero¬
gative in it, while in England it was thought too democratic?
From this double objection Franklin argued that his plan
had hit the true medium, which, if followed, would have
prevented the subsequent revolution. In the following
spring he rendered eminent service to General Braddock,
in procuring waggons and provisions for his troops. With
the ready public spirit which so marked his character, he
advanced more than L.1000 of his own money for that pur-
pose. The thanks of the assembly were voted to him on his
return from this expedition.
In the disputes which for some years back had been
growing ever more serious between the Pennsylvanian As¬
sembly and the proprietaries,4 Franklin, as might be ex¬
pected, was one of the strongest opponents of what he con¬
sidered the unjust and selfish claims of the latter, and gra¬
dually came to be looked upon as the leader of the opposi¬
tion. He spoke seldom, and briefly, but always to the point,
and with effect. An appropriate anecdote or apologue was
one of his favourite and most effective means of persuasion.
About this time he introduced and carried a bill for the
establishment of a voluntary militia. While the organization
was going on, he undertook, on the solicitation of the go¬
vernor, to place the north-western frontier in a state of de¬
fence. He soon raised a body of 560 men ; and in about
six weeks accomplished his somewhat difficult and dangerous
commission with perfect success, erecting three wooden forts,
which at the end of that time he handed over manned and
armed to the charge of a military officer. On his return
he was chosen colonel of the Philadelphia regiment, and
received such marks of honour as gave considerable offence
to the proprietors. The assembly having at length re¬
solved to petition the king against the proprietary govern¬
ment, Franklin was deputed as their agent to Britain, and
on the 27th July 1757 arrived in London.
Here he found strong obstacles and prejudices to con¬
tend against, the assembly and people of Pennsylvania be¬
ing generally represented by the press as the selfish and
refractory opponents of their rightful governors. He found
that little was to be expected in the way of concession from
the proprietors, while the eyes of the ministry and people
of England were too intently directed to Germany (where
the Seven Years’ War was just going on), to heed much the
rising of the little cloud that foreshadowed so great a tem¬
pest in the west. Franklin took every opportunity to dis¬
possess the public mind of the unfavourable opinions pro¬
pagated against his countrymen. Early in 1759 appeared
a work entitled An Historical Review of the Constitution
and Government of Pennsylvania. Though betraying a
strong party bias it gave a clear view of the subject, and
being written with point and vigour, produced a consider¬
able effect. It had been composed under the direction and
with the assistance of Franklin.5 His business, meantime,
made little progress. He wished much to see Pitt, but
that great statesman was then too much occupied to be ac¬
cessible. Franklin’s experience and sagacity were duly va¬
lued by the government. Whether or not it be true that
Wolfe’s successful expedition to Canada was suggested by
him, it is certain that he was deeply impressed with the
importance of these colonies to Britain, and was zealous in
inculcating his views.6 In 1760, when the question of re¬
taining them wtis under discussion, he wrote an able pamph¬
let on the subject, which probably contributed to in¬
fluence the ministerial decision. In the summer of that
year he visited Scotland, where he experienced a most
cordial and distinguished reception, and formed a lasting
friendship with some of the most eminent men liven to
be found in Edinburgh, such as Flume, Karnes, and Ro¬
bertson.7
1 Franklin was sent to borrow cannon for this battery from Governor Clinton at New York. At first the request was peremptorily
refused. They met at dinner, “ where there was great drinking of Madeira wine.” The governor softened so far as to grant six guns. As
the wine passed, his liberality expanded to ten; and before the evening closed he good-naturedly offered eighteen.
2 Some very curious specimens of these are given in his works. Sparks’ edition, vol. vi., p. 100-105.
3 principal feature of this plan (the germ of the Union) was the appointment of a president by the crown, with a grand council
nominated by the colonial assemblies.
4 By this name were designated Penn’s immediate successors Richard and Thomas. See Pennsylvania.
5 This work has generally been attributed to him. In a letter to David Hume, printed for the first time in Sparks’ edition of his
works, he disowns the authorship, with certain exceptions. The real author was probably Ralph.
A very remarkable passage on the subject occurs in one of his letters to Lord Kames. After the revolution he was equally anxious
to secure Canada to the States.
In the same letter to Lord Kames he says of this visit, “ On the whole I must say I think the time we spent there was six weeks of
the densest happiness I have met with in any part of my life.” He visited Scotland again in 1771.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
292
Benjamin After a delay of nearly three years, he succeeded in bring-
Eranklin. jng hjs business to a comparatively successful termination ;
/ an act of the Pennsylvanian Assembly for raising a tax of
L. 100,000, from which the proprietary estates were not
exempted, having, under certain limitations, received the
royal assent in June 1760. The principle for which the
Pennsylvanians had contended was so far conceded.1 Some
financial business still detained him. In the summer of 1761
he visited Holland and Flanders. Meanwhile his scientific
pursuits were not neglected. Among other results of his
ingenuity was the construction of a musical instrument2 (the
Armonicd), which was for some time very fashionable. Be¬
fore leaving England he received the degree of a doctor of
laws from Edinburgh and Oxford. St Andrews had con¬
ferred the same honour on him some time before. The go¬
vernment about the same time testified their sense of his
merits by appointing his son governor of New Jersey.3
On his return to Philadelphia (November 1762), he re¬
ceived the thanks of the Assembly, and a grant of L.3000
for his services. The next public transaction in which his
ability and influence were exhibited, in strong contrast to
the weakness of the provincial government, was the alarm¬
ing insurrection subsequent to what were called “ The Pax¬
ton Murders.” By his prompt and judicious interference a
large body of citizens was armed, and the insurgents were
persuaded to retire peaceably. Meantime the contest with
the proprietaries had waxed more bitter than ever. The As¬
sembly, exasperated beyond endurance, at length passed a
series of resolutions in favour of transferring the government
entirely to the crown. Franklin strongly advocated this
scheme. A large majority resolved to petition the king. The
petition drawn up by Franklin was signed by him as speaker,
to which office he had just been chosen. At the next election
of representatives, Franklin lost his seat by a trifling mino¬
rity, after having held it for fourteen years without asking a
vote. His party, however, triumphed in the Assembly, and
to the disgust of his opponents, Franklin was appointed their
special agent to defend the petition at the court of Britain.
He arrived in London on the 10th of December.
Though charged wnth a special commission, he had in¬
structions to use his efforts against the passing of the Stamp
Act, “ the mother of mischief,” as in one of his letters he
designated it. These efforts, though zealous and unremit¬
ting, were in vain. The question of repealing the act came
before parliament early in 1766; and Franklin was sum¬
moned to give evidence on the subject at the bar of the
House of Commons. His perfect knowledge of the subject
in question, the clearness and readiness of his replies, and
the manly dignity of his bearing, produced a profound impres¬
sion on the house, and contributed much both to heighten
the public estimate of himself, and to hasten the decision of
parliament. In the summer of this year he visited Germany
in company with his friend Sir John Pringle. At this time Benjamin
he seems to have studied the whole subject of the mutual Franklin,
relations of Britain and the colonies with much attention, N—
and to have arrived at those conclusions which guided his
future conduct in the struggle. The question was mooted
about this time, whether a representation of the colonies in
the Imperial Parliament might not tend to promote union.
This, in Franklin’s opinion, afforded the only sure basis of
a permanent reconciliation.4 In the following autumn he
visited Paris, where he was received with flattering distinc¬
tion. He was introduced to the king and royal family, and
made the acquaintance of the most distinguished French¬
men of the time. He was now desirous to return to Ame¬
rica, seeing no hope of drawing the attention of government
to the object of his mission. He was detained, however,
by a letter informing him of his having been appointed
agent for Georgia. In the following year he received a
similar charge from the state of New Jersey; and in 1770
from that of Massachusetts. His well-known views on the
subject of America, and the freedom with which he was in
the habit of expressing them, made him obnoxious to many
of the ministers, and particularly to the colonial secretary,
Lord Hillsborough.5 Rumours had at various times come
to his ears of an intention to deprive him of his office of
postmaster-general. Whether true or false, they affected
him little. He was equally indifferent to the counter-re¬
ports of an intention to raise him to some more important
office.6 The occasion of his actual dismissal from office was
a transaction which, though dictated on his part by what
he considered a sense of duty, subjected him at the time to
the severest obloquy. In December 1772, there were put
into his hands7 certain letters from the governor and lieu¬
tenant-governor of Massachusetts, to Mr Thomas Whately,
a member of parliament connected with the government,
representing the people of that province as purely factious
in their opposition to the government imposts, and recom¬
mending those coercive measures which produced such mis¬
chievous results. Franklin having hitherto attributed these
obnoxious measures to the home government, and ex¬
pressed himself accordingly in his letters to America, thought
it his duty to communicate these documents to the Assem¬
bly, whose interests they so much concerned. The Assem¬
bly petitioned the Board of Trade to remove the authors of
the letters from office. Counsel was engaged on both sides,
and the case came before the privy-council at a very full
meeting on the 29th January 1774. The solicitor-general,
Wedderburn, afterwards Lord Loughborough, conducted
the defence, and made it the occasion of a bitterly sarcastic
and abusive attack on the character of Franklin, who stood
by apparently unmoved, while their lordships testified their
satisfaction by laughter and cheers. The petition was re¬
jected as “ groundless, vexatious, and scandalous,” and next
i Franklin’s share in this controversy subjected him to special hostility. The following testimony from Thomas Penn, in a letter to
Governor Hamilton is valuable. “ I do not find that he has done me any prejudice with any party, having had conversations with all,
in which I have studied to talk of these affairs ; and I believe he has spent most of his time in philosophical and especially in electrical
matters, having generally company in a morning to see those experiments.
a Constructed on the principle of educing graduated tones from glasses filled in various measure with water.
3 This son, William Franklin, remained a firm royalist all his life. His opposition to his father produced a temporary estrangement:
they were afterwards reunited, but the old man remembered it in his will.
4 The wisdom and moderation of his views is seen in the following passage from one of his letters about this time to Lord Karnes,
“ America, an immense territory, favoured by nature with all advantages of climate, soils, great navigable rivers and lakes, must become
a great country, populous and mighty, and will, in a less time than is generally conceived, be able to shake off any shackles that may
be imposed upon her, and perhaps place them on the oppressors. In the meantime, every act of oppression will sour their tempers, lessen
greatly if not annihilate the profits of your commerce with them, and hasten their final revolt; for the seeds of liberty are universally
found there, and nothing can eradicate them. And yet there remains among that people so much respect, veneration, and affection tor
Britain, that if cultivated prudently, with a kind usage and tenderness for their privileges, they might easily be governed for ages, without
force or any considerable expense. But I do not see here a sufficient quantity of the wisdom that is necessary to produce such a conduct,
and I lament the want of it.” , _
6 His lordship appears to have been particularly offended by Franklin’s success with the Board of Trade in reference to Walpole s Urant.
As far back as 1766 a company was formed for the settlement of a new territory on the Ohio. Mr Thomas Walpole, a London banker, was
at its head, and Franklin was a leading member. Lord Hillsborough opposed their petition for a grant with great zeal, but without success.
6 In 1768 a vague overture was actually made to Franklin by the Duke of Grafton, through Mr Cooper, secretary of the treasury,
but with no result. 7 How the letters were obtained has never been discovered.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
Benjamin day Franklin was informed that his services as postmaster-
Franklin. general were no longer required. Though it is certain that
he deeply resented the insult offered to him on this occa¬
sion,1 there is no good ground for assuming that it altered
in any degree his views of the question between Britain and
America. He had long been convinced of the hopelessness
of a reconciliation. After this he had no further intercourse
with the ministry; and he now resolved to return home as
soon as possible. He was advised, however, to await the
issue of the Congress about to be held in America. The
petition of Congress to the king arrived in December. All
the colonial agents, except Franklin and two others, de¬
clined to present it. Their request to be heard in support
of it at the bar of the House of Commons was refused, and
the petition was rejected by an overwhelming majority.
After this Franklin still occupied himself, at the solicitation
of his friends Dr Fothergill and Mr Barclay, in drawing up
a plan of reconciliation. It was shown to Lord Howe, and
several other ministers, but the terms wei'e considered inad¬
missible, and the affair dropped. Towards the end of the year
he had frequent interviews with Lord Chatham, who was then
preparing a bill for the settlement of the American difficulty.
In reply to an insinuation of Lord Sandwich, in the debate of
January 20,1775, that great man pronounced a higheulogium
on Franklin, and ended by declaring that he was “ an honour
not to the English nation only but to human nature!”
Having at length wound up his business in England,
Franklin sailed for America, and arrived at Philadelphia on
the 5th of May. He was chosen a member of Congress
next day, and thenceforward he was extensively occupied
in all its most important business. On the establishment
of a new post-office, he was appointed postmaster-general.
In March 1776 he was sent as one of the commissioners to
negotiate for the co-operation of Canada, an unsuccessful
journey, the fatigues of which proved seriously injurious to
his health. When the question of independence came to
be discussed, he was among the most emphatic in the affir¬
mative, and was selected as one of the five to prepare the
declaration.2 Soon after he was appointed President of the
Convention appointed to frame a new constitution for Penn¬
sylvania. The most remarkable feature in this constitu¬
tion (afterwards changed), viz., a single legislative assem¬
bly, is supposed to have originated with him—this having
always been one of his favourite political theories. In the
futile attempt at negotiation with Lord Howe in the spring
of 1776 he bore a leading part. Towards the end of the
year the Congress resolved to seek assistance from the
European powers, and especially France. Franklin was
specially qualified for such an embassy, and though adverse
to the policy of seeking foreign alliances, which he opposed
in Congress, he was unanimously nominated commissioner-
plenipotentiary, in conjunction with two others, to the court
of France. Before sailing he put three or four thousand
pounds, all the money at his command, at the disposal of
Congress as a loan.
He arrived in Paris on the 21st December, and shortly
after removed to the suburban village of Passy. Here he
resided while in Fi’ance, an object of interest and reverence
to the lively citizens of Paris; adapting himself with easy
293
tact to the national tastes and habits, while his personal Benjamin
peculiarities derived piquancy by contrast. To the brilliant Franklin,
intellectual circle with whom he associated it was specially
charming to find in the scientific sage, whose primitive aspect
and homely wisdom seemed fresh from antique times, not
only an exponent, but a living illustration, of those wonder¬
working “ ideas” by which the new Millennium of “ fclu-
manity” wras to be achieved. His negotiation was emi¬
nently successful. The result of the campaign of 1777,
to use the words of Franklin’s grandson and biographer,
fixed the French nation in their attachment to the infant
republic.” On the 6th February 1778 the treaties were
signed, and on the 20th of March the American plenipo¬
tentiaries were received in due form at Versailles. The
other commissioners were recalled in the following year,
and Franklin was appointed sole minister-plenipotentiary of
the United States at the Court of France. The heavy and
important duties connected with that office he discharged
for the next six years. Attempts were made more than
once to have him recalled, but the value of his services was
too notorious to give much weight to the charge brought
against him of neglecting the interests of his country and
being too subservient in his relations to the French cabinet.
In addition, moreover, to his proper official work, he carried
on an extensive correspondence, and was incessantly ha¬
rassed by visits, proposals, and applications of the most mis¬
cellaneous character.3 Science, too, continued still to oc¬
cupy some of his time. He frequently attended the meet¬
ings of the Academy, of which (as of the principal learned
societies in Europe) he was a member; and in 1779 read a
paper on the Aurora Borealis. In 1784 he was appointed to
the head of the commission for inquiring into the nature of
the experiments then extensively practised by Mesmer and
his disciples, and by them attributed to animal magnetism.
For that delusive term Franklin substituted the word ima¬
gination. His concern for the interests of science was nobly
displayed in his sending, on his owm authority, a circular to
all the commanders of American cruisers requesting them
to offer no molestation to the ship of Captain Cook.4 As
ambassador he was much occupied in negotiating treaties
with the principal European powers, a service in which his
extreme foresight, tact, and firmness enabled him to secure
signal advantages to his country. The provisional treaty
with Britain was signed November 30, 1782, and a treaty
with Sweden in the following spring. In 1781 Franklin
had requested to be relieved from his office; the Congress
declined to accept his resignation, but complied, on a repe¬
tition of his request in 1785. His last official act was the
signing of a treaty with Prussia, containing a new article
framed by himself against privateering in time of war.5 6
On the 14th September 1785 he arrived in Philadelphia.
On the voyage he had occupied himself in writing on “ Im¬
provements in Navigation,” on u Smoky Chimneys,” and in
renewed experiments to ascertain by the temperature the
course of the Gulf Stream. He was received with every de¬
monstration of joy, and congratulations from all the public
bodies. Next day he was appointed a member of the su¬
preme executive council of Philadelphia, and soon after
president of the state. Surrounded by his offspring, at the
1 His biographers mention as a significant circumstance that he did not put on again the suit of clothes he wore on that occasion till
the day that he signed the treaty with France as American plenipotentiary.
2 The following anecdote is related in connection with the signing of this important document. “We must be unanimous,” Hancock
said, “ there must be no pulling different ways, we must all hang together.” “ Yes,” replied Franklin, “ we must indeed all hang together,
or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.”
3 The journal of one day (Dec. 13, 1778) records the following visits. 1. The inventor of a wonderful self-propelling machine. 2. A
proposal to levy men for a piratical expedition to Britain. 3. A plan for concealing arms, &c., on the person without suspicion. 4. “Received
a parcel from an unknown philosopher, who submits to my consideration a memorial on the subject of Elementary Fire, containing experi¬
ments in a dark chamber.” The “ unknown philosopher ” was Jean Paul Marat.
4 In acknowledgment of this act of humanity a gold medal and a copy of Cook’s Narrative were presented to him by the Board of Admiralty,
with the king’s approbation.
6 Notwithstanding Franklin’s opposition to privateering, he considered his own services in this respect worthy of enumeration, in 1788,
among his claims on the United States.
294
SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.
Benjamin head of a community which looked up to him with the
Franklin, deepest veneration, enjoying comparative leisure for the
v—V**''' cultivation of the pursuits which still formed his chief de¬
light, the few remaining years of his life passed happily away,
despite the gradual inroads of disease. In May 1787 he
was chosen a member of the convention appointed to frame
the constitution of the United States.1 His motion for
prayers in the convention is the most remarkable record of
his share in its proceedings, and affords an impressive proof
of that religious feeling in which he has often, but unjustly,
been regarded as wholly deficient. The conduct of the
Congress, in neglecting to settle his accounts, and bestow
some adequate compensation for his long and faithful ser¬
vices, seems to have wounded his spirit not a little. To
the last he was occupied in works of usefulness and philan¬
thropy. The improvement of the condition of the ne¬
groes, and the alleviation of the miseries of public prisons,
engaged much of his attention. His last public act was to
sign a memorial to Congress as President of the Abolition
Society of Pennsylvania. The last paper he wrote, twenty-
four days before his death, was an ingenious and spirited
parody on a speech delivered in Congress in defence of sla¬
very. For many years he had suffered severely from gout
and stone. About the beginning of April 1790 he was
attacked by fever, and on the 17th he expired, in the eighty-
fifth year of his age. He was buried with great solemnity
amidst an immense concourse of people. Congress went into
mourning for a month. The National Assembly of France,
on the motion of Mirabeau, put on mourning for three days ;
and numerous other testimonies of respect were offered to
his memory in the French metropolis. No monument has
yet been raised to him by the citizens of Philadelphia.
America has produced men of genius and ability whose
names rank high in science, literature, and politics, but no
man in all respects so remarkable as Benjamin Franklin, the
first of her citizens who won a European fame. Embodying
as he did in a high degree those qualities which have raised
the American nation to so commanding a position among
modern states, his influence over the character of that race
has been greater than that of any other man born in Ame¬
rica. His most obvious characteristic was common sense,
sagacity, practical wisdom in the management of affaiis,
whether small or great. In all things he was a man of busi¬
ness ; and as he attempted no enterprise which his quick
discernment, calculating prudence, and sound judgment
did not approve as feasible, his industry, tact, and indomi¬
table firmness crowned all his undertakings with complete
success. In his private life he was the peisonification of
frugality ; but while he ever kept a steady eye to his personal
interests, no man excelled him in public spirit, and his de¬
votion to the service of his country was genuine and un¬
swerving. Passions and affections were less strong with him
than intelligence and prudence, but neither was his heart
cold nor were his sympathies narrow; and though eminently
worldly wise, he was not less conspicuously distinguished
by zeal for the good of his fellow men. On the side of
imagination, and in all that connects man with the infinite,
the mysterious, and the beautiful, he was signally deficient.
Utility was to him the test of all human things and pui-
suits ; in the world of practical life he lived and moved and
had his being; and in that world reason wielded the empire
over faith, and reverence shrank into littleness before the
ambition of independence. Yet it would be extreme in- Sir John
justice to Franklin to say that his thoughts and feelings were Franklin,
bounded by the narrow limits of a sordid utilitarianism. His
devotion to science alone would suffice to prove the oppo¬
site ; for though all his researches were guided by a practical
aim, if he had not loved truth for her own sake he could
never have won from her such secrets as he did.2 * * * * As a
statesman and diplomatist, he carried into the high sphere
of national policy, and with similar results, those qualities
which had stamped success on all his private undertakings.
No Briton, indeed, can look back with admiration to that
inveterate hostility of his which scrupled not at devices for
subjecting to the foot of foreign invaders the country that
nursed his fathers and taught them how freedom may be
kept or won. Yet it is but just to remember that that en¬
mity was provoked by contemptuous rejection of long ad¬
vice, and the oppression that makes wise men mad, and that
its object was not the people of Britain, but the rulers for
whose obstinate folly they were made to suffer. At this
date, at least, it is only extreme prejudice that will deny
the merit of rare felicity to the epigram of Turgot—Eripuit
ccelofulmen sceptrumque tyrannis.
The most complete edition of Franklin’s works is that of
Jared Sparks, in 10 vols. 8vo, Boston 1840, containing nu¬
merous letters and papers not included in that published by
his grandson, William Temple Franklin, in 1817, London,
6 vols. 8vo. (A*N*)
FRANKLIN, Sir John, Rear-Admiral of the Blue, was
a native of Spilsby, in Lincolnshire. Sprung from a line of
freeholders, or “ Franklins,” his father inherited a small
family estate, which was so deeply mortgaged by his imme¬
diate predecessor that it was found necessary to sell it; but
by his success in commercial pursuits he was enabled to
maintain and educate a family of twelve children, of whom
one only died in infancy. The fortunes of his four sons
were remarkable, unaided as they were by patronage or
great connections. Thomas, the eldest, following the pur¬
suits of his father, acquired the local reputation of an acute
and highly honourable man of business, whose intellect gave
him much influence with his neighbours, and in a time of
threatened invasion, he was mainly instrumental in raising
a body of yeomanry cavalry, in which he did the duty of
adjutant, and was afterwards chosen to be lieutenant-colonel
of a regiment of volunteer infantry. The second son, Sir
Willingham, educated at Westminster, was elected to a
scholarship of Christ’s Church, Oxford, and after gaining an
Oriel fellowship, was called to the bar, and died a judge at
Madras. James, the third son, having, as cadet, exhibited
great proficiency in Hindostanee and Persian, was presented
by the India Company with a handsome sword, L.50 in
money, and a cornetcy in the First Bengal Native Cavalry,
in which he rose to the rank of major. He was noted while
in India for his scientific knowledge, which procured him a
lucrative civil appointment, but his advancement was in¬
terrupted by ill-health, and after executing extensive sur¬
veys of the country, he was under the necessity of return¬
ing to England, where he died. His collections in natural
history were highly appreciated by zoologists.
John, the youngest son, and the subject of this memoir, was
destined for the church by his father, who, with this view, had
purchased an advowson for him. He received the first ru¬
diments of education at St Ives, and afterwards went to
1 The following is one of his acute remarks on that subjectThough there is a general dread of giving too much power to our
governors, I think we are more in danger from the little obedience in the governed.. -Uoa nil his researches,
2 Sir Humphry Davy thus elegantly characterizes his scientific labours. A singular felicity of induction guided aU his re h ,
and by very small means he established very grand truths. The style and manner of his publications on electricity aimost s y
of admiration as the doctrine they contain. He has endeavoured to remove all bigotry from the subject He has 7Science
uninitiated and for the philosopher ; and he has rendered his details amusing as well as perspicuous, e egan as w exhibited
appears in his language in a dress wonderfully decorous, the best adapted to display her native loveliness. He has in no ^stence ex t ^
fSt false dignity by which philosophy is kept aloof from common applications; he has sought rather to make her a useful inm
servant in the common habitations of men, than to preserve her merely as an object of admiration m temples and palaces.
SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.
Sir John Louth Grammar School where he remained two years ; but
Franklin, having employed a holiday in walking twelve miles with a
»•'' companion to look at the sea, which up to that time he knew
only by description, his imagination was so impressed with
the grandeur of the scene that former predilections for a sea
life were confirmed, and he determined from thenceforth to
be a sailor. In the hope of dispelling what he considered to
be a boyish fancy, his father sent him on a trial voyage to
Lisbon in a merchantman, but finding on his return that his
wishes were unchanged, procured him, in the year 1800, an
entry on the quarterdeck of the Polyphemus, 74, Captain
Lawford ; and this ship having led the line in the battle of
Copenhagen in 1801, young Franklin had the honour of
serving in Nelson’s hardest fought action. Having left
school at the early age of thirteen, his classical attainments
were necessarily small, and at that period there was no op¬
portunity on board a ship of war of remedying the defect.
Two months, however, after the action of Copenhagen, he
joined the Investigator, discovery-ship, commanded by his
relative Captain Flinders, and under the training of that
able scientific officer, while employed in exploring and map¬
ping the coasts of A ustralia, he acquired a correctness of as¬
tronomical observation and a skill in surveying which proved
of eminent utility in his future career. In the prosecution
of this service he gained for life the friendship of the cele¬
brated Robert Brown, naturalist to the expedition. In 1803,
the Investigator having been condemned at Port Jackson
as unfit for the prosecution of the voyage, Captain Flinders
determined to return to England to solicit another ship for
the completion of the survey, and Franklin embarked with
him on board the Porpoise armed store-ship, Lieutenant-
Commander Fowler. In the voyage homewards this ship, and
the Cato which accompanied her, were wrecked in the night
of the 18th of August, on a coral reef, distant from Sandy
Cape, on the main coast of Australia, 63 leagues, and the
crews, consisting of 94 persons, remained for 50 days on a
narrow sand-bank, not more than 150 fathoms long, and
rising only four feet above the water, until Captain Flin¬
ders, having made a voyage to Port Jackson, of 250 leagues,
in an open boat, along a savage coast, returned to their re¬
lief with a ship and two schooners.1 After this misfortune,
Captain Flinders, as is well known, went to the Isle of
France, where he was unjustly and ungenerously detained
a prisoner by General de Caen, the governor. Meanwhile
Franklin proceeded with Lieutenant Fowler to Canton, where
he obtained a passage to England in the Earl Camden, East
Indiaman, commanded by Sh Nathaniel Dance, commodore
of the China fleet of 16 sail. On the 15th of February
1804, Captain Dance had the distinguished honour of re¬
pulsing a strong French squadron, led by the redoubted
Admiral Linois. Lieutenant Fowler assisted the commo¬
dore with his professional advice in this action, and Frank¬
lin performed the important duty of signal midshipman.
On reaching England, Franklin joined the Bellerophon,
74, and in that ship he was again entrusted with the sig¬
nals, a duty which he executed with his accustomed cool¬
ness and intrepidity in the great battle of Trafalgar, while
those stationed around him on the poop fell fast, and were all,
with only four or five exceptions, either killed or wounded.
In the Bedford, his next ship, he attained the rank of lieu¬
tenant, and remaining in her for six years, latterly as first
lieutenant, served in the blockade of Flushing, on the coast
of Portugal, and in other parts of the world, but chiefly on
the Brazil station, whither the Bedford had gone as one
of the convoy which conducted the royal family of Portugal
to Rio de Janeiro in 1808. In the ill-managed and disas¬
295
trous attack on New Orleans, he commanded the Bedford’s Sir John
boats in an engagement with the enemy’s gun-boats, one Franklin,
of which he boarded and captured, receiving a slight wound
in the hand-to-hand fight.
On peace being established, Franklin turned his attention
once more to the scientific branch of his profession, as afford¬
ing scope for his talents, and having made his wishes known to
Sir Joseph Banks, who was generally consulted by govern¬
ment on such matters, he set himself sedulously to refresh his
knowledge of surveying. In 1818, the discovery of a north¬
west passage became again, after a long interval, a national ob¬
ject, principally through the suggestions and writings of Sir
John Barrow, secretary of the Admiralty, and Lieutenant
Franklin was appointed to the Trent, as second to Captain
Buchan ofthe Dorothea, hired vessels equipped for penetrating
to the north of Spitzbergen,and, if possible, crossing the Polar
Sea by that route. During a heavy storm, both ships were
forced to seek for safety by boring into the closely packed ice,
in which extremely hazardous operation the Dorothea was so
much damaged that her reaching England became doubtful,
but the Trent having sustained less injury, Franklin re¬
quested to be allowed to prosecute the voyage alone, or
under Captain Buchan, who had the power of embarking in
the Trent if he chose. The latter, however, declined to
leave his officers and men at a time when the ship was
almost in a sinking condition, and directed Franklin to
convoy him to England. Though success did not attend
this voyage, it brought Franklin into personal intercourse
with the leading scientific men of London, and they were
not slow in ascertaining his peculiar fitness for the com¬
mand of such an enterprise. His calmness in danger,
promptness and fertility of resource, and excellent seaman¬
ship, as proved under the trying situation which cut short
the late voyage, were borne ample testimony to by the official
reports of his commanding officer ; but to these characteris¬
tics of a British seaman, he added other qualities less com¬
mon, more especially an ardent desire to promote science
for its own sake, and not merely for the distinction which
eminence in it confers, together with a love of truth that
led him to do full justice to the merits of his subordinate
officers, without wishing to claim their discoveries as a cap¬
tain’s right. Added to this, he had a cheerful buoyancy
of mind, which, sustained by religious principle of a depth
known only to his most intimate friends, was not de¬
pressed in the most gloomy times. It was, therefore, with
full confidence in his ability and exertions that he was, in
1819, placed in command of an expedition appointed to
travel through Rupert’s Land to the shores of the Arctic
Sea ; while Lieutenant Parry, who had in like manner risen
from second oflicer under Sir John Ross to a chief command,
was despatched with two vessels to Lancaster Sound, a mis¬
sion attended with a success that spread his fame through¬
out the world. At this period, the northern coast of Ame¬
rica was known at two isolated points only, viz., the mouth
of the Coppermine River, discovered by Flearne, but placed
erroneously by him four degrees of latitude too much to the
north; and the mouth of the Mackenzie, more correctly
laid down by the very able traveller by whose name the
river is now known. On the side of Behring’s Straits, Cook
had penetrated only to Icy Cape, and on the eastern coasts
Captain (Sir John) Ross, in 1818, had ascertained the cor¬
rectness of Baffin’s survey, which had been questioned, and
had looked into Lancaster Sound and reported it to be
closed by an impassable mountain barrier. To stimulate en¬
terprise by rewarding discoverers, the legislature established
a scale of premiums graduated by the degrees of longitude
1 The Bridgewater, another merchantman, was also in company with the Porpoise at the time of the wreck, and narrowly escaped
sharing the same fate. The master of her, however, having on the following day seen the shipwrecked vessels from a distance, pro¬
ceeded on his voyage to Bombay, where, on his arrival, he reported their loss. He did not live to explain his motives to those whom he
thus deserted, for the Bridgewater never was heard of again after she left Bombay.
296
SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.
Sir John to which ships should penetrate, but no provision was made
Franklin, for a pecuniary recompense to any one who should trace
out the north-west passage in boats or canoes.
Lieutenant Franklin, accompanied by a surgeon, two mid¬
shipmen, and a few Orkneymen, embarked for Hudson’s Bay,
in June 1819, on board of one of the company’s ships,
which ran ashore on Cape Resolution during a fog on the
voyage out, and was saved from foundering by Franklin’s
nautical skill. On reaching the anchorage off York Fac¬
tory, a large hole was found in the ship’s bottom, but so far
closed by a fragment of rock as considerably to diminish
the influx of water. Franklin’s instructions left the route
he was to pursue much to his own judgment; in fact, so
little was then known in England of the country through
which he was to travel, even by the best informed mem¬
bers of the government, that no detailed directions could
be given, and he was to be guided by the information he
might be able to collect at York Factory from the Hud¬
son’s Bay Company’s servants there assembled. No time
could be more unpropitious for a journey through that
land. For some years an internecine warfare had been
carried on between the North-West Company, operating
from Canada, claiming a right to the fur trade from priority
of discovery, and holding commissions as justices of peace
from the colonial government, and the Hudson’s Bay Com¬
pany, which, in virtue of a charter from King Charles the
Second, attempted to maintain an exclusive authority over
all the vast territory drained by the rivers that fall into the
bay. Arrests by clashing warrants of the contending jus¬
tices were frequent, might became right when the members
of the two companies met, personal violence, seizure of pro¬
perty, and even assassination were too common, and in a
recent fight at Red River 22 colonists of the Hudson’s Bay
Company had lost their lives. Numbers also had perished
of famine in the interior owing to the contests that were
carried on. When the expedition landed at York Factory,
they found some of the leading North-West partners pri¬
soners there, and learnt that both companies were arming
to the extent of their means for a decisive contest next
summer. Such being the state of the country, a party com¬
ing out in a Hudson’s Bay ship was looked upon with sus¬
picion by the members of the rival company, and it was
mainly through Franklin’s prudent conduct and conciliating
manners that it was permitted to proceed; but sufficient
aid to ensure its safety was not afforded by either of the
contending bodies. Wintering the first year on the Sas¬
katchewan, the expedition was fed by the Hudson’s Bay
Company; the second winter was spent on the “barren
grounds,” the party subsisting on game and fish procured
by their own exertions, or purchased from their native
neighbours; and in the following summer the expedition
descended the Coppermine River, and surveyed a consider¬
able extent of the sea-coast to the eastward, still depending
for food on the casual supplies of the chase, and often faring
very scantily, or fasting altogether. The disasters attend¬
ing the return over the barren grounds, on the premature
approach of winter, have been told by Franklin himself in
a narrative which excited universal interest and commisera¬
tion. The loss of Mr Hood, a young officer of very great
promise, and who at the time of his death had been pro¬
moted to the rank of lieutenant, was especially deplored.
The survivors of this expedition travelled from their outset
at York Factory down to their return to it again, by land
and water, 5550 miles. While engaged on this service,
Franklin was promoted to be a Commander, and after his
return to England in 1822, he obtained the post rank of Sir John
Captain, and was elected to be a fellow of the Royal So- Franklin,
ciety. In the succeeding year he married Eleanor,1 the
youngest daughter of William Porden, Esq., an eminent
architect, by whom he had a daughter and only child, now
the wife of the Rev. John Philip Gell.
In a second expedition, which left home in 1825, he de¬
scended the Mackenzie under more favourable auspices,
peace having been established throughout the fur-countries
under the exclusive government of the Hudson’s Bay Com¬
pany, which had taken the north-west traders into partner¬
ship, and was then in a position to afford him effectual assist¬
ance, and speed him on his way in comfort. This time the
coast line was traced through 37 degrees of longitude from
the mouth of the Coppermine River, where his former sur¬
vey commenced, to nearly the 150th meridian, and ap¬
proaching within 160 miles of the most easterly point at¬
tained by Captain Beechey, who was co-operating with him
from Behring’s Straits. His exertions were fully appre¬
ciated at home and abroad. He was knighted in 1829, re¬
ceived the honorary degree of Doctor of Civil Law from
the University of Oxford, was adjudged the gold medal of
the Geographical Society of Paris, and was elected in 1846
Correspondent of the Institute of France in the Academy of
Sciences. Though the late surveys executed by himself and
by a detachment under command of Sir John Richardson
comprised one, and within a few miles of two, of the spaces
for which a parliamentary reward was offered, the Board of
Longitude declined making the award, but a bill was soon
afterwards laid before parliament by the secretary of the
Admiralty abrogating the reward altogether, on the ground
of the discoveries contemplated having been thus effected.2
In 1828 he married his second wife, Jane, second daughter
of John Griffin, Esq.
Sir John’s next official employment was on the Medi¬
terranean station, in command of the Rainbow, and his ship
soon became proverbial in the squadron for the happiness
and comfort of her officers and crew.3 As an acknowledg¬
ment of the essential service he had rendered off Patras in
the “war of liberation,” he received the Cross of the Re¬
deemer of Greece from King Otho, and after his return to
England he was created Knight Commander of the Guelphic
order of Hanover.
In 1836 Lord Glenelg offered Sir John the lieutenant-
governorship of Antigua, and afterwards of Van Diemen’s
Land, or Tasmania, which latter he accepted, with the con¬
dition that he might be allowed to resign it, if, on a war
breaking out, he were tendered the command of a ship. He
preferred rising in his own profession to the emoluments of
the civil service. In as far as a man of independent politi¬
cal principles, of strict honour and integrity, conspicuous
for the benevolence of his character, without private in¬
terests to serve, and of a capacity which had been shown in
several important commands, was likely to benefit the
colony he was sent to govern, the choice was a judicious
one, and did honour to Lord Glenelg’s discernment. Dr
Arnold, no mean judge of character, rejoicing in the pro¬
mise the appointment gave of a new era in the annals of
colonial management, expressed the delight with which,
had circumstances permitted, he would have laboured with
such a governor in founding a system of general education
and religious instruction in that distant land. Sir John’s
government, which lasted till the end of 1843, was marked
by several events of much interest. One of his most popu¬
lar measures was the opening of the doors of the legislative
1 She died in 1825.
2 Messrs Dease and Simpson of the Hudson’s Bay Company, at a later period (1836-1839) completed the survey of 160 miles of coast
line, lying between the extreme points of Beechey and Franklin, and navigated the sea eastwards beyond the mouth of Back’s Great
Fish River, proving the existence of a continuous water-course from Behring’s Straits through 73° of longitude, as far eastward as the
ninety-fourth meridian.
3 The sailors, with their usual fondness for epithets, named the ship the “ Celestial Rainbow” and “ Franklin’s Paradise.”
SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.
297
Sir John council to the public, a practice soon afterwards followed
Franklin, by the older colony of New South Wales. He also ori-
ginated a college, endowing it largely from his private funds
with money and lands, in the hope that it would eventu¬
ally prove the means of affording to all parties secular and
religious instruction of the highest kind. At Sir John’s
request Dr Arnold selected a favourite pupil, the Rev. John
Philip Geil,1 to take the direction of this institution ; but
much opposition to the fundamental plan of the college was
made by various religious bodies, and after Sir John left
the colony the exclusive management of it was vested in
the Church of England, with free admission to the mem¬
bers of other persuasions. In his time also the colony of
Victoria was founded by settlers from Tasmania; and to¬
wards its close, transportation to New South Wales having
been abolished, the convicts from every part of the British
empire were sent to Tasmania. Up to the period of his
quitting the government this concentration had occasioned
no material inconvenience, neither was there at that time any
organized opposition to it. On an increase to the lieutenant-
governor’s salary being voted by the colonial legislature,
Sir John declined to derive any advantage from it personally,
while he secured the augmentation to his successor. In
1838 he founded a scientific society at Hobarton (now
called the “ Royal Society”). Its papers were printed at his
expense, and its meetings were held in Government House.
He had also the gratification of erecting in South Australia,
with the aid of the governor of that colony, a handsome
granite obelisk, dedicated and inscribed to the memory of his
former commanding officer, Captain Flinders, to whose dis¬
coveries we owe our earliest knowledge of that part of the
continent of Australia. It stands on a lofty hill, and serves
as a landmark to sailors. A magnetic observatory, founded
in 1840, at Hobarton, in connection with the head establish¬
ment under Colonel Sabine at Woolwich, was an object of
constant personal interest to Sir John ; and Tasmania being
the appointed refitting station of several expeditions of dis¬
covery in the Antarctic regions, he enjoyed frequent op¬
portunities of exercising the hospitality he delighted in, and
of showing his ardour in promoting the interests of science
whenever it lay in his power to do so. The lamented
Dumont d’Urville commanded the French expedition, and
Sir James Clark Ross the English one, consisting of the
Erebus and Terror. The surveying vessels employed in
those seas during that period came also in succession to
Hobarton—namely, the Beagle, Captain Wickham; the
Pelorus, Captain Harding; the Rattlesnake, Captain Owen
Stanley; the Beagle (2d voyage), Captain Stokes; and
the Fly, Captain Blackwood; all of whom, with the officers
under them, received from the lieutenant-governor a
brother sailor’s welcome. Thus pleasantly occupied, the
years allotted to a colonial governorship drew' towards a
close, and Sir John contemplated with no common satisfac¬
tion the advancing strides of the colony in material pros¬
perity ; but he was not destined to be spared one of those
deep mortifications to which every one is exposed, however
upright he may be in his conduct abroad, who is dependent
for support and approval on a chief at home that changes
with every party revolution. When Sir John was sent to
Tasmania, England had not yet recognised as an established
fact that the inhabitants of a colony are better judges of
their own interests, and more able to manage their own
affairs, than a bureaucracy in Downing Street, with a con¬
stantly shifting head, ill informed of the factious oli¬
garchies that infest colonies, and of the ties that connect
them with subordinate officials at home. Previous to leav¬
ing England Sir John was advised, and indeed instructed,
to consult the colonial-secretary of Tasmania in all matters
of public concern, as being a man of long experience, Sir j0hn
thoroughly acquainted with the affairs of the colony; and he Franklin,
found, on taking charge of his government, that this was a '
correct character of the officer next to himself in authority.
Mr Montagu was a man eminently skilful in the manage¬
ment of official matters, but he was also the acknowledged
head of a party in the colony bound together by family
ties, and possessing great local influence from the important
and lucrative situations held by its members, and the ex¬
tensive operations of a bank of which they had the chief
control. Party struggles ran high in the legislative coun¬
cil, and the lieutenant-governor’s position was one of great
delicacy, while the difficulty of his situation was vastly aug¬
mented through the practice of the officials in Downing
Street of encouraging private communications on public
measures from subordinate officers of the colony, and weigh¬
ing them with the despatches of the lieutenant-governor,
hor some years, by Sir John’s prudent conduct, the harmony
of the colonial executive was not interrupted ; but at a later
period the colonial secretary, having visited England, re¬
turned to Tasmania with greater pretensions, and com¬
menced a course of independent action, ever hostile to his
chief, subversive of the harmonious co-operation heretofore
existing, and thus injurious to the interests of the colony,
so that Sir John was under the necessity of suspending this
officer from his functions until the pleasure of Lord Stanley,
then secretary of state for the colonies, was known. Mr
Montagu immediately proceeded to England to state his
own case, and lie did it with such effect that Lord Stanley,
while admitting that the colonial secretary had acquired a
local influence which rendered “ his restoration to his office
highly inexpedient,”2 penned a despatch which is not un¬
justly characterized as a consummate piece of special plead¬
ing for Mr Montagu, whom it absolves, while it comments
on the lieutenant-governor’s proceedings in a style exceed¬
ingly offensive to a high-minded officer who had acted, as
he conceived, with the strictest regard to the public interests.
The extraordinary measure was also resorted to of instantly
furnishing Mr Montagu, then in attendance at Downing
Street, with a copy of this despatch, so that he was enabled
to transmit it to Hobarton, where it was exposed in the
Bank to public inspection. At the same time there was
circulated privately amongst the officers of the colonial
government and others a journal of his transactions with the
lieutenant-governor, and of his private communications with
members of Franklin’s family, which he had kept for years
while on terms of close social intercourse with them. This
volume having answered in England the purpose for which
it w'as intended, was now exhibited in the colony as con¬
taining an account of the subjects on which he stated he
had held conversations with Lord Stanley. All this took
place before the lieutenant-governor received official inti¬
mation of Lord Stanley’s decision. The recovery of a do¬
cument which had lain secluded in an office in the colony
enabled Sir John afterwards more fully to substantiate one
of the most important charges he had made, nevertheless
Lord Stanley refused to modify the terms he had employed,
or to make any concession calculated to soothe the wounded
feeling of an honourable and zealous officer. The arrival
of a new lieutenant-governor, the late Sir John Eardlev
Wilmot, bringing with him the first notice of his own ap¬
pointment, and consequently finding Sir John still in the
colony, served to show more strongly than could otherwise
have been done, the hold the latter had gained on the affec¬
tions of the colonists, and the verdict pronounced on Lord
Stanley’s despatch by the people, to whom all the merits of
the case were most fully known. Sir John, after three
months’ longer residence at Hobarton as a private indivi-
1 In later years he became Sir John’s son-in-law, as mentioned above.
Lord Stanley s despatch, 13th September 1842. Mr Montagu was promoted to be colonial secretary at the Cape of Good Hope.
VO I • X • o
298
Sir J ohn
Franklin.
sm JOHN FRANKLIN.
dual, waiting for a passage to England, during which time
he received addresses emanating from every district of the
colony, was attended to the place of embarkation by the
most numerous assemblage of all classes of people which
had ever been seen on those shores, the recently consecrated
Bishop of Tasmania1 walking at their head, along with the
new colonial secretary, the late Mr Bicheno, who for some
months had acted in the greatest harmony with Sir John.
A local paper, after describing the scene in much detail,
adds—“ Thus departed from among us as true and upright
a governor as ever the destinies of a British -colony were
entrusted to.” Years afterwards, when the enthusiasm or
party feelings could have no share in their proceedings,
the colonists showed their remembrance of his virtues in a
more substantial manner, as will be mentioned below. Sir
John, on receiving the secretary of state’s despatch, had
tendered his resignation, but his successor was appointed
before his letter could reach England, though, as we have
just said, his recall-despatch did not come to Tasmania till
some days after Sir Eardley’s arrival.
Owing to the fortunate rendezvous at Hobarton of the
scientific expeditions and surveying ships above named, as
well as of many of her Majesty’s vessels engaged in the
ordinary service of those seas, the intrigues of the family
faction and their supporters in the colony being matters ot
common discussion, became known to numbers of Sir
John’s brother officers, and a true estimate of the treat¬
ment he had received from the colonial minister was formed
by the profession to which he belonged. He found, there¬
fore, on reaching England, that the confidence of the Admi¬
ralty in his integrity and ability was undiminished, and this
was speedily shown by his appointment in 1845 to the
command of an expedition, consisting of the Erebus and
Terror, fitted out for the further discovery of the north¬
west passage. With an experienced second in command,
Captain Crozier, trained under Parry and James Ross from
1821 in the navigation of icy seas, a select body ol officers
chosen for their talent and energy, and excellent crews, in
ships as strong as art could make them, and well furnished,
Franklin sailed from England for the last time on the 26th
of May 1845. He was last seen by a whaler on the 26th
of July in Baffin’s Bay, at which time the expedition was
proceeding prosperously. Letters written by him a few
days previous to that date were couched in language of
cheerful anticipation of success, while those received from
his officers expressed their admiration of the seamanlike
qualities of their commander, and the happiness they had
in serving under him. In autumn 1847 public anxiety
began to be manifested for the safety of the discoverers, oi
whom nothing more had been heard; and searching expe¬
dition after expedition despatched in quest of them in 1848
and the succeeding years down to 1854, regardless of cost
or hazard, redound to the lasting credit of England. In
this pious undertaking Sir John’s heroic wife took the lead.
Her exertions were unwearied, she exhausted her piivate
funds in sending out auxiliary vessels to quarters not com¬
prised in the public search, and by her pathetic appeals she
roused the sympathy of the whole civilized world. France
sent her Bellot; the United States of America replied to
her calls by manning two searching expeditions, the ex¬
penses of which were borne by Mr Grinnel, a wealthy
private citizen of great humanity and liberality; and the
inhabitants of Tasmania subscribed L.1700, which they
transmitted to Lady Franklin as their contribution towards
the expense of the search. In August 1850 traces of the
missing ships were discovered, and it was ascertained that
their first winter had been spent behind Beechey Island,
where they had remained at least as late as April 1846.
Yet in spite of every exertion by the searching parties,
no further tidings were obtained until the spring of 1854, Sir John
when Dr Rae, then conducting an exploring party of the Franklin.
Hudson’s Bay Company, learnt from the Eskimos that in '
1850 white men, to the number of about forty, had been
seen dragging a boat over the ice near the north shore of
King William’s Island, and that later in the same season,
but before the breaking up of the ice, the bodies of the
whole party were found by the natives on a point lying at
a short distance to the north-west of Back’s Great Fish
River, where they had perished from the united effects of
cold and famine. These unfortunate men were identified
as the remnant of the crews of the Erebus and Terror by
numerous articles which the Eskimos had picked up at the
place where they perished, many of which Dr Rae pur¬
chased from that people and brought to England. Point
Ode is supposed by this gentleman to be the spot where
the bodies lie; and this summer (1855) Mr Anderson of
the Hudson’s Bay Company started from Great Slave Lake
to examine the locality, pay the last tribute of respect to
the dead, and collect any written papers that might remain
there or books and journals said to be in the hands of the
Eskimos. By considering the direction in which the party
that perished were travelling when seen by the natives, and
the small district that remains unexplored, we must come to
the conclusion that the ships were finally beset between the
70th and 72d parallels of latitude, and near the 100th me¬
ridian. Two entrances from the north may exist to this
part of the sea, one along the west coast of North Somerset
and Boothia, which is an almost certain one ; and the other,
which is more conjectural, may occupy the short unexplored
space between Captain Sherard Osborn’s and Lieutenant
Wynniatt’s extreme points. To approach this last strait, if
it actually exists, Cape Walker would be left on the eastern
side of the passing ships. It is a singular and most melan¬
choly fact, that the very limited district of the Arctic Sea thus
indicated, and which was specially adverted to in the origi¬
nal plan of search, is almost the only spot that has defied
the exertions of the skilful and persevering officers who
have attempted to explore it. Sir James Ross failed in
reaching it; it intervenes between the extremes of the
long and laborious journeys made by Captain Sheiaid
Osborn and Lieutenant Wynniatt. Dr Rae’s two attempts
to enter it were frustrated by the state of the ice and othei
circumstances, and Captain Collinson was also stopped short
on its southern side by the want of fuel. Lady Franklin had
sent out the Prince Albert for the express purpose of search¬
ing this quarter, but Mr Kennedy unfortunately, instead of
adhering to the letter of his instructions, trusted to a distant
view of the passage from the north, which seemed to him to be
closed, and turning to the west, made his memorable winter
journey through a space which, though he was ignoiant o
the fact at the time, had been previously examined.
With the utmost economy in its use, fuel would soon
become precious on board the Erebus and 1 error: and
it is probable that after three years one of the ships would
be broken up to furnish this essential article. Provisions
could not last longer without placing the crews on shoit
allowance, and to do so in that climate subjected them to
sure and destructive attacks of scurvy. Fish and venison,
it is true, might be procured in quantities sufficient to mo¬
dify these conclusions, but not to a great extent; and, be¬
yond all question, the numbers of the intrepid sailors wffio left
England in such health and spirits in 1845 had waned sadly
by the close of the season for operations in 1849. I he
forty men seen by the natives early in 1850 were doubtless
the only survivors at that date. Franklin, had he live
till then, would have been sixty-four years old, but no
one of that age was in the number seen by the natives.
Had he been then in existence, he would have taken an-
1 The erection of Tasmania into a see was promoted by Sir John’s exertions and representations.
FRA
Thomas other route on the abandonment of his ship, as no one
Franklin knew better than he the fatal result of an attempt to cross
ll that wide expanse of barren ground lying between the
^ rasca^u 0f the Great Fish River and the far-distant Hud-
son’s Bay post on the south side of Great Slave Lake,
Who can conjecture the reason that turned the steps of
the weary wanderers in that direction ? Perhaps the de¬
sire of solving the long-sought problem of a north-west
passage even then animated their emaciated frames, and it
is certain that they did solve it, though none of them lived
to claim the grateful applause of their countrymen. Later
in point of time, and in a higher latitude, Sir Robert
M‘Clure also filled up a narrow gap between previous dis¬
coveries, and so traced out the north-west passage by tra¬
velling over ice that has in the five several years in which
it has been attempted proved to be a barrier to ships. If
ever in the pursuit of whales, or for conveyance of mine¬
rals, commercial enterprise endeavours to force a north¬
west passage by steam, the southern route, whose last link
was forged by Franklin’s party with their lives, will un-
doubtingly be chosen. And it is to be deeply regretted
that the parliamentary committee in recommending the
grant ot public money to Sir Robert M'Clure, which his
courage and enterprise so well deserved, should have
omitted to mention the prior discovery made by the crews
of the Erebus and Terror.1
This sketch of Sir John Franklin’s character and public
services has been written by one who served long under
his command, who during upwards of twenty-five years of
close intimacy had his entire confidence, and in times of
great difficulty and distress, when all conventional disguise
was out of the question, beheld his calmness and unaffected
piety. If it has in some passages assumed the appearance
of eulogy, it has done so not for the purpose of unduly
exalting its subject, but from a firm conviction of the truth
of the statements. On the other hand, the writer has
abstained, in the only sentences in which it was necessary
to speak of opponents, from saying a single word more of their
1 conduct or motives than strict justice to Franklin’s memory
demanded. Franklin himself was singularly devoid of any
vindictive feeling. While he defended his own honour, he
would have delighted in showing any kindness in his power
to his bitterest foe; and in emulation of that spirit the pre¬
ceding pages have been penned. (j. r—n.)
Franklin, Thomas, the translator of Sophocles and
Lucian, was born in London in 1721. He was educated at
Westminster School, and afterwards at Cambridge, where
he became a fellow of Trinity College, and in 1750 profes¬
sor of Greek. After taking orders he obtained various minor
church appointments, and was at length made chaplain in
ordinary to George III. In the intervals of official duty he
found time to turn his classical knowledge to account by
translating the Epistles of Phalaris, and the whole works of
Sophocles and Lucian. His translation of Lucian (in which,
however, some of the dialogues are omitted) is the best
English version of that classic that has hitherto appeared ;
that of Sophocles is far from being equally happy. Franklin
also wrote a Dissertation on Ancient Tragedy, and an En¬
quiry into the Astronomy and Anatomy of the Ancients,
besides a variety of minor works, prose and poetical, pos¬
sessing small literary interest or value. He died in 1784.
FRASCATI, a town of the Papal States, 12 miles S. by
E. of Rome, on the declivity of a hill commanding an ex-
FRA 299
tensive prospect. The town itself is not in any way re- Fraser-
markable ; but the beauty of the vicinity, interspersed with burgh
numerous elegant villas, and the salubrity of the atmosphere, l(
annually attract numerous visitors from Rome and other1 ratrice1*1,
parts. On the summit of the hill, above the town, are the
ruins of the ancient Tusculum, the birthplace of Cato, and
the favourite residence of Cicero. Frascati took its rise in
the 13th century, after the destruction of Tusculum by the
Romans in 1191. Many of the older houses date from the
13th and 14th centuries; and the church of San Rocco,
formerly the cathedral of San Sebastian, and still called
the Duomo Vecchio, was built in 1309. The new cathe¬
dral was completed in 1700, and contains a monument to
Cardinal \ork, who was Bishop of Frascati, and another
erected by the cardinal to his brother Charles Edward, the
young pretender, who died here on 31st January 1788.
I he villa Rufinella, which formerly belonged to Lucien
Bonaparte, has within its precincts a hill called “Parnassus,”
on the slopes of which the names of celebrated ancient and
modern authors are planted in box. One of the most splendid
of the villas is the Aldobrandini: its grounds are adorned
with numerous fountains and water works. Pop. about 5000.
LRASERBURGH, a small but thriving sea-port town
of Scotland, Aberdeenshire, on the S. side of Kinnaird’s
Head, 42 miles N. of Aberdeen. It takes its name from
Sir Alex. Fraser of Philorth, who, in 1613, obtained for it a
charter as a burgh of regality, and whose representative.
Lord Saltoun, is now superior of the town. The same Sir
A. Fraser obtained in 1592 a charter for the institution and
endowment of a college and university here ; and at the
west end of the town is a quadrangular tower of three stories,
which formed part of the building designed for this seminary.
The intention was subsequently abandoned, probably from
want of funds. During the last war a large harbour was
constructed here as a refuge for British ships of war, which
might suffer from stress of weather in the North Sea. It
has an area of upwards of six acres, is easy of access, and
affords anchorage for vessels of every size. The town is
neatly built, nearly in the form of a square, and most of the
streets cross each other at right angles. The cross is a fine
structure of a hexagonal form, covering an erea of 500 feet,
and surmounted by a stone pillar 12 feet high, ornamented
by the British arms and the arms of Fraser of Philorth. The
herring fishery is actively prosecuted here. Pop. (1851)
3093.
FRATRICELLI, in Ecclesiastical History, an enthusi¬
astic sect of Franciscans which arose in Italy about the year
1294. The word is an Italian diminutive, signifying “little
brothers,” and was used as a term of derision, as most of
the sect were apostate monks, whom the Italians caAfratelli,
or fratricelli. For this reason the term, as a nickname,
was given to many others, such as the Catharists, the Wal-
denses, and the like, however different in their opinions or
in their conduct. But when applied to the austere part of
the Franciscans, the name was considered honourable.
The founders were P. Maurato and P. de Fossombroni,
who obtained of Pope Celestin V. permission to live in so¬
litude as hermits, and to observe the rule of St Francis in
all its rigour. They were joined by various idle vagabond
monks, who, living after their own fashion, and making all
perfection to consist in poverty, were soon condemned by
Pope Boniface VIII. and his successor.
It is said that no less than 2000 persons were burnt by
. 1 SPaijs an? Pieces of rail recognised as having belonged to the Erebus or Terror were picked up by Captain Collinson near his win-
with^riftTc111 ^ain*,rl^e ^a^’ an<^ are su®cient evidence of currents setting in that direction, through a passage encumbered doubtless
wn^n V'uy e^,:en®ive search f°r this ill-fated expedition has issued in a more complete exploration of those ice-encumbered seas than
up, 0 erwlse have been instituted; but an account of the operations connected therewith will be given hereafter under the head of
ent ar. eS10n£h ^ °ne thoroughly acquainted with the whole subject—one who, in the prosecution of daring and successful private
nnrp PriS®’ Preceded the modern “ arctic voyages'’ instituted by government, discovered much of the Greenland coast, and gained a higher
nortliern latitude than any former navigator. > j b &
300
Frauen-
burg
II
Frederick.
F II E
the Inquisition from 1318 to the time of Innocent VI. for
their inflexible attachment to the poverty of St Francis.
The severities against them were again revived towards the
close of the 15th century, by Pope Nicolas V. and his suc¬
cessors. However, all the persecutions which this sect en¬
dured were not sufficient to extirpate it; for it subsisted until
the times of the Reformation in Germany, when its remain¬
ing votaries embraced the doctrine and discipline of Luther.
FRAUENBURG, a town of Prussia, province of East
Prussia, and government of Kbnigsberg, on the Frische
Half. It is only remarkable as having been long the resi¬
dence of Copernicus, whose tomb is still to be seen in the
cathedral, of which he was a canon. The house in which
he resided is also shown. Pop. (1849) 2329.
FRAUNHOFER, Joseph von, a distinguished prac¬
tical optician, was born in 1787 at Straubing in Austria, and
died in 1826 at Munich. For a detailed account of his
discoveries and mechanical ingenuity, see art. Optics.
FRAUSTADT (Polish Wschowa), a town, capital of a
cognominal circle in the Prussian government of Posen, 50
miles S.S. W. of the town of that name. It has manufactures
of linen and woollen goods, hats, morocco leather, and gloves;
and a large trade in corn and cattle. Pop. (1849) 6291.
FREA, or Frigga, or Friga, the wife of Odin, was,
next to him, the most revered divinity among the Saxons,
Danes, and other northern nations, during the reign of hea¬
thenism. As Odin was believed to be the father, Frea was
esteemed the mother, of all the other gods. In ancient
times, Frea was the same with the goddess Herthus, or
Earth, who was so devoutly worshipped by the Angli am(
other German nations. But when Odin, the conqueror ot
the north, usurped the honours due only to the true Odin,
his wife Frea usurped those which had been formerly paid
to motber Earth. She was worshipped as the goddess oi
love and pleasure, who bestowed on her votaries a variety
of delights, particularly happy marriages and easy child-
births. To Frea the sixth day of the week was consecrated,
which still bears her name.
FREDERICIA, or Fridericia, a fortified town of Den¬
mark, Jutland, at the northern entrance of the Little Belt.
It is named after Frederick III., by whom it was founded
in 1615. A toll is collected here on all vessels passing the
Little Belt. Pop. (1850) 4326.
FREDERICK, the name of several electors of Branden¬
burg and kings of Prussia. By far the most remarkable
member of the royal family of Prussia is Frederick II., sur-
named the Great—the greatest king who in modern times
has succeeded by right of birth to a throne. He was the
son of Frederick-William I. and Sophia-Dorothea, princess
of Hanover, and was born January 24, 1712. His father,
Frederick-William, was a man of ill-regulated mind, but
possessing considerable administrative ability. He first con¬
ceived the idea of gaining for his country, by means of a
strong military organization, a place among the great Euro¬
pean powers quite out of proportion to its size and internal
resources. With this view he maintained, even in times of
peace, a force of 60,000 men, whom he trained to a perfec¬
tion of discipline unknown in Europe since the days ol the
Roman Republic. He took especial pride in collecting
tall soldiers. He bad crimps in every capital in Europe to
purchase gigantic recruits at prices more than three times
the salaries of his best-paid ambassadors. He took equal
delight in disciplining them, and indeed seems to have
thought that the whole business of life ought to consist in
drilling and being drilled. To defray the expenses of this
army he was obliged to exercise in the other departments of
government a strictness of economy that degenerated into
the most sordid avarice. Avarice, however, was one of the
most venial of his bad qualities. His nature was essentially
bad and coarse, even to brutality. Fie delighted to make
his power felt in the most galling manner, even by the
FEE
weakest and most harmless of his own subjects. He knew Frederick,
nothing of literature and the fine arts, and utterly despised
them both. He banished the celebrated scholar and philo¬
sopher Wolf from his dominions, because he ventured to
speculate on metaphysics, and almost made up his mind to
put an end to the Berlin Academy and the universities.
On the other hand, however, he encouraged all the indus¬
trial arts, and himself founded some of the richest manu¬
factories, and most famous hospitals and medical colleges,
of which Prussia has now to boast. His temper was violent
to savageness, and against none was it shown with more
ferocious cruelty than the young prince.
The education which the heir-apparent to the throne re¬
ceived from this parent was calculated to make him nothing
better than a good drill-serjeant. But he had the good
fortune when a boy to be allowed the society of a French
lady, whose mother-tongue he speedily picked up ; and his
first tutor, M. Duhan, succeeded in early imbuing his mind
with a love of polite literature. In the society of these per¬
sons, and his own mother and sister, Frederick enjoyed a pre¬
carious immunity from the tyrannical maltreatment of his
father. Reduced at length to despair by the misery of his
condition, the young prince determined to fly to England,
and seek shelter at the court of his maternal uncle. He
communicated his design to the only two friends he ever had,
Keith and a young lieutenant by name Katt. 1 he plot was
discovered. Keith escaped in safety to Holland. Katt was
taken and hung before the eyes of his royal comrade. Frede¬
rick himself was oidy saved from a like fate by the urgent in¬
tercession of the emperor of Austria, the kings of Sweden and
Poland, and the States of Holland. He was merely confined
as a state prisoner in the castle of Custrin, where he was de¬
tained till he had nearly completed his twenty-first year.
The treatment he had undergone had soured his temper and
hardened his heart, but it had also matured his understand¬
ing, and made him an adept in the arts of dissimulation. He
affected to submit himself in all things to the will of his
father ; and in 1733, in token of this submission, accepted
as a wife at his father’s orders the Princess Elizabeth Chris¬
tina, daughter of Frederick Albrecht, duke of Brunswick
Bevern, who was his wife in name only, lill the death of
the king in 1740 the favourite residence of the crown-prince
was at Rheinsberg, on the frontiers ot Mecklenburg. There
he surrounded himself with a select literary society, consist¬
ing chiefly of Frenchmen, and solaced his leisure hours with
his flute, of which he was a perfect master. He also kept
up a correspondence with a number of eminent foreign
literati, especially with Voltaire, and this correspondence
afterwards led to strange results. In his retreat at Rheins¬
berg Frederick wrote an immense quantity of prose and
verse, which he sent to Voltaire to correct and prepare foi
press. The most notable of these compositions is the Anti-
Machiavel, a refutation of the Principe ol the great Floren¬
tine diplomatist, in which that policy is condemned with
especial severity which the writer pursued from the very
day he assumed the Prussian crown. Early in the yeai
1740 Frederick-William died, and Frederick, who had just
entered on his twenty-ninth year, ascended the throne. He
found the treasury full, the army in the most perfect disci¬
pline, and the commerce and manufactures ol the country
flourishing and prosperous. The splendid army, which the
old king had collected merely for the purpose ot looking
at, his successor determined to turn to practical account as
soon as an opportunity offered. And such a chance was not
long of presenting itself. The Pragmatic Sanction had
guaranteed Maria Theresa in the peaceful succession to all
her father’s dominions, and none of the potentates who
signed that instrument had been more profuse of hispioles-
sions to abide by its terms than Frederick. He was now the
very first to perjure himself by violating them. Availing
himself of the fact that Silesia had originally belonged to the
FREDERICK.
ederick. house of Brandenburg, he poured his troops into that pro-
 v-,7 vince in 1740, and possessed himself of it before his hostile
intentions were declared or even suspected. In the fol¬
lowing spring the Austrians advanced in force to the relief
of such strongholds as still held out. Frederick met them
at Mollwitz, and after an obstinate engagement the steadi¬
ness and discipline of the Prussian troops carried the day,
and the Austrians fled, leaving 8000 men on the field of
battle. The victory was not due either to the generalship
or personal gallantry of Frederick himself. He had taken
command of the cavalry, which had been put to flight early
in the action, and, believing that all was lost, had fled
with his staff many miles from the scene of action. The
victory was really gained by Marshal Schwerin and the
Prussian infantry. The success of Frederick tempted the
other powers who had had a share in the Pragmatic Sanc¬
tion to imitate his example, in the hope of profiting like
him by the dismemberment of the Austrian empire. The
French and Bavarians entered Bohemia, and were joined
by the Saxons. Prague was taken ; and Frederick, for
the second time, inflicted a signal defeat on the Austrian
troops at Czaslau, May 17, 1742. By the advice of the
English, Maria Theresa resolved to negotiate with Fre¬
derick, the most active and dangerous of her enemies.
She consented to cede to him Upper and Lower Silesia,
and some outlying portions of her wide dominions. Fre¬
derick abandoned his allies ; Saxony soon followed his ex¬
ample ; and the empress-queen, now at liberty to concen¬
trate her forces against the French and Bavarians, speedily
drove these invaders across the frontiers. Alarmed, how¬
ever, at the successes of the Austrians, Frederick once more
played the traitor, allied himself with France, and, before
his intentions could be guessed, marched through Saxony
into Bohemia, took Prague, and threatened Vienna. But
he was compelled to retreat as suddenly as he had advanced ;
but on the 4th of June 1745 he defeated the combined
forces of the Austrians and Saxons at Hohenfriedberg in
Silesia, and shortly after at Sorr in Bohemia. The result
of these victories was to confirm Frederick in the posses¬
sion of Silesia; while he acknowledged Francis of Lorraine,
husband of Maria Theresa, as emperor of Germany. To the
second Silesian war, brought to a close by the treaty of
Dresden in 1745, succeeded a peace of eleven years. During
this interval Frederick was not idle. He reformed and sim¬
plified judicial proceedings in all parts of his kingdom, and
with the aid of his chancellor Cocceii drew up the Frederi-
cian code. He fostered the arts and manufactures as zealously
as his own father had done; and though his great military ex¬
penditure prevented him from maintaining a navy, yet he se¬
cured the right of free navigation for Prussian merchantmen.
In the intervals of public business, which he transacted
without ministers and with the assistance of only a few
clerks, he found time to write a history of the House of
Brandenburg, which possesses very considerable literary
merit; and a didactic poem on the art of war, which is still
highly valued. These, like all his other compositions, are
written in French, which language he employed to the utter
exclusion of his native tongue. Of German he always spoke
with the bitterest contempt, and it has been said that he
barely knew enough of that tongue to swear correctly at his
grenadiers when they made some false moves on parade.
His rigid economy did not prevent him from expending
large sums of money in gratifying his taste for architec¬
ture; and the splendid palaces of Berlin and Potsdam remain
to attest his munificence in this respect. Some of the most
splendid buildings in his kingdom were set apart for the
accommodation of his troops, which now numbered 160,000
men. This splendid army was not destined to remain long
inactive. In the month of August 1756 began the Seven
Years’ War. The causes that led to it are rather to be
sought in the intense aversion and fear with which Frede-
301
rick was personally regarded by his continental neighbours. Frederick.
Diplomatic skill readily suggested some more specious pretext
for deluging Europe with blood. Frederick’s agents at the
various continental courts made him aware of the storm that
was brewing. He saw that he could appeal for help to England
alone; and his claims even upon her were none of the strongest.
With a prudent temerity he resolved to anticipate his enemies,
and strike the first blow. Saxony was overrun with 60,000
Prussian troops; Dresden was taken; Pirna invested; and
Marshal Brown, the Austrian commander, who was hasten¬
ing through Bohemia to its relief, was met by Frederick at
Lowositz and utterly defeated. Returning to Pirna, Fre¬
derick made himself master of it, and half compelled, half
persuaded the Saxon garrison to enlist under his banner.
The approach of winter put an end to hostilities ; but the
advantage of the first campaign lay decidedly with Frederick.
Early in 1757 the Prussian troops were marched into Bo¬
hemia; and on the 6th May the Austrians under Brown were
routed with great slaughter at Prague. Leaving a large
force behind him to invest the Bohemian capital, Frederick
pushed on to attack the army of Daun, which lay encamped
in an almost impregnable position at Kolin. After a pro¬
tracted and bloody engagement, Frederick was driven back,
and compelled to evacuate Bohemia. The position of the
Prussian king was at this time desperate. His army had
lost its prestige ; the members of his own family had begua
to lose their confidence in himself; Europe was in arms
against him ; the English, his only allies, had been defeated
by the French at Hastembeck ; and his mother, whom he
really loved, had just died. His own resolution had nearly
given way under these accumulated disasters ; and he se¬
riously thought of poison as an escape from his misery.
After a short interval, however, his mind recovered its tone,
and he was once more steeled against all the reverses of
fortune. Collecting his forces once more, he descended
like an avalanche upon the combined armies of France and
Austria, which he annihilated at Rosbach. Without a mo¬
ment’s delay he flew to Silesia, routed the Austrians, first
at Lissa, and still more signally at Leuthen, where he
achieved his most glorious victory, recovered Breslau, and
expelled the Austrians from Silesia. England marked her
sense of Frederick’s gallantry by contributing an annual
grant of L.700,000 towards the expenses of the war; and
this subsidy soon enabled the Prussian king to repair the
gaps which his numerous battles made in his ranks. I he
campaign of 1758 was signalized by a splendid but dearly-
bought victory over the Russians at Zorndorf, and by some
minor engagements, in which Frederick was less fortu¬
nate ; and that of the following year by the battle of
Kunersdorf, in which, though at first victorious, he was
finally defeated with great loss. Berlin next fell into the
hands of the enemy, and was only saved from plunder by a
heavy ransom. Next spring, however, fortune once more
smiled on the Prussian king, who relieved Berlin, and drove
the Austrians out of Saxony, after a sanguinary conflict at
Torgau. During the winter of that year he repaired his
losses as usual, and in spring presented an unbroken front
to his many foes. His army, however, was very inferior to
what it had been, and his position was hourly becoming
more critical. He had actually begun once more to be¬
think himself of taking poison, when the death of the czarina
of Russia, and the accession of Peter III., an enthusiastic
admirer of Frederick, completely changed the aspect of
affairs. Peace was at once concluded with Russia and
Sweden. Being thus freed from his most formidable foes,
Frederick was free to concentrate his forces against the
Austrians, whom he routed at Buckersdorf, and drove for
the last time out of Silesia. Danger now began to menace
the house of Hapsburg from another quarter. The Turks
had assembled a mighty army on the frontiers of Hungary,
and were threatening Vienna; and in February 1763 the
302 FEE
Frederick, peace of Hubertsburg put an end to the Seven Years’ War.
W"'/-'*'-'' Frederick yielded nothing. Silesia has ever since his day
been an appanage of the Prussian crown.
After an absence of six years, Frederick entered Berlin
in triumph. The houses were splendidly illuminated, and
the multitude greeted him with acclaim as he rode through
the streets. With unremitting energy he set himself to
repair the losses and devastation caused by the war. Fie
distributed corn from his own magazines both for seed and
food, rebuilt the houses (of v/hich fifteen thousand had been
burned to the ground), and apportioned his ca.valry and ar¬
tillery horses among the farmers for the tillage of the soil.
Silesia and Pomerania were exempted from all taxes for a
certain term of years. The bank of Berlin was instituted,
canals were constructed, and manufactories erected with va¬
rious privileges from the king ; and though the true principles
of commerce do not seem to have been well understood, he
did his best to restore and promote the ruined trade of Prussia.
In 1772 he agreed to the first partition of Poland, and
in 1778 incorporated the Franconian principalities, thus
making large and valuable accessions to his power. In 1785
he organized the famous “ Fiirstenbund,” which frustrated
the attempts of the Austrian emperor to exchange the
Low Countries for Bavaria; and in the following year
concluded a commercial treaty with the United States of
America. Though his career was now drawing to a close, he
still bestowed as much time and care on the details of govern¬
ment as he had done in the prime of life, and persisted in this
policy till within two days of his death, which happened on
the 17th August 1786, after he had entered on the seventy-
fifth year of his age, and the forty-seventh of his reign.
Frederick comes before posterity to be judged in the two¬
fold capacity of author and ruler. Even though he had
never distinguished himself in the political world, his claims
to posthumous renown as a writer would have been entitled
to a careful consideration. Some of his compositions we
have already alluded to. Though his most elaborate works,
they were not such as he prided himself most upon. He
believed himself to be a poet, and was as sensitive on the
subject of his verses as the humblest poetaster. We have
already mentioned Frederick’s partiality for everything
French. He even adopted the French tongue in pre¬
ference to his own, and used it as the vehicle of his thoughts
in all his works prose and poetical. Like all writers who
have written in a tongue of which they have not the full
command, Frederick seldom rises above mediocrity in his
poetical effusions. Even had he been thorough master of
any one form of speech, it is doubtful if he would ever have
attained particular distinction as a poet. The “ vision and
the faculty divine” were not his. He had plenty of wit,
chiefly of the satirical kind, and no small abundance of ideas;
but he lacked the fancy, the imagination, and the refinement
of thought which go to make the real poet. In his prose
works he shows to far greater advantage. Besides those
formal works which have been already characterized, he
wrote a vast number of letters, which have been published
among his posthumous writings, and form on the whole the
most readable and agreeable of his works. They are always
sensible, direct, and concise, and, considering the position
of the author, very fair and impartial. Not the least inter¬
esting in the collection are those addressed to Voltaire, whom
atone time he almost worshipped as a demigod, and at another
branded as a knave and rascal. The whole episode, indeed,
of Frederick’s connection with the patriarch of French litera¬
ture is one of the most interesting, amusing, and humiliat¬
ing in the history of letters.
But Frederick the ruler was a very different being from
Frederick the author. Except Cromwell, no such governor
had appeared in Europe since the days of the old Planta-
genets ; and in the history of the last two hundred years,
no single name stands higher than his, but that of the first
F R E
Napoleon. Like Napoleon, Frederick in his youth professed Frederick
himself a warm admirer of constitutional governments, and ||
upheld them as the model of a well-governed state. But he Fred^icks-
was at heart a tyrant in the old Greek sense of that term, and bor§-
the single aim of all his policy was to establish a tyrannis that
should be feared and respected throughout Europe. How
successfully he carried out his plan is shown by the results he
achieved. The kingdom he received from hisfather comprised
only about 2000 German square miles, and only took rank as
a fifth-rate power in Europe. When he died, he bequeathed
it to his successor almost doubled in extent, and ranking on
equal terms with the oldest and most powerful of the sur¬
rounding monarchies. In adapting his means to this end,
he was as unscrupulous as a Jesuit. In his proclamations,
issued before the Seven Years’ War, he paraded, for form’s
sake, his ancient claims on Silesia ; but in his memoirs he
coolly describes his real motives when he says, “ Ambition,
interest, and the desire of making people talk about me
carried the day, and I decided for war.” The barren glory
of military renown was little to his taste unless he saw a
fair prospect of securing some solid advantage from the con¬
fusion of a general European war ; and he always managed
to balance his opponents so nicely against each other, that
whoever lost he was sure to be a gainer. To say nothing
of the strong imprint of his own character which he left
upon his nation, the material advantages which his policy
secured for it were such as to make Prussia the envy of
surrounding nations. Besides the increase of territory
already mentioned, Frederick left his successor ten millions
sterling in the exchequer, and not a farthing of national
debt, an army of 200,000 of the best disciplined troops in
the world, and a contented people enjoying wholesome laws
and a fairly administered judicial system.
As is often the case with men brought up under the stern
rigour of an unreasoning fanaticism, Frederick became in
his old age an avowed disbeliever in revelation ; and though
he was fond of speculating on natural religion, he does not
seem to have had any fixed or definite ideas on the subject.
Flis early training had soured his temper as well as blunted
his religious sensibilities; and to this must be attributed
many of the acts of harshness and cruelty with which he
has been taxed, especially in the discipline of his army.
I he severity of his discipline was such as sometimes led to
strange consequences. The royal guard at Potsdam found
it so intolerable that they preferred death to life. As, how¬
ever, by the tenets of their church, suicide was looked upon
as an unpardonable sin, they were led to commit what they
considered the more venial sin of murder, and always selected
as a victim some young and innocent child. They thus
gained their object, which was to die without committing
suicide. The cases of child-murder by soldiers of the guard
became at length so numerous that it was found necessary
to devise some means to put a stop to the practice which
the punishment had failed to do. The penalty was changed
to branding and lashing, and from that day the murders
ceased. If, however, Frederick was often guilty of cruelty,
the recorded instances of his clemency and generosity are
still more numerous and striking.—(Lifa of Frederic the
Great, by Lord Dover ; Memoirs of the Court of Prussia,
by Dr Edward Vehse ; Essay on Frederic the Great, by
T. B. Macaulay ; &c», &c.)
FREDERICK, a city, capital of a cognominal county in
the state of Maryland, North America, stands on the Carroll
Creek, a tributary of the Monocacy, 63 miles W.N.W. of
Annapolis. It is well and regularly built, and being situ¬
ated in a rich agricultural district it carries on an extensive
trade. It is connected by a branch with the Baltimore
and Ohio railway. The public buildings include a court¬
house, county jail, market-house, and a college chartered in
1850. Pop. (1850) 6028.
FREDERICKSBORG, a village in the island of Zea-
F R E
Fredericks-land, 20 miles N.N.W. of Copenhagen. It has a castle
burgh built in the commencement of the seventeenth century by
ll Christian IV. after a plan of Inigo Jones, and now the usual
Freehold. surnmer residence of the royal family.
FREDERICKSBURGH, a post-town in the state of
Virginia, on the S.W. side of the Rappahannock river, 110
miles above its mouth in Chesapeake Bay, and 60 miles N.
of Richmond. The river being thus far navigable, large
quantities of tobacco, corn, and flour are exported. Pop.
(1850) 4062.
FREDERICKSHALD, or Frederickshall, a mari¬
time town of Norway, stift of Aggerhuus, at the influx of
the Tistedaelf into the Idefiord, 57 miles S.S.E. of Christi¬
ania. It is noted for its strong castle of Frederickstein,
which stands on a perpendicular rock 350 feet high over¬
hanging the sea, and is considered one of the strongest for¬
tresses in Europe. It was at the siege of this fortress that
Charles XII., king of Sweden, was killed on 11th Decem¬
ber 1718. The town itself is not walled. It was almost
totally destroyed by fire in 1759, and has since been rebuilt
in a neat and regular manner. Pop. 4000.
FREDERICKTON, the capital of New Brunswick.
See New Brunswick.
FREDRO, Maximilian, a celebrated Polish author who
died in 1676. He was Palatine of Podolia, and spent his
life in the service of his country, in the council as well as
in the camp, in both of which he occupied many important
posts. His works are written chiefly in Latin, and are full
of interesting details both on war and politics; while the
vigour and conciseness of his style have procured for him the
name of the “ Polish Tacitus.”
His principal works are—Proverbs and Counsel, Moral, Political,
and Military, in Polish ; Considerations on the Military Service, also
in Polish ; Vir Consilii Monitis Ethicorum, nec non prudential civilis
discendum instructus; Monita Politico-Moralia et Icon ingeniorum ;
Militarium seu axiomatum belli ad harmonium togce accommodatorum
libri; Fragmenta Scriptorum togce et belli. The first-mentioned work
is that upon which chiefly rests the reputation of Fredro, whose
thorough knowledge of the world appears in every sentence.
FREE BENCH is that estate which, by the particular
custom of the manor, the widow becomes entitled to on
the decease of the husband, in his copyhold lands and tene¬
ments. Anciently the term was equally applicable to that
which the husband becomes entitled to on the decease of
the wife ; but of later days the estate of the husband has been
denominated his curtesy, while the term freebench has been
confined to the widow’s estate. (See Watkins on Copyholds.)
FREEBOOTERS (Fr. jlibustiers), a name given to a
class of piratical adventurers of all nations, but especially
of France and England, who have obtained a place in his¬
tory by the courage and intrepidity they displayed in exe¬
cuting the most difficult enterprizes. The origin of their
history is involved in obscurity, nor has the derivation of
their name been precisely determined; but the JUbustiers
of the French historians correspond to the bucaneers of our
own writers. (See Bucaneers.) The South American
islands formed the chief theatre of their exploits ; and such
was the relentless hostility they exercised against the Spa¬
niards, that during the latter half of the seventeenth cen¬
tury their commerce in those seas was almost utterly ruined.
At the commencement of the following century these daring
adventurers sustained a series of disasters which sensibly
diminished their numbers; and their name, which during a
period of fifty years had been so redoubtable and dreaded,
ceased to be formidable from that time. The term free¬
booter has been applied in a general sense to robbers and
other plunderers.
FREE CHURCH. See Britain, vol. v., p. 669; and
Presbyterianism.
FREEDMAN, a man who has been a slave, and is manu¬
mitted. See Libertus, and Slavery.
FREEHOLD, Frank Tenement {liberum tenementum),
ERE 303
is land or tenement which a man holds in fee-simple, fee- Free
tail, or for a term of life. Freehold is of two kinds, in deed ‘mPerial
and in law. The first is the real possession of land or te- Cljjies
nement in fee, fee-tail, or for life; the other is the right to Freiberg.
such land or tenement before entry or seizure. v ^ ^ _.L i
Freehold is sometimes taken in opposition to villenage.
Lambard observes, that land, in the time of the Saxons,
was distinguished into bochland, i.e. holden by book or
writing ; and folkland, i.e. held without writing: the former
was held on far better condition, and by the better sort of
tenants, as noblemen and gentlemen, being such as we now
call freehold; the latter for the most part in possession of
peasants, being held by them as tenants at will.
FREE IMPERIAL CITIES. This appellation was
bestowed, under the German empire, on certain cities which
acknowledged no head but the emperor and were governed
by their own magistrates. Some of these cities, as Worms
and Cologne, acquired various privileges and immunities at
an early period, in consequence of the assistance they ren¬
dered the emperors in repressing the arrogance of the nobles;
and commerce and manufactures gradually contributed to
their importance. In this manner the imperial cities ori¬
ginated in the middle of the twelfth century. It would ap¬
pear, however, that there were free cities in Germany
which had existed from the time of the Romans, though
possessing little in common with those of later times, and
which in the beginning of the sixteenth century lost their
most valuable privileges, and even the name of free cities,
through the ignorance and carelessness of their magistrates.
As to the nature of these privileges it will be sufficient to
remark that they were such as to constitute them nothing
less than independent republics. The cities of Lombardy,
enriched by commerce and encouraged by the popes, often
ventured to resist their masters the emperors; and their
example was followed by those of Germany. In the middle
of the thirteenth century two important confederacies were
established for common objects—the Hanseatic League in
1241, and that of the Rhenish cities in 1246. The power¬
ful Hanseatic League lasted nearly 400 years, and its disso¬
lution was effected by several causes in 1630. The rem¬
nants of this league, with the former confederacy of cities
which had its representatives in the German diet, as well as
the free cities of Hamburg, Bremen, and Lubeck were in¬
corporated with the French empire in 1810. As these cities
co-operated vigorously in the recovery of German indepen¬
dence, they were acknowledged, together with Francfort, as
free cities by the congress of Vienna; and as such they
joined the German confederacy, June 8, 1815, and obtained
the right of a vote in the diet. (See also Hanse Towns.)
FREEMASONRY. See Masonry, Free.
FREESTONE, sandstone; so called from the facility
with which it may be cut or wrought.
FREEWILL Islands, three small islands in the East¬
ern Seas, discovered by Captain Carteret in 1767, and al¬
most entirely surrounded by a reef, except on the east, where
there is a narrow passage that will admit a canoe. Long.
137. 51. E., Lat. 0. 50. S.
FREEZING, and Freezing Mixtures, see Cold, vol.
vii., p. 101.
FREIBERG, the mining capital of Saxony, stands on
the Miinzbach, not far from its confluence with the Mulde,
and 19 miles S.W. of Dresden. It is an ancient imperial
city, and was long the residence of the Saxon princes, who
bestowed upon it many important privileges. The town is
well built, paved, and lighted, and is still surrounded by its
old walls. It is the seat of the general administration of
the mines throughout the kingdom, and owes its rise to
the discovery of its silver mines in the twelfth century.
Its celebrated academy was founded in 1765, and is fre¬
quented by students from all parts of Europe. These are
instructed in the practice as well as the theory of mining,
304 F R E
Freiburg, and enjoy great facilities for study from the extensive col-
lections of minerals and models, and the library connected
with the academy. Among its distinguished scholars it
reckons Werner (who was also a professor here), Humboldt,
Mohs, and Jameson. The centennial birthday of Werner
was celebrated here with great pomp on 25th September
1850. Freiberg has also a high mining school, gymnasium,
normal seminary, orphan asylum, theatre, &c. The old
castle of Freudenstein or Freistein. situated in one of its
suburbs, is now used as a corn magazine. The cathedral
is an elegant Gothic edifice of the fifteenth century—hav¬
ing a richly adorned portal in the Byzantine style, called
the Golden Gate. It contains numerous monuments, among
which is one in memory of Prince Maurice of Saxony, who
fell in the battle of Siever-shausen in 1553, and another to
Werner, who is interred here. In the Lady Chapel adjoin¬
ing, are the remains of Henry the Pious and his successors,
down to Johann Georg IV. who died in 1694. Freiberg has
extensive manufactures of gold and silver lace, woollen cloths,
linen and cotton goods, lace, iron, copper, and brass wares,
shot, gunpowder, white-lead, &c. It. has also several large
breweries. In the vicinity are about 130 mines of silver,
lead, copper, cobalt, &c., giving employment to upwards of
5000 miners. At Halsbriicke, 3 miles from the town, are
extensive smeltingworks and foundries. Pop.(1849) 14,151.
FREIBURG or Freyburg, a city in the grand duchy
of Baden, capital of the circle of the Upper Rhine, on the
Dreisam, and on the Basle and Mannheim railway, 40 miles
N. by E. of the former town. The town is generally well-
built, having several wide and handsome streets and some
squares. Its old fortifications have been replaced by fine
public walks and vineyards. It is the seat of an archbishop,
and has a Catholic university founded in 1457, with a library
of 100,000 volumes, a botanic garden, and a museum of
natural history. Among the public buildings are the palaces
of the grand duke and the archbishop, the custom-house,
exchange, theatre, town-hall, museum, house of correction,
&c. The charitable establishments include a foundling
hospital, orphan asylum, military hospital, and a blind asylum.
The cathedral or minster is considered one of the finest
and most perfect specimens of Gothic architecture in Ger¬
many, being alike remarkable for the delicate symmetry of
its proportions and the good taste of its decorations. It
was begun towards the middle of the twelfth century, and
was not completed till 160 years afterwards. The tower
is 386 feet high, exhibiting a skilful transition from a square
base into an octagon, which is surmounted by a pyramidal
spire of the most exquisite open-work tracery of stone, of
extreme boldness as well as lightness. The edifice is of
red sandstone, and contains some stained glass-windows of
great beauty, statues of Berchtold V., and other dukes of
Zahringen, and paintings by Holbein, Grun, and other ar¬
tists. In the centre of the square called the fish-market is
a fountain surmounted by a statue of Duke Berthold III.
of Zahringen, the founder of the city. The manufactures
of the town consist of chicory, chemicals, soap, starch, po¬
tash, leather, tobacco, and musical instruments. Freiburg
was long the capital of the landgraviate of Breisgau. Pop.
(1846) 15,380.
Freiburg, Freyburg, or Friburg, also called Fri-
burg im Uchland, a canton of Switzerland. It is bounded
on the N. and E. by the canton of Bern, on the S. and W.
by Vaud, and on the N.W. by Lake Neuchatel. The
detached portions are entirely surrounded by the canton o(
Physical Vaud. The canton of Freiburg belongs to the basin of
features, the Aar, and is drained from S. to N. by the river Saane
or Sarine, an affluent of the Aar. The southern part of
the canton is very mountainous, being covered with off¬
shoots of the Alps which separate the waters falling into
the Rhone and Lake Leman from those flowing into the
river Aar. The general direction of the surface slope of the
ERE
canton is towards the N. and N.W. down to the- plains Freiburg,
skirting the lakes Neuchatel and Morat, with a small por- v
tion declining southwards towards the Lake of Geneva.
In the S. or most elevated part of this canton, along the
left bank of the Saane, are the Moleson and the Dent de
Jaman, on the confines of Vaud, respectively 6710 and
4500 feet above sea-level. On the right bank of the same
stream are the Dent de Branleire and Mont Berra, re¬
spectively 7740 and 5310 feet high. Near the head of Rivers,
the Sanetsch Pass, the most westerly in the Bernese Alps,
rises the Saane, which flows N. through the middle of the
canton ; and on approaching the village of Saanen, turning
a few miles W. in Vaud, it resumes its first direction, crosses
the canton of Freiburg, flows through the towns of Gru-
yere and Freiburg, and falls into the Aar below Laupen,
after a rapid course of about 72 miles. The valley of
Bellegarde expands below Gruyere, where the Charmey
joins the Saane as an affluent. Besides the Saane, which
drains two-thirds of the canton, there is the Broye, which,
flowing northward, and crossing the W. part of the canton,
falls into Lake Morat, whence again it issues, and empties
itself into Lake Neuchatel. From the nature, elevation, Climate,
and inclination of the surface of Freiburg, as might be soil, &c.
expected, the climate is cold in winter, and subject to very
sudden changes in spring and autumn. The pasture is
excellent, both natural and artificial; and the crops most
successfully cultivated are wheat, oats, rye, barley, potatoes,
and tobacco in small quantities. Near the lakes of Neu¬
chatel and Morat, vines and other fruit-trees are cultivated,
and forest timber is abundant, and much used as fuel. The Animals,
domestic animals are horses, cows, sheep, goats, and pigs,
which are not only numerous in proportion to the extent ot
the canton, but of excellent breeds: the horses and cows
are the best breeds in Switzerland. Dairy husbandry is
thoroughly understood; and the cheeses made in this
canton are the best of their kind. On the banks of the Produce
Upper Saane, and in the Charmey valley, are manufac- and manu'
tured the cheeses known as Gruyere, of which about 30,000 factllie?'
cwt. are produced every year. Coal is raised in Belle-
garde valley, and turf cut on the marshes of Morat. Some
small paper-mills, iron-works, and glass-works are in opera¬
tion ; and, besides, there are some inconsiderable manu¬
factures of tobacco, kirschwasser (cherry water), leather, and
straw hats. The streams abound with carp, trout, eels,
tench, pike, &c.; and of game there are in abundance wild
ducks, woodcocks, red partridges, hares, and chamois.
About 200 elementary schools, attended by 8000 pupils, Schools,
are in active operation, and a normal school for the train¬
ing of teachers. With the exception of the district of
Morat, the Roman Catholic religion is universal over this
canton. Since the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1847, there
is no reliable information to be had in reference to the
college of Freiburg, which was till then under their care,
and attended by upwards of 500 students. There is a
Protestant college at Morat. The line of demarcation be- Language,
tween the French and the German languages passes
through this canton, the greater number of the people
using the French patois, while the rest speak a very corrupt
German dialect. In the upper valley of the Saane the
dialect is one of the Romansche language. The educated,
however, all speak French.
Until the eleventh century the canton of Freiburg formed History,
part of the kingdom of Burgundy ; but since that time it
wras held by the hereditary dukes of Zahringen, one of
whom, Berthold IV., built in 1179 the town of Freiburg
(“ freetown”), on which he conferred a municipal govern¬
ment, thus rendering it independent of the neighbouring
feudal lords. After the extinction of the house of Zah¬
ringen, this canton passed under the house of Kyburg, and
thence to that of Hapsburg, one of whom, Rudolph, the
founder of the Austrian dynasty, confirmed and enlarged
JYeiburg.
'lovern-
nent.
Chief
towns.
F R E
the liberties of Freiburg in 1274. At that time the terri¬
tory now called Alte Landschaft, “ the old country,” com¬
prehended the entire canton. In 1450, when Freiburg
was assailed by Bern and the other Swiss cantons, the
reigning duke, Albrecht of Austria, released the inhabit¬
ants from their oath of allegiance, and they remained for
some years under the protection of the dukes of Savoy. In
1481, having taken part with the Swiss against Charles the
Bold, Freiburg was recompensed by being taken into the
confederacy as a sovereign canton or state. By that and
the subsequent wars Freiburg has attained its present
territorial extent. Until December 1830, the government
was like that of Bern—a popular municipality. At that
date, however, a new constitution was formed, by which all
natives of the canton aged 25 years, and being neither
servants nor in the service of a foreign state, have the right
of voting in the primary assemblies which choose the
electors in the proportion of 1 to 100 of the inhabitants.
The electors assemble in electoral colleges in the chief
town of the district, and elect the members to the great
Council of the Canton in the proportion of 1 to 1000 of
the inhabitants. The members thus elected are appointed
for nine years, and they meet twice a year, in May and
November. The Great Council again appoints the Coun¬
cil of State or executive, consisting of 13 members for
eight years; and the Court of Appeal, consisting of thir¬
teen judges appointed for life. The president of the Coun¬
cil of State is elected by its members for two years.
Freiburg returns five members to the National Council,
under the new Swiss constitution, for its federal and gene¬
ral government.
Besides Freiburg, the capital, the other principal towns
are Morat, Bulle, Gruyere, Romont, and Staefs, the inha¬
bitants of which are respectively 1698, 1514, 400, 1400,
and 1800. Morat (or Murten) on the bank of the Lake
of Morat or the Murtenzee, contains a college, a public
library, an hospital, an orphan asylum, and a castle built in
the thirteenth century. The Lake of Morat is about five
miles long by two in breadth, and about 170 feet in depth.
Bulle is the chief depot for Gruyere cheese, and stands
midway between Freiburg and Vevay, being about nine¬
teen miles from each. Gruyere stands at a short distance
from Bulle, near the left bank of the Saane or Sarine, and
on a hill, of which the top is crowned with a feudal castle,
still in good preservation. The area of Freiburg is 566
English square miles, occupied by a population (in 1850)
of 99,891, of whom 91,125 were citizens of the canton,
7373 citizens of other cantons, and 1335 foreigners; 87,753
being Roman Catholics, and 12,133 Calvinists inhabiting
the district of Morat.
Freiburg, Freyburg, or Friburg, the capital of
the canton of Freiburg in Switzerland, is built on several
steep hills on both banks of the Sarine, and is thus ren¬
dered an extremely striking and picturesque object in the
landscape. It lies nearly 16 English miles S.W. of Berne,
and 33 N.E. of Lausanne. Intermixed with churches,
convents, and other buildings, are green fields, gardens,
trees, and naked rocks. The opposite banks of the Sarine
are joined by four bridges, of which two are of wood, one
of iron, and the fourth an iron suspension-bridge—one of
the finest in the world. It is 28 feet wide, 906 long, and
175 feet above the level of the stream. Other remarkable
structures are the Lyceum, opened in 1805; the Chancel¬
lery, where the Council of State meets and the offices of
government are located ; the Franciscan Convent, of which
Father Girard, promoter of popular education, was an
inmate ; the town-house, in which the Great Council meets,
built in the sixteenth century; the collegiate church of St
Nicholas, built in the twelfth century, and famous for its
organ and a curious bas-relief of the Last Judgment; the
College of St Michael, founded by the Jesuits, by whom
VOL. x.
F R E
several hundred young men are here boarded and educated ;
and the Ursuline Monastery, which has elementary schools
for females. The population of Freiburg is about 9000.
Its manufactures are few, the principal being pottery, hard-
ware, leather, tobacco, straw hats, and woollens. There are
two printing presses, some dye houses, and sugar refineries.
Freiburg has also several libraries, learned societies, a
museum, a diocesan school, public baths, a prison, an hospi¬
tal, and a savings-bank. Saturday is the market-day, and
there are five fairs held at stated times throughout the year.
FREIGHT, the hire of a ship, or a part of it, for the
conveyance and carriage of goods from one port or place
to another; or the sum agreed on between the owner and
the merchant for the hire and use of a vessel. It also
denotes the cargo itself. See Charter Party.
FREIND, John, a distinguished English physician, was
born in 1675 at Croton in Northamptonshire. He made
great progress in classical knowledge under Dr Busby at
Westminster, and at Christ Church, Oxford, under Dr
Aldrich ; and while still very young, produced, along with
Foulkes, an excellent edition of the speeches of Aeschines
and Demosthenes on the affair of Ctesiphon. After this
he began the study of medicine, and having proved his
scientific attainments by various treatises, was appointed
professor of chemistry at Oxford in 1704. In the follow¬
ing year he accompanied the English army, under the Earl
of Peterborough, into Spain ; and on returning home in
1707, wrote an account of the expedition, which attained
extraordinary popularity. Two years later he published
his Prelectiones Chimicce, which he dedicated to Sir Isaac
Newton. In 1722 he entered parliament as member for
Launceston in Cornwall, but being suspected of favouring
the cause of the exiled Stuarts, he spent half of that year
in the Tower. During his imprisonment he conceived the
plan of his most important and valuable work, The History
of Physicy of which the first part appeared in 1725, and the
second in the following year. In this latter year he was
appointed physician to Queen Caroline, an office which he
held till his death in 1728. A complete edition of his
Latin works, with a Latin translation of the History of
Physic, was published in London a few years after his
death.
FREINSHEIM, Johann, a distinguished German
scholar, was born in 1608 at. Uhn in Suabia. He taught
rhetoric and belles lettres at Upsal, became librarian to
Christina of Sweden, and finally a professor in the univer¬
sity of Heidelberg, where he died in 1660. Freinsheim is
best known by his supplement to Livy, which he wrote as
a substitute for the lost books of that historian. His imita¬
tion of the mere form of Livy’s style is very close and suffi¬
ciently happy, but as he wanted Livy’s other great histori¬
cal qualities, his “ supplement” may rather be regarded as
a literary curiosity than a contribution to history. Freins¬
heim wrote also a supplement to Curtius, and a commen¬
tary on that author’s works, as also on those of Florus,
besides some minor compositions of little value.
FREISING, a town of Bavaria, circle of Isar, on the
Isar, 20 miles N.N.E. of Munich. It is a very ancient
town, and is said by some to have been founded by the
Romans. It was, however, in existence as early as a.d.
444, and was made the seat of a bishop in 724. In 1817
the bishop was transferred to Munich, and raised to an
archbishop. Pop. (1845) 5350.
FREJUS, the ancient Forum Julii, a town of France,
department of Var, about a mile from the Mediterranean,
and 15 miles S.E. of Draguinan. It took its name from
Julius Caesar, who is said to have established a Roman
colony here. It was improved by Augustus, and in the
time of the subsequent emperors it became an important
naval station. Among the remains of the ancient town
are a triumphal arch, a ruined amphitheatre, traces of two
2 Q
305
Freight
II
Frejus.
306 FEE
Frere moles which formed the entrance of the port, and portions
II of a fine aqueduct, which brought the waters of the Saigne
Fresco^ jnto t|ie town prorn a distance of 20 miles. Traces of its
ainting.^ wajjg are a|s0 visible. The port, which communicated
with the sea by means of a canal, has been dried up, and its
site is now occupied by gardens. Frejus is the seat of a
bishop, and has some handsome modern buildings, among
which are the cathedral and the episcopal palace, both of
Gothic architecture, and constructed partly of the remains
of Roman edifices. At St Raphael, a fishing village about
a mile and a half distant, Napoleon disembarked on his
return from Egypt in 1799, and re-embarked for Elba in
1814. Pop. about 3000.
FRERE, John Hookham, an accomplished man of
letters, and for some years English ambassador in Spain,
was author of a light, satirical, and witty poem, the precur¬
sor and prototype of Byron’s Beppo and Don Juan. This
work, published in 1817, bore the clumsy and unpromis¬
ing title of “ Prospectus and Specimen of an Intended
National Work, by William and Robert Whistlecraft,” &c.
The adventures of King Arthur and the knights of the
Round Table were the nominal subject of the poem, but
its style, formed on that of the Italian poets Pulci and
Casti, was its chief attraction. The success of Whistlecraft
led to another work in the same vein, The Monks and the
Giants. In his early days Mr Frere joined his Eton
associate Mr Canning in writing for the Anti-Jacobin
journals. For many years before his death he resided at
Malta, in the enjoyment of a handsome diplomatic pension
of L.1500 per annum. He died of apoplexy at Malta, Janu¬
ary 7, 1846, aged seventy-seven.
FRESCOBALDI, Girolamo, a celebrated Italian
organist and musical composer, was a native of Ferrara.
The date of his birth is not known. At the age of twenty-
three he became organist of St Peter’s at Rome. He is
regarded as the father of that style now universally em¬
ployed in all compositions for the organ. Talking of his first
work, the Ricercari e Canzoni Francesefatte sopra diver.si
obligatis in Partitura, Dr Burney remarks that it “ con¬
tains the first compositions we have seen printed in score,
and with bars. They are likewise the first regular fugues
that we have found upon one subject, or of two subjects
carried on at the same time, from the beginning of a move¬
ment to the end.” Frescobaldi was alive in 1641, but it is
not known in what year he died.
FRESCO PAINTING, a method of painting with
water-colours on fresh plaster while it is still in a soft state,
by which means the colours are incorporated with the plaster,
and become as permanent as the material on which they
are spread. The Italians, from whom we borrow the term,
call it fresco (literally fresh), either because it is executed
upon fresh plaster, or because it is used on walls, alcoves,
and other buildings in the open air. Vitruvius (vii. 4) calls
it painting udo tectorio.
Painting in fresco is a very ancient art. It was prac¬
tised by the early Greeks, and may be traced even to
Egypt. It is generally executed on walls and vaults, the
plaster being laid on in successive portions, or so much only
at one time as the painter can despatch before it dries. The
design is usually drawn previously on paper, to be chalked
and transferred to the wall about half-an-hour after the
plaster has been laid. From the difficulty of making altera¬
tions on the work when the colours are once absorbed, the
design should be previously prepared with the greatest
accuracy. When an alteration must be made, the part is
usually cut entirely away, and relaid with fresh plaster.
The ancients painted on stucco ; and we may remark in
Vitruvius what infinite care they took in making the in¬
crustation or plastering of their buildings, to render them
beautiful and lasting; though the moderns find a plaster of
lime and sand preferable for fresco painting, both because
ERE
it does not dry so hastily, and on account of its subdued Freshes
and agreeable tint. H
The pigments chiefly employed in this kind of painting Fresnel,
are earths, because their colours are not liable to be affected
by the burning qualities of the lime. White is made of
lime slaked some time previously, or of white marble dust;
and the other substances used are red and yellow ochre,
verditer, lapis-lazuli, black chalk, &c. These only require
to be ground and mixed up with water. The brushes and
pencils should be long and soft, otherwise they are apt to
rake and raise the surface. In order that the work may
may come out in all its beauty, the colours must be laid on
quickly, while the plaster is still moist; nor should they
ever be retouched dry with colours mixed up with the
white of egg, size, or gum, as is sometimes done ; because
such colours grow blackish, and soon tarnish.
FRESHES, in sea language, the increased current of
an ebb tide by means of a flood of fresh water flowing out
into the sea, by which its waters are often discoloured for
a great distance from the coast.
FRESNEL, Augustin-Jean, one of the most eminent
philosophers of recent times, distinguished especially by his
optical discoveries, was born on the 10th May 1788 at Brog¬
lie, in the department of the Eure, and ancient province of
Normandy, a portion of France remarkable for the produc¬
tion of able men. His father was an architect, and was in
circumstances to give his family a good education. In the
case of Augustin Fresnel, who was a younger son, the pro¬
mise of distinction was, however, at first small. Elis memory,
which never was retentive, refused to be burdened with
strange words and grammatical rules. At eight years of
age he could scarcely read ; yet his peculiar talents were
not unjustly appreciated by his young schoolfellows, who
used to nickname him “ the .nan of genius and his juve¬
nile but systematic experiments on boyish projectiles secured
the respect of his companions, while they seemed to indi¬
cate the career of an engineer as that adapted to his talents.
At the age of thirteen he entered the “ecole centrale”
of Caen ; and at sixteen and a half, the Polytechnic School,
where he acquitted himself with distinction, notwithstand¬
ing his feeble constitution and already infirm health. From
thence he passed to the “ Ecole des Fonts et Chaussees,”
and after the ordinary period of instruction emerged as a
civil engineer in the employ of government in the usual
manner. The occupations which fall to the care of such
young officers in France is not of an elevated or very in¬
tellectual character. The selection of road materials, the
erection of trivial works, the surveillance of subordinates,
and the keeping of the public accounts on a small scale ;
such are their more common duties. Thus Fresnel re¬
mained occupied for eight or nine years, during which he
exerted his powers in the fulfilment of his daily tasks with
that conscientiousness and devotion which distinguished
him through life.
On the temporary return of the Bourbons to the throne
of France in 1814, he ardently espoused their cause, and
exhausted the little physical energy he possessed in military
service. The return of Napoleon to power crushed his
hopes, and deprived him of his appointments. He was,
however, suffered to retire to Paris, where he subsequently
received a modest appointment in his own profession at the
hands of the reinstated Bourbon government, and where he
spent much of his future life.
His first original effort in science was made in 1814. He
prepared a paper on the aberration of light, which, though
correct, contained nothing new, and it was therefore sup¬
pressed. This was a discouragement to him for some time,
and indeed his second effort met with a similar repulse. It
was on diffraction, a class of optical phenomena noticed and
discussed a century and a half before by Newton and Grim¬
aldi ; and to their writings on the subject the reading of
F R E S
Fresnel. Fresnel had been confined. The singular and often para-
^^ f***' doxical phenomena of shadows, the strange result that when
two portions of the same pencil of light fall on the same
spot, after passing by an obstacle, they may interfere, or pro¬
duce darkness by their union, was perfectly new to Fresnel,
although it had been analyzed and in part explained by Dr
Young fifteen or sixteen years before. The principle of
“interference” as a peculiar modification of light arising
merely from the duplication of lights having the same
origin, presented itself to the mind of Fresnel nearly in the
form in which it had done to Young, and the result was a
paper which, though highly ingenious and original, added
little to what was previously known. Not altogether dis¬
couraged by this apparent misfortune, he returned to the
subject in 1818, and presented to the Institute his cele¬
brated memoir on Diffraction, for which, in the ensuing
year, he received the prize of the Academy. This paper
was remarkable, in the first place, for having made a real
correction on the theory of Young, inasmuch as it explains
the forms and colours of shadows and fringes without as¬
suming the very questionable fact of reflection from the
edges of the diffracting body as having anything to do with
the phenomenon of interference. The interference in this
case he proved to arise solely from the mixing of the dis¬
turbances having their origin at different parts of the front
of the wave concerned in producing the final effect; a
mode of reasoning which it is the most singular that Dr
Young should have overlooked, as it had in some cases been
clearly enough anticipated by Huygens.
Fresnel’s other great success was in the simultaneous
explanation of the connected phenomena of the polarization
and double refraction of light under all circumstances on
the undulatory theory. No doubt he did not reach unaided
this great generalization. Dr Young was the first to pub¬
lish the bold idea of transverse vibrations, by which alone
it appears possible to account for the transmission with un¬
equal velocities of two impulses through the very same
material particles. The date of Young’s first written com¬
munication of this notion was January 1817. Fresnel states
that he had formed the same hypothesis the year before,
but, deterred by the difficulty which Arago found in admit-
ing it, did not at that time promulgate his views. It was
some years before Fresnel methodically developed the con¬
sequences of the unequal elasticity in different directions of
vibrating media. In 1821, and the beginning of 1822, he
submitted to the Institute a memoir, or succession of me¬
moirs, in which he not only explained the ordinary and ex¬
traordinary refraction of Iceland spar, on the supposition
that the elasticity of the luminiferous ether is different in a
direction parallel to the axis of the crystal, and in a plane
at right angles to that direction ; but by a geometrical pro¬
cess of great beauty he deduced the consequences of an as¬
sumed inequality of elasticity in all three dimensions of the
crystal, and showed that the result would be conformable
to what had been then but recently discovered respecting
crystals with two optical axes. More than this, he gave a
remarkable demonstration of the truth of his theory by
showing by a direct experiment on topaz, that in this
class of crystals neither of the two doubly-refracted rays
follows the law of ordinary refraction, a conclusion which
he had anticipated. The theory, moreover, not only gives
an account of the laws of refraction of light under these
various circumstances, but also of its condition of -polari¬
zation, which again was found to be perfectly conformable
to fact.
Owing probably in part to the predominant influence of
Laplace in the French Academy (who was entirely devoted
to the corpuscular theory of light), these great discoveries
were but coldly received in Paris, although warmly sup¬
ported by all the characteristic energy of Arago. In 1823
Fresnel failed in being elected into the Academy of Sciences.
N E L. 307
Dulong receiving the vacant place. In his correspondence Fresnel,
he expresses himself as mortified by this occurrence, which
he attributes to the unpopularity of the undulatory doctrine;
but only a few months later (12th May 1823), he was un¬
animously elected an academician, a distinction by no means
common. Fresnel’s noble memoir on double refraction was
not, however, printed in the transactions of the Institute
until some years after his death, and the only direct honour
which it received was the Rumford Medal of the Royal
Society of London, which was delivered to Fresnel very
shortly before his decease.
In Dr Peacock’s life, and miscellaneous works of Dr
Thomas Young, may be found part of the interesting cor¬
respondence of that great man with Fresnel during his later
years. They throw light on the origin and course of some
of Fresnel’s discoveries, and bear a pleasing testimony to
the honourable frankness which characterized the inter¬
course of those illustrious rivals.
Of Fresnel’s other discoveries connected with the theory
of light, we cannot here particularly speak. The most re¬
markable, perhaps, were the photometrical estimate of the
intensity of reflected light, and that on the changes pro¬
duced in the condition of polarized light by total reflection
in glass. It will be seen by the list of papers at the close
of this article that the number of optical papers which Fres¬
nel wrote between 1817 and 1823 was very considerable.
We have now to mention a practical application of optics
to the useful arts with which the name of Fresnel will ever
be honourably associated. At least as early as 1819 it oc¬
curred to him that lenses might be substituted for mirrors,
for the purpose of directing parallel rays of light from light¬
houses, and thus preventing in a great measure the natural
weakness, in consequence of its divergence, of light seen at
a distance. It farther occurred to him that lenses of large
size, and of moderate thickness, might be built up of seg¬
ments of lenses. This last idea was not indeed new, for
Buffon had proposed to diminish the weight and thickness
of lenses by grinding them into zones which should have a
common focus ; and Condorcet proposed to construct these
zones of separate segments. Sir David Brewster suggested
in 1811 a similar construction, unaware, it appears, of what
Condorcet had written. But all of these writers described
their contrivances as applicable to burning instruments for
concentrating the solar rays. Fresnel appears to have been
unaware of what his predecessors suggested, but he has the
far greater merit of actually applying the suggestion to the
important purpose of lighthouse illumination. It was first
carried into effect in France, where polyzonal lenses were
made by M. Soleil, and have gradually been introduced into
other countries, first into Holland, and then into Scotland.
(See article Lighthouses.) Not content with this great
improvement, Fresnel exerted remarkable ingenuity in con¬
triving farther improvements in the mode of distributing
light for the purposes of navigation under almost every con¬
ceivable circumstance ; and he made copious use of the
principle of the total reflection of light in glass, which had
never before been applied to such purposes. In 1819 he
was nominated upon the lighthouse commission; and in July
1823 the Corduan Lighthouse, at the mouth of the Garonne,
was completed upon the new plan.
Of the last days of Fresnel little remains to be said. His
constantly feeble frame at last became a prey to consump¬
tion. The duty of examiner of the Polytechnic School,
which he had unwisely undertaken, gave a fatal turn to his
malady. According to Arago, the government of the day
refused him, on political grounds, a vacant post more suit¬
able to his enfeebled state. Highly esteemed and admired
by a few real friends, his optical discoveries remained under
the check of the adverse dominant party of the Academy
of Sciences. Some of his best memoirs were not printed
in his lifetime. The greatest honour of his life came from
308 FEE
Fresnel. England; first Ins election as a foreign member of the
Royal Society in 1825, and secondly, the award by the
same body of the Rumford Medal in 1827.1 This last token
of worldly praise was conveyed by Arago to the death-bed
of Fresnel, at Ville d’Avray, near Paris, who has given this
touching account of his sad mission :—“ His strength, then
almost exhausted, scarcely permitted him to glance at this
token, so rarely awarded, of the esteem of the illustrious
society. All his thoughts turned upon his approaching
end ; ‘ I thank you,’ he said in a subdued voice, ‘ for having
accepted this commission ; I know the pain it must give
you, for you feel, I am sure, that the fairest wreath is but
insignificant when we must lay it on the grave of a friend.’” 2
Fresnel died at Ville d’Avray on the 14th July 1827.
The following is believed to be a complete list of FresneFs pub¬
lished writings, which has been obligingly communicated to the
writer of this article by M. L6onor Fresnel, the brother and nearest
surviving relative of Augustin Fresnel, They are enumerated in
the order in which they were written, or at least read to the In¬
stitute or Philomathic Society.
1. First Memoir on the Diffraction of Light; and Supplement.
Read 23d October 1815 and 15th July 1816. Annales de Ghimie,
2d Series, i. p. 239. 2. Letter to M. Arago on the influence of
Heat on the Colours of Crystallized Plates, Ann. de Ch., 2d Series,
iv. 298. 3. Memoir on the modifications which Reflection induces
in Polarized Light; and Supplement. Read 24th November 1817
and January 1819. Bulletin de la Societe Philomatique, February
and March 1823. 4. Memoir on the Colours developed by homo¬
geneous fluids in Polarized Light. Read 30th March 1818. First
published in 1846 in the Memoirs of the French Academy; also in
Ann. de Ch., 3d Series, xvii. 172. On the rotatory property
of Oil of Turpentine, &c., discovered by Seebeck. 5. Letter to M.
Arago on the influence of the Earth’s motion on some optical
phenomena; and additional Note. Ann. de Ch., 2d. Series, ix. 56
and 286. 6. Memoir on the mutual action of the Rays of Polarized
Light. Conjoint Memoir with Arago. Ann. de Ch., 2d Series, x.
288. Shows, amongst other things, that oppositely polarized rays
do not interfere. 7, Memoir (second) on the Diffraction of Light.
Read 29th July 1818. Mem. Instit., vol. v.; Ann. de Ch., 2d
Series, xi. 246, — the celebrated Memoir which received the
Prize. 8. Memoir on the Reflection of Light. Read 15th Novem¬
ber 1819. Mem. Inst., 1846. Ann. de. Ch., 2d Series, xv. 379 ; and
3d Series, xvii. 316. 9. Note on the attempts to decompose Water
by means of a Magnet. Ann. de Ch., 2d Series, xv. 219. 10. Note
on the Burners of Lamps with concentric wicks. Ann. de Ch.,
2d Series, xvi. 377. In connection with his optical inventions for
Lighthouses. 11. On the calculation of the Polarized Tints of Crystal¬
lized Plates. Ann. de C%., 2d Series, xvii. 102. And further notes on
the same subject, with answer to M. Biot, pp. 167, 312, 393, of the
same volume. 12, Note on the Laws of Refraction in Crystals with
one and two axes. J/omtenr Journal, 12th December 1821. 13. Me¬
moir on Double Refraction. Read 26th November 1821, and 22d
January and 1st April 1822. Mem. Instit., vol. vii., Contains the
celebrated mechanical theory of Double Refraction in Crystals of
one and two axes. Translated in Taylor’s Scientific Memoirs, vol. v.
14. “ On Light; ” in the supplement to the French translation of
Thomson’s Chemistry. Paris, 1822. Contains an excellent ele¬
mentary view of the Undulatory Theory. 15. Note on the Double
Refraction of Compressed Glass. Ann. de Ch., 2d Series, xx. 376.
16. Explanation of Refraction on the Theory of Waves. Ann. de
Ch., 2d series, xxi. 225, and Bull. Philom., October 1821. 17. Me¬
moir on a new system of Lighthouses (July 1822). Published by the
Board of Fonts et Chaussees. 18. On the Ascent of Clouds in the
Atmosphere. Ann. de Ch., 2d Series, xxi. 260. 19. Answer to a
Letter by M. Poisson. Ann. de Ch., 2d Series, xxiii., 32 and 113.
20. On the Phenomenon of Coloured Rings. Ann.de Ch. xxiii. 129.
21. On the Double Refraction of Light passing through Rock Crystal
parallel to the axis. Read 9th December 1822. Ann. de Ch., 2d
Series, xxviii. 147 ; and Bull. i%«7om., December 1822. 22. On the
Modifications produced by Reflection on Polarized Light. Read
7th January 1823. Ann. de Ch., 2d Series, xxix. 175 (extract), and
xlvi. 225. Contains the theory of Circular Polarization after plain
Polarized Light has been twice totally reflected within glass. 23.
Theoretical considerations on the Polarization of Light. Bulletin
F R I
Philomatique, October 1824. 24. Note on the repulsion exerted by Fresnoy
heated bodies upon one another. Ann de Ch., 2d Series, xxix. 57 ||
and 107; and Bull. Philom., June 1825. Fresnel also published some Friars Ob-
observations “ on the principal objections of Newton to the system servant,
of luminous vibrations, and on the difficulties presented by his by- i
pothesis of/Rs” in Ferussac’s Revue Encyclopedique, February 1823. v
It is much to be desired that these scattered writings of Fresnel
were collected in a uniform manner. Some further account of
Fresnel’s optical discoveries will be found in the Sixth Dissertation
prefixed to this Encyclopaedia, chap, v. (j. d. f.)
FRESNOY, Charles Alphonse du, a French painter
and writer on art, was born at Paris in 1611. His father,
who was an apothecary, intended him for the medical pro¬
fession, and educated him with that view. Contrary to the
wishes of this parent, Du Fresnoy began the study of art,
and having gone to Rome to perfect himself, was reduced
to great straits, from being compelled to procure his own
subsistence. The arrival of his old fellow-student Mig-
nard at length enabled him to prosecute his studies in
peace, and the two artists now spent all their time in copy¬
ing the great masterpieces of the Farnese gallery. In
1656 Du Fresnoy returned to France, where he remained
till his death in 1665. His pictures, which are not very
numerous, are more remarkable for correctness of drawing
and colour than force or originality of conception, and
would never of themselves have preserved Du Fresnoy’s
name. His poem De Arte Graphica is the work by
which he is best known. It is written in Latin verse, and
has had the good fortune to be translated into most of the
European tongues. There are three English versions of
it; one in prose by Dryden ; the second in verse by Wills,
himself an artist; and the third, by Mason, in rhyme. A
sort of factitious interest centres in this last version, which
was annotated by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The work itself,
which is a sort of critical treatise on the practice of paint¬
ing, is dry, and scarcely relieved by even an occasional
gleam of sentiment or fancy.
FRET, or Frette, a kind of architectural ornament, con¬
sisting of one or more fillets that meet in vertical and horizontal
directions, as in the embattled and lozenge mouldings. Also
a knot composed of two lists, or small fillets interlaced, used
as an enrichment in empty spaces, chiefly in plastered roofs.
FREUDENSTADT, a town of Wiirtemberg, circle of
the Black Forest, on the right bank of the Murg, 42 miles
W.S.W. of Stuttgard. It has manufactures of woollen
cloth, nails, white-lead, potash, and Prussian blue ; ami
some trade in corn, cattle, and wood. Pop. 4100.
FREUDENTHAL, a town of Austrian Silesia, circle
of Troppau, on the Black Water, 22 miles W. of Troppau.
It has a large castle, a Piarist college, orphan asylum, and
manufactures of linen and woollen cloths. Pop. 3600.
^FREY, Joachim, an eminent Swiss engraver. See vol.
viii., p. 807.
FRIAR (Lat. frater ; Ital./m; Span./ray/c or fray ;
Yr.frere ; Celt, brair or vrair; i.e. brother), an appella¬
tion common to monks of every order, but more particu¬
larly applied to those of the mendicant orders, of which the
principal were the four following ; 1. minors, grey friars, or
Franciscans; 2. Augustines; 3. Dominicans, or black friars ;
4. Carmelites, or white friars. The name is restricted to
such monks as are not priests, the latter being usually dig¬
nified with the appellation of father.
Friars Observant {fratres observantes), a branch of
the Franciscans who separated from the brethren of their
order on the ground of a laxity of discipline, and lived apart
in places of their own choosing, simply agreeing among
1 Chiefly at the instance of Sir John Herschel, as we learn from Dr Young’s correspondence (Misc. Works, vol, i., p. 400). Young,
speaking of himself, characteristically says, “ I was obliged to be silent from being too much interested in the subjectand in another
letter to Fresnel himself, “ I should also claim some right to participate in the compliment which is tacitly paid to myself in common
with you by this adjudication ; but considering that more than a quarter of a century is past since my principal experiments were made,
I can only feel a sort of anticipation of 'posthumous fame which I have never particularly coveted.”
2 Arago, Eloge de Ftesnel, (Euvres, torn. i»
Friction
friendly
Societies.
bjects
’ such
icieties;
ieir
istory;
F R I
F R I
309
themselves to observe the rules of their order more strictly
than the conventuals did.
FRICTION, in Mechanics, denotes the resistance which
a moving body meets with from the surface on which it
moves. Friction arises from the roughness or asperity of
the surface of the body moved on and that of the body
moving; for such surfaces consisting alternately of emi¬
nences and cavities, either the eminences of the one must
be raised over those of the other, or they must be both
broken and worn off; but neither can happen without mo¬
tion, nor can motion be produced without a force impressed.
Hence the force applied to move the body is either wholly
or partly spent on this effect; and consequently there arises
a resistance or friction, which will be greater, cccteris pari¬
bus, according as the eminences are the greater and the
substance the harder; and as the body, by continual fric¬
tion, becomes more and more polished, the friction dimi¬
nishes. See Mechanics.
FRIDAY, the sixth day of the week, so named from the
Scandinavian goddess Frea or Friga, the wife of Odin.
By the Romans it was called dies Veneris.
FRIDSTOL. Among the immunities granted to churches
in ancient times, mention is made of the fridstol, i.e. “ the
seat of peace,” or sanctuary, where criminals might find safety
and protection. Of these there were many in England ; the
most celebrated of which were that at Beverley, and that in
St Peter’s church at York, granted by charter of Henry I.
FRIEDL AND, a town in the province of East Prussia,
government of Konigsberg, and 27 miles S.E. of the town
of that name. Here on 14th June 1807 the French de¬
feated the allied forces of Russia and Prussia. There are
several other towns in Germany of this name.
FRIENDLY Islands. See Polynesia.
FRIENDLY Societies are associations of persons chiefly
in the humbler classes for the purpose of making provision
by mutual contribution against those contingencies in hu¬
man life, the occurrence of which can be calculated by way
of average. The principal objects contemplated by such
societies are the following:—the insuring of a sum of mo¬
ney to be paid on the birth of a member’s child or on the
death of a member or any of his family; the maintenance
of members in old age and widowhood ; the administration
of relief to members incapacitated for labour by sickness or
accident, and the endowment of members or their nominees.
Friendly societies are therefore associations for mutual as¬
surance, but are distinguished from assurance societies, pro¬
perly so called, by the circumstance that the sums of money
which they insure are comparatively small.
Although the period when such societies originated ap¬
pears to be unknown, their existence in ancient times is
unquestionable. They were numerous in England among
the Anglo-Saxons, but from the general want of learning
at so early an age, and the difficulty of preserving written
documents even of the highest importance relating to a
period so remote, it cannot be expected we should now
possess any very complete records of their history or pro¬
ceedings. Writers of credit, however, have mentioned se¬
veral of these fraternities or “ gilds” as existing both before
and subsequently to the Norman Conquest, and their rules
which are still preserved are highly interesting from their
similarity to those of the friendly societies of the present day.1
“ These guilds or social corporations,” observes an excellent
writer, “seem on the whole to have been friendly associations
made for mutual aid and contribution to meet the peculiar
exigencies which were perpetually arising from burials, legal
exactions, penal mulcts, and other payments and compensa- Friendly
tions.”2 Some of them had for their objects the bestowal of Societies,
annual charity, the payment of stipends to poor persons, the
entertainment of poor strangers and travellers, and various
other works of a like charitable and benevolent character.
It is highly probable that, notwithstanding the inconveniences
arising from the political and social disturbances so frequent
in England during the middle ages, the formation of the in¬
stitutions in question suffered no permanent interruption.
No general account of their proceedings, however, is at¬
tainable. Their operations were confined to certain locali¬
ties ; they were formed for limited periods, after which they
ceased and were reconstructed, and the only records of their
labours consisted of their accounts, and perhaps a few scanty
and ill-kept minutes, all of which were cast aside as without
value on the dissolution of the body to which they referred.
Even one of the most ancient friendly societies in London,
which is said to have been founded in 1715, and to have
continued from that period, possesses no documents from
which may be gathered either its own history or that of any
kindred institutions.3
It is scarcely possible to overrate the importance of such their i™-
associations. When founded on correct principles and con- PortanC0
ducted with prudence, they are in every point of view of
the highest value, not only to that class of society for whose
welfare they are more immediately designed, but to the
community in general, of which that class is a component
part. A labouring man with a family to provide for is, as to in-
a general rule, unable, even with his utmost industry and divitiu!1l
frugality, to make a sufficient provision against a time of ne- membeis,
cessity; but as a member of a friendly society he can with
comparative facility accomplish this desirable object, and
without subjecting himself or those who are dear to him
to any severe privations, he is enabled to look forward to
substantial and adequate aid in the event of sickness or
other unavoidable evils of a natural kind. But the be¬
nefits he secures by this means are of a moral and intel¬
lectual, as well as a merely physical character ; the al¬
lowances which he receives are not accompanied by the
painful reflection that they are the fruits either of public or
of private charity; they are accepted by him as the legiti¬
mate produce of his own labour and foresight. Such con¬
siderations cannot but administer great comfort to a suf¬
ferer accustomed during an active life to cherish the sen¬
timents of independence and self-reliance. The very self-
denial requisite to secure the benefits of a friendly society
is not only itself a virtue, but is in its exercise directly in¬
strumental to moral and intellectual advancement. A man
who acts on such principles must necessarily be more ami¬
able and more intelligent than those who overlook them : he
must be a better husband, a better father, a better servant;
and this is amply illustrated by the observations of those
who have had most experience of friendly societies, and who
affirm that members of these bodies are not only the most
intelligent but the most trustworthy of their class. It is and to
scarcely necessary to remark that the influence of friendlv 80ciety ‘n
societies upon the community in general must be eminently generah
beneficial. By fostering habits of frugality, self-reliance,
and independence, they restrain the tendency too common
among the labouring classes to rely on parochial relief rather
than their own exertions, and thus they counteract one of
the most active causes of the moral deterioration of the
people, while their direct effect is to diminish the burdens
laid upon parishes for the support of the poor.
It is unnecessary to encumber the present article with the Principles
of compu-
~ " - tation
1 Some of these institutions among the Saxons are referred to in Hick’s Thesaurus, and in particular those at Cambridge and Exeter, of adopted,
which the rules are fully given ; other institutions of the same character are referred to as existing after the Conquest, by Dugdale, in
his Monasticon. The laws of St Catharine’s guild at Coventry in the reign of Edward III. are cited by that author at length, as a manifest¬
ing the decent government, ceremony, devotion, charity, and amity of those times.”
2 Turner’s History of the Anglo-Saxons, vol. iii., p. 139. 3 Ansell’s Treatise on Friendly Societies, p. II.
310
FRIENDLY SOCIETIES.
Friendly numerous and various tables which from time to time have
Societies, been constructed to regulate the computations of friendly
societies. It will be sufficient to notice, in general terms,
the principles on which such computations are based, and
in accordance with which those tables are constructed;
these principles are derived from the operation of interest
and annuities, and from the doctrine of probability. The
former, i. e. the operation of interest and annuities, affords
the means of ascertaining what present or periodical pay¬
ments would increase to given sums in future specific
periods when such sums might be required to- have been
created or realized; the latter, i. e. the doctrine of probability,
renders it easy to determine the measure of the expectation
of some supposed future event happening or not happening,
such as sickness ; and if the event must occur at one time
or other, such as the event of death, it furnishes the means
of determining the time at which, on an average, it may be
expected to occur. The tables computed on these princi¬
ples, it need scarcely be added, are large and numerous, as
well as of the utmost practical importance.
Progress of That the progress of friendly societies in Britain has been
friendly extremely great is beyond doubt, and that such progress is
societies. jn t]ie highest degree honourable to the industrious classes
is no less unquestionable. It is however impossible to dis¬
cover the number of societies which have been in existence.
It has been stated that from January 1793 to January 1832,
a period of thirty-nine years, there existed in Great Bri¬
tain and Ireland 19,783 such societies, and that of these
16,596 were in England, 769 in Wales, 2144 in Scotland,
and 274 in Ireland. It has further been stated that in the
year 1815 the number of members amounted to 925,429.1
Mr M‘Culloch hesitates to admit the accuracy of this state¬
ment ; and in the report of the House of Commons, dated
November 29, 1852, p. 12, it is expressly stated that “there
is no authentic account of the number of friendly societies
enrolled previous to the 19th June 1828.” The same re¬
port further declares that “ it is almost impossible to ascer¬
tain the number of friendly societies which are now in ex¬
istence it furnishes, however, a table prepared from re^-
turns sent to the Registrar of Friendly Societies which ex¬
hibits the number of those societies certified in England
and Wales between the years 1828 and 1847. From this
table the following results appear :—
Number of societies certified in England from 1828 to 1847, 9497
Number of members of such societies on 8th J uly 1847, 740,581
Amount received from members during the year pre¬
ceding 8th July 1847, . . . £662,082
Amount paid to or on account of members during the
year preceding 8th July 1847, . . £491,462
Number of societies certified in Wales from 1828 to 1847, 936
Number of members on 8th July 1847, . . 41,141
Amount received from members during the year pre¬
ceding 8th July 1847, . . . £31,669
Amount paid to members or on their account for the
year preceding 8th July 1847, . . £27,516
From the view thus given upon unquestionable authority,
it appears that the aggregate number of persons who on a
given day in 1847 were members of friendly societies in
England and Wales alone was 781,722; that the sums
contributed by them in one year amounted nearly to
L.700,000, and that the amount distributed among them in
one year was considerably more than half a million sterling.
It must be recollected also that the table from which the
above extracts are taken refers only to certified societies,
and that there existed, as there still exist, a large number
of uncertified societies possessing a very large number of
members and a very large amount of revenue. It may be
proper further to add, that according to the same authority,
the number of societies in England and Wales which have
been certified from the 19th June 1829 to the 30th Sep¬
tember 1852 amounts to 16,000. These figures must
necessarily exhibit to the reader a striking view of the pro¬
gress of the societies in question, and suggest some idea
of the vast amount of good of which they have been the
instruments.
Great, however, as the progress of friendly societies has
been during the last fifty years, and vast as the benefits are
which have resulted to individuals and society from their
labours, their beneficial effects have on various occasions
been in no small degree counteracted by injurious causes,
and in particular by defects and errors of constitution, and
by the imprudence or misconduct of those under whose
management their pecuniary affairs have been placed. With¬
out entering on minute detail as to the former of the two
causes of miscarriage now mentioned, we shall refer only to
one illustration of the injurious effects resulting from it,
and as evinced by the practice adopted by some societies of
making their allowances at the outset of their career on too
liberal a scale. This, although a natural error, was in more
than one instance productive of the most fatal consequences.
It is obvious that an association formed of members in the
prime of life and in vigorous health, could not be called
upon for any great outlay for some years after its institu¬
tion, the amount of sickness or incapacity for labour among
its members being comparatively small. Under such cir¬
cumstances there is a rapid accumulation of funds, and the
flourishing state of their finances naturally leads the mem¬
bers to presume that they may with perfect safety make
very considerable allowances to the few who require relief
The fact is wholly overlooked, that if the society shall con¬
tinue to exist, a time must arrive when a large majority of
its members must necessarily require assistance, and that
liberal allowances at the outset are altogether inconsistent
with the demand thus to arise. From this fundamental
error the most fatal consequences have been produced.
Not only have societies, which at their commencement ap¬
peared in the most flourishing state, become bankrupt, but
aged members, after contributing for a long series of years
to the common fund, have found themselves in their old age
deprived of that support for which in the season of youth
and vigour they had with so much self-denial and frugality
sought to provide.
From these remarks as to the importance on the one
hand of friendly societies, and on the other as to the dangers
to which they are exposed, it must be sufficiently obvious
that they possess a strong claim upon the fostering care of
government. It was not, however, till the year 1773 that
the attention of parliament was awakened to the wisdom of
efficiently protecting and encouraging institutions which,
under legislative regulations, have since that period conferred
so large an amount of benefit on a most important part of
the community. In that year a bill was introduced into
parliament, the object of which was to empower parishes in
England and Wales to grant annuities to persons willing to
purchase them at a price set down in tables annexed to the
bill, which annuities were, if necessary, to be chargeable upon
the poor’s-rates, as a collateral security to the purchasers.
I his bill having passed the Commons was rejected in the
Upper House. Another bill was introduced in 1789, which
in like manner having been approved of in the Lower House
was thrown out in the House of Lords. No legislative in¬
terference, therefore, as to friendly societies occurred until
1793, when an act was passed which is known by the name
of its author, Mr George Rose. Of the provisions of this
bill the following is a brief abstract. The act recited “ that
the protection and encouragement of friendly societies in
this kingdom, for securing by the voluntary subscription of
the members thereof separate funds for the mutual relief
and maintenance of the said members in sickness, old age,
Friendlj
Societies.
Import¬
ance of a
sound con¬
stitution
to their
success.
Legislative
enact¬
ments.
Act of
1773.
Act of
1789.
Mr Hose's
act, 1793.
1 Report of the Select Committee of the House of Commons, 1825.
F Ft I
riendly and infirmity, is likely to be attended with very beneficial
ocieties. effects by promoting the happiness of individuals, and at the
same time diminishing the public burdens. It then pro-
l ovisions ceeded to enact that it should be lawful to institute such
Mr societies for the purposes above mentioned, and for the
: ise’s act. members of such societies to meet in committee to make
rules and regulations for their guidance, to impose fines and
forfeitures upon those violating such rules, and to amend
those rules from time to time. The act further provided
that no society should come within the meaning of the act
until its rules should be exhibited to the justices in quarter
sessions and approved of by them. These rules were not to
be afterwards altered otherwise than by three-fourths of
the members present at a general meeting, or by three-
fourths of a committee appointed to manage the concerns of
the society. The act further provided that, before the en¬
rolment of its rules, each society should declare the intents
and purposes for which it was established; and that it should
be unlawful to dissolve any such society so long as any of
its purposes remained to be carried into effect, and that it
should be unlawful for the society to make any use of its
funds, other than that declared to be the purpose of its
establishment.
rivilegcs In addition to those restrictions, the act conferred certain
inferred privileges on friendly societies, which may be briefly stated
I ? lt‘ as follows:—1. Any bonds required from the officers of the
society were to be given to the clerk of the peace without
fee or reward, and were not to be liable to stamp duty.
2. In case of neglect in the treasurer or other officers in
rendering their accounts, summary proceedings were made
lawful before the supreme judicatories of the country, and
that such proceedings should be taken without any expenses
charged by such judicatories, and that counsel should be
assigned to the society, who should perform his duty in ad¬
vocating their interests without fee or reward. 3. That
the money of the society in the hands of a treasurer should
on his decease have a preference over all his other debts.
4. That the officers of the society should be invested with
the power of “ suing and being sued.” 5. T. hat a member,
thinking himself aggrieved, should be allowed to take sum¬
mary proceedings before two justices. 6. That if the rules
of a society provided for an arbitrator, there should be no
appeal from his decision; and finally, that no member of a
friendly society was to be removed from any parish until
he should become actually chargeable,
iubsequent Such were the provisions of Mr Rose’s act. Since the
tatutes. year jn which it was passed, several additional statutes have
been enacted for the purpose of securing and promoting the
interests of friendly societies. The principal acts in exist¬
ence up to the present year (1855) are the following seven,
viz.:—33d Geo. III., cap. 54; 59th Geo. III., cap. 128;
10th Geo. IV., cap. 56; 4th and 5th Will. IV., cap. 40;
9th and 10th Viet., cap. 27; 13th and 14th Viet., cap.
115, and 15th and 16th Viet., cap. 65. There are a few
others relating to minor points, which however it is unneces¬
sary to specify.
tecent en- In the course of the year 1854, a very important bill was
ictments. introduced into the House of Commons, entitled “ A Bill
to consolidate and amend the law relating to Friendly So¬
cieties.” A select committee of the house was appointed,
who, after carefully investigating the subject and consider-
^eport of ing the bill, presented their report. This document pointed
nitte C°m" out ^ie clearest manner the necessity of legislation on
1854 0’ the subject, and made a variety of important suggestions as
to the bill referred to. We shall now present the reader
with an outline of the principal provisions of the bill itself,
which is entitled “ A Bill to consolidate and amend the law
relating to Friendly Societies.’
Friendly The preamble sets forth that “ it would conduce to the
dill of08 improvement of the law relating to friendly societies, if the
1855, several statutes relating thereto were consolidated, and
F R I 311
certain additions and alterations were made therein.” The Friends,
first clause repeals all the preceding statutes with certain Soci|ty of
exceptions as to existing societies, and subsequent clauses Frie][and<
provide that societies instituted prior to this act shall con- ^ ^ ./
tinue, and their rules, contracts, bonds, &c., shall remain in
force, notwithstanding the repeal of the acts and statutes
above referred to. The act then proceeds to the subject
of the appointment, salaries, and current expenses of the
registrars. It then points out in the following terms the
law as to societies hereafter instituted.
“ It shall be lawful for any number of persons to form
and establish a friendly society under the provisions of this
act, for the purpose of raising by voluntary subscriptions of
the members thereof, with or without the aid of donations,
a fund for any of the following objects, viz.:—1. For insur¬
ing a sum of money to be paid on the birth of a member’s
child, or on the death of a member, his wife, or child. 2.
For the relief or maintenance of the members, their hus¬
bands, wives, children, or kindred, in old age, sickness or
widowhood, or the endowment of members or nominees of
members at any age. 3. For any purpose which shall be
authorised by one of her majesty’s principal secretaries of
state, or in Scotland by the Lord Advocate, as a purpose to
which the powers and facilities of this act ought to be ex¬
tended ; provided that a society established under this act
shall not assure the payment of an annuity exceeding L.50
per annum, nor a sum payable on the death of any person,
or on any other contingency exceeding L.200. The bill
further enacts that no money shall be paid by any society
upon the death of a child under ten years of age, “ except
upon the production of a copy of the entry on the register
of births and deaths, signed by the registrar of the district
in which the child shall have died,” and that the cause of
death shall be certified by a qualified medical practitioner;
and further, that the sum to be paid shall not exceed L.6
in the case of the death of a child under five years of age,
nor L.10 in that of a child between five and ten years of
age. The remainder of the bill, which contains forty-nine
clauses, refers to matters of detail regarding the appoint¬
ment of officers, the rules of societies, the receipts and pay¬
ments by societies, their property and the mode of its in¬
vestment, the determination of disputes, and the returns
made to the commissioners. (r.av.f.)
FRIENDS, Society of. See Quakers.
FRIESLAND, or Vries rand, sometimes by foreigners
called West Friesland, to distinguish it from East Friesland
in Hanover, is the most northerly province of Holland. It
is bounded on the S.W., W., and N., by the Zuyder Zee and
the North Sea; on the E. by the provinces of Groningen
and Drenthe ; and on the S.E. by that of Overyssel. The
area is 1280 square miles English ; and the population on
31st December 1853 was 259,508, being on an average
203 persons to the square mile.
So similar and identical in surface and soil is Friesland
with the province of North Holland, that no geologist
doubts they formed one country antecedently to that con¬
vulsion in the thirteenth century, which made an inlet lor
the Zuyder Zee, now separating them. Many parts of
Friesland lie below sea-level, and are protected against
inundations of the North Sea by artificial dykes raised and
kept in repair at a great expense. The entire surface is
flat, and intersected by canals; the only elevations being
the tarpeu (mounds), on which the ancient inhabitants
were accustomed to take refuge from the inundations of
the sea. Interspersed with the entire surface there are
deep swamps, marshes, and bogs, with sandy and moory
tracts, or low miserable woodlands. The Great Canal
commences at Haarlingen, a port on the west coast, and
passes through Franeker, Leeuwarden, and Dokkum, to
Groningen. Mostly all the minor and intersecting canals,
many of which are above the surface-level of the country
312 F R I
Friesland and have the water pumped into them, have enabled the in-
II habitants to cultivate the soil, which otherwise could not have
Frigate, as well as to transmit the produce to suitable
markets. The Great Canal unites with another which runs
southward to Sneek, from which, by several small lakes, the
communication is completed to Lemmer, on the Zuyder Zee.
The expense of maintaining the dykes is raised by a dyke-
tax upon the landowners; and the whole management of
the canals, dykes, and sluices, is under the administration
of the “ Water-Staat,” who exercise a watchful superin¬
tendence over the whole system of water communication in
the province. The more elevated grounds are generally
appropriated to the cultivation of grain, while the lower
soils, especially near the N.W. coast, are set apart for graz¬
ing. Though there is no river of any importance in this
province, we may mention the Boorn, in the centre, and the
Linda and Kuinder, which join just close to their entrance
into the Zuyder Zee, and the Lawer, which falls into the
Lawer Zee, a small inlet on the N.E. coast. The Lawer only
is navigable for small craft; the other two are short, broad
rivulets. The small lakes are very numerous, and well
stocked with fish of useful kinds. The people of Friesland
are principally occupied in dairy husbandry, digging turf
for fuel, and fishing. The stock of cattle is so large, that
the annual produce for export amounts to 50,000 cwts. of
butter and 10,000 cwts. of cheese. With the exception of
the kanter-kaas, the cheese, as well as the butter, are
much inferior to those of the western provinces of Holland.
Sheep are numerous, but of very inferior breeds, and the
wool is coarse. Horses are bred in large numbers, and
are much sought after as carriage-horses, being tall and
strong limbed, but unfortunately soft in the hoof. Pigs are
reared in immense numbers, especially for the lard they
produce. The honey of Friesland has long been in high re¬
pute, having its peculiar flavour from the clover so uni¬
versally cultivated. Manufactures are few, including little
more than the common necessaries of life, with wooden
clocks, linen, sail-cloth, woollens, iron-wares, paper, salt,
spirits, potato-starch, and tiles.
Friesland is divided into three districts; Heerenveen
and Sneek in the south, and Leeuwarden in the north. The
chief towns of the province are Leeuwarden, the capital;
Bolswaart, Franeker, Haarlingen, Dokkum, Stavoren, Sneek,
Workum, and Heerenveen.
The islands Terschelling, Ameland, and Schiermonikoog,
off the north coast, belong to Friesland. The largest of
these is Terschelling, containing about 26,000 inhabitants
engaged in agriculture and fishing.
The ancient inhabitants of Friesland were a branch of
the Frisii. In the fourth and fifth centuries they allied
themselves with the Saxons, whom they assisted in the
conquest of Britain. Pepin, major-domo of the Franks,
put their king Radpod to flight, and wrested from them
their western lands between the mouths of the Schelde and
the Rhine. By Charlemagne the Frisians were subdued
and put under dukes appointed by him. See Frisii.
Friesland, East. See Aurich.
FRIEZE, m. Architecture, that part of the entablature of
columns which is between the architrave and cornice. See
Glossary to Architecture.
Frieze, or Frize, a kind of coarse woollen cloth, so
called as being friezed or napped on one side. See Wool¬
len Manufacture.
FRIGA, or Frea, in Scandinavian mythology, the wife
of Odin.
FRIGATE (Jvv.fr eg ate (?) ; Lat. aphr actus, a long un¬
decked vessel); a ship of war, usually of two decks, designed
for swift sailing. Frigates mount from 20 to 44 guns, and
sometimes more. The name was originally applied to a
long kind of vessel navigated in the Mediterranean with
sails and oars.
F R I
FRIGATOON, a Venetian vessel with a square stern Frigatooi
and without a foremast, having only a main-mast, mizen- ||
mast, and bow-sprit. Frisi.
FRIGENTO, or Fricento, a town of Naples, province
of Principato Ultra, 17 miles E.N.E. of Avellino. Pop.
3000. In the vicinity is the celebrated lake of Ampsanc-
tus. See Ampsancti Vallis.
FRILAZIN, the name of a class of persons among the
Anglo-Saxons, which consisted of those who had once been
slaves but had obtained their liberty. Though in reality
freemen, they were not considered as of the same rank with
those who had been born free, and were still dependent on
their former masters, or on some new patron. This custom
the Anglo-Saxons derived from their ancestors in Germany,
among whom the condition of freedmen was esteemed little
above that of slaves.
FRISCHE HAFF (i.e., Fresh-water Sea), an extensive
lagoon, in the northern part of the Prussian provinces of
East and West Prussia. It is 48 miles in length from S.W.
to N.E., and from 4 to 10 miles in width. It is separated
from the Baltic by a narrow tongue of land 43 miles in
length, at the eastern extremity of which it communicates
with that sea by a channel called the Gatt.
FRISI, Paul, a profound mathematician and astrono¬
mer, was born the 13th of April 1728 at Milan. His family
had formerly emigrated from Strasburg, and was esta¬
blished at Milan in an humble station of life.
At the age of fifteen he entered into the convent of the
Barnabite friars, or of the congregation of St Paul, where
his studies were at first confined to the attainment of
some knowledge of geography from the contemplation of
the old maps that were pasted on the walls of the galleries;
he soon acquired, however, a taste for geometry, and made
considerable progress in it without an instructor. He was
sent to the university of Pavia to go through a course of
divinity, and he did not neglect the opportunity of apply¬
ing with increased diligence to the mathematics, with the
assistance of Professor Olivetano. He was afterwards re¬
moved to Lodi, in order to give lectures there on philosophy;
and he soon after distinguished himself by writing a most
able essay on the Figure of the Earth, which, however, he
had not the means of printing, as his brethren were un¬
willing to assist him, until he found a patron for his
publication in the Count de Silva, who undertook to
bear the expense. The credit which he acquired in¬
duced some other members of the society to follow his
example, and the convent of the Barnabites at Milan soon
began to be converted into a nursery of mathematics. His
reputation procured him also, from the king of Sardinia, the
appointment of professor of philosophy in the college of
Casale. Here, however, he thought the conduct of his
superiors unjust and tyrannical, and they were also dis¬
satisfied with him on account of his great intimacy with
Radicati, whose opinions were rather more liberal than they
thought it prudent to tolerate. This friendship was, how¬
ever, so far of advantage to Frisi, as it tended to improve his
taste in modern literature; but it was the principal cause of his
being removed to Novara, where he was obliged to undertake
the duties of a preacher. In the mean time he was nomi¬
nated a corresponding member of the Parisian Academy
of Sciences in 1753, and received similar honours from other
scientific bodies. Soon after this he was recalled to Milan,
and made professor of philosophy in the great Barnabite
College of St Alexander in that city. His dissertation on
the Figure of the Earth was very acrimoniously attacked
by a young Jesuit, who accused him of being improperly
led away by English and French innovations; but it was
easy for him to repel so unfounded a charge. From this
time he entertained much ill humour against the Jesuits in
general, and had written a work to depreciate the order,
but he was advised by his second brother to suppress it
He became, however, more and more connected with the
enemies of the Jesuits, and, among them, with D’Alembert,
Condorcet, and the other Encyclopedistes. He had before
this time declared himself, in his lectures, an enemy to the
popular opinions of the Italians respecting magic and witch¬
craft, though he felt himself in some danger of the animad¬
versions of the Inquisition. He was much in the habit of
frequenting the best societies in Milan, and even more than
was thought consistent with his religious character ; but he
was in some measure emancipated from the restraints of his
order by his appointment, in 1756, to a professorship in the
university of Pisa, for which he was indebted to the Grand
Duke Leopold. This situation he retained for eight years,
enjoying the highest degree of credit, and receiving marked
attention from all travellers of distinction, and saving at
the same time a considerable portion of his salary, to which
he added the amount of some prizes which he obtained from
Berlin and Petersburg in 1756, and from Paris in 1758.
Notwithstanding his occupations as a professor of moral
philosophy, he had always been in the hahit of devoting the
greater part of his attention to the mathematical sciences.
In 1757 he was made an associate of the Imperial Academy
of Petersburg, and a foreign member of the Royal Society
of London ; in 1758, a member of the Academy of Berlin ;
in 1766, of that of Stockholm; and in 1770, of the Academies
of Copenhagen and of Berne. The Archduke Joseph had
sent him, in 1759, a collar with a gold medal, and he re¬
ceived similar marks of distinction from the kings of Prussia
and Denmark. He was also liberally rewarded by Pope
Clement XIII. for his services in arranging a dispute be¬
tween the people of Ferrara and of Bologna on the subject
of rivers and torrents, which had been referred to him on
the occasion of a tour that he made to Naples and to Rome
in 1760. The senate of Venice also made him a proper ac¬
knowledgment for the assistance he gave to the commis¬
sioners whom they had appointed to control the ravages of
the Brenta. The Empress Maria Theresa settled on him
a pension of 100 sequins, or L.50 a-year. He was recalled
to Milan in 1764, as professor of mathematics in the Pala¬
tine schools, with appointments equal to those which he had
enjoyed at Pisa, and with the additional advantage of living
near his family, and being enabled to promote their interests.
He was at various times much engaged in the decision of
controversies respecting canals and rivers, and obtained
much credit for his skill and ingenuity ; though the peculi¬
arities of his temper tended somewhat to increase the number
of his enemies. Among other controversies, he was engaged
in a dispute respecting the propriety of adding a high pinnacle
to the dome of the church at Milan, which has since been
raised in opposition to his opinion. In 1766 he undertook
a journey into France and England, and his celebrity every¬
where procured him the most flattering attentions. At
Paris a very liberal proposal was made to him to remove to
Lisbon, but he preferred returning to his own country. In
1768 he went to Vienna, and he was consulted by the govern¬
ment there upon some important questions of ecclesias--
tical policy, in which his advice was adopted. He remained
but little longer in the college of St Alexander, and Pope
Pius VI. liberated him entirely from subjection to the supe¬
riors of his order, and allowed him to wear the habit of a
secular priest. As one of the censors of the press, he had
incautiously been accessory to the publication of the Lan-
terna Curiosa, the work of a coffee-house club in Milan,
which gave great offence to the government; and he after¬
wards still more imprudently undertook to defend it. This
circumstance occasioned his removal from Milan for a time,
but he was recalled in 1777, and was appointed director of
a school of architecture. He was active in introducing the
employment of conductors for security against lightning, and
had one fixed for an example on the repository of the public
archives. He was equally zealous on every other occasion
VOL. x.
in the dissemination of useful novelties among his country¬
men. In 1778 he made a tour into Switzerland, and his
observations there gave rise to his speculations on subter¬
raneous rivers. He enjoyed uninterrupted health until the
age of forty-eight, when he was attacked by a hsemorrhoidal
affection, ending in an abscess, which, eight years afterwards,
required the performance of an operation. This was unfor¬
tunately succeeded by a fatal mortification, and he died the
22d November 1784, at the moment when he was about to
be placed on the list of the eight foreign associates of the
Parisian Academy ; an honour which had been delayed by
the preference of J. A. Euler, on the occasion of a former
vacancy, to the no small mortification of his vanity. He
had very lately obtained a prize from the Academy of
Haerlem, for his memoir on the Inequality of the Satellites
of Jupiter. He was buried in the church of St Alexander,
and a medallion with his portrait was placed over his tomb
by his brethren Barnabites. He had four brothers, Antony,
a physician, botanist, and chemist; Antony Francis, an
ecclesiastic, author of some antiquarian researches of merit;
Louis, a canon of St Ambrose, a learned theologian and
mechanician ; and Philip, a lawyer, author of a dissertation
Ue Imperio et Jurisdictione.
The works of Father Paul Frisi are—1. Disquisitio mathematica
in causam figurse terrae, Milan, 1751; demonstrating, more com¬
pletely than Newton had done, the spheroidal figure of the earth.
2. Estratto della storia litteraria d’ltalia, Milan, 1753 ; an answer
to a review. 3, Saggio della morale filosofia, Lugano, 1755. 4.
Nova electricitatis theoria, Milan, 1755. Seems to be the same with
a dissertation De existentia et motu setheris, seu de theoria electri¬
citatis, ignis, et lucis, printed with J. A. Euler’s Disquisitio de causa
physica electricitatis, praemio coronata, 1755, 4to, Petersburg. This
dissertation shows some ingenuity, but is by no means established
on firm foundations. Among some other fanciful hypotheses, it
suggests that light is probably an impulse transmitted by an elastic
medium, but not of an undulatory nature. Both these essays seem
to have been republished at Lucca, with another by Resaud, under
the title of Dissertationes selectse quae ad I. P. academiam, anno
1755, missae sunt, 1757. 5. De motu diurno terras, Pisa, 1758;
a dissertation which obtained a prize from the Academy of Berlin
in 1756. 6. Dissertationes yarige, 2 vols. 4to, Lucca, 1759, 1761;
the first volume containing a geometrical solution of the problem
of Precession and Nutation ; a Dissertation on the Atmospheres ot
the Heavenly Bodies, which obtained the prize at Paris in 1758;
an Essay on the Nature and Motion of the Ether : the second, a
Treatise on the Inequality of the Motion of the Planets, being an
enlargement of a prize dissertation which obtained the second pre¬
mium at Paris in 1760 ; a Dissertation on the geometrical method
of Fluxions, and some Metaphysical Meditations. 8. Piano de
lavori per liberare dalle acque, Lucca, 1761; for the use of the
provinces of Bologna, Ferrara, and Ravenna. 9. Del modo di re-
golare i fiumi e torrenti, Lucca, 1762, 1760; Flor. 1770; Irench,
Paris, 1774; especially of the Bolognan and Roman territories,
making great use of Guglielmini s works. At the end there is an
Elogio di Gabriello Manfredi. 10. Praelectio habita Mediolani;
1764. 11. Saggio sopra Parchitextura Gotica, Leghorn, 1766. 12.
Lettre a M. d’Alembert, Par., 1767. 13. Elogio del Galileo, Leg¬
horn and Milan, 1775; French by Floncel, 12mo, Par., 1767; an
elegant specimen of biography. 14. On the supposed Inequalities
in the Rotation of the Earth and Moon, Inst. Bologn., vol. 5. Op.,
p. 11 (1787). The same volume contains a prospectus of the work
on the Laws of Gravity, p. 514. 15. De gravitate universale libri
tres, 4to, Milan, 1768; a work considered as a model of elegance,
simplicity, and facility ; leaving, however, the fact of the moon’s
acceleration still unexplained, and even stating doubts of its exist¬
ence. 16. Della maniera di preservaye gli edifizi dal fulmine,
Milan, 1768 ; by conductors. 17. De inequalitate motus planeta-
rum, a dissertation which obtained the second premium at Paris in
1768. 18. Melandri et Frisii de theoria lunse commentarii, Parma,
1769. 19. Cosmographia physica et mathematica, 2 vols. 4to,
Milan, 1774, 1775 ; this is Frisi’s principal work ; it contains the
substance of the three books on the laws of gravity, with additional
matter. It is only superseded by the Mecanique Celeste in point of
practical utility, but still retains the advantage of more satisfac¬
tory geometrical representation, and less unnecessary complication
in the modes of reasoning employed. 20. Dell architextura, statica
e idraulica, Milan, 1777. 21. A Letter to Melander on the transit
of Venus, Attidi Sienna, vol. iv., p. 21 (1771) ; with some illustra¬
tions of the lunar perturbations. 22. Geometrical problems, ib.
314 FRO
Prisii vol. v., p. 27 (1772); relating to intersections and circles. 23.
Elogi di Galileo e di Cavalieri; Milan, 1778 ; Pisa, 1779. 24.
Frobenius. Elogio del Cav. I. Newton, 8vo, Milan, 17 /8. 25. Elogio del Conte
i i D. Silva, Milan, 1779 ; anonymous. 26. Elogio di Tito Pomponio
Y Attico, Milan, 1780; a compliment to the Count de Firmian. 27.
Opuscoli filosofici, Milan, 1781; denying the fancied influence of
the moon on the weather, which Toaldo very unsuccessfully at¬
tempted to assert in answer; with dissertations on Conductors, on
the effect of Oil on Water, on the Heat of the Earth, and on Sub¬
terraneous Rivers. 28. On isoperimetrical maxima and minima,
Atti di Sienna, vol. vi., p. 121 (1781) ; intended as a simpler mode
of obtaining the results than that of Euler. 29. A Collection of
his Works, in 3 volumes, was begun in 1782, and remained un¬
finished at the time of his death. The first volume contained Al¬
gebra and Geometry; the second, Mechanics and Hydraulics; the
third, the Cosmography. 30. Elogio di Maria Teresa, Pisa, 1783 ;
anonymous. 31. Lettera intorno agli studj del Sign. T. Perelli,
Pisa, 1784. 32. Elogio di D’Alembert, Milan, 1788 ; posthumous.
33. An Essay on Arches and Domes, Atti della Societd Patriotica di
Milano, vol. i., 1783; correcting some statements of Couplet and
Belidor.
He left several unpublished works in the hands of his two bro¬
thers : 1. On the mediocrity of the Jesuits. 2. Elements of the
Cartesian Algebra. 3. Institutions of Mechanics. 4. Of the resto¬
ration of the navigation between Milan and Pavia. 5. Institu-
tiones Hydrometricae. 6. Elements of Hydrodynamics. 7. Ele¬
ments of Hydraulics. 8. Memoirs of his travels in France and
England. 9. Lectures delivered at Pisa. 10. Praelectiones de
mails spiritibus. 11. Several miscellaneous dissertations.
(Yerri Memorie del S. I). P. Frisi, 4, Milan, 1787 ; Fabbroni
Elogj d'illustri Italiani, Atti di Milano, vol. ii.; Chalmer’s Biogra¬
phical Dictionary, vol. xiv. 8, London, 1814; Aikin’s General Bio¬
graphy, vol. x. 4, London, 1815 ; Guillon in Biographic Universelle,
vol. xvii. 8, Paris, 1816.) (t. y.)
FRISII, in Ancient Geography, a German tribe forming
part of the nation of the Ingaevones. Their country ex¬
tended along the sea-coast from the mouth of the Rhine to
that of the Amisia or Ems, and extended inland as far as
the territory of the Bructeri. They were divided into the
Frisii Majores who occupied the district that corresponds
with the modern provinces of West Friesland and Gron¬
ingen, and Frisii Minores, whose territory is represented by
the present provinces of Oberyssel, Guelders, Utrecht,
and the greater portion of the province of Holland. The
Frisii were separated from the Batavi by the Rhine, and by
the Amisis from the Chauci. The Frisii were at first firm
friends and allies of the Romans, and such they continued till
a.d. 28, when, enraged by the tyrannical conduct of the
Roman lieutenant Olennius, they rose in arms against
them, and compelled them to evacuate the country with
great loss. Corbulo, the general of Claudius, reduced them
to a kind of sullen obedience in a.d. 47; and Nero com¬
pelled them to abandon some conquests they had made on
the southern side of the Zuyder Zee. In the fourth and
fifth centuries they appear as members of the great Saxon
Confederacy, and assisted the Angles and Saxons in
their conquest of Britain. In the eighth century, Epin,
the father of Charlemagne, wrested from the Frisii the
western portion of their territory, and Charlemagne in¬
corporated the Eastern part among his other Saxon con¬
quests.
FRIT, or Fritt, the name given to the ingredients of
which glass is made, after they have been fused into a mass,
or calcined, in a furnace. See Glass.
FROBENIUS, Joannes, an eminent German printer
and scholar of the sixteenth century, was born at Hammel-
burg in Franconia. After completing his university career
with great distinction at Basle, he established a printing
office in that city about the year 1491, and was the first
German who brought the art to anything like perfection.
He superintended everything himself, and would allow
nothing to pass through his press which he thought likely
to prejudice the cause of letters or religion. Attracted by
the high character of Frobenius as a man and as a printer,
Erasmus fixed his residence at Basle, and was soon on
terms of intimate and cordial friendship with him. A result
\
F E 0
of this connection was that Erasmus not only had his own Frobisher,
works printed by his friend, but superintended editions of
St Jerome, St Cyprian, Tertullian, Hilary of Poictiei’s, and
St Ambrose. It was part of Frobenius’ plan to have printed
also editions of the Greek Fathers. He did not live to
carry out this project, which however was very creditably
executed by his son Jerome and his son-in-law Bischof or
Episcopius. Frobenius died in 1527, in consequence
of an accident which had befallen him some years before.
An extant letter of Erasmus, written in the year of Frobe¬
nius’ death, gives an epitome of his life and an estimate of
his character, which was so amiable that Erasmus says he
began at length to feel ashamed of his grief for the death
of his friend, which was far more poignant than that which
he had felt for the loss of his own brother. The epistle con¬
cludes with an epitaph on Frobenius in Greek and Latin,
written by the great scholar himself.
FROBISHER, Sir Martin, a celebrated English navi¬
gator of the sixteenth century, was born (in what year is not
known) at Doncaster in Yorkshire. He was the first English¬
man that sailed in quest of the north-west passage to China and
the Indies. “ Being thoroughly furnished of the knowledge
of the sphere and all other skills pertaining to the art of
navigation, and being persuaded of a new and nearer pas¬
sage to Cataya than by Capo de Buona Speranqa, which
the Portugals yearly use, and knowing this to be the only
thing of the world that was yet left undone, whereby a
notable mind might be made famous and fortunate,” he ap¬
plied to various English merchants to assist him in his pro¬
jected enterprise, but for fifteen years without success. At
the end of that period he was enabled, through the assist¬
ance of Dudley, Earl of Warwick, and others, persons of
rank and fortune, to set out on the expedition. He sailed
from Deptford, June 15th, 1576, with three small vessels,
two of them, the Gabriel and the Michael, barks of twenty-
five tons each, and the third a small pinnace of ten tons.
As they passed Greenwich, the queen, who happened to be
there with her court, “ commended them, and bade them
farewell with shaking her hand at them out of the window.”
After passing the Shetland islands they came in sight of
“ Freeseland” (July 11th), where they were unable to land
on account of the ice, and on the 28th of the same month
they reached that part of Greenland which Frobisher named
“ Meta Incognita.” On the 11 th August they sailed through
a strait which Frobisher called by his own name. Pursuing
their way they passed several islands, to which they gave
names, and came on the 18th to Burcher’s Island, where
they lost a boat and part of their crew through the treachery
of the natives. After this they turned their prows home¬
wards, and reached England, September 7th. Frobisher had
taken possession of the various places he touched at in the
name of the queen ; and in token of this had ordered his
men to put on board ship whatever they first laid hands on.
Among other things thus secured was a lump of black
stone, which, when Frobisher returned home, was acci¬
dentally discovered to contain gold. This discovery was
soon noised abroad, and in the following spring Frobisher
readily found the means to fit out another expedition,
partly scientific and partly with a view to prosecuting the
search for gold. The queen lent him from the royal navy
a ship of 200 tons, with which, and two smaller barks, he
sailed from Harwich, May 31, 1577. On arriving at the
scene of their former discoveries they found that little of
the gold ore remained, but they opened forthwith commu¬
nications with the natives for the purposes of traffic. One
of these, “ a man of large corporature and good propor¬
tion,” they carried away with them neither in a very just
nor handsome manner. They also caught an old woman,
whom they took for a devil or a witch,” and stripped off
her buskins “ to see if she were cloven-footed.” After dis¬
covering and naming a good many places, and procuring a
FRO
Frobisher good deal of ore, he turned his prow southwards, August
Strait 23d, and reached home in the end of September. The ore,
II when smelted, was found to pay the expenses of the voyage
roissar. more ; and a third expedition was fitted out in 1578,
which, however, through stress of weather and other cir¬
cumstances, had no sooner reached the gold country than
it was obliged to return from the lateness of the season.
This was the last of Frobisher’s polar voyages. It is not
known how he was occupied during the next seven years,
but in 1585 he accompanied Sir Francis Drake on his ex¬
pedition to the West Indies, and three years later did such
good service against the Spanish armada as to be rewarded
with the honour of knighthood on board his own ship by the
lord high admiral. In 1594, after various exploits against
the Spaniards, he was sent to assist Henri IV. of France
against the Spaniards and the members of the League.
The enemy had fortified themselves strongly in Croyzon,
near Brest; and in an attack on their position Frobisher
was mortally wounded. He lived to take his fleet safely
home, and shortly after died at Plymouth.—(Biog. Brit.;
Hakluyt’s Collect, of Voyages ; Stow’s Annales, &c. &c.)
FROBISHER Strait,an arm of the sea,in British North
America, between Hudson Strait and Northumberland
Inlet. It extends in a westerly direction from the entrance
to Davis’ Strait.
FRODSHAM, a market-town of Cheshire, near the
Weaver and Mersey rivers, 10 miles N.E. of Chester. It
■ has a fine old church, partly Norman, and a free grammar-
school, savings-bank, graving dock, and flour mills. Pop.
(1851)2099, chiefly employed in the salt-works and cotton
manufacture.
FROISSART, Jean,theauthorof the celebrated “Chro¬
nicle,” was born at Valenciennes about the year 1337. He
was the son of Thomas Froissart, a heraldic painter, an
honourable employment in those the palmy days of chivalry.
At an early age he distinguished himself by his proficiency
in all the elegant accomplishments of his day. He had
hardly left school when he devoted himself to the study of
history, and, at the request “ de son cher seigneur et maitre,
Messire Robert de Namur, chevalier Seigneur de Beau¬
fort,” undertook to narrate the wars of his own time, espe¬
cially those which followed the battle of Poictiers. To dis¬
sipate his grief for the marriage of a young person for whom
he had conceived a violent passion, he went to England,
where he was kindly received by Philippa ofHainault, wife
of Edward III. and mother of the Black Prince, who made
him her private secretary. In her employment he remained
for three or four years, and took advantage of his opportu¬
nities to visit Scotland, where he spent six months, travelling
on horseback through the country, his only attendant being
his greyhound. He was well received by David II. of Scot¬
land and some of the leading nobility, whose exploits he
afterwards recorded. After a flying visit to Bordeaux in
1366, he returned once more to England, where however
his stay appears to have been brief, as two years later we
find him visiting various Italian courts. He particularly
describes his visit to that of Savoy, where he was present
at the splendid fetes given by Amadeus, surnamed the Comte
Verd, in honour of Lionel duke of Clarence, and does not
forget to mention that the guests danced a virelay of his
composition. At Milan the same Count Amadeus pre¬
sented him with a splendid cotte-pardie and twenty gold
florins. On parting from this munificent patron, Froissart
repaired successively to Bologna, Ferrara, and Rome. In¬
stead of the meagre equipage with which he had travelled
through Scotland, he had now a handsome steed for him¬
self and a sumpter-horse for his servant and baggage.
About this time he lost his protectress, Philippa of England,
whose death he deeply deplored, and whose virtues he com¬
memorated in a dirge ; and it is even said that he wrote a
life of her, but if he did he never published it. On re-
FRO sis
turning to his own country he obtained the living of Les- Frome
tines, where he indulged himself more than was at all be- II,
coming in a churchman. During the short time that he Fronnsta-
held that cure he says that the tavern-keepers received five
hundred francs of his money. After this Froissart attached
himself successively to Wenceslaus of Luxembourg, duke
of Brabant, for whom he made a collection of his songs and
virelays, and to Guy, count of Blois, who made him clerk of
his chapel. At the instance of this latter patron Froissart
resumed the composition of his history, which had been in¬
terrupted, and to amass materials he paid a visit to the court
of the famous Gaston de Foix. That prince had fixed his resi¬
dence at that time at Ortez, and his court was thronged with
the noblest chevaliers of Europe. Froissart’s description of
his sojourn there is one of the most interesting parts of his
“ Chronicle.” On quitting Ortez the historian went to
Flanders in quest of materials for his work, and after various
pilgrimages made with the same object he at length settled
down at Paris to complete it at his leisure. In 1395 he
revisited England, where he was hospitably received by
Richard II., and presented with a silver goblet containing
a hundred nobles; and on returning to France he became
canon and treasurer of the church of Chimay. These offices
he held till his death, which appears to have happened about
the beginning of the fifteenth century. Froissart’s poetry,
very celebrated in its day, and now almost forgotten, em-
bi'aces nearly 30,000 verses. His “ Chronicle,” on the other
hand, less appreciated during the author’s lifetime, is now
regarded as one of the most interesting historical monu¬
ments of the midcSe ages. It contains the history of the
fourteenth century from 1326 to 1400. The first edition
of it appeared at Paris under the title of La Chronique de
France, d'Angleterre, d’Fcosse, d’Fspagne, de Bretagne,
&c., without a date, and was often reprinted. The best of
the early editions was that published at Lyons, 1559-61, in
4 vols. fob, by Denis Sauvage. Of recent editions the best
is that by J. A. Buchon, in 15 vols. 8vo, forming part of
the Collection des Chroniques Nationales Franqaises, Paris,
1823-26. There are two English translations of Froissart;
the first by Bourchier lord Berners, London, 1525-26, re¬
printed in 1812 by E. V. Utterson, Esq., in 2 vols. 4to. ;
the second, “ which contains additions from many celebrated
MSS.,” by Thomas Johnes, Esq., issued from the Hafod
press, in 4 vols. 4to, 1803-5. (For a more particular ac¬
count of Froissart’s “ Chronicle,” see Chiyalry.)
FROME, a parliamentary borough and market-town of
Somersetshire, on the small river Frome, an affluent of the
Avon, 11 miles S. of Bath. It was formerly designated
Frome Selwood, from its situation on the borders of the ex¬
tensive forest of Selwood. The Frome is here crossed by
a stone bridge of five arches, and the town is irregularly
built upon an acclivity rising from the river. With the ex¬
ception of the principal street, most of the others are nar¬
row and irregular, although within the last few years con¬
siderable improvements have been carried out. The parish
church is an elegant edifice in the later Gothic style, with
a tower and a fine octagonal spire 120 feet in height. There
are tw'o other churches and several dissenting places of wor¬
ship. Among the educational and charitable institutions
are a free grammar-school, a national school, an asylum for
the education and maintenance of 25 poor girls, a blue-coat
school, a charity school, and almshouses for old men and
women. The inhabitants are chiefly employed in the broad¬
cloth and silk trades. This town has been long noted for
its ale. The principal market is held on Wednesday, a
lesser one on Saturday. The vicinity is fertile and pic¬
turesque, and ornamented with numerous fine mansions.
Frome, since the passing of the Reform act, returns one
member to parliament. Pop. (1851) 10,148.
FROMISTA, a secular town of Spain, in the province
and bishopric of Palencia, with 1529 inhabitants. It con-
316
FRO
F R U
Frontal tains three churches, one convent, and two hospitals, and is
1 situated in a beautiful plain near the river Cieza and the
Fronto. Canal de Campos. There are in and around it numerous
‘—v—' relics and indications of its ancient grandeur. The land
around it is very rich and fertile, but utterly destitute of
trees, on account of the incurable dislike to them manifested
by the inhabitants. Fromista was the birthplace of San
Telmo and other men of note.
FRONTAL, in Architecture, a little pediment over a
small door or window.
FRONTINUS, Sextus Julius, a Roman-soldier and
the author of some interesting works, was born of a patrician
family at Rome, in the first century after Christ. Nothing
is known of his early life or history till we find him acting
as prcetor urhanus under Vespasian, a.d. 70, an office from
which he soon retired to make way for Domitian. Five
years later he was sent into Britain to succeed Cerealis as
governor of that island. He subdued the Silures, and held
the other native tribes in check till 78, when he was su¬
perseded by Agricola. In 97 Frontinus was appointed
curator aquarum at Rome, an office which was never con¬
ferred except upon persons of very high standing. He
was also a member of the College of Augurs, a dignity
he retained till his death, which appears to have happened
about a.d. 106. Many works have been attributed to Fron¬
tinus, of which only two that are undoubtedly his are now
extant. The first of these is a treatise on the art entitled
“ Strategematicon, libri iv.,” which is a miscellaneous col¬
lection of the sayings and doings of the most famous soldiers
of antiquity, recorded in the form of anecdote. The second
is entitled “ De Aquseductibus Urbis Romae, libri ii.” It
conveys in plain and modest language much valuable infor¬
mation on the manner in which ancient Rome was supplied
with water, and other matter of importance in the history
of architecture. A number of other treatises have been
ascribed on indirect testimony to Frontinus. The two
works above mentioned have been translated into all the
languages of Europe. The best editions of the “ Strate-
gematica” are those of Oudendorp, Leyden, 1731 ; and
Schwebel, Leipzic, 1772. The best edition of the “ De
Aquseductibus ” is that of Polenus, Pavia, 1722.
FRONTISPIECE ( from and specio), in Architecture,
the principal face of a building. Hence also an ornamental
figure or engraving in the beginning of a book.
FRONTO, Marcus Cornelius, a Roman grammarian
and rhetorician, was born of an Italian family at Cirta in
Numidia. He came to Rome in the reign of Hadrian, and
soon gained such renown as an advocate and orator as to be
reckoned inferior only to Cicero. Antoninus Pius, hearing
of his fame, appointed him tutor to his adopted sons Marcus
Aurelius and Lucius Verus; and Fronto, as appears from
his surviving letter’s, completely gained the confidence and
affection of both these pupils. After holding the office for
a few months in a.d. 143, he was five years later offered the
proconsulate of Asia; but declined that post on the plea
of bad health. He preferred to remain at Rome, where by
the practice of his profession he amassed a very large for¬
tune, which enabled him to purchase the famous gardens
of Maecenas, besides sumptuous villas in various parts of
Italy. In his old age, when confined to his house by the
gout, he used to receive the leading literary men, who
flocked to hear his unrivalled conversation. This exhibited
the same qualities as his more formal orations, which were
so much admired that a school of rhetoricians was formed
which called itself after his name, and had for its object the
restoration to the Latin language of its ancient purity and
simplicity. Fronto died at an advanced age, in the reign
of Marcus Aurelius, but the exact date of his death is not
known.
Till the year 1815 the only thing of Fronto’s known to
exist was some disjointed fragments of his essay De Differ¬
entia Verborum. In that year, however, Angelo Mai dis¬
covered in the Ambrosian library at Milan a palimpsest
manuscript, on which had been originally written some of
Fronto’s letters to his royal pupils. These Mai decyphered
and published with notes. On Mai’s removal to Rome he
discovered in the Vatican some additional sheets of the same
palimpsest, which, like the first, contained letters of Fronto
to Aurelius and Verus, with their replies. These palimp¬
sests had originally belonged to the famous convent of St
Columba at Bobbio, and had been written over by the
monks with the acts of the first council of Chalcedon. In
the course of events some sheets of them had been trans¬
ferred to Milan, while the rest had found their way into the
Papal library. All these letters were published by Mai at
Rome in 1823, under the title of M. Cornelii Frontonis et
M. Aurelii imperatoris epistolce ; L. Veri et Antonini Pii
et Appiani epistolarum reliquice ; Fragmenta Frontonis
et scripta grammatica. The discovery of these documents
excited intense interest among the scholars of Europe,
which, however, w’as speedily dispelled by their publication.
The characters of the two emperors, indeed, are displayed
in a very favourable light, especially in the affection which
they both seem to have retained for their old master. But
the subject-matter of most of the letters is of such ephe¬
meral interest, and their style is so vapid and commonplace,
as to throw very little additional light on Roman antiquity.
Editions of Fronto have been published at Frankfort and
Berlin. A French translation of Mai’s edition of 1823 was
published by Armand Cassan at Paris, in two vols. 8vo, in
1830.
FROSINONE, the ancient Frusino, a town of the
Papal States, capital of a cognominal delegation, at the foot
of a hill near the left bank of the Cosa, 46 miles E.S.E. of
Rome. The ancient city stood on the Via Latina. It
originally belonged to the Volsci, and was subsequently
colonized by Roman veterans. Some remains of an amphi¬
theatre are still visible in the plain beneath, but the town
itself contains no relics of antiquity. The town is very ill
built, but has numerous churches and convents. It is the
seat of a bishopric, and of a court of primary jurisdiction.
A large annual fair is held here. Being situated near the
Neapolitan territory, its neighbourhood is notorious for bri¬
gandage. Pop. about 7000.
The delegation of Frosinone is bounded on the N. and
N. W. by the Comarca di Roma, S. and S.W. by the Me¬
diterranean, and on the E. and S.E. by the Neapolitan pro¬
vince of Terra di Lavoro. It has an area of 720 square
miles, and a population (1850) of 148,378.
FROST. See Climate, Cold, and Meteorology.
Hoar-FnosT is atmospheric vapour that has been depo¬
sited in the form of dew, and frozen.
FROTH SPIT, or Cuckoo Spit, a name given to a
white spume or exudation found on the leaves of certain
plants; produced by the larva of the insect Cicada spumaria.
FROWDE, Philip, an English litterateur of the eigh¬
teenth century. He was educated at Oxford, where he
formed the acquaintance and enjoyed the intimate friend¬
ship of Addison. Some of his Latin poems were consi¬
dered worthy of a place in the Musce Anglicance. His tra¬
gedies of Philotas and the Fall of Saguntum, dedicated
respectively to Lord Chesterfield and Sir Robert Walpole,
do not exhibit any high literary merit, and are remembered
more from their refinement of tone and the extremely
amiable character of their author than from any intrinsic
value. Frowde died in 1738.
FROZEN OCEAN. See Polar Seas.
FRUIT-TREES. See Horticulture, and Botany.
FRUMENTACEOUS (frumentum, corn), resembling
wheat, in respect to leaves, ears, fruit, or the like.
FRUMENTARII, under the Roman empire, were offi¬
cers who acted as spies in the provinces, and reported to
Frosinone
II
Frumen-
tarii.
'rumen-
tatio
II
Fucinus
Lacus.
F U C
the emperor whatever seemed worthy of note. They ap¬
pear to have derived this appellation from their gathering
news in the same way that the frumentarii or purveyors
collected corn.
FRUMENTATIO, in Roman Antiquity, a largess of
corn bestowed on the people, to quiet them when uneasy
or turbulent. The number to whom this largess Avas to be
given was restricted by Augustus to 200,000.
FRUSH, or Frog, in Farriery, a sort of tender horn
that grows in the middle of the hoof of the horse, dividing
into two branches, and extending towards the heel in the
form of a fork.
FRUSTUM, in Geometry, the part of a solid figure that
remains wdien the top is cut off by a plane ; or it is that part
of any solid, as a cone, pyramid, sphere, &c., which is com¬
prised between two planes, whether they be parallel or di¬
vergent. See Geometry, and Coxic Sections.
FRUTEX (Lat. a shrub), denotes a plant whose branches
are perennial, and proceed directly from the surface of the
earth.
FUCA, Juan de, a strait on the west coast of North
America, Oregon territory, south of Vancouver island, and
leading from the Pacific into the Gulf of Georgia. It forms
part of the boundary line between the United States and
the British territory.
FUCHSIA, a genus of beautiful flowering shrubs, na¬
tives chiefly of the temperate parts of America. A. great
many different species and varieties are cultivated in this
country. Class and order Octandria monogynia, and nat.
order Onagraceae. See Botany, v., p. 192.
FUCI, a family of cryptogamous marine plants, generally
known as sea-weed. See Botany, nat. ord. Alyce, p. 21/, &c.
FUCINUS LACUS (Lago Fucino, or Lago di Ce-
lano), in Ancient Geography, a lake in the country of the
Marsi. Strabo describes it as being like a sea in size ; and
it was undoubtedly the largest body of fresh water in Cen¬
tral Italy ; but its circumference does not exceed thirty
miles. It is surrounded on all sides by mountains (one of
which, Monte Velino, attains a height of more than 8000
feet), and does not appear to have any natural outlet. Its
elevation above the sea-level is 2176 feet. Its eastern and
western boundaries are limestone ridges of considerable
height; on its north-western side it is separated by a gentle
slope from the channel of the Salto, a tributary of the Tiber.
Several curious traditions are current regarding the Lake
Fucinus. One of these is to the effect that it was traversed
by a river called the Pitonius, whose waters did not mix
with those of the lake. This story appears to have had its
origin in the fact that the surplus waters of the lake were
carried off by a subterranean channel, the opening of which,
still visible, is now called “ La Pedogna,” a manifest deri¬
vative from Pitonius. As the channel, however, was not
wide enough to carry off all the surplus water, especially
after the heavy rains, the low grounds round the shores of
the lake were frequently flooded. One of these floods is
said to have engulfed the town of Archippe, and the neigh¬
bouring inhabitants had a tradition that when the waters
were low the remains of that town might be traced beneath
the waves. To prevent the devastation and loss of life
consequent upon these inundations, Julius Caesar formed the
great design of cutting a subterranean canal from the lake
to the valley of the Liris or Garigliano. Death frustrated
this design, which none of his successors Had leisure or in¬
clination to carry out before Claudius. That emperor cut
a gallery of 15,600 English feet through Mount Salviano;
a work of great labour, from the hardness of the limestone
rock, and which is said to have occupied 30,000 workmen
for eleven consecutive years. This gallery, which is reck¬
oned by Pliny one of the most memorable proofs of Roman
greatness, was allowed to fall into decay, and it was gra¬
dually choked up with stones and rubbish falling from above.
F U E 317
All the efforts that have been made to clear it since the Fucus
middle of the thirteenth century have not hitherto been II
wholly successful. Much of the best land in the Abruzzo v ^ t
has consequently been swallowed up. In 1830, however, 7 ^
the king of the Two Sicilies caused some important repairs
to be executed on it, which have had the effect of obviating
the risk of future inundations. A company was formed at
Naples in 1852 to drain the entire lake, which according
to a recent official survey covers 36,315 acres. This com¬
pany does not yet appear to have commenced operations.
FUCUS (^Dkos), a general term among the ancient
Greeks and Romans for dyes and paints, more particularly
those employed as cosmetics. The custom of painting the
face wras derived from the oriental nations, among whom it
had existed from the earliest times. In order to give a rosy
hue to the complexion, the dye commonly used Avas that
obtained from the root of Anchusa tinctoria (alkanet plant).
To Avhiten the neck and arms they employed cerussa
(white-lead), which must soon have injured the fine texture
of the skin. The eyebrows and the edges of the eyelids
were darkened with a powder called stimmi or stibium (ses-
qui-sulphuret of antimony), a substance that is used at the
present day by the Turkish ladies for the same purpose;
and, according to St Jerome, Avas the cosmetic used by the
painted Jezebel of the Scriptures. Soot likewise appears
to have been sometimes so employed. The more effeminate
of the men, both among the Greeks and the Romans, some¬
times used such cosmetics. Various other substances were
employed for improving the complexion, more especially
among the Roman ladies, who wrere adepts in this art, even
heightening the blue colour of the veins, especially on the
temples. The still more objectionable custom of wearing
patches (splenid), once so prevalent in England, was not
unknown to the Romans. (See Smith’s Diet, of Greek and
Roman Antiquities.)
FUEL (from the French feu, fire, akin to the LAm focus,
a hearth or fireplace), a word applied to certain substances
which are used in the generation of heat, such as wood,
peat, coal, &c., and also sometimes applied to the substances
employed in generating light, such as oil, spirits of wine,
naphtha, &c. In the present article the former application
will alone be considered; for information respecting the
latter, see Gas-Lighting, Lamp, &c.
The abundance and consequent cheapness of fuel has a
great influence on the prosperity, habits, and manners of a
nation. Where fuel is scarce, factories languish, and com¬
merce declines. In cold climates scarcity of fuel is indi¬
vidually a great calamity, for it abridges the hours of labour,
causing persons to spend those hours in sleep which under
other circumstances would have been turned to profitable
account; it also causes persons to crowd together for the
sake of warmth in a way that is injurious to health and
morals. Abundance of fuel, on the contrary, with good
roads and a system of inland navigation for its distribution,
forms the basis of national prosperity, not only ministering
to the useful arts, but enabling the occupier of every house to
create an artificial climate suited to his wants and wishes.
The most common and widely distributed description of
fuel is wood, a term applied to the trunk, roots, and larger
branches of trees. Recently felled wood consists chiefly
of woody fibre, sap, and water. The woody fibre is a com¬
pound of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, and forms the chief
bulk of plants ; both it and the sap are combustible—that
is, are capable at a high temperature of combining rapidly
with the oxygen of the atmosphere and forming gaseous
compounds.* It is in the act of this formation that heat
is generated. The sap, which forms only a small pro¬
portion of the bulk of wood, varies in different kinds of
trees: the sap of the pine tribe contains resin; that of
the oak, tannin ; that of the beech and birch, extractive.
The quantity of water in wood varies greatly with the kind
318
Fuel.
FUEL.
of tree, and with the time of year when it is felled, it being
least in winter. As the water is not combustible but must
be got rid of at the expense of the heat generated by the
parts which are so, it is obviously desirable to store the
wood in a dry and airy situation before using it as fuel. By
this means 100 lb. weight of wood have been known to
lose 20 lb. weight in ten or twelve months. Wood, as
commonly used for fuel, contains about one-third of its
weight of water. Wood also contains earthy and alkaline
salts in the proportion of ^th to f^th, and these remain as
an incombustible ash.
Wood is distinguished from all other fuel by the valuable
property of reproduction, and also by the fact that it often
passes through various stages of beauty and utility to man
before it becomes converted into fuel.
The heating power of wood is considerable, in conse¬
quence of its excess of hydrogen, which, in burning and
forming water, requires for equal weights three times as
much oxygen as the carbon does in forming carbonic acid ;
and it gives out in burning nearly four times more heat
than the carbon. The lighter woods contain more hydro¬
gen than the heavier, so that they burn with flame longer
than they incandesce as charcoal; they also burn more
easily and give out their heat more quickly than the hard
woods.
During the combustion of wood its volatile parts undergo
some complicated chemical changes. W hen wood is burnt
out of contact with the air, the carbon is preserved in the
form of charcoal (see Charcoal), which is a very useful
fuel when an incandescent heat free from flame and smoke
is required ; but when some of the volatile products are to
be collected, the wood is placed in iron retorts which are
gradually raised to a red heat; the volatile products form
carburetted hydrogen, carbonic acid, carbonic oxide, and
other gases, and also certain vapours which condense into
liquid or solid products; some of the liquids are soluble in
water, such as pyroxylic spirit, pyroligneous acid, &c.; the
insoluble products form tar and certain oily substances.
In most countries deposits of peat occur of greater or less
extent. In Holland, the north of Germany, Ireland. &c.,
peat deposits are of immense extent. I he origin of peat has
been accounted for in those districts where clay occurs near
the surface by supposing muddy pools to have formed,
round the edges of which aquatic plants have taken root
and gradually extended themselves into the centre, thus
forming a bed where mosses accumulate, and new plants
take growth, while the old are decaying and becoming
compressed into a solid mass below. This process goes on
until the pools are filled up with vegetable matter, and the
surplus water is discharged over the neighbouring lands,
where the process is repeated until a peat bog is formed.
Even in mountain districts, where the soil is impervious,
clouds and mists may supply moisture, and a bog be formed
by the growth of one generation of vegetable matter on the
ruins of its predecessor. As the plants which form the peat
are in different stages of decomposition at various depths,
the character of the peat varies greatly. Near the surface
it is light-coloured, spongy, and the vegetable character but
little changed ; lower down it is brown and dense; while at
the base of some bogs, which may be as much as forty feet
in depth, the peat is black, almost as dense as coal, and re¬
sembling coal in chemical composition.
On the banks of the Rhine peat is cut by means of a
spade into blocks, and exposed to the air to dry, the upper Fuel,
layer being first separated from the lower and denser por- v
tion. In Holland the peat is scooped out by means of
spades ; or if a considerable quantity of water be present, an
instrument is used consisting of a sharp iron ring attached
to a handle, a net or cloth being fastened to the ring for
draining off the water. The- muddy peat thus collected is
trodden out by the feet of men, raked, and the stones picked
out; it is then thrown into shallow wooden boxes, strewed
with hay to prevent the peat from adhering, and the re¬
maining water is allowed to drain off. In the course of a few
days when the mass has attained a certain consistence,
women with flat boards strapped to their feet stamp down
the peat until it has attained such a consistency as not to
take an impression from a common tread. It is next stamped
with beaters; and the cake, which is eight or nine inches
thick, is divided by means of long laths into squares of about
four inches, which are removed a few at a time from each
box. The cakes are then dried by placing the first taken
out transversely on the second, the third upon the fourth,
reversing the order when the pieces are piled up in store.
The value of peat depends greatly upon its dryness, den¬
sity, and firmness; if porous and brittle it crumbles during
carriage or after it is stacked and thus becomes nearly
worthless. In many cases the value of peat depends on its
capability of being alternated with the substances to be
heated. Porous and almost valueless peat has been ren¬
dered valuable by being passed through a press, in which
case a lump of peat may lose as much as one-fourth of its
weight of water. Peat may be nearly valueless as a fuel
from the quantity of ash which it affords, consisting of
vegetable salts and the earthy matter of peat, and amount¬
ing in some cases to one-third of the weight of the peat.
When this large quantity of ash occurs in peat it renders
the fuel very dusty, and in smelting processes it is objection¬
able on account of its chemical action. It is remarkable
that the carbonates of the alkalies are not found in this ash,
but phosphates, sulphates, &c.
In some large towns, peat, or turf as it is also called, is
imitated by employing the refuse bark of the tan-yard,
which is made into flat cakes, and chiefly used as fuel by
the poor.
In the sandy plains of the East, camels’ dung is dried and
used as fuel -,1 it was from the use of such fuel in Egypt
mat sal ammoniac originated, the salt subliming during com¬
bustion. Other descriptions of excrement are also used as
fuel. The Chinese have long been accustomed to mix cow
dung and other refuse vegetable matter with soft clay and
the dust of coal to form balls which when dried in the sun
become a cheap and useful fuel, burning with very little
smoke. These balls are largely manufactured in the coal
districts of China, and are distributed over the empire by
means of the canals. It is a curious fact that Sir Hugh
Platt,2 in 1594, indicated a method of making coal balls with
loam, and that Ray, in 1663, observed this kind of fuel at
Liege [Journey through the Low Countries, &c., 1673,
page 58), where they were called hot shots, serving to slake
the heat of a fire and keep the coals from burning out too
fast. We are informed that in some parts of Wales stone-
coal culm is made into balls with clay, and is a common form
of fuel in Pembrokeshire. The combustion is slow, and a
long steady heat is kept up well adapted for lime burning.
In 1853 a patent was taken out in England by M. Ducayla
1 Hakluyt, in his Voyages, vol. i., p. 348, says, “ we were forced to vse for fewell the dung of horses and camels, which we bought
deare of the pasturing people.” A’suhstance in the form of long sticks, said to be made of camel’s dung, is sometimes imported from
the east under the name of Chutnee, and is occasionally used instead of the ordinary match for lighting pipes and cigars. It burns slowly
without flame, and gives out an odour not unlike that of the burning cuttings of trees and shrubs.
2 Sir Hugh gives an engraving representing a fire of fire-balls, without publishing a description of the method of making them ; and
he seems to have thought this so valuable that he offered to disclose it for a pecuniary consideration. His book is a curious exponent of
the science of his day. It is entitled The Jewell House of Arte and Nature, and was published in 1594. The engraving referred to is
contained in an appendix to the work, entitled Divers Chimical Conclusions, p. 69.
of Bordeaux for the manufacture of fireballs of such mate¬
rials as cinders or ashes, wood or lignite, anthracite coal,
pit coal, animal black, calcareous earth or clay, mould, See.
The fuel in every respect the most interesting to the
British Islands, and one of the chief sources of their wealth
and prosperity, is coal. The very abundance of this article
causes it to be used in so lavish and extravagant a manner,
that any general attempts to economise it and to fix its value
as a fuel scarcely interest the public. There are, however,
particular cases in which it is desirable to economise coal as
far as possible, as in the case of a steam-ship of a thousand
horse power, a single journey of which may require upwards
of 2000 tons of coal, or more than 80,000 cubic feet. Hence
it is obvious from the details given of the various descrip¬
tions of coal in the article Colliery, that some varieties of
coal are better fitted for the purposes of steam navigation
than others. A few years ago, when the government was
establishing a steam navy, Sir H. de la Beche and Dr
Lyon Playfair were requested to examine and report on the
coal suited to the steam navy. The inquiry was conducted
with great ability, and has resulted in two reports published
in 1848 and 1849, which the reader interested in the sub¬
ject will do well to consult. We will however state a few
of the chief points elicited by this inquiry.
Bearing in mind the object of the inquiry, the commis¬
sioners considered that the chief test of the value of any
coal submitted to their examination was its power of con¬
verting water into steam, so that if a given weight of coal
in a certain time converted a larger proportion of water
into steam than the same weight of another coal in the same
time, the evaporative power of the one would be greater
than that of the other. It was found, however, that the
coal best adapted to steam-ships of war should also combine
other qualities: for example, the fuel should burn quickly,
so that steam may be raised in a short time; it should not
be bituminous lest its smoke should betray the position of
the ship when it might be desirable to conceal it; it
should have such a cohesive power as not to be broken into
fragments by the rolling motion of the vessel; it should
have such a density and structure as to bear stowing away
in a comparatively small space (a condition which in coals
of equal evaporative value was found to involve a difference
of more than 20 per cent.) ; lastly, the coal should not con¬
tain a large proportion of sulphur, nor be subject to rapid
decay, or it might in either case lead to spontaneous com¬
bustion. But it was not found possible to unite all these
conditions in the same coal. Anthracite, for example, has
high evaporative power, but not igniting easily its action is
not quick ; it is not easily broken by the motion of the ship,
but not being a caking coal, it would not cohere in the fur¬
nace, and would escape through the grate-bars during the
rolling of the ship in a gale ; it gives off no smoke, but from
the intensity of its combustion it causes the iron of the grate-
bars and of the boiler to oxidize rapidly ; hence, with many
advantages, anthracite has a few defects sufficiently promi¬
nent to preclude its use under ordinary circumstances. It
was thought that a patent fuel might be formed with some
of the anthracites of Wales, which should combine the ad¬
vantages and elude the defects above referred to ; but it was
found that the cementing tar of the patent fuel burnt so
much more rapidly in the furnace than the anthracite that the
latter accumulated on the bars and obstructed the draught,
or escaped through the grate unburnt.
In conducting this important inquiry, circulars were sent
to the different collieries of Great Britain, explaining the
object of the inquiry, and requesting the proprietors to for¬
ward two tons of coals for experiments; and in nearly all
cases the application was favourably responded to. Each
sample of coal was accompanied by a certificate from the
owner, and in the report are given various particulars re¬
specting the mine, the geological position of the coal, the
method of working it, the nearest port, the extent of the
trade in that coal, the physical character of the coal, together
with the result of the experiments made upon it in a tabu¬
lated form.
One of the first experiments1 on each coal was to test its
cohesive power. This was done by enclosing a portion of
coal in a wooden cylinder 3 feet in diameter, and about 4
feet in length, with a bearing or gudgeon at each end;
within the cylinder were three shelves each 6 inches wide,
tending towards the axis, for the purpose of forming a lodg¬
ment for the coals, and carrying them up towards the top
of the cylinder during its revolution; thus ensuring a cer¬
tain amount of fall. The coals to be tested were broken
to the size used in the subsequent experiments on their
evaporating power, and then thrown on a sieve with one-
inch square meshes. 100 lb. of the coal left on the sieve
were put into the cylinder which was made to revolve a
certain number of times. The coals were afterwards sifted
on the same sieve, and the weight remaining gave the per¬
centage of large coals. The mean of two trials with each
coal was taken, with fifty revolutions of the cylinder for each.
The coal was next heated under different arrangements
of draught so as to ascertain when the gases escaping from
the coal were most economically consumed. It was found
that experiments made with highly bituminous coal, under
different areas for the admission of air, varied much more
considerably than the less bituminous coals of South Wales.
In testing the evaporative power of the coal a cylindrical
boiler was used 12 feet in length and 4 feet in diameter,
with flat ends, and an internal flue 2 feet 6 inches in dia¬
meter, in one end of which the grate was placed. The
flues were on the split, or bridle draught plan, and the
column of heated air after leaving the fire was made to
pass through the internal flue to the rear of the boiler, where
it divided, and returned along the outside of the boiler on
both sides to the front; the two branches, each 2 feet 6
inches deep, then turned down at right angles to their former
course, and united under the boiler in the bottom flue, tra¬
versed its whole length again and entered the base of the
chimney, after exposing, during a course of about 36 feet,
an area of 197'6 square feet of boiler surface to the heating
action. The height of the chimney was 35 feet 6 inches,
its internal dimensions being 182| square inches; it was
furnished with dampers and with apertures for the purpose
of making observations on the temperatures of the currents,
and of obtaining samples of the gases for analysis, also for
drawing up the soot. The furnace was closed with Sylves¬
ter’s fire-doors, and a variety of ingenious arrangements
were made for estimating temperature, pressure, Sec. The
method of conducting the experiments was as follows:—
Supposing the water in the boiler to be cold, and to stand
about one inch below the normal level, the fire was lighted,
and the steam got up in the afternoon of the day preceding
the commencement of the experiments. The fire was then
allowed to burn out, when the fire and ash-pit doors and
the damper were all closed. The next morning the first
thing done was to open the safety-valve to equalize the ex¬
ternal and internal pressures, and then sufficient water was
let down from the tanks to raise that in the boiler to the
normal level. The depth of the water in the tanks was
then gauged, and the first observation of its temperature
made. The ashes, cinders, and soot were next cleared out,
and after noting the temperature of the water in the boiler,
the fire was lighted with a weighed portion of wood, and
the exact time was then observed. The coals were then
1 The experiments were conducted at the college for Civil Engineers at Putney by Professor John Wilson and Mr J. Arthur Phillips,
assisted by other gentlemen.
320 F U E L.
Fuel. gradually added till the fire was of the proper size and form.
The form of fire was slightly varied according to the kind
of coal employed, the object being to burn the coal to the
best advantage with as little smoke as possible at the chimney.
The observations of the temperatures of the two side and
escape flues, and of the water in the tanks, then succeeded
each other at regular intervals of about one hour each.
When the steam raised the safety-valve the time was ob¬
served, and entered under the heading steam up. The
damper was adjusted as soon as the Are was sufficiently
established, and was not disturbed during the- day, except
under peculiar circumstances. Wffien by evaporation the
water had sunk about one inch below the normal level, the
deficiency was supplied from the tanks above; or by the
plan afterw-ards adopted, the water was allowed to flow in
continuously, so as to maintain the water in the boiler at a
constant level. The fire was supplied with coals, in pieces
not exceeding 1 lb. weight each, and not more than one or
two shovels full at a time, and were usually spread evenly
over the fire ; but in the case of anthracite, it was found
that the sudden application of heat caused the pieces to
split and fall through the bars. They were therefore gra¬
dually heated on the dead plate before being put on. With
the bituminous coals a preparatory process of partial coking
on the dead plate prevented them from coking in the fire
(which would have impeded the passage of air through the
grate), besides giving better opportunity for burning the
smoke and gases by passing them over a large surface of
ignited fuel. The duration of the experiment was reckoned
from the time the steam was up to about that of the last
application of fuel, after which the fire was allowed gra¬
dually to burn out, when the damper and furnace and ash¬
pit doors were closed. During the day ashes were thrown
up in small quantities from time to time when the fire was
burning clear and well. The weight of coals consumed was
then ascertained, by deducting the weight left from the gross
weight provided for the day’s trial, when the experiment
terminated. The next morning when the level of the water
in the boiler was adjusted, by turning down a supply from
the tanks, their depth was gauged, and the quantity evapo¬
rated the previous day was thus ascertained. The coke
and cinders were then removed, the clinkers, if any, were
separated, and the weight of each was taken. The soot was
cleared out at the end of the last day’s experiment, and the
total weight recorded, which divided by the number of trials,
gave the average weight. Samples of the ashes, cinders,
and soot, were then put aside in bottles for the purpose of
ascertaining the per-centage of combustible matter present
in the residue. The barometer was observed at about 11
o’clock in the day, being generally about two hours after
the steam was up. The quantity of combustible matter in
the residue was estimated by heating the powdered sub¬
stance in a stream of oxygen gas, by which the organic
matter was got rid of chiefly in the form of carbonic acid
and water, and the loss was estimated as combustible mat¬
ter.1
The commissioners found that the qualities which dis¬
tinguish particular kinds of fuel are very varied, so that it is
difficult to deduce general results. But the data furnished
by their experiments enable us to contrast the actual value
of a particular coal with its theoretical value, supposing its
combustion to be attended with no loss of heat. The actual
duty obtained by 1 lb. of coal from the boiler employed may
be expressed by the number of pounds raised to the height
of one foot, a result which may be obtained by the formula
W^x 965-7x782 = a7, in which W represents water, of which
rj pounds are evaporated by one pound of coal. This for¬
mula is deduced from the fact that rj pounds of coal multi¬
plied by 965-7, or the co-efficient for the latent heat of steam
at 212u, indicates the number of pounds of water which Fuel,
would be raised 1° Fahr.; and the number 782 arises
from experiment on the mechanical force denoted by the
elevation of 1 lb. of water 1° Fahr.; that force being equal
to 782 lb. raised to the height of one foot, according to the
experiments of Mr Joule. The best Cornish engines are
said to be capable of raising 1,000,000 lb. to the height of
one foot for every pound of coal consumed, but this is only
about |-th of the actual force generated, and only ^th or
•jJjj-th of the theoretical force. Experiments on the evapo¬
rative power of coal made by different observers give very
dissimilar results. Smeaton in 1772 evaporated 7"88 lb.
of water from 212° with 1 lb. of Newcastle coal; Wall in
1788 evaporated 8‘62 lb; Wicksteed in 1840 evaporated
9*493 lb. of water from 80° with 1 lb. of Merthyr coal,
which is equal to 10-746 lb. from 212°. In some experi¬
ments made at the united mines in Cornwall, it was found,
after a trial of six months, that every pound of coal evapo¬
rated 10-29 lb. of water from 212° ; and according to some
experiments made in Cornwall, at the request of the com¬
missioners, it was found that 11-42 lb. of water were eva¬
porated by every pound of Welsh coal of similar chemical
composition to that of Mynydd Newydd.
At ordinary temperatures coal undergoes a slow com¬
bustion under the action of the oxygen of the atmosphere,
evolving carbonic acid, nitrogen, and inflammable gases,
and in some cases leading to dangerous explosions. This
slow combustion is facilitated by the higher temperature of
hot climates, and by the presence of moisture. If the coal
contain much sulphur or iron pyrites the chemical action
may become so intense as to ignite the coals. In stowing
coals it is therefore important that they should be as dry as
possible, and such a variety should be selected as is least
liable to this progressive decomposition. When coal is kept
in iron bunkers, and is liable to be wetted with sea water,
the iron rapidly corrodes from the carbon or coal forming a
voltaic circuit with the iron, and thus promoting oxidation.
In the Great Exhibition of 1851, Messrs Berard and Co.
in the French department, No. 51, exhibited “small puri¬
fied coals, and residue of the same, the produce of a system
for purifying coals, patented in France, England, Belgium,
and Germany.” This plan appears to be well adapted to
the purification of sulphurous coal, or coal containing much
iron pyrites; also where the coal deposits are in numerous
small seams, and cannot be got out without being mixed
with slaty and stony matter. The coal used on the Chemin
de Fer du Nord was so sulphurous as to injure the locomo¬
tives ; but by using the purified coal, the evil was for the
most part remedied; the quantity of ash was also greatly
reduced. The apparatus employed for purifying the coal
is similar in principle to the jigging machine used in dress¬
ing ores, which, after being stamped in order to separate
stony matter, are agitated in water and allowed to rest, when
the various portions become arranged in layers, according
to their specific gravities. This purified coal yields a very
pure coke.
Mr Grace Calvert of Manchester has taken out a patent
for purifying coke from sulphur. It consists in mixing the
coal before coking with from 1-^ to 2^ per cent, of common
salt, the proportion varying with the quantity of sulphur. The
coking is then conducted as usual. By this contrivance,
coal, which was formerly unserviceable in smelting opera¬
tions, can now be used with effiect.
We cannot conclude this article without a brief notice of
some of the earlier attempts to ascertain the heating value
of fuel. The economy of manufactures, our domestic ar¬
rangements, health and comfort, depend so much on the
judicious application and regulation of fuel, that any infor¬
mation tending to its better expenditure ought to command
1 Report, p. 21, 22, slightly abridged.
FUEL.
321
attention. Our expenditure of coal is of so prodigal a na¬
ture, and is every day so increasing, that we look forward
to the time when the supply may fail. The calculations
made many years ago by geologists on the probable dura¬
tion of our fossil fuel were not only based on incorrect data,
but on a comparatively small consumption. The ten-yard
coal of Dudley is nearly exhausted, and other districts are
becoming more scanty in their supplies, or more difficult to
work.
As various kinds of fuel afford different amounts ot heat,
and as heat cannot be measured or weighed, and its quan-^
tity ascertained by direct experiment, the relative values ot
fuels are ascertained by comparing them with each other
under similar circumstances. The heating power of a fuel
is the quantity of effect produced by it in a certain time,
and this in conjunction with its market price gives its value
as a fuel. One fuel may produce a certain greater or less
effect than another fuel, and thus its relative superiority or
inferiority may be accurately ascertained, although the actual
amount of heat furnished by it may be entirely unknown.
Lavoisier and Laplace fixed these values by making the
substance under examination act on ice, and the quantity
of ice melted gave the value in each case. Count Rum-
ford measured the value of fuel by the increased tempera¬
ture which it produced in a given quantity ot water. Now,
as the same quantity of heat which melts one pound of ice
at 0° Cent, is sufficient to raise the temperature of as much
water 79° Cent., or 0-79 lb. of water 100° Cent., so also an
equal weight of aqueous vapour of any given temperature
and elasticity is always formed from the same amount of
heat, and always contains the same quantity of heat, and
the quantity of heat which water at 100 Cent, renders latent
in order to become steam is 5*5 times sufficient to heat the
same weight of water from 0° to 100° Cent., hence the water
converted into vapour by the heat required to melt one
pound of ice is the 5-5th part of the same pound, that is, it
can convert into vapour 0'154 lb. of water.
It was found by Despretz and Welter that the quantities
of fuel which require equal amounts of oxygen for combus¬
tion, give out equal quantities of heat, thus, 1 lb. of oxygen
in combining respectively with hydrogen, charcoal, alcohol,
&c., raised 29 lb. of water from 32° to 212°. A given
weight of the different combustibles has its heating power
represented by the number of pounds of water raised in
temperature, as in the following table:—
1 Jb. of water.
1 lb. of pure charcoal raised... 78 from 32° to 212°.
common wood charcoal 75
baked wood  36
wood holding 20 per
cent, of water  27
bituminous coal..,   60
turf  .... 25 to 30
alcohol   68
oil, wax,  90
ether     80
hydrogen  236
More recent researches have, however, cast considerable
doubt upon the law that any given quantity of oxygen evolves
the same quantity of heat with whatever combustible body
it may combine. From a series of tabulated results given
in Gmelin’s Hand-Book of Chemistry, vol. i., page 292
(Cavendish Society’s translation), it would rather appear that
oxygen developes a larger quantity of heat the stronger its
affinity for the combustible substance
Such experiments as the above tend to confirm the modern
view of combustion which regards oxygen as a combustible
as much as the fuel with which it combines (see Chemistry,
vol. v., page 456) ; so that when oxygen burns by means
of any fuel, the heat evolved increases with the quantity of
oxygen consumed. It was on this view that Berthier based
his process for detecting the quantity of oxygen required for
combustion, and the heating power of the combustible in
VOL. x.
one experiment. His plan is to heat to redness a known
quantity of the combustible with a considerable excess ol ^
pure litharge until the combustible is entirely consumed
by the oxygen of the oxide of lead. On weighing the lead
reduced by this process the amount of oxygen consumed is
ascertained, and also the heating power of the fuel under
examination. In calculations of this kind it will be remem¬
bered that 6 parts, or 1 equivalent of carbon, require 16
parts, or 2 equivalents of oxygen, for combustion; that one
part of hydrogen requires 8 parts of oxygen; that by sub¬
tracting from the hydrogen a quantity corresponding to the
oxygen in the coal, the calculation can be made for the
carbon only. Now, 1 part of pure carbon requires for com¬
bustion 2*666 of oxygen, and is capable, according to Des¬
pretz, of heating 78T5 parts of water from freezing to boil¬
ing. By multiplying each part of lead obtained by 2'265,
the weight of water is obtained which is capable ot being
heated between these temperatures by a unit of the coal
used in reducing the litharge.
The heating power of a particular fuel is the same, how¬
ever that fuel may be burnt. It is true, that the power
may be more or less economically applied; the power may
be expended with greater or less rapidity, greater, for ex¬
ample, in a furnace than in an open grate, but as the fuel
during combustion combines with equivalent portions ot
oxygen, the same amount of heat is liberated whether the
combination be rapid or slow. The rapidity ot combustion
depends not only upon the mode of arranging the draught
or supply of air to the fuel, but also on the state of division
of the fuel itself. A given weight of wood in the state of
shavings will, from the large extent of surface exposed, burn
rapidly, and produce its full heating effect in a few minutes,
while the same weight of wood, in the form of a log, may
keep up a moderate temperature for some hours. The di¬
vision of a fuel may, however, be carried- so far that the air
necessary for its combustion cannot penetrate it. Such is
the case with saw-dust, powdered charcoal, or peat, slack
coal, &c. If the powdered coal be of caking quality it may
be burnt into compact coke, and thus be more useful than
a fuel which in its first form is compact but which falls to
powder on being heated in the furnace. Small fuel may
sometimes be advantageously applied by covering the fur¬
nace-bars with pieces of sand-stone or lime-stone for the
purpose of preventing the fuel from falling through, and for
distributing the supply of air among it. In the roasting ot
copper ores in South Wales a flaming coal is necessary in
the reverberatory furnace where the operation is carried on.
But as the flameless anthracite is much more abundant in
this district than the bituminous coal, it is turned to account
in an ingenious manner. When burnt under ordinary cir¬
cumstances it crumbles to powder, as already noticed, and
either slips through the bars of the grate, or chokes them
up. But when anthracite is raised to a very high tempera¬
ture it forms a vitreous scoria or clinker, which in the ordi¬
nary furnace combines with the iron of the bars and chokes
up the grate. In the Welsh furnaces the clinkers themselves
are ingeniously arranged, so as to perform the office of giate
bars, namely, to support the fuel, and to limit the supply of air
from below. The clinkers are supported on iron bars placed
at a considerable distance apart, and are arranged in a layer
twelve or sixteen inches in depth. Above this layer the
fuel of the furnace is in full combustion : this fuel consists
of anthracite mixed with about one-fourth of its weight
of small bituminous coal, and also forms a layer of a depth
about equal to that of the clinkers; it is in this the hottest
part of the fire that fresh clinkers are being continually
formed, and while forming, they cake with the numerous
fragments of bituminous coal heaped up above them. As
fresh portions of the fuel come into operation the clinkers
descend towards the bottom of the grate, where meeting
with the numerous lets of air which stream up through the
2 s
Fuel.
322 F U E
Fuencali- bottom the vitrified mass splits and cracks in all directions,
ente forming new channels for the ascent of the draught, but not
II large enough to allow the small coal to escape. As the cal-
Puen‘ ciner-man heaps up fresh fuel above, he hooks out a few
L 'nay0^, clinkers from the bottom to make way for the descent of
others. Under this arrangement the oxygen of the air tra¬
versing the multitude of channels formed by the cracks in
the clinkers, combines with a portion of the fuel and forms
carbonic acid, which is uninflammable, but before reaching
the vault of the furnace it is deprived of a portion of its
oxygen, and becomes converted into carbonic-oxide, which
is inflammable. But in order that this gas may undergo
combustion, air is admitted through apertures in the sides
of the furnace just above the ore, and in this way the whole
surface of the ore, occupying an area of nearly 23 feet square,
is played upon by a thin sheet of flame, produced from fuel
which gives scarcely any flame at all.
Common coal gas is sometimes used as fuel, in which
case it is calculated that 1 lb. or 24 cubic feet thereof in
burning will raise 76 lb. of water from the temperature of
freezing to that of boiling. Extending this comparison to
the other forms of fuel, it is stated that 1 lb. of dry wood
will similarly heat 35 lb. of water, but only 26 lb. if the
wood be not dry, or contain moisture to the extent of from
20 to 25 per cent. One lb. of good dry charcoal will similarly
heat 73 lb. of water, but if exposed to the air it absorbs at
least 10 per cent, of moisture, and in burning gives a flame
of carburetted hydrogen (or rather, probably, a mixture of
carbonic oxide and hydrogen), arising from the decomposi¬
tion of the moisture. One lb. of good pit coal is said to raise
60 lb. of water from freezing to boiling, 1 lb. of coke 65 lb.,
and 1 lb. of turf or peat from 25 to 30 lb. (c. T.)
FUENCALIENTE, a town of Spain, in the province of
La Mancha, and archbishopric of Toledo. It is 50 miles
from Ciudad-Real, contains 1799 inhabitants, and is situ¬
ated in the middle of the Sierra Morena, to the S. of Ma-
drona and Quintana, its two principal summits. The baths
of Fuencaliente (“ hot spring”) are very much frequented
by those afflicted with paralytic and rheumatic complaints.
The mountains abound with excellent pasture for goats,
with numerous fountains and mountain torrents of whole¬
some water; its forests abound with oaks, arbutuses, wild
rose-trees, and heath, andwith numerous olive and fruit trees.
FUENCARRAL, a royal town of Spain, in the province
of Madrid and archbishopric of Toledo, and containing
1890 inhabitants. It is situated about 5 miles N. of Madrid,
and contains one convent of Dominicans, situated without
the walls, and called Valverde, founded in 1598 a.d., on
the site of an ancient hermitage. Fuencarral is the birth¬
place of Ramon Montero, bishop of Heliopolis. It produces
grain, oil, grapes, red wine, and abundance of garden stuffs
for the Madrid market. Its principal manufactures are oil,
soap, and some wool.
FUENLABRADA (de los montes), a secular town
of Spain, in the province of Estremadura, and 120 miles
from the capital. It has a population of 2027, and is situated
on a hill planted with evergreen oaks, rock-roses, sweet mas-
tiches, and arbutuses. The climate is very delightful and
healthful, and the wrater excellent. The principal produc¬
tions are game, honey, wax, corn, vetches, oil, herbs, flax,
excellent wine, and all kinds of cattle and sheep. The
principal manufacture is linen, but only for domestic use.
Fuenlabrada, a royal residence of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Madrid and archbishopric of Toledo. It is go¬
verned by an alcalde; contains 1 725 inhabitants; and is
situated in an extensive open plain, about 10 miles from
Madrid. The chief products are grain and wine ; and the
industry is mostly confined to the rearing of cattle and
grinding of corn for sale. It is the native place of Felix
Herrero Valverde, bishop of Orihuela.
FUENMAYOR, a royal city of Spain, in the province
F U E
of Soria. It has a population of 2285, and is situated in aFuensaMa
vast plain a short distance from the Ebro, on a small river ||
which divides the town into two equal parts and falls into Fuente-ls)
the Ebro. This stream has no name, and except in winter HlSuera-
contains scarcely any w'ater ; but the springs are good and
abundant. The principal products at Fuenmayor are wine,
grain, and garden produce of every variety; but that which
commands most attention is its excellent capsicums, so
much sought after over all the peninsula, as well for their
flavour as for their large size, some of them weighing 1^ lb.;
the average size, however, is about the half of this. The
average annual sowing produces about 1,500,000 plants.
Besides these, every kind of fruit abounds around Fuen¬
mayor, and large quantities of oil are manufactured.
FUENSALIDA, a secular town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince and archbishopric of Toledo. It is 40 miles from
Madrid, and contains 2739 inhabitants. The situation is
on an elevated plain, agreeable, and very beautiful; the
temperature mild and equable ; and the water abundant and
wholesome. Around Fuensalida are produced wheat, bar¬
ley, beans, kidney beans, vetches, tares, apples, grapes, and
some olives. The principal manufacture is soap, the people
around being mostly engaged as labourers and carriers.
FUENSANTA, a royal town of Spain, in the province
and bishopric of Cuenca. It contains 1831 inhabitants,
and is situated in a valley on the bank of the Jucar, which
flows from N. to S. The soil around the town is sandy and
gravelly, and well adapted for vines and olives, which are
very abundant here, but so badly cultivated that the pro¬
duce is very small. The same may be said of the orchards.
Yet saffron, truffles, and some garden stuffs, are produced
in abundance. The only manufacture is bass-matting.
FUENTE-ALAMO, a royal town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Murcia. It contains 2653 inhabitants, and is dis¬
tant 30 miles from Murcia.
FUENTE-CANTOS, a royal city of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Estremadura. It contains 5000 inhabitants, and
is 48 miles S.E. of Badajoz. It stands at the foot of a chain
of mountains, and is beautifully situated on an extensive
and elevated plain, from which there extends a magni¬
ficent prospect in all directions. All kinds of fruit, grain,
and vegetables abound around Fuente-Cantos; and the
wine and water are of the best quality. The principal and
almost the only manufacture is frieze.
FUENTE-DE-LEON, a town of Spain, in Estrema¬
dura. It contains 4000 inhabitants, and is 50 miles S. from
Badajoz. There is a silver mine of some importance in its
vicinity.
FUENTE-DEL-MAESTRE, a town of Spain, in the
province of Estremadura. It is distant 40 miles from
Madrid, contains 1580 inhabitants, and is situated between
Almendralejo and Zafra on the main road from Madrid to
Sevilla, by Merida on the skirt of the Sierra de San Jorge.
From it spreads out an extensive open plain planted with
groves of olives, which yield abundance of oil, without in
anyway injuring the corn and the vine crops, and abundant
pastures for every species of flock and herd.
FUENTE-DEL-SAUCO, a town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Zamora. It is 24 miles S.E. of Zamora, in a fer¬
tile valley, and contains 2557 inhabitants. The streets are
straight and wide; and it contains a custom-house, two
churches, two hospitals, twm public squares, and has several
distilleries of brandy.
FUENTE-EL-FRESNO, a town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of La Mancha and archbishopric of Toledo. It is
situated on elevated ground at the foot of a low chain of
hills on the royal road from Madrid to Ciudad-Real, from
the latter of which it is distant 24 miles N.N.E., and con¬
tains 2315 inhabitants. Near this town is the cave Mon-
tesinos, into which Cervantes makes Don Quixote descend.
FUENTE-LA-HIGUERA, a secular city of Spain, in
i’uentft-
(bejuna
II
i1uente-
rabia.
F U E
the province and archbishopric of Valencia. It contains
2659 inhabitants, and is situated 44 miles N.W. of Alicante,
on a rock at the foot of a calcareous mountain, and at the en¬
trance of a beautiful valley, over which it looks. This valley
is interspersed with orchards, forming an uninterrupted
series of landscapes, terminated by the declivities of the
mountains which surround it, and are cultivated to the very
summits. The chief produce is wheat, barley, wine, and
timber. At Fuente-la-Higuera Jourdan, Soult, and Suchet,
after the rout of Salamanca, met with their retreating forces,
and held a council how best to get back into France, when
Ballesteros, by refusing to obey Wellington’s orders, opened
the way for them to Madrid, in October 1812.
FUENTE-OBEJUNA (Fons Mellaria), a royal town
ol Spain, in the province and bishopric of Cordoba. It is
50 miles N.W. of the city of Cordova, contains 5500 inha¬
bitants, and stands on the crest of a hill, with the Colegiata
on the apex, like an acropolis. The “ Honey Fountain” is
at the bottom of the hill to the W., and coal seams occur
here which extend to Villaharta. Fuente-Obejuna stands
in the immediate neighbourhood of the Sierra Grana, and
had its ancient name, Fons Mellaria, from the abundance
and superior quality of the honey produced here by the bees
so well supplied by the heath of the surrounding hills. The
three rivers, Guadiato, Suja, and Bembezar, which flow along
its boundaries, abound in fish of excellent quality. The
neighbouring pastures are rich and abundant, while the wine,
though very good, is small in quantity. Fruits and vege¬
tables are plentiful; and every kind of game, from the wild
boar to the rabbit, is very abundant. Herds and flocks
abound also, as well as honey, wax, wheat, barley, and most
other cereals. There are in the vicinity mines of various
kinds of metal, and also of talc and coal. Its industry con¬
sists principally in the manufacture of linen fabrics and
hides, frieze and baize; besides the distillation of various
kinds of spirits. The arms of Fuente-Obejuna consist of a
fountain with four spouts surmounted with a swarm of bees,
and in the lower part of the escutcheon a castle, with its
towers and armoury, from which rises a red banner with a
cross, and in the sinister two lions in the attitude of spring¬
ing upon a sheep {pbeja, or oveja).
FUENTEPELAYO, a secular town of Spain, in the
province and bishopric of Segovia, it stands 19 miles N.
of Segovia, and contains 1640 inhabitants. It is situated
on an elevated and beautiful plain, which produces in abun¬
dance wheat, barley, rye, tares, vetches, and some wine of
inferior quality, and scarcely sufficient for local consump¬
tion. The principal industrial products are,—coarse sack¬
ing, grogram, with some other coarse materials for local
wear. Considerable quantities of sheep and wool, of various
Kinds, are produced and sold in the neighbouring large
towns.
FUENTERABIA (generally, but erroneously, written
Fuenterrabia), a very ancient city of Spain, in the* province
of Guipuzcoa, and bishopric of Pamplona, and 12 miles
E.N.E. of San Sebastian. It stands on the W. bank of the
Bidasoa, on the slope of a hill which has the form of an
amphitheatre. It is still fortified, and has a population of
only 2134. The greater part of the city, however, is little
else than a collection of ruined mansions, with ornamented
roofs projecting over dilapidated balconies, ivy-covered bat¬
tlements and broken walls, gateways, and towers. The cir¬
cuit of the wall of Fuenterabia is nearly two English miles,
and it is encircled from the N. by the W. and S., with a
broad ditch, and defended on the E. by the river Bidasoa
and its estuary. The wall and its defences are now in a
much dilapidated state. The four quarterings of the arms
ot Fuenterabia bear an angel holding a key, a whale, two
syrens, and a castle between two stars, which were bestowed
by Philip IV. in 1638, when the Prince of Conde was here
repulsed by the Admiral of Castile. In 1794 the French
F U E 323
completely dismantled the place; and the inhabitants, dur- Fuentes-
ing the winter, begrudged even lodging to the English sick de-don-
soldiers, from whom the authorities of the city wished to l^^uda
take away even the hard boards on which the disabled were pue|.os
stretched; “and these,” said Wellington, “are the people y
to whom we have given medicines . . . whose wounded
and sick we have taken into our hospitals, and to whom we
have rendered every service in our power, after having re¬
covered their country from the enemy” (Nov. 27, 1813).
Fuenterabia is the native place of Cristobal de Rojas y San¬
doval, chaplain to Charles V., and bishop of Oviedo, of Ba-
dajos y Cordova, and archbishop of Sevilla, who assisted at
the council of Trent.
FUENTES-DE-DON-BERMUDO, a town of Spain,
in the province of Valencia, and 12 miles W.N.W. of the
city Palencia. It is situated in a plain on the N.W. bank
of lake Nava, and contains a population of nearly 3000.
The country around produces immense quantities of grain
and excellent wine, which is one-third more valuable than
that produced in the neighbouring districts. Immense flocks
and herds are kept in the vicinity of Fuentes-de-don-Ber-
mudo; and the industry consists principally of the manu¬
facture of bolting cloth, to the annual amount of 24,000
pieces of 80 yards each, which is sent chiefly to Asturias.
Large quantities of cheese are also produced for exportation.
FUENTES-DE-EBRO, a secular town of Spain, pro¬
vince of Aragon, and archbishopric of Zaragoza. It is on
the right bank of the Ebro, and contains a population of
nearly 2000. It contains a saline mineral spring, which has
not yet been analysed. The principal branch of industry is
the manufacture of serge of various coarse kinds. Its arms
are five silver castles on a field of red.
FUENTES-DE-LA-CAMPANA, a secular town of
Spain, in the province and archbishopric of Sevilla. It con¬
tains 9000 inhabitants, and is situated on a hill about 4 miles
from the road, which is between Ecija and Carmona. The
town is very ancient, and contains many Roman and Sara¬
cenic antiquities. It has a custom-house, an hospital, a
church, and two convents. The situation is exposed to
winds from all directions, and the temperature is dry and
cold.
FUENTES-DE-LEON, a town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Estremadura. It is 5 miles from Segura-de-Leon,
and contains 2920 inhabitants. It is situated in a territory
so rugged, that to a distance of 20 miles there is no road for
wheeled vehicles. In the vicinity great numbers of pigs
are reared, and pork is exported in large quantities. The
annual produce of oil is about 20 tons, of wheat 4000 bushels,
and of rye 1000. The principal industry of the inhabitants
is in the tending of the herds and flocks of the Sierra de
Aracena. There is one silver mine in the neighbourhood.
FUENTES-DE-ONORA, a town of Spain, province
of Salamanca, in a mountainous district, 16 miles W. of
Ciudad-Rodrigo, and near the left bank of the Rio das
Casas, on the frontier of Portugal. In 1811, this was the
scene of several battles between the English and the French;
but especiallyon March 5, between Wellington and Massena.
FUEROS are certain immunities constituting what may
be termed the Magna Charta of that part of Spain known
as the Basque Provinces, namely Guipuzcoa, Alava, Bis¬
caya, and Navarra. The term is probably derived from
the Spanish fuera, outside, indicating that these provinces
are without the pale of the ordinary administration of the
Spanish monarchy.
The fueros differ as to their details in the different pro¬
vinces ; but the main features are the same in all, the form
of government being essentially republican, and the royal
authority only nominal. Taking the province of Biscay as
an example, we find that the only prerogative of the crown
is that of nominating the corregidor, or highest officer of
the state ; and that even this nomination is subject to the
324 F U L
Fugalia approval of certain members of the junta or states, in which
II is vested the chief management of public affairs. The junta
Fulda- is the most popularly constituted representative body exist-
ing in modern times, excepting the American congress.
The right of voting in the election of its members belongs
to every man who is master of a dwelling within the lord-
ship, and its functions include the general administration of
the affairs of the commonweath, the collection of taxes, the
protection and defence of the territory, and the nomination
of all the officers of government, except the corregidor. The
inhabitants of the province are exempt front all imposts
except the self-imposed ones of their own locality, and from
all duties on imported merchandise. They claim the pri¬
vileges of Spanish nobility on merely proving their descent
from pure Biscayan blood. 1 hey are not obliged to appeal
before any tribunal beyond the bounds of their own lord-
ship, or to tolerate any royal intendant or comptroller
within the province, or to allow any royal monopoly as in
the rest of Spain, or have any royal establishment except
the post-office, or admit royal troops within the territory,
or furnish recruits for the royal army. But they are privi¬
leged to defend their territory with their own means and
their own blood ; and moreover to visit with summary
punishment whoever may attempt even to interfere with
these their constitutional rights.
The history of the fueros is lost in their profound anti¬
quity ; but they are believed to date from the brave Canta¬
brians who were never completely subjugated to the Roman
yoke, and who, even when partially conquered, maintained
their own laws and customs inviolate. Whether this was
the origin of the fueros, or not, it is certain that from time
immemorial the Basque provinces have enjoyed certain
privileges unknown throughout the rest of the Spanish
dominions. They existed only in the traditions of the
country, and seem nevertheless to have been well under¬
stood and observed till the year 1235, when, in consequence
of the accession of a French prince to the throne, some
misunderstanding arose, and it was deemed necessary to
embody these privileges in a written code. The chaiter
thus framed was enlarged under the sanction of C harles \ .,
and was recognised as the Magna Charta of the Basque
provinces till the revolution of 1833, when its maintenance
became the occasion for a series of sanguinary hostilities
which devastated Spain for several years. These stiuggles
terminated only when the Spanish government and the
Cortes entered into a formal recognition of the rights, pii-
vileges, and ancient customs of the Basque provinces.
FUGALIA, in Roman Antiquity. See Regifugium.
FUGLEMAN (Germ._/%e/, a wing), a non-commis¬
sioned officer who is placed in front of a regiment at drill to
guide the soldiers in the movements.
FUGUE, in Music. See Music.
FULCRUM, in Mechanics, the prop or support by
which a lever is sustained. See Mechanics.
FULDA, one of the four provinces of the electorate of
Hesse-Cassel, comprising the greater part of the ancient
independent bishopric of Fulda, and the isolated circle of
Sehmalkalden. The bishopric ot Fulda originated in an
abbey founded by St Bonifacius in 744. It subsequently
received various privileges, and in 1752 was raised to the
rank of an independent bishopric. In 1803 it was secular¬
ized and ceded as a principality to the Prince of Nassau-
Orange; and in 1810 it was incorporated by Napoleon
with the grand-duchy of Frankfort. In 1814 it was divided,
a district containing 27,000 inhabitants being given to Saxe-
Weimar, and the rest to Prussia. Prussia afterwards ceded
her portion to Hesse-Cassel, and it now forms one of the
provinces of that electorate. It has an area of 720 square
miles, and in 1846 contained 140,713 inhabitants.
Fulda, the capital of the above province, is situated on
(the river of the same name, 54 miles S. of Cassel. Fhe
F U L
Fulda rises in the Rhon-Gebirge, and after a northward Fulham
course of about 90 miles, unites with the Werra below II
Munden to form the Weser. Fulda is a walled town, Fuller.
pleasantly situated and generally well built It is the seat
of a superior court of justice and of a Roman Catholic
bishop, whose jurisdiction extends over the whole elector¬
ate. The cathedral, containing the tomb of St Boniface,
and the bishop’s palace, with its extensive garden, are the
chief of its fine buildings. The university founded here
in 1734 has been converted into a lyceum. Fulda has also
several monasteries, hospitals, asylums, and seminaries, a
public library, and manufactures of linens, woollens, tobacco,
leather, &c. The river is here crossed by a handsome
stone bridge. Pop. (1845) 9570.
FULHAM, a village or suburb of London, on the left
bank of the Thames, here crossed by a wooden bridge, 5F
miles S.W. of St Paul’s. It contains numerous handsome
houses and villas, and the vicinity is chiefly laid out in mar¬
ket gardens. The bishop of London has a palace here.
Pop. of parish (1751) 11,816.
FULLER, Rev. Andrew, a distinguished preacner and
theological writer of the Baptist denomination, born Feb.
6, 1754, at Wicken, a village in Cambridgeshire, about
seven miles from Newmarket. He received the rudiments
of his education at the free school of Soham. His father
was a small farmer, whom he assisted as soon as he was
able, till he was twenty years old. In childhood and youth
he indulged in profane language and in lying, but was re¬
markably free from the vices of licentiousness. He had,
however, strong ‘•'compunctious visitings” which never left
him (some brief intervals excepted), till he was completely
brought under the influence of Christian principle. He has
left on record an interesting account of the commencement
and progress of his spiritual life, which was greatly impeded
by the contracted views of the religious people among whom
he was brought up. His moral and intellectual nature was,
however, composed of strong elements, and worked its way
through formidable obstacles ; no doubt, much ot the
strength and vigour it afterwards displayed was owing to
the struggles and conflicts o( his early manhood, or as he
called them, “ the gall and wormwood of his youth.” In
his seventeenth year he became a member of the Baptist
church at Soham, and in the course of four years, after giv¬
ing proofs of his abilities for public speaking, he was chosen
to the pastoral office, which he filled for more than seven,
years, receiving from three different sources a stipend ot
only L.21 per annum, which he endeavoured to eke out,
first by a small shop and afterwards by a school, in order
to maintain himself with a wife and four children. In 1/82
he removed to Kettering, in Northamptonshire, after a pro¬
tracted deliberation of not only months but years, from a
scrupulous dread of forsaking the path of duty, though with
the prospect of absolute poverty if he remained. His con¬
duct on this occasion (it has been justly said), “ exhibits the.
rare spectacle of a man capable of making any sacrifice ot
selfish interest to his sense of duty to God and to his fellow-
mortals.” In his new position he was brought into frequent
intercourse with several eminent ministers of his own deno¬
mination (among whom were Robert Flail and his venerable
father), some of whom had enjoyed greater advantages of
education than himself—who, though of characters in many
points strikingly diverse, were men of deep piety, and ad¬
dicted to theological inquiries. At that time the Calvinism
prevalent in the Baptist denomination was mingled and
overlaid with many crudities which the Genevan^ reformer
would have disowned as foreign to his system. I he writ¬
ings of the great transatlantic divine Jonathan Edwards had
just been introduced into Britain principally through the
medium of Dr Erskine of Edinburgh; these were studied
with avidity by Mr Fuller and his associates, and contri¬
buted largely to the correction and enlargement ol their
FULLER. 325
religious views. Before leaving Soham, Mr Fuller, then in
his twenty-sixth year, had written a treatise entitled, The
Gospel worthy of all Acceptation, which was designed to
counteract those Hyper-Calvinistic notions which had per¬
plexed his own mind. This he sent to the press soon after
his settlement at Kettering, and was involved by it in a con¬
troversy with writers who differed as much from one another
as from himself. But the works on which his reputation as
a theologian mainly rest are two ; the first published in
] 793, The Calvinistic and Socinian Systems Examined
and Compared as to their Moral Tendency, which was at¬
tacked by Dr Toulmin and Mr Kentish, to whom Fuller
replied in a pamphlet entitled, Socinianism Indefensible
on the Ground of its Moral Tendency. His second im¬
portant work appeared in 1800, The Gospel its own Wit¬
ness ; or the Holy and Divine Harmony of the Christian
Religion contrasted with the Immorality and Absurdity
of Deism. These two treatises have lately been reprinted,,
with a memoir by the author’s son, and form a volume of
Bohn’s Standard Library. Fuller also published Expository
Lectures on Genesis, and prepared a similar volume (though
not of equal interest), on the Revelation, which was pub¬
lished after his death. His Memoir of the Rev. Samuel
Pearce of Birmingham will always hold a high rank among
religious biographies. The greater number of his works
are small in bulk, being chiefly single sermons or pamphlets,
but in their last collected form fill 1000 pages royal 8vo.
They all bear the stamp of a masculine, acute, and logical
intellect; they are the productions of a man who thought
for himself; who was deeply impressed with the majesty
and worth of religious truth, and who when, after earnest
search, he believed himself to possess it, held the conclu¬
sions he had reached with an unflinching tenacity. But
the productions of his pen constitute only a portion of the
labours of his life: he was not less a man of action than
of meditation. In the year 1792 the Baptist Missionary.
Society was formed at Kettering by thirteen individuals, of
whom Fuller was one. He was appointed secretary, and
some of the brightest and palmiest days of the Society were
under his administration, adding one more to the innumer¬
able instances of the advantages (with some drawbacks) re¬
sulting from a scheme of operations being placed under the
direction of one master-mind. “ Friends talk to me (he
once remarked to a confidential friend), “about coadjutors
and assistants, but I know not how it is, I find a difficulty.
Our undertaking to India reallyappeared to me on its com¬
mencement to be somewhat like a few men who were de¬
liberating about the importance of penetrating into a deep
mine which had never before been explored. We had no
one to guide us, and while we were thus deliberating, Carey,
as it were, said, ‘ Well, I will go down, \i' you will hold the
rope.’ But, before he went down, he, as it seemed to me,
took an oath from each of us that while we lived we should
never let go the rope. You understand me, there was great
responsibility attached to us who began the business, and
so I find a difficulty.” The correspondence he maintained ;
the journeys he undertook (among which w^ere five to Scot¬
land, and one to Ireland); the pamphlets he wrote in its
defence, and the discourses he preached on its behalf, a
frame less robust, physically and mentally, than his could
not have sustained, and his frame at last sank under these
complicated and unremitting toils. He died May 7, 1815,
in his sixty-second year.
In private life, Fuller’s character was marked by unbend¬
ing integrity; and notwithstanding a certain uncouthness
and sternness of manner, he had a heart capable of ardent
and self-denying friendship, and of the tenderest affection
in the domestic circle. His judgments of other men might
often lean to the side of severity, but it must be recollected
that he never spared himself. By one who knew him well
and revered his character (the late Robert Hall), he was
thought to attach too much importance to a speculative ac- Fuller,
curacy of sentiment, and to be too prone to infer the cha-
racter of men from their creed ; yet, in extenuation, it may
be alleged that his creed was no mere formula of articles
of faith, it was the perennial feeder of his moral and reli¬
gious life ; what wonder then that he attached a similar im¬
portance to the avowed belief of others ?
It is a proof of the estimation in which Fuller’s writings
are held, that there have been three collected editions of
them, besides American reprints. Ihe first in ten 8vo vols.;
the second in five; and the last in one royal 8vo. A me¬
moir, principally compiled from his own papers, was pub¬
lished about a year after his decease by his most intimate
friend and coadjutor in the affairs of the Baptist mission, the
late Dr Ryland of Bristol; a second edition, with correc¬
tions and additions, appeared in 1818. A second biography,
with a critical notice of his writings, was written by the Rev.
J. W. Morris; and a third was prefixed by his son, the Rev.
A. G. Fuller, to the second and third editions of his works.
With some additional matter, it appears to be based on Dr
Ryland’s memoir. In the second volume of Coleridge’s
Notes on English Divines (London 1853), are a few mar¬
ginalia on the “ Calvinistic and Socinian Systems compared,
pp. 238-243. (J- E* R-)
FULLER, Thomas, one of the wittiest and most ori¬
ginal divines of the English Church, was born in 1608 at
Aldwincle in Northamptonshire. His father, who was mi¬
nister of St Peter’s Church in that village, conducted his
education personally, and so well that fuller was admitted
of Queen’s College, Cambridge, in his thirteenth year. In
1624 he took his degree of B.A., and four years later that
of M.A. Shortly after taking orders, he was chosen mi¬
nister of St Bennet’s, Cambridge, where he attained great
popularity as a preacher. In 1631 he was chosen fellow of
Sidney College, and made a prebendary of Salisbury. This
year is also memorable in his life as that which witnessed
his maiden publication. It was a poem now extiemely
scarce—entitled Davids Heinous Sin, Hearty Repentance,
and Heavy Punishment. Shortly after this he was pre¬
sented to the rectory of Broad Windsor in Dorsetshire,
where, as one of his biographers remarks, he began to
complete several works he had planned at Cambiidge. To
complete his happiness he married about this time, but.had
the misfortune, in 1641, to lose his wife after she had given,
birth to a son. Wearied with the monotonous routine of
rural life, and anxious to be near the principal scene of
public affairs, Fuller repaired to London, where his fame as
a pulpit orator secured for him the lectureship of the Savoy.
In 1640 he published his deservedly celebrated History of
the Holy War, which brought him in both money and a
great increase of repute. He was a member of the West¬
minster Convocation of 1640, and has left an interesting
account of its proceedings in his Church History. In 1642
he preached a sermon in Westminster Abbey which gave
great offence to the Parliamentarians. The day happened
to be the anniversary of the king’s inauguration, and the
preacher chose for his text the words, “ Yea, let him take
all, so that my lord the king return in peace.” The ser¬
mon, which was in the same loyal spirit as the text, involved
the preacher in no little odium with the Puritan party. In
the same year Fuller published his most popular and in
some respects his best work, entitled The Holy and Pro¬
fane State. Declining, on grounds of conscience, to take
the oath to Parliament, he now left London and joined the
king at Oxford. His majesty was desirous to hear him
preach, and Fuller immediately obeyed the royal order, but
so little in the spirit of a partizan that the king was dis¬
gusted and the royalist party indignant at his calm mode¬
ration. His neutral policy was singularly ill-adapted for
these troublous times, and he was soon to feel in a manner
to him exquisitely galling the rancour of party spirit. Se-
326
F U L L E R.
Fuller, questration was pronounced against him, and embittered by
the loss of all his books and manuscripts. Two royalist no¬
blemen, Lord Beauchamp and Cranfield Earl of Middlesex,
generously repaired this misfortune by making over to
Fuller such remains of their private libraries as had escaped
the ravages of the civil war. Induced to identify himself
with the royal cause, and anxious to clear himself of the
charge of lukewarmness, he sought and obtained, through
Sir Ralph Hopton, a chaplaincy in the king’s army. This
office put at his disposal a good deal of time, which he
turned to account by collecting materials for his Worthies
of England. His numerous marches and countermarches
through the country enabled him to amass many valuable
details which might otherwise have been lost. Having es¬
poused the royal cause, he threw himself into it with vigour,
and gave a memorable proof of his zeal in the defence of
Basinghouse, when he was besieged there with a small
party of royalists. For he animated his little garrison to so
vigorous a defence that the parliamentary commander, Sir
William Waller, was obliged to retire from the place with
loss. When the royal forces were afterwards driven into
Cornwall, Fuller took refuge in Exeter, where he preached
regularly to the citizens. About this time he was appointed
chaplain to the infant princess, Henrietta Maria, and pre¬
sented to the living of Dorchester. During his stay at
Exeter he is said to have written his work entitled Good
Thoughts in Bad Times. When at length the town sur¬
rendered to the Parliament, Fuller repaired to London,
where he found his Savoy lectureship occupied by another,
but readily obtained in its room that of St Clement’s, and
subsequently of St Bride’s. His appointment to these offices,
however, was merely nominal, as he was “ forbidden (to use
his own language) till further order the exercise of his pub¬
lic preaching.” This rigour, however, did not prevent the
Earl of Carlisle from offering him in 1648 the rectory of
Waltham Abbey in Essex. In this same year he published
at Cambridge his Holy State, and two years later at Lon¬
don his Pisgah-sight of Palestine and the Confines thereof
with the History of the Old and New Testaments, acted
thereon. 'His literary history of the next two or three years
exhibits nothing beyond a few tracts and sermons of tem¬
porary interest, which have been long forgotten. In 1654 he
married a lady of noble family, the sister of Viscount Bal-
tinglass, and in the following year made himself notorious
by persisting in the discharge of his ministerial functions,
“ notwithstanding Cromwell’s prohibition of all persons from
preaching or teaching schools who had been adherents of
the late king.” In this year also he published his Church
History of Britain from the Birth of Jesus Christ until the
year MDCXL VIII., to which was appended the History of
the University of Cambridge, and the History of Waltham
Abbey. The Church History called forth some strictures
from Heylyn in his Examen Historicum, to which Fuller
replied in a tract entitled Appeal of Injured Innocence.
In 1658 Lord Berkely made him his chaplain, and presented
him to the rectory of Cranford in Middlesex. It is also
said that tins nobleman took him over to the Hague, and
introduced him to Charles II. there. Certain it is, that after
the Restoration Fuller regained his lectureship at the Savoy,
and was reinstated in his prebend of Salisbury. He was
also appointed chaplain extraordinary to the king, made a
doctor of divinity by Mandamus, and was within sight of a
bishopric when a rather sudden death brought his earthly
prospects to a close, 15th August 1661. He was buried in
his church at Cranford, in the chancel of which a monu¬
ment was erected to his memory.
i he principal attribute of Fuller’s genius is unquestion¬
ably wit; though, as Coleridge has well observed, “ this
very circumstance has defrauded him of his due praise for
the practical wisdom—for the beauty and variety of the
truths into which he shaped the stuff.” His wit shows it¬
self in the strangest forms, and whatever he the subject
under discussion, it is sure to be presented in the wittiest
guise. Sometimes it shows itself in a torrent of sarcasms
so good-natured that the very person at whom they are
levelled could not but join in the laugh against himself.
At other times it exhausts itself in facetious stories, humo¬
rous illusions and illustrations and puns, more frequent and
preposterous than those of Shakspeare himself. Even where
a “ lamentable accident ” falls to be recorded, it is so mirth¬
fully described that we feel ourselves more moved with
laughter at the event than sympathy with the sufferers. A
distressing catastrophe that befel a congregation of Catholics
at Blackfriars is thus described—“ The sermon began to
incline to the middle, the day to the end thereof, when on
a sudden the floor fell down whereon they were assembled.
It gave no charitable warning groan beforehand, but cracked,
broke, and fell all in an instant. Many were killed, more
bruised, all frighted. Sad sight to behold the flesh and
blood of different persons mingled together, and the brains
of one on the head of another. One lacked a leg, another
an arm, a third whole and entire, wanting nothing but breath,
stifled in the ruins.” In Fuller’s treatment of serious or sacred
subjects, however, whatever may be the appearance of pro¬
fane or indecorous levity, there is never anything of the
reality of it. It would, perhaps, have been safer, had he em¬
ployed a less jocose phraseology when discussing grave
subjects; but the whole tenor both of his life and writings
proves him to have been a man of genuine religious sen¬
sibilities, not one of those who talk lightly on divine things
because they feel lightly. But though one of the wittiest
of men, Fuller was not merely witty. His fancy was only
less characteristic and fertile than his wit, and was brilliant
enough to have made the reputation of any inferior writer.
But his indulgence of the dominant faculty of his mind has
defrauded both his fancy and his wisdom of the admiration
fairly due to them. Another faculty which Fuller possessed
in rare perfection, that of memory, must not be here omit¬
ted. It is said that he could repeat five hundred strange
words after once hearing them, and could make use of a
sermon verbatim under the like circumstances. Another
still more memorable instance of this power is recorded
elsewhere. It is said that he undertook, after passing once
from Temple Bar to the end of Cheapside, to tell at his
return every sign as it stood in order on both sides of the
way, and that he succeeded perfectly. Neither of these
instances must necessarily be taken as strictly true (though
far more wonderful ones are on record); but they both point
to the fact that Fuller’s memory w7as an uncommonly power-
fid one. As a writer, Fuller possesses many excellent
qualities. Though a man of extensive erudition, he was
absolutely free from all the forms of learned pedantry. His
style is far more idiomatic than that of his illustrious con¬
temporaries, Donne, Jeremy Taylor, Browne, and Burton ;
and he seems to have studiously avoided the Latinisms which
form so large an element in their style, His sentences are
simpler and shorter than theirs, and the majority of the
words that compose them are of Saxon origin. This homely
simplicity is to be accounted for by the fact that he used to
collect the materials for his historical works, not by poring
over dusty tomes in libraries, but by gossiping with the
common people and listening for hours to their prolix ac¬
counts of local traditions and family legends. Though they
do not display any great vigour of reasoning or wide com¬
mand of principles, they are yet highly valuable as collec¬
tions of admirably-told stories, reflecting quite as successfully
as the most elaborate history the social spirit of that age.
But though from their arrangements they are not immedi¬
ately available as histories, they are a mine of wealth to more
systematic and less eccentric writers. The moral spirit of
Fuller’s writings is admirable. His calmness and impartiality
in discussing various delicate points of English ecclesiastical
F U L
Fuller's history contrast very favourably with the spirit of fierce
Earth partizanship displayed alike by most churchmen and dis-
II senters of that age. It was in reference to this that Cole-
Fulling. j.jjgg pronounced him “ incomparably the most sensible, the
least prejudiced great man of an age that boasted a galaxy
of great men.” He was a firm friend of the Established
Church, and sometimes testified his attachment to it by
flattering its chief dignitaries in terms unnecessarily ful¬
some. But it was with the deepest sorrow that he
beheld the indignities practised against the Puritans, and
wherever he could do so he did his best to screen and aid
them.
In addition to the wTorks already mentioned, Fuller wrote
some others of less importance. These are—Andronicus,
or the Unfortunate Politician, 12mo, Fond. 1646; Good
Thoughts in Worse Times, 16mo, Fond. 1647; Mixt Con¬
templations in Belter Times, 12mo, Fond. 1660; The
Speech of Birds, also of Flowers, partly moral and partly
mystical, 8vo, 1660. ' The most of Fuller’s works have
been several times reprinted.
PUFFER’S EARTH, a species of clay much used in
scouring woollen cloth and other stuffs. It occurs greenish,
yellowish-gray, and bluish-gray, and sometimes it has a
spotted appearance. It is dull, but assumes a fatty lustre
when pressed with the fingers, is very soft, feels unctuous to
the touch, and it melts into a brown spongy scoria before the
blow'pipe. In England it occurs in beds ; the best is found
in Buckinghamshire and Surrey. When good it has a
greenish-white or greenish-gray colour, falls into powder
when put into water, communicates a milky hue to water,
and deposits very little sand when mixed with boiling water.
It is used by fullers in taking grease out of cloth before the
soap is applied. Its constituents are SS'O silica, 10 0 alumina,
9'75 red oxide of iron, 1-25 magnesia, 0’5 lime, 24 water,
with a slight trace of potash.
PUFFING, the art of cleansing, scouring, and pressing
cloths, stuffs, and stockings, to render them stronger, closer,
and firmer. It is otherwise called milling. Pliny (vii. 56)
relates that one Nicias, the son of Hermias, was the first
inventor of the art of fulling ; and it appears by an inscrip¬
tion, quoted by Sir G. Wheeler in his Travels through
Greece, that this same Nicias was a governor in Greece in
the time of the Romans.
The asperities upon the surface of wool render the spin¬
ning of it and the making it into cloth difficult operations.
In order to spin wool, and afterwards convert it into cloth,
its fibres must be covered with a coating of oil, which, filling
the cavities, renders the asperities less sensible ; in the same
way that oil rubbed on the surface of a very fine file renders
it less rough. When the piece of cloth is finished, it is
carried to the fulling-mill, where it is beaten with heavy
stampers in a trough full of water in which some fuller’s
earth has been mixed, for the purpose of cleansing it from
the oil. The clay combines with the oil, which it separates
from the cloth, and both are washed away together by the
fresh water which is brought to it by the machine.
But the scouring of the cloth is not the only object in
view in fulling it. The alternate pressure given by the
stampers to the piece of cloth occasions (especially when
the scouring is pretty far advanced), an effect analogous to
that which is produced upon felt by the hands of the hatter.
The fibres of wool which compose one of the threads, whether
of the warp or the woof, assume a progressive movement,
introduce themselves among those of the threads nearest to
them, then into those which follow ; and thus, by degrees,
all the threads, both of the warp and the woof, become
felted together. The cloth, after having by this means be¬
come shortened in all its dimensions, partakes both of the
nature of cloth and of that of felt, and may be cut without
being subject to ravel. Fastly, the cloth has acquired a
greater degree of thickness, and forms a warmer clothing.
F U L 327
Knit worsted also may thus be rendered less apt to run in Fulmina-
case a stitch happen to drop. tinS Com'
The fulling of cloths and other stuffs is performed by a P0’jJnds
kind of water-mill, thence called o. fulling or scouring mill. Ful[on
These mills, excepting in what relates to the mill-stones v ^ /
and hopper, are much the same with corn-mills; and there
are even some which serve indifferently for both purposes.
The principal parts of the fulling-mill are the wheel, with
its trundle, which gives motion to the tree or spindle, whose
teeth communicate it to the stampers, which are thereby
raised and made to fall alternately, as its teeth catch or quit
a kind of latch in the middle of each stamper. The stampers
and troughs are commonly of wood; but sometimes the
stampers are made of polished iron, and the cloth is exposed
during the process to the action of steam; by which means
the appearance of the cloth, w hen finished, is said to be
greatly improved. These improvements formed the subject
of a patent in 1825. In the course of the operation the
fuller sometimes makes use of urine, sometimes of fuller’s
earth, and sometimes of soap. To prepare the stuffs to re¬
ceive the first impressions of the stamper, they are usually
laid in urine, then in fuller’s earth and water, and lastly in
soap dissolved in hot water. Soap alone would do very
well, but it is expensive, and fuller’s earth is scarcely inferior
to it; but then it must be well cleared of all gritty parti¬
cles, else it is apt to make holes in the stuff.
Method of fulling cloths and woollen stuffs with. soap.—
A coloured cloth of about 45 ells is to be laid in the usual
manner in the trough of a fulling-mill, without first soaking
it in water, as is commonly practised in many places. To
full this trough of cloth, 15 pounds of soap are required,
one-half of which is to be melted in two pails of river or
spring water made as hot as the hand can well bear it. This
solution is to be poured by degrees upon the cloth, as it is
laid in the trough; and thus it is to be fulled for at least
two hours, after which it is to be taken out and stretched.
This done, the cloth is immediately returned into the same
trough, without any new soap, anti there fulled two hours
more. It is then taken out and well wrung, to express all the
grease and dirt. After the second fulling, the remainder
of the soap is dissolved as in the former, and cast four dif¬
ferent times on the cloth, which is taken out every two hours
to stretch it, and undo the plaits and wrinkles it has ac¬
quired in the trough. When it is perceived to be suffi¬
ciently fulled, it is well scoured in hot water. With regard
to white cloths, these full more easily and in less time than
coloured ones, and thus require only a third part of the soap.
FUFMINATING Compounds. Fulminates are of se¬
veral kinds, being detonating compounds of the fulminic acid
with various bases. Such are the fulminates of gold, mer¬
cury, silver, &c. The old fulminating powder is a mixture
of nitre, sulphur, and potash. The fulminate of mercury is
largely used as a priming to the percussion-caps for guns.
See Chemistry, vi. p. 474.
FUFMINATION (fulmen, thunder), in the Romish
Church, a denunciation of censure or threats, as by papal
authority.
FUFTA, a large village of Hindustan, province of Ben¬
gal, on the east bank of the Hooghly, 20 miles S.S.W. in a
straight line from Calcutta, but much more by the windings
of the river. It has safe anchorage for ships, where they
are protected from the swell of the sea, and where the
anchors hold fast, the bottom being stiff clay. Fat. 22.18.,
Fong. 88. 10.
FUFTON, Robert, a distinguished American engi¬
neer and mechanician, among the first who successfully
applied steam to the propulsion of vessels, was born in
1765 at Fittle Britain in Pennsylvania. At a very early
age he gave decided indications of mechanical genius.
While still a mere youth he began life in Philadelphia as
a portrait and landscape painter; and in his twenty-second
328
FUN
FUN
Fulnek year, with a view to improving himself in art, he visited
|| England, where he remained for several years under the
J* unding roof of his countryman West, He states that in 1793 he
ystem. j)a(j conceivecj t}ie design of propelling vessels by steam,
but his numerous engagements prevented him from carrying
it into effect at that time. His time was completely en¬
grossed in devising a plane of double incline that should
supersede the locks on canals, for which he obtained a patent
from the British government in 1794. In the same year
he obtained patents for flax-spinning and rope-twisting
machines, and various other mechanical inventions, bearing
chiefly upon the construction of canals, on which latter sub¬
ject he published a treatise. In 1797 he removed to Paris,
and remained for seven years in the house of Joel Barlow, the
American minister at the court of Napoleon I., prosecuting
his scientific studies. During that period he projected the
first panorama ever exhibited in Paris, and made important
experiments on submarine explosives. It was also at this
time that he first succeeded, after repeated trials, in pro¬
pelling a boat through the water by the aid of steam. In
1806 he returned to America, and repeated the experiment
on a larger scale and with more decided success. In 1809
he took out his first patent, and seemed to be on the high
way to wealth and prosperity, when his rights were dis¬
puted, and he became involved in legal proceedings, which
embittered the remainder of his existence, and prevented
him from reaping the rich harvest to which his industry and
genius fairly entitled him. Fulton died Feb. 24, 1815. A
minute account of his life and inventions is given in his bio¬
graphy by Cadwallader D. Golden. See Steam Navi-
G ATI ON.
FULNEK, a town in the circle of Prerau, Austrian pro¬
vince of Moravia, 28 miles N.E. of Prerau. It has manufac¬
tures of linen and woollen goods, and about 3500 inhabitants.
Fctlnek, the village in Yorkshire, 6 miles S. W. of Leeds,
takes its name from this town, a colony of Moravians having
settled there about 1723, Most of the inhabitants are still
of that sect.
FUMIGATION, the employment of fumes or vapours
for the purpose of purifying infected chambers, articles of
apparel, &c. The most efficacious substance for this pur¬
pose is chlorine (see Chemistry); next to it the vapour of
nitric acid ; and lastly that of muriatic acid. The fumes of
heated vinegar, of sulphur, and the smoke of exploded gun¬
powder are of very little value as antiloimics.
FUNAMBULUS, among the Homans, a rope-dancer :
called (r^otvo/Sa-r^s, by the Greeks. The art of dancing on
the tight-rope was carried to a wonderful degree of perfec¬
tion among the Romans. In the Ludi Florales held under
Galba, there were funambulatory elephants, as we are in¬
formed by Suetonius. Nero also gave similar entertain¬
ments in honour of his mother Agrippina: and Vopiscus re¬
lates the same of the time of Carinus and Numerianus.
FUNCHAL, the capital of Madeira. See Madeira,
FUNCTION, in Analysis, denotes an algebraical ex¬
pression in any way compounded of a certain letter or
quantity with other quantities or numbers; and the expres¬
sion is said to be a function of that letter or quantity. Thus
Fumiga¬
tion
II
Funding
System.
 . '
a — Ax, or ax + 3ar, or 2x — aVa2 — x2, or xc, or cx, is
each of them a function of the quantity x.
FUND, in genera], signifies a sum of money appropriated
as the foundation of some commercial or other operation.
Thus, that part of the national revenue which is set apart for
the payment of the national debt is called the sinking fund.
But, when we speak of the funds, we generally mean the
large sums which have been lent to government and con¬
stitute the national debt; and for which the lenders, or their
assignees, receive interest from revenues allotted for that
purpose. The term stock is used in the same sense; and is
also applied to the sums which form the capital of the Bank
of England, the East India and the South Sea Companies;
the proprietors of which are entitled to a share of the pro¬
fits of the respective companies.
FUNDAMENTAL BASS. See Music.
FUNDI, an ancient city of Latium. See Fondi,
FUNDING SYSTEM.
Under this head we propose, first, to give an account
of the rise, progress, and modifications of the Sinking
Fund, accompanied with some observations as to the pro¬
bability of its accomplishing the object for which it was
instituted; and, next, briefly to consider the best mode of
providing for our annual expenditure both in war and peace,
—an inquiry necessarily involving the policy of that Sys¬
tem of Funding of which the sinking fund was long
considered as one of the principal recommendations and
props.
I. On the subject of the sinking fund, we shall have
frequent occasion to refer to the statements of Professor
Hamilton, in his very valuable publication entitled An
Inquiry concerning the Rise and Progress, the Redemption,
and Present State of the National Debt of Great Britain.
“ The first plan for the discharge of the national debt,
formed on a regular system, and conducted with a consider¬
able degree of firmness,” says this able writer, “ was that
of the sinking fund, established in 1716. The author of
this plan was the Earl of Stanhope; but as it was adopted
under the administration of Sir Robert Walpole, it is com¬
monly denominated from him. The taxes which had be¬
fore been laid on for limited periods, being rendered per¬
petual, and distributed among the South Sea, Aggregate,
and General Funds, and the produce of these funds being
greater than the charges upon them, the surpluses, to¬
gether with such further surpluses as might afterwards ac¬
crue, were united under the name of the Sinking Fund, be¬
ing appropriated for the discharge of the national debt, and
expressly ordained to be applicable to no other purpose
whatever. The legal interest had been reduced from six
to five per cent, about two years before ; and as that reduc¬
tion was unfavourable to the commercial state of the coun-
try, government was now able to obtain the same reduction
on the interest of the public debt, and apply the savings
in aid of the sinking fund. In 1727 a further reduction
of the interest of the public debt, from five to four per
cent, was obtained, by which nearly L.400,000 was added
to the sinking fund. And, in the year 1749, the interest
of part of the debt was again reduced to three and a half
per cent, for seven years, and to three per cent, thereaf¬
ter ; and, in 1750, the interest of the remainder was re¬
duced to three and a half per cent, for five years, and to
three per cent, thereafter, by which a further saving of
about L.600,000 was added to the sinking fund.”
I his sinking fund was for some time regularly applied
to the discharge of debt. The sums applied from 1716 to
1728 amounted to L.6,648,000, being nearly equal to the
additional debt contracted in that time. From 1728 to
1733, L.5,000,000 more were paid. The interest of seve-
The article on the Funding System, by the late David Ricardo, Esq., has always been reputed so excellent that it has been considered
advisable to retain it entire, and the supplement to it by his son will bring down the information on the subject to the present time.—Ed.
FUNDING SYSTEM.
Funding ral loans, contracted between 1727 and 1732, was charged
System, upon surplus duties, which, according to the original plan,
ought to have been appropriated to the sinking fund.
“ Soon after, the principle of preserving the sinking fund
inviolable was abandoned. In 1733, L.500,000 was taken
from that fund, and applied to the services of the year.”
“ In 1734, L.1,200,000 was taken from the sinking fund
for current services; and in 1735 it was anticipated and
mortgaged. ’ The produce of the sinking fund, at its com¬
mencement in 1717, was L.323,437. In 1776, it was at
its highest amount, being then L.3,166,517; in 1780, it
had sunk to L.2,403,017.
“ The sinking fund would have risen higher, had it not
been depressed, especially in the latter period, by various
encroachments. It was charged with the interest of seve¬
ral loans, for which no provision was made; and, in 1772,
it was charged with an annuity of L.100,000, granted in
addition to the civil list. During the three wars which
were waged while it subsisted, the whole of its produce
was applied to the expense of the war; and even in time
of peace, large sums were abstracted from it for current
services. According to Dr Price, the amount of public
debt paid off by the sinking fund, since its first alienation
in 1733, was only three millions, paid off in 1736 and 1737 ;
three millions in the peace between 1748 and 1756; two
millions and a half in the peace between 1763 and 1775 ;
in all, eight millions and a half.
“ The additional debt discharged during these periods
of peace was effected, not by the sinking fund, but from
other sources.
“ On the whole, this fund did little in time of peace,
and nothing in time of war, to the discharge of the national
debt. The purpose of its inviolable application was aban¬
doned, and the hopes entertained of its powerful efficacy
entirely disappointed. At this time, the nation had no
other free revenue, except the land and malt-tax granted
annually ; and as the land-tax during peace was then grant¬
ed at a low rate, their produce was inadequate to the ex¬
pense of a peace establishment, on the most moderate
scale. This gave occasion to encroachments on the sink¬
ing fund. Had the land-tax been always continued at 4s.
in the pound, it would have gone far to keep the sinking
fund, during peace, inviolate.”
This fund terminated in 1786, when Mr Pitt’s sinking
fund was established.
To constitute this new fund, one million per annum was
appropriated to it by parliament, the capital stock of the
national debt then amounting to L.238,231,248.
This million was to be allowed to accumulate at com¬
pound interest, by the addition of the dividends on the
stock which it purchased, till it amounted to four millions,
from which time it was not further to increase. The four
millions were then annually to be invested in the public
funds as before, but the dividends arising from the stock
purchased were no longer to be added to the sinking fund
for the purpose of being invested in stock; they were to
be applied to the diminution of taxes, or to any other ob¬
ject that parliament might direct.
A further addition to this fund was proposed by Mr Pitt,
and readily adopted, in 1792, consisting of a grant of
L.400,000 arising from the surplus of the revenue, and a
further annual grant of L.200,000; but it was expressly
stipulated that no relief from taxation should be given to
the public, as far as this fund was concerned, till the ori¬
ginal million, with its accumulations, amounted to four
millions. The addition made to the fund, by the grant of
L.400,000, and of L.200,000 per annum, together with the
interest on the stock these sums might purchase, were not
to be taken or considered as forming any part of the four
millions. At the same time (in 1792), a sinking fund of
a new character was constituted. It was enacted, that be-
vol, x.
329
sides a provision for the interest of any loan which should Funding
thenceforward be contracted, taxes should also be imposed System,
for a one per cent, sinking fund on the capital stock created
by it, which should be exclusively employed in the liqui¬
dation of such particular loan; and that no relief should
be afforded to the public from the taxes which constituted
the one per cent, sinking fund, until a sum of capital stock,
equal in amount to that created by the loan, had been pur¬
chased by it. That being accomplished, both the interest
and sinking fund were to be applicable to the public ser¬
vice. It was calculated, that, under the most unfavour¬
able circumstances, each loan would be redeemed in forty-
five years from the period of contracting for it. If made
in the three per cent., and the price of that stock should
continue uniformly at 60, the redemption would be effect¬
ed in twenty-nine years.
In the years 1798, 1799, and 1800, a deviation was made
from Mr Pitt’s plan of providing a sinking fund of one per
cent, on the capital stock created by every loan ; for the
loans of those years had no sinking fund attached to them.
The interest was charged on the war-taxes; and, in lieu
of a one per cent, sinking fund, it was provided that the
war-taxes should continue during peace, to be then em¬
ployed in their redemption, till they were all redeemed.
In 1802, Lord Sidmouth, then Mr Addington, was chan¬
cellor of the exchequer. He being desirous of liberating
the war-taxes from the charges with which they were en¬
cumbered, proposed to raise new annual permanent taxes
for the interest of the loans of which we have just spoken,
as well as for that which he was under the necessity of
raising for the service of the year 1802 j but he wished to
avoid loading the public with additional taxes for a one
per cent, sinking fund on the capitals created by those loans,
and which capitals together amounted to L.86,796,375.
To reconcile the stockholder to this arrangement, he pro¬
posed to rescind the provision which limited the fund of
1786 to four millions, and to consolidate the old and the
new sinking funds, i. e. that which arose from the original
million per annum, with the addition made to it of L.200,000
per annum subsequently granted, and that which arose from
the one per cent, on the capital of every loan that had been
contracted since 1792. These combined funds he pro¬
posed should from that time be applied to the redemption
of the whole debt without distinction ; that the dividends
arising from the stock purchased by the commissioners for
the reduction of the national debt should be applied in the
same manner; and that this arrangement should not be
interfered with till the redemption of the whole debt was
effected.
In February 1803 the debt amounted to L.480,572,470,
and the produce of the joint sinking fund to L.6,311,626.
In 1786 the proportion of the sinking fund to the debt was
as 1 to 238, in 1792 as 1 to 160, and in 1803 as 1 to 77.
This was the first deviation of importance from Mr Pitt’s
plan ; and this alteration made by Lord Sidmouth was not,
perhaps, on the whole, injurious to the stockholder. He
lost, indeed, the immediate advantage of an additional sink¬
ing fund of L.867,963, the amount of one per cent, on the
capitals created by the loans of 1798, 1799, 1800, and
1802 ; “ but in lieu,” says Mr Huskisson, “ of this sinking
fund, a reversionary sinking fund was created, to com¬
mence, indeed, in about twelve to fifteen years from that
time, but to be of such efficacy when it should commence,
and to be so greatly accelerated by subsequent additions
in its progress, as, under the most unfavourable supposition,
to be certain of reducing the whole of this debt within for¬
ty-five years. This reversionary sinking fund was to arise in
the following manner; by continuing the old sinking fund
at compound interest, after it should have reached its maxi¬
mum of four millions ; and by continuing also the new sink¬
ing fund or aggregate of the one per cents of the loans
2 T
330 FUNDING
Funding since 1792, after such one per cents should have liqui-
System. dated the several loans in respect of which they are ori-
ginally issued. There is nothing, therefore, in the act
of 1802 which is a departure from the spirit of the act
of 1792.”1
The next alteration that was proposed to be made in
the sinking fund was in 1807, by Lord Henry Petty, then
chancellor of the exchequer. His plan was extremely
complicated, and had for its object, that which ministers
are too much disposed at all times to view with compla¬
cency, namely, to lessen the burden of taxation at the
present, with the certainty of aggravating its pressure at
a future day.
It was estimated by Lord Henry Petty, that the ex¬
penses of the country during war would exceed its per¬
manent annual revenue by tbirty-two millions. For twenty-
one millions of this deficiency, provision was made by the
war-taxes; the property-tax amounting to L. 11,500,000,
and the other war-taxes to L.9,500,000. The object then
was to provide eleven millions per annum. If this sum
had been raised by a loan in the three per cents, when their
price was 60, provision must have been made by taxes for
the interest and sinking fund, so that each year we should
have required additional taxes to the amount of L.733,333.
But government wished to raise the money without impos¬
ing these additional taxes, or by the imposition of as few
as circumstances would permit. For this purpose they
proposed to raise the money required, by loan, in the usual
way, but to provide, out of the war-taxes, for the interest
and redemption of the stock created. They proposed
to increase the sinking fund of every such loan, by taking
from the war-taxes ten per cent, on its amount for interest
and sinking fund, so that if the interest and management
absorbed only five per cent., the sinking fund would also
amount to five per cent.; if the interest amounted to four
per cent., the sinking fund would be six per cent. The
sums proposed to be borrowed in this manner were twelve
millions for the first three years, fourteen millions lor the
fourth, and sixteen millions for each succeeding year;
making together, in fourteen years, 210 millions, for which,
at the rate of ten per cent., the whole of the war-taxes
would be mortgaged. It was calculated, that, by the ope¬
ration of the sinking fund, each loan would be paid off in
fourteen years from the time of contracting for it; and,
therefore, the L.1,200,000 set apart for the interest and
sinking fund of the first loan would be liberated and avail¬
able for the loan of the fifteenth year. At the end of fif¬
teen years a like sum would be set free, and so on each
succeeding year ; and thus loans might be continued, on
this system, without any limitation of time.
But these successive sums could not be withdrawn from
the war-taxes, for interest and sinking fund on loans,
and be at the same time applied to expenditure ; and,
therefore, the deficiency of eleven millions, for which pro¬
vision was to be made, would, from year to year, increase
as the war-taxes became absorbed ; and at the end of four¬
teen years, when the whole twenty-one millions of the
war-taxes would be absorbed, instead of eleven millions,
the deficiency would be thirty-two millions.
To provide for this growing deficiency, it was proposed to
raise supplementary loans, increasing in amount from year
to year; and for the interest and sinking fund on such loans,
provision was to be made in the usual way by annual per¬
manent taxes; on these loans the sinking fund was not to
be more than one per cent.
By the plan proposed, in fifteen years from its com¬
mencement, on the supposition of the war continuing so
long, the regular loan would have been twelve millions,
and the supplementary loan twenty millions.
SYSTEM.
If the expenses of the war should have exceeded the es- Funding
timate then made, provision for such excess was to have System^
been made by other means. . _ ^'v
The ministry who proposed this plan not continuing
in office, it was acted upon only for one year. “ In com¬
paring the merit of different systems,” says Dr Hamil¬
ton, “ the only points necessary to be attended to are the
amount of the loans contracted—the part of these loans
redeemed—the interest incurred—and the sums raised by
taxes. The arrangements of the loan under different
branches, and the appropriation of particular funds for
payment of their respective interests, are matters of offi¬
cial regulation ; and the state of the public finance is
neither the better nor the worse, whether they be con¬
ducted one way or other. A complicated system may
perplex and mislead, but it can never ameliorate.” Ac¬
cordingly, Dr Hamilton has shown, that the whole amount
of taxes that would have been paid in twenty years, for
an annual loan of eleven millions on the old plan of a sink¬
ing fund of one per cent., would be 154 millions. On Lord
Henry Petty’s plan, these taxes would, in the same time,
have been ninety-three millions,—a difference in favour of
Lord Henry Petty’s plan, of fifty-one millions; but to ob¬
tain this exemption we should have been encumbered with
an additional debt of L.l 19,489,788 of money capital, which,
if raised in a three per cent, stock at 60, would be equal to a
nominal capital of L.199,149,646.
The sinking fund was established with a view to dimi¬
nish the national debt during peace, and to prevent its
rapid increase during war. The only wise and good ob¬
ject of war-taxes is also to prevent the accumulation of
debt. A sinking fund and war-taxes are only useful while
they are strictly applied to the objects for which they are
raised ; they become instruments of mischief and delusion
when they are made use of for the purpose of providing
the interest on a new debt.
In 1809, Mr Perceval, who was then chancellor of the
exchequer, mortgaged L.l,040,000 of the war-taxes for
the interest and sinking fund of the stock he funded in
that year.
By taking more than a million from the war-taxes, not
for the annual expenditure, but for the interest of a loan,
Mr Perceval rendered it necessary to add one million to
the loan of the next and all following years; so that the
real effect of this measure differed in no respect from one
which should have taken the same sum annually from the
sinking fund.
In 1813, the next and most important alteration was
made in the sinking fund. Mr Vansittart was then chan¬
cellor of the exchequer. It has been already observed,
that the national debt amounted to L.238,231,248 in 1786,
when Mr Pitt established his sinking fund of one million.
By the act of 1786, as soon as the sum of one million
amounted, by the aid of the dividends on the stock which
was to be purchased by it, to four millions, its accumula¬
tion was to cease, and the dividends on the stock pur¬
chased were to be available for the public service. If the
three per cents were at sixty when this million had accu¬
mulated to four millions, the public would have had a
disposable fund of L.20,000 per annum; if at eighty, of
L.15,000 per annum; and no other relief was to be given
to the public till the four millions had purchased the whole
sum of 238 millions, the then amount of the debt. In
1792, Mr Pitt added L.200,000 per annum to the sinking
fund, and accompanied it by the following observations :
“ When the sum of four millions was originally fixed as
the limit for the sinking fund, it was not in contemplation
to issue more annually from the surplus revenue than one
million ; consequently, the fund would not rise to four
1 Mr Huskisson’s Speech on the State of the Finance and Sinking Fund, 25th March 1813.
FUNDING SYSTEM.
331
Funding millions till a proportion of debt was paid off, the interest
System, of which, together with the annuities which might fall in in
the interval, should amount to three millions. But as, on
the present supposition, additional sums beyond the origi¬
nal million are to be annually issued from the revenue,
and applied to the aid of the sinking fund, the conse¬
quence would be, that if that fund, with these additions
carried to it, were still to be limited to four millions, it
would reach that amount, and cease to accumulate, before
as great a portion of the debt is reduced as was originally
in contemplation.” “ In order to avoid this consequence,
which would, as far as it w ent, be a relaxation in our sys¬
tem, I should propose, that whatever may be the addition¬
al annual sums applied to the reduction of debt, the fund
should not cease to accumulate till the interest of the ca¬
pital discharged, and the amount of the expired annuities,
should, together with the annual million only, and exclu¬
sive of any additional sums, amount to four millions.”1
It will be recollected, that in 1792 a provision was made
for attaching a sinking fund of one per cent, to each loan
separately, which wras to be exclusively employed in the
discharge of the debt contracted by that loan ; but no part
of these one per cents were to be employed in the reduc¬
tion of the original debt of L.238,000,000. The act of
1802 consolidated all these sinking funds, and the public
were not to be exempted from the payment of the sinking
fund itself, nor of the dividends on the stock to be pur¬
chased by the commissioners, till the whole debt existing
in 1802 was paid off. Mr Vansittart proposed to repeal
the act of 1802, and to restore the spirit of Mr Pitt’s act of
1792. He acknowledged that it would be a breach of
faith to the national creditor, if the fair construction oi
that act, the act of 1792, were not adhered to. It was, in
Mr Vansittart’s opinion, no breach of faith to do away the
conditions of the act of 1802. Supposing, however, that
the act of 1802 had been really more favourable to the
stockholder than that of 1792, it is not easy to comprehend
by what arguments it can be proved not to be a breach of
faith to repeal the one and enact the other. Were not all the
loans from 1802 to 1813 negotiated on the faith of that act?
Were not all bargains made between the buyer and seller
of stock made on the same understanding ? Government
had no more right to repeal the act of 1802, and substitute
another less favourable to the stockholder, and acknow¬
ledged to be so by the minister himself, than it would have
had to get rid of the sinking fund altogether. But what
we are at present to inquire into is, whether Mr Vansittart
did as he professed to do ? Did he restore the stockholder
to all the advantages of the act of 1792 ? In the first place,
it was declared by the new act, that as the sinking fund
consolidated in 1802, had redeemed L.238,350,143.18s. Id,
exceeding the amount of the debt in 1786 by L.l 18,895.
12s. lO^d., a sum of capital stock equal to the total capital
of the public debt existing on the 5th January 1786, viz.
L.238,231,248. 5s. 2|d. had been satisfied and discharged ;
“ and that in like manner an amount of public debt equal Funding
to the capital and charge of every loan contracted since
the said 5th January 1786, shall successively, and in its >
proper' order, be deemed and declared to be wholly satis¬
fied and discharged, when and as soon as a further amount
of capital stock, not less than the capital of such loan, and
producing an interest equal to the dividends thereupon,
shall be so redeemed or transferred.”
It was also resolved, “ that after such declaration as
aforesaid, the capital stock purchased by the commissioners
for the reduction of the national debt shall from time to
time be cancelled; at such times, and in such proportions,
as shall be directed by any act of parliament to be passed
for such purpose, in order to make provision for the charge
of any loan or loans thereafter to be contracted.”
It was further resolved, that in order to carry into effect
the provisions of the acts of the 32d and 42d of the king,
for redeeming every part of the national debt within the
period of forty-five years from the time of its creation,
it is expedient that in future, whenever the amount of
the sum to be raised by loan, or by any other addition to
the public funded debt, shall in any year exceed the sum
estimated to be applicable in the same year to the reduc¬
tion of the public debt, an annual sum equal to one half of
the interest of the excess of the said loan, or other addi¬
tion, beyond the sum so estimated to be applicable, shall
be set apart out of the monies composing the consolidated
fund of Great Britain, and shall be issued at the receipt of
the exchequer to the governor and company of the Bank
of England, to be by them placed to the account of the
commissioners for the reduction of the national debt ;2
and upon the remainder of such loan or other addition, the
annual sum of one per cent, on the capital thereof, accord¬
ing to the provisions of the said act.
A provision was also made, for the first time, for one per
cent, sinking fund on the unfunded debt then existing, or
which might thereafter be contracted.
In 1802, it has been already observed, it was deemed
expedient that no provision should be made for a sinking
fund of one per cent, on a capital of L.86,796,300; and as
it was considered by the proposer of the new regulation in
1813, that he was reverting to the principle of Mr Pitt’s
act of 1792, he provided that L.867,963 should be added
to the sinking fund for the one per cent, on the capital stock
created, and which was omitted to be provided for in 1802.3
This was the substance of Mr Vansittart’s new' plan, and
which, he contended, was not injurious to the stockholder,
as it strictly conformed to the spirit of Mr Pitt’s act of 1792.
ls£, By Mr Pitt’s act, no relief could be afforded to the
public from the burdens of taxation, till the stock redeem¬
ed by the original sinking fund of one million amounted to
such a sum as that the dividends on the capital stock re¬
deemed should amount to three millions, making the whole
sinking fund four millions; from thenceforth the four mil¬
lions were to discharge debt as before, but the interest of
1 Mr Pitt’s Speech, 17th February 1792.
2 The effect of this clause was to give a sinking fund of one and a half instead of one per cent, on such excess of loan above the
sinking fund if the loan were raised in a three per cent, stock, and of two and a half per cent, if raised in a five per cent, stock.
3 Mr Vansittart’s plan has added to the sinking fund one per cent, on a capital of L.8(J,796,300  L.867,936
On fifty-six millions of exchequer bills outstanding 5th January 1818, one per cent    500,000
By attaching a sinking fund of one half the interest, instead of one per cent, on a part of the capital created by loans,
he has added to the sinking fund          793,343
Total added         L.2,221,311
From stock cancelled and available for public service            7,632,969
Total deduction from sinking fund on 5th January 1819 L.5,411,658
On the 3d of February 1819 the commissioners certified that there had been transferred to them L.378,519,969. 5s. 3fd. capital
stock, the interest on which was L.l 1,448,564. 10s. O^d., and that the debt created prior to and by the 37th Geo. III. amounted to
L.348,684,197. Is. 5|d., with a yearly interest of L 11,446,736. 3s. 4fd.; and consequently the excess redeemed was L.29,835,772.
3s. 9|d., with a yearly interest of L. 1828. 7s. l^d.
332 FUNDING
Funding debt so discharged was to be available for the public ser-
System. viCe5 anci the public was not to be relieved from the charge
on the remainder of the debt of 238 millions till the four
millions at simple interest, and the further sinking fund
which might arise from the falling in of terminable annui¬
ties, together with the additional sum of L.200,000 per
annum, voted in 1792, with their accumulations, had re¬
deemed the capital of 238 millions. The sinking fund
arising from the one per cent, on each loan was directed,
by the act of 1792, to be applied to each separate loan for
which it was raised. Mr Vansittart thought himself justi¬
fied, and free from any breach of faith to the stockholder,
in taking for the public service, not the interest of four
millions, which is all that Mr Pitt’s bill would allow him to
take, but the interest on 238 millions ; and on what plea ?
because the whole consolidated sinking funds, comprising
the one per cent, on every loan raised since 1793, had pur¬
chased 238 millions of stock. On Mr Pitt’s plan he might
have taken L.20,000 per annum from the sinking fund; on
his own construction of that act, he took from it more than
seven millions per annum.
2dly, Mr Vansittart acknowledged that the stockholder,
in 1802, was deprived of the advantage of one per cent,
sinking fund on a capital of I,.86,796,300 ; and therefore,
to be very just, he gives in 1813 one per cent, on that ca¬
pital ; but should he not have added the accumulation
which would have been made in the eleven years from
1802 to 1813, on L.867,963, at compound interest, and
which would have given a further addition to the sinking
fund of more than L.360,000 per annum ?
3e%, On Mr Pitt’s plan, every loan was to be redeemed
by its sinking fund, under the most unfavourable circum¬
stances, in forty-five years. If the loan was raised in a
three per cent, fund at sixty, and the stock was uniformly
to continue at that price, a one per cent, sinking fund
would redeem the loan to which it was attached in twenty-
nine years; but then no relief would be given to the pub¬
lic from taxation till the end of twenty-nine years ; and if
there had been loans of ten millions every year for that pe¬
riod, when the first loan was paid off, the second would re¬
quire only one year for its final liquidation ; the third two
years, and so on. On Mr Vansittart’s plan, under the same
circumstances, the sinking fund of each and every loan was
to be applied, in the first instance, to the redemption of the
first loan ; and when that was redeemed and cancelled, the
whole of the sinking funds were to be applied to the pay¬
ment of the second, and so on successively. The first loan
of ten millions would be cancelled in less than thirteen
years, the second in less than six years after the first, the
third in a less time, and so on. At the end of the thir¬
teenth year, the public would be relieved from the interest
on the first loan, or, which is the same thing, from the ne¬
cessity of finding fresh taxes for a new loan at the end of
thirteen years, for two new loans at the end of nineteen
years; but what would be the state of its debt at either of
these periods, or at the end of twenty-nine years ? Could
this advantage be obtained without a corresponding disad¬
vantage? No ; the excess of debt on Mr Vansittart’s plan
would be exactly equal to these various sums, thus prema¬
turely released by cancelled stock, accumulated at com¬
pound interest. How could it be otherwise ? Is it pos¬
sible that we could obtain a present relief from the charge
of debt without either directly or indirectly borrowing the
fund necessary to provide that relief at compound interest?
“ By this means,* says Mr Vansittart, “ the loan first con¬
tracted would be discharged at an earlier period, and the
funds charged with the payment of its interest would be¬
come applicable to the public service. Thus, in the event
of a long war, a considerable resource might accrue du¬
ring the course of the war itself, as every successive loan
would contribute to accelerate the redemption of those
SYSTEM.
previously existing; and the total amount of charge to be Funding
borne by the public, in respect of the public debt, would
be reduced to a narrower compass than in the other mode,
in which a greater number of loans would be co-existing.
At the same time the ultimate discharge of the whole debt
would be rather accelerated than retarded.”—“ It is now
only necessary to declare that an amount of stock equal to
the whole of the debt existing in 1786 has been redeemed ;
and that, in like manner, whenever an amount of stock
equal to the capital and charge of any loan raised since
1792 shall be redeemed, in its proper order of succession,
such loan shall be deemed and taken to be redeemed and
satisfied. Every part of the system will then fall at once
into its proper place ; and we shall proceed with the future
redemption with all the advantages which would have been
derived from the original adoption of the mode of succes¬
sive instead of simultaneous redemption. Instead of wait¬
ing till the purchase of the whole of the debt consolidated
in 1802 shall be completed, that part of it which existed
previously to 1792 will be considered as already redeemed,
and the subsequent loans will follow in succession, when¬
ever equal portions of stock shall have been purchased. It
is satisfactory to observe, that by a gradual and equal pro¬
gress, we shall have the power of effecting the complete
repayment of the debt more speedily than by the present
course.” Is it possible that Mr Vansittart could so deceive
himself as to believe that, by taking five millions from the
sinking fund, which would not have been taken by the pro¬
visions of the act of 1802, which would not have been taken
by the act of 1792, and other sums successively, in shorter
times than could have been effected by the provisions of
those two acts, he would be enabled to complete the re¬
payment of the debt more speedily ? Is it possible that he
could believe that, by diminishing the sinking fund, that
is, the amount of revenue as compared with expenditure,
he would effect the payment of our debt more speedily ?
It is impossible to believe this. How then are his words
to be accounted for ? In one way he might have a mean¬
ing. It might be this,—I know we shall be more in debt
in ten, twenty, and thirty years, on my plan, than we
should have been on that of Lord Sidmouth or on that of
Mr Pitt; but we shall have effected a greater payment in
that time of the stock now existing, as the sinking funds
attached to future loans will be employed in paying our
present debt. On Mr Pitt’s plan, those sinking funds would
be used for the payment of the new debt to be created;
that is to say, of the loans to which they are respectively
attached. We shall be more in debt at every subsequent
period, it is true; but as our debt may be divided into old
stock and new stock, I am correct when I say that we shall
have the power of completing the repayment of the debt,
meaning by the debt the stock now existing, sooner than
by the present course.
This plan of Mr Vansittart was opposed with great abi¬
lity, both by Mr Huskisson and Mr Tierney. The former
gentleman said, “ The very foundation of the assumption
that the old debt has been paid off, is laid in the circum¬
stance of our having incurred a new debt of a much larger
amount; and even allowing that assumption, Mr Vansit¬
tart would not have been able to erect his present scheme
upon it, if the credit of the country had not been, for tlm
last twenty years, materially impaired by the pressure of
that new debt. On the one hand, had the sinking fund
been operating at three per cent, during that period, he
would not have touched it, even under his own construc¬
tion of the act of 1792. On the other hand, had the price
of the stocks been still lower than it has been, he would
have taken from that sinking fund still more largely than
he is now, according to his own rule, enabled to take.
This then is the new doctrine of the sinking fundthat,
having been originally established ' to prevent the incon*
FUNDING SYSTEM.
333
Funding venient and dangerous accumulation of debt hereafter’ (to
System, borrow the very words of the act), and for the support and
improvement of public credit, it is in the accumulation of
new debt that Mr Vansittart found at once the means and
the pretence for invading that sinking fund; and the de¬
gree of depression of public credit was, with him, the mea¬
sure of the extent to which that invasion might be carried.
And this is the system of which it is gravely predicated,
that it is no departure from the letter, and no violation of
the spirit, of the act of 1792; and of which we are desired
seriously to believe, that it is only the following up and im¬
proving upon the original measure of Mr Pitt!—of which
measure the clear and governing intention was, that every
future loan should, from the moment of its creation, carry
with it the seeds of its destruction; and that the course
of its reimbursement should that moment be placed beyond
the discretion and control of parliament.” (Mr Huskis-
son’s Speech, 25th March 1813.)
This is the last alteration that has taken place in the
machinery of the sinking fund. Inroads more fatal than
this which we have just recorded have been made on the
fund itself; but they have been made silently and indirect¬
ly, while the machinery has been left unaltered.
It has been shown by Dr Hamilton, that no fund can be
efficient for the reduction of debt but such as arises from
an excess of revenue above expenditure.
Suppose a country at peace, and its expenmture, includ¬
ing the interest of its debt, to be forty millions, its revenue
to be forty-one millions, it would possess one million of
sinking fund. This million would accumulate at compound
interest; for stock would be purchased with it in the mar¬
ket, and placed in the names of the commissioners for pay¬
ing off the debt. These commissioners would be entitled
to the dividends before received by private stockholders,
which would be added to the capital of the sinking fund.
The fund thus increased would make additional purchases
the following year, and would be entitled to a larger amount
of dividends, and thus would go on accumulating, till in
time the whole debt would be discharged.
Suppose such a country to increase its expenditure one
million, without adding to its taxes, and to keep up the ma¬
chinery of the sinking fund; it is evident that it would
make no progress in the reduction of its debt; for though
it would accumulate a fund in the same manner as before
in the hands of the commissioners, it would, by means of
adding to its funded or unfunded debt, and by constantly
borrowing, in the same way, the sum necessary to pay the
interest on such loans, accumulate its million of debt an¬
nually at compound interest, in the same manner as it ac¬
cumulated its million annually of sinking fund.
But suppose that it continued its operations of investing
the sinking fund in the purchase of stock, and made a loan
for the million which it was deficient in its expenditure,
and that, in order to defray the interest and sinking fund of
such loan, it imposed new taxes on the people to the amount
of L.60,000, the real and efficient sinking fund would, in
that case, be L.60,000 per annum, and no more; for there
would be L.1,060,000, and no more, to invest in the pur¬
chase of stock, while one million was raised by the sale of
stock, or, in other words, the revenue would exceed the
expenditure by L.60,000.
Suppose a war to take place, and the expenditure to be
increased to sixty millions, while its revenue continued, as
before, forty-one millions, still keeping on the operation of
the commissioners with respect to the investment of one
million. If it were to raise war-taxes for the payment of
the twenty millions additional expense, the million of sink¬
ing fund would operate to the reduction of the national
debt at compound interest as it did before. If it raised
twenty millions by loan in the stocks or in exchequer bills,
and did not provide for the interest by new taxes, but ob¬
tained it by an addition to the loan of the following year,
it would be accumulating a debt of twenty millions at com¬
pound interest; and while the war lasted, and the same
expenditure continued, it would not only be accumulating
a debt of twenty millions at compound interest, but a debt
of twenty millions per annum ; and consequently the real
increase of its debt, after allowing for the operation of the
million of sinking fund, would be at the rate of nineteen
millions per annum at compound interest. But if it pro¬
vided by new taxes five per cent, interest for this annual
loan of twenty millions, it would on the one hand simply
increase the debt twenty millions per annum ; on the other
it would diminish it by one million per annum, with its
compound interest. If we suppose that, in addition to the
five per cent, interest, it raised also by annual taxes
L.200,000 per annum as a sinking fund for each loan of
twenty millions, it would, the first year of the war, add
L.200,000 to the sinking fund, the second year L;400,000,
the third year L.600,000, and so on, L.200,000 for every
loan of twenty millions. Every year it would add, by
means of the additional taxes, to its annual revenue, with¬
out increasing its expenditure. Every year, too, that part
of this revenue which was devoted to the purpose of pur¬
chasing debt, would increase by the amount of the divi¬
dends on the stock purchased ; and thus would its revenue
still further increase, till at last the revenue would overtake
the expenditure, and then once again it would have an ef¬
ficient sinking fund for the reduction of debt.
It is evident that the result of these operations would be
the same, the rate of interest being supposed to be always
at five per cent, or any other rate, if, during the excess of
expenditure above revenue, the operation of the commis¬
sioners in the purchase of stock were to cease. The real
increase of the national debt must depend upon the excess
of expenditure above revenue, and that would be noways
altered by a different arrangement. Suppose that, instead
of raising twenty millions the first year, and paying off one
million, only nineteen millions had been raised by loan,
and the same taxes had been raised, namely, L.1,200,000.
As five per cent, would be paid on nineteen millions only,
instead of on twenty millions, or L.950,000 for interest in¬
stead of one million, there would remain, in addition to
the original million, L.250,000 towards the loan of the fol¬
lowing year, consequently the loan of the second year would
be only for L.18,750,000; but as L.1,200,000 would be
again raised by additional taxes, or L.2,400,000 in the
whole the second year, besides the original million, there
would be a surplus, after paying the interest of both loans,
of L.1,512,500, and therefore the loan of the third yearwould
be for L.18,487,500. The progress during five years is
shown in the following table:—
F unding
System.
1st year.
2d year..
3d year..
4th year.
5th year.
Loan each Year.
L.19,000,000
18,750,000
18,487,500
18,211,875
17,922,469
Amount of Loans.
L.19,000,000
37,750,000
56,237,500
74,449,375
92,371,844
Amount of
Interest.
L.950,000
1,887,500
2,811,875
3,722,469
4,618,592
Amount of
Taxes.
L.2,200,000
3,400,000
4,600,000
5,800,000
7,000,000
Surplus.
L.1,250,000
1,512,500
1,788,125
2,077,531
2,381,408
334 FUNDING
Funding If, instead of thus diminishing the loan each year, the
System, same amount of taxes precisely had been raised, and the
sinking fund had been applied in the usual manner, the
amount of debt would have been exactly the same at any
one of these periods. In the third column of the above
table it will be seen, that in the fifth year the debt had in-
SYSTEM.
creased to L.92,371,844. On the supposition that L.200,000 Funding
per annum had each year been added to the sinking fund, System,
and invested in stock by the commissioners, the amount
of unredeemed debt would have been the same sum of
L.92,371,844, as will be seen by the last column of the
following table :—
1st year.
2d year..
3d year..
4th year.
5th year.
Loan each Year.
L.20,000,000
20,000,000
20,000,000
20,000,000
20,000,000
Amount of Loans.
L.20,000,000
40,000,000
60,000,000
80,000,000
100,000,000
Debt redeemed
each Year.
L.1,000,000
1,250,000
1,512,500
1,788,125
2,077,531
Amount Debt
Redeemed.
L.1,000,000
2,250,000
3,762.500
5,550,625
7,628,156
Interest on j Debt remaining
Debt Redeemed. Unredeemed.
L.50,000
112,500
188,125
277,531
381,408
L.19,000,000
37,750,000
56,237,500
74,449,375
92,371,844
A full consideration of this subject in all its details has
led Dr Hamilton to the conclusion that this first mode of
raising the supplies during war, viz. by diminishing the
amount of the annual loans, and stopping the purchases of
the commissioners in the market, would be more econo¬
mical, and that it ought therefore to be adopted. In the
first place, all the expenses of agency would be saved ; in
the second, the premium usually obtained by the contrac¬
tor for the loan would be saved on that part of it which is
repurchased by the commissioners in the open market. It
is true that the stocks may fall as well as rise between the
time of contracting for the loan and the time of the pur¬
chases made by the commissioners ; and therefore, in some
cases, the public may gain by the present arrangement;
but as these chances are equal, and a certain advantage is
given to the loan contractor to induce him to advance his
money, independently of all contingency of future price,
the public now give this advantage on the larger sum in¬
stead of on the smaller. On an average of years, this can¬
not fail to amount to a very considerable sum. But both
these objections would be obviated, if the clause in the ori¬
ginal sinking fund bill, authorizing the commissioners to
subscribe to any loan for the public service, to the amount
of the annual fund which they have to invest, were uni¬
formly complied with. This is the mode which was for
several years strongly urged by Mr Grenfell; and it is far
preferable to that which Dr Hamilton recommends. Dr
Hamilton and Mr Grenfell both agree, that in time of war,
when the expenditure exceeds the revenue, and when there¬
fore we are annually increasing our debt, it is a useless ope¬
ration to buy a comparatively small quantity of stock in the
market, while we are at the same time under the neces¬
sity of making large sales: but Dr Hamilton would not
keep the sinking fund as a separate fund; Mr Grenfell
would, and would have it increased with our debt by some
known and fixed rules. We agree with Mr Grenfell. If
a loan of twenty millions is to be raised annually, while
there is in the hands of the commissioners ten millions
;vhich they annually receive, the obvious and simple ope¬
ration should be really to raise only ten millions by loan;
but there is a convenience in calling it twenty millions,
and allowing the commissioners to subscribe ten millions.
All the objections of Dr Hamilton are by these means re¬
moved ; there will be no expense for agency; there will
be no loss on account of any difference of price at which
the public sell and buy. By calling the loan twenty mil¬
lions, the public will be induced more easily to bear the
taxes which are necessary for the interest and sinking fund
of twenty millions. Call the loan only ten millions, abolish
during the war the very name of the sinking fund in all
your public accounts, and it would be difficult to show to
the people the expediency of providing L.1,200,000 per
annum by additional taxation for the interest of a loan of
ten millions. The sinking fund is therefore useful as an
engine of taxation; and if the country could depend on
ministers that it would be faithfully devoted to the pur¬
poses for which it was established, namely, to afford at the
termination of war a clear additional surplus revenue be¬
yond expenditure, in proportion to the addition made to
the debt, it would be wise and expedient to keep it as a
separate fund, subject to fixed rules and regulations.
We shall presently inquire whether there can be any
such dependence ; and therefore whether the sinking fund
is not an instrument of mischief and delusion, and really
tending rather to increase our debt and burdens than to
diminish them.
It is objected both to Dr Hamilton’s and Mr Grenfell’s
projects, that the disadvantages which they mention are
trifling in degree, and are more than compensated by the
steadiness which is given to the market by the daily pur¬
chases of the commissioners; that the money which those
purchases throw into the market is a resource on which
bankers and others, who may suddenly want money, with
certainty rely.
Those who make this objection forget, that if, by the
adoption of this plan, a daily purchaser is withdrawn from
the market, so also is a daily seller. The minister gives
now to one party ten millions of money to invest in stock,
and to another party as much stock as ten millions costs to
sell; and as the instalments on the loan are paid monthly,
it may fairly be said that the supply is as regular as the
demand. It cannot be doubted too, that a loan of twenty
millions is negotiated on worse terms than one of ten. It
is true that no more stock will remain in the market at the
end of the year, whether the one or the other sum be
raised by loan; but for a time the contractor must make a
large purchase, and he must wait before he can make his
sale of ten millions to the commissioners. He is induced
then to sell much more largely before the contract, which
cannot fail to affect the market price ; and it must be re¬
collected, that it is the market price on the day of bidding
for the loan which governs the terms on which the loan is
negotiated. It is looked to both by the minister who sells
and the contractor who purchases. The experiment on
Mr Grenfell’s suggestion was tried for the first time in 1819;
the sum required by government was twenty-four millions,
to which the commissioners subscribed twelve millions. In
lieu of a loan of twenty-four millions from the contractor,
there was one only of twelve millions; and as soon as this
arrangement was known, previous to the contract, the
stocks rose to four or five per cent., and influenced the
terms of the loan in that degree. The reason was, that a
preparation had been made for twenty-four or thirty mil¬
lions loan ; and as soon as it was known that it would be
for twelve millions only, a part of the stock sold was re¬
purchased. Another advantage attending the smaller loan
is, that eight hundred per million, which is paid to the bank
for management of the loan, is saved on the sum sub¬
scribed by the commissioners.
Dr Hamilton, in another part of his work, observes, “ If
FUNDINGSYSTEM. 335
Funding the sinking fund could be conducted without loss to the
Svstem. public, or even if it were attended with a moderate loss, it
would not be wise to propose an alteration of a system
which has gained the confidence of the public, and which
points out a rule of taxation that has the advantage at least
of being steady. If that rule be laid aside, our measures
of taxation might become entirely loose.”
“ The means, and the only means, of restraining the
progress of national debt, are saving of expenditure and
increase of revenue. Neither of these has a necessary con¬
nection with a sinking fund. But if they have an eventual
connection, and if the nation, impressed with a conviction
of the importance of a system established by a popular
minister, has, in order to adhere to it, adopted measures,
either of frugality in expenditure, or exertion in raising
taxes, which it would not otherwise have done, the sinking
fund ought not to be considered as inefficient, and its ef¬
fects may be of great importance.”
It will not, we think, admit of a doubt, that if Mr Pitt’s
sinking fund, as established in 1792, had been always fairly
acted upon,—if, for every loan, in addition to the war-taxes,
the interest, and a one per cent, sinking fund, had been in¬
variably supplied by annual taxes,—we should have made
rapid progress in the extinction of debt. The alteration
in principle which was made in the sinking fund by the act
of 1802, was, in our opinion, a judicious one : it provided
that no part of the sinking fund, neither that which arose
from the original million, with its addition of L.200,000
per annum, nor that which arose from the one per cent,
raised for the loans since 1792, should be applicable to
the public service, till the whole of the debt then ex¬
isting was redeemed. We should have been disposed to
extend this principle further, and to make a provision,
that no part of the sinking fund should be applicable to
the public service until the whole of the debt then exist¬
ing, and subsequently to be created, should be redeemed.
We do not think that there is much weight in the objec¬
tion to this clause which was made to it by Lord Henry
Petty in 1807, and referred to and more strongly urged by
Mr Vansittart in 1813. The noble Lord said, “ 1 need
hardly press upon the consideration of the committee, all
the evils likely to result from allowing the sinking fund to
accumulate without any limit; for the nation would be ex¬
posed by that accumulation to the mischief of having a
large portion of capital taken at once out of the market,
without any adequate means of applying it, which would of
course be deprived of its value.
“ This evil must appear so serious to any man who con¬
templates its character, that I have no doubt it will be
felt, however paradoxical it may seem, that the redemp¬
tion of the whole national debt at once would be produc¬
tive of something like national bankruptcy; for the capital
would be equivalent almost to nothing, while the interest
he had before derived from it would be altogether extin¬
guished. The other evils which would arise from, and
which must serve to demonstrate the mischievous conse¬
quence of, a prompt discharge of the national debt, I will
show presently. Different arrangements were adopted in
the further provisions made on the subject of the sinking
fund in 1792 and in 1802. By the first the sinking fund
of one per cent., which was thenceforward to be provided
for every new loan, was made to accumulate at compound
interest until the whole of the debt created by such new
loan should be extinguished. And, by the second ar¬
rangement, all the various sinking funds existing in 1802
were consolidated, and the whole were appropriated to
accumulate at compound interest until the discharge of
the whole of the debt also existing in 1802. But the
debt created since 1802, amounting to about one hun¬
dred millions of nominal capital, is still left subject to the
act of 1792, which provides for each separate loan a sink¬
ing fund of only one per cent, on the nominal capital. The Funding
plan of 1802, engrafted on the former acts of 1786 and System.
1792, provided for the still more speedy extinction of the
debt to which it applied. But it would postpone all re¬
lief from the public burdens to a very distant period (com¬
puted in 1802 to be from 1834 to 1844); and it would
throw such large and disproportionate sums into the mo¬
ney market in the latter years of its operation, as might
produce a very dangerous depreciation of the value of
money. Many inconveniences might also arise from the
sudden stop which would be put to the application of those
sums when the whole debt should have been redeemed,
and from the no less sudden change in the price of all
commodities, which must follow from taking off at one
and the same moment taxes to an extent probably then
much exceeding thirty millions. The fate of merchants,
manufacturers, mechanics, and every description of deal¬
ers, in such an event, must be contemplated by every
thinking man with alarm ; and this applies to my observa¬
tion respecting a national bankruptcy ; for, should the na¬
tional debt be discharged, and such a weight of taxation
taken off at once, all the goods remaining on hand would
be, comparatively speaking, of no value to the holders,
because, having been purchased or manufactured while
such taxation prevailed, they must be undersold by all
those who might manufacture the same kind of goods
after such taxation had ceased. These objections were
foreseen, and to a certain degree acknowledged, at the
time when the act of 1802 was passed; and it was then
answered, that whenever the danger approached, it might
be obviated by subsequent arrangements.” A great many
of these objections appear to us to be chimerical; but, if
well founded, we agree with the latter part of the extract,
“ whenever the danger approached, it might be obviated
by subsequent arrangements.” It was not necessary to
legislate in 1807 or in 1813, for a danger which could not
happen till between 1834 and 1844. It was not necessary
to provide against the evils which would arise from a ple¬
thora of wealth at a remote period, when our real diffi¬
culty was how to supply our immediate and pressing
wants.
What are the evils apprehended from the extravagant
growth of the sinking fund towards the latter years of its
existence ? Not that taxation will be increased, because
the growth of the sinking fund is occasioned by dividends
on stock purchased ; but, first, that capital will be returned
too suddenly into the hands of the stockholder, without his
having any means of deriving a revenue from it; and, se¬
condly, that the remission of taxes, to the amount proba¬
bly of thirty millions, will have a great effect on the prices
of particular commodities, and will be very pernicious to
the interest of those who may deal in or manufacture such
commodities.
It is obvious that the commissioners have no capital.
They receive quarterly or daily certain sums, arising from
the taxes, which they employ in the redemption of debt.
One portion of the people pay what another portion re¬
ceive. If the payers employed the sums paid as capital,
that is to say, in the production of raw produce, or manu¬
factured commodities, and the receivers, when they re¬
ceived it, employed it in the same manner, there would be
little variation in the annual produce. A part of that pro¬
duce might be produced by A instead of by B : not that
even this is a necessary consequence; for A, when he re¬
ceived the money for his debt, might lend it to B, and
might receive from him a portion of the produce for inte¬
rest, in which case B would continue to employ the capital
as before. On the supposition, then, that the sinking fund
is furnished by capital and not by revenue, no injury would
result to the community, however large that fund might be ;
there might or might not be a transfer of employments.
386
FUNDING SYSTEM.
Funding but the annual produce, the real wealth of the country,
System, would undergo no deterioration, and the actual amount of
capital employed would neither be increased nor diminish¬
ed. But if the payers of taxes, for the interest and sinking
fund of the national debt, paid them from revenue, then
they would retain the same capital as before in active em¬
ployment ; and as this revenue, when received by the stock¬
holder, would be by him employed as capital, there would
be, in consequence of this operation, a great increase of ca¬
pital ; every year an additional portion of revenue would
be turned into capital, which could be employed only in
furnishing new commodities to the market. Now; the
doubts of those who speak of the mischievous effects of the
great accumulation of the sinking fund, proceed from an
opinion they entertain that a country may possess more
capital than it can beneficially employ, and that there may
be such a glut of commodities that it would be impossible
to dispose of them on such terms as to secure to the pro¬
ducers any profits on their capitals. The error of this rea¬
soning has been made manifest by M. Say, in his able work
Economie Politique, and afterwards by Mr Mill, in his ex¬
cellent reply to Mr Spence, the advocate of the doctrine of
the Economistes. They show that demand is only limited
by production; whoever can produce has a right to con¬
sume, and he will exercise his privilege to the greatest ex¬
tent. They do not deny that the demand for particular
commodities is limited, and therefore they say there may
be a glut of such commodities ; but, in a great and civilized
country, wants, either for objects of necessity or of luxury,
are unlimited, and the employment of capital is of equal ex¬
tent with our ability of supplying food and necessaries for
the increasing population, which a continually augmenting
capital would employ. With every increased difficulty of
producing additional supplies of raw produce from the
land, corn, and the other necessaries of the labourer, would
rise. Hence wages would rise. A real rise of wages is ne¬
cessarily followed by a real fall of profits; and therefore,
when the land of a country is brought to the highest state
of cultivation, when more labour employed upon it will not
yield in return more food than what is necessary to support
the labourer so employed, that country is come to the limit
of its increase both of capital and population.
The richest country in Europe is yet far distant from
that degree of improvement; but if any had arrived at it,
by the aid of foreign commerce, even such a country could
go on for an indefinite time increasing in wealth and popu¬
lation ; for the only obstacle to this increase would be the
scarcity, and consequent high value, of food and other raw
produce. Let these be supplied from abroad in exchange
for manufactured goods, and it is difficult to say where the
limit is at which you would cease to accumulate wealth, and
to derive profit from its employment. This is a question
of the utmost importance in political economy. We hope
that the little we have said on the subject will be sufficient
to induce those who wish clearly to understand the princi¬
ple, to consult the works of the able authors whom we have
named, to which we acknowledge ourselves so much in¬
debted. If these views are correct, there is then no dan¬
ger that the accumulated capital which a sinking fund un¬
der particular circumstances might occasion, would not find
employment, or that the commodities which it might be
made to produce would not be beneficially sold, so as to af¬
ford an adequate profit to the producers. On this part of
the subject it is only necessary to add, that there would be
no necessity for stockholders to become farmers or manu¬
facturers. There are always to be found in a great coun¬
try a sufficient number of responsible persons, with the re¬
quisite skill, ready to employ the accumulated capital of
others, and to pay to them a share of the profits, and which
in all countries is known by the name of interest for bor¬
rowed money.
The second objection to the indefinite increase of the
sinking fund remains now to be noticed. By the remission
of taxes suddenly to the amount probably of thirty millions
per annum, a great effect would be produced on the price
of goods. “ The fate of merchants, manufacturers, me¬
chanics, and every description of dealers, in such an event,
must be contemplated by every thinking man with alarm;
for should the national debt be discharged, and such a
weight of taxation taken off at once, all the goods remain¬
ing on hand would be, comparatively speaking, of no value
to the holders, because, having been purchased or manu¬
factured while such taxation prevailed, they must be un¬
dersold by all those who might manufacture the same kind
of goods after such taxation had ceased.” It is only, then,
on the supposition that merchants, manufacturers, and
dealers, would be affected as above described, that any evil
would result from the largest remission of taxes. It would
not of course be said, that by remitting a tax of L.5 to A,
L.10 to B, L.100 to C, and so on, any injury would be
done to them. If they added these different sums to their
respective capitals, they would augment their permanent
annual revenue, and would be contributing to the increase
of the mass of commodities, thereby adding to the general
abundance. We have already, we hope, successfully shown
that an augmentation of capital is neither injurious to the
individual by whom it is saved, nor to the community at
large ; its tendency is to increase the demand for labour, and
consequently the population, and to add to the power and
strength of the country. But they will not add these respec¬
tive sums to their capitals ; they will expend them as reve¬
nue ! The measure cannot be said to be either injurious to
themselves or to the community on that account. They an¬
nually contributed a portion of their produce to the stock¬
holder in payment of debt, who immediately employed it
as capital; that portion of produce is now at their own dis¬
posal ; they may consume it themselves if they please. A
farmer who used to sell a portion of his corn for the parti¬
cular purpose of furnishing this tax, may consume this corn
himself; he may get the distiller to make gin of it, or the
brewer to turn it into beer, or he may exchange it for a
portion of the cloth which the clothier, who is now released
from the tax as well as the farmer, is at liberty to dispose
of for any commodity which he may desire. It may indeed
be said, where is all this cloth, beer, gin, &c. to come from ;
there was no more than necessary for the general demand
before this remission of taxes ; if every man is now to con¬
sume more, from whence is this supply to be obtained ?
This is an objection of quite an opposite nature to that
which was before urged. Now, it is said there would be
too much demand and no additional supply ; before, it was
contended that the supply would be so great that no de¬
mand would exist for the quantity supplied. One objec¬
tion is no better founded than the other. The stockhold¬
ers, by previously receiving the payment of their debt, and
employing the funds they received productively, or lending
them to some other persons who would so employ them,
would produce the very additional commodities which the
society at large would have it in their power to consume.
There would be a general augmentation of revenue, and a
general augmentation of enjoyment; and it must not for
a moment be supposed that the increased consumption of
one part of the people would be at the expense of another
part. The good would be unmixed, and without alloy. It
remains then only to consider the injury to traders from the
fall in the price of goods; and the remedy against this ap¬
pears to be so very simple, that it surprises us that it should
ever have been urged as an objection. In laying on a new
tax, the stock in hand of the article taxed is commonly
ascertained; and, as a measure of justice, the dealer in such
article is required to pay the imposed tax on his stock.
Why may not the reverse of this be done ? Why may not
Funding
System.
FUNDING
Funding the tax be returned to each individual on his stock in hand,
System, whenever it shall be thought expedient to take off the tax
from the article which he manufactures, or in which he
deals ? It would only be necessary to continue the taxes
for a very short time for this purpose. On no view of this
question can we see any validity in the arguments which
we have quoted, and which were so particularly insisted
on by Mr Vansittart,
There are some persons who think that a sinking fund,
even when strictly applied to its object, is of no national
benefit whatever. The money which is contributed, they
say, would be more productively employed by the payers
of the taxes than by the commissioners of the sinking fund.
The latter purchase stock with it, which probably does not
yield five per cent.; the former would obtain from the em¬
ployment of the same capital much more than five per cent.,
consequently the country would be enriched by the differ¬
ence. There would be in the latter case a larger nett sup¬
ply of the produce of our land and labour, and that is the
fund from which ultimately all our expenditure must be
drawn. Those who maintain this opinion do not see that
the commissioners merely receive money from one class of
the community, and pay it to another class, and that the
real question is, Which of these two classes will employ it
most productively? Forty millions per annum are raised
by taxes, of which twenty millions, we will suppose, is paid
for sinking fund, and twenty millions for interest of debt.
After a year’s purchase is made by the commissioners, this
forty millions will be divided differently t nineteen millions
will be paid for interest, and twenty-one millions for sink¬
ing fund; and so from year to year, though forty millions
is always paid on the whole, a less and less portion of it
will be paid for interest, and a larger portion for sinking
fund, till the commissioners have purchased the whole
amount of stock, and then the whole forty millions will be
in the hands of the commissioners. The sole question then
with regard to profits is, whether those who pay this forty
millions, or those who receive it, will employ it most pro¬
ductively ; the commissioners, in fact, never employing it
at all, their business being to transfer it to those who will
employ it. Now, of this we are quite certain, that all the
money received by the stockholder in return for his stock
must be employed as capital; for if it were not so employ¬
ed, he would be deprived of his revenue, on which he had
habitually depended. If then the taxes which are paid to¬
wards the sinking fund be derived from the revenue of the
country, and not from its capital, by this operation a por¬
tion of revenue is yearly realized into capital, and conse¬
quently the whole revenue of the society is increased ; but
it might have been realized into capital by the payer of the
tax if there had been no sinking fund, and he had been
allowed to retain the money to his own use. It might so,
and if it had been so disposed of, there can be no advan¬
tage in respect to the accumulation of the wealth of the
whole society by the establishment of the sinking fund;
but it is not so probable that the payer of the tax would
make this use of it as the receiver. The receiver, when
he gets paid for his stock, only substitutes one capital for
another i and he is accustomed to look to his capital for all
his yearly income. The payer will have all that he paid
in addition to his former revenue; if the sinking fund be
discontinued he may indeed realize it into capital, but he
may also use it as revenue, increasing his expenditure on
wine, houses, horses, clothes, &c. The payer might too
have paid it from his capital; and therefore the employment
of one capital might be substituted for another. In this
case, too, no advantage arises from the sinking fund, as
the national wealth would accumulate as rapidly without
it as with it; but if any portion of the taxes paid expressly
for the sinking fund be paid from revenue, and which, if
not so paid, would have been expended as revenue, then
VOL. x.
SYSTEM. 387
there is a manifest advantage in the sinking fund, as it Funding
tends to increase the annual produce of our land and la- System,
bour; and as we cannot but think that this would be its
operation, we are clearly of opinion that a sinking fund,
honestly applied, is favourable to the accumulation of
wealth.
Dr Hamilton has followed Dr Price in insisting much on
the disadvantage of raising loans during war in a three per
cent, stock, and not in a five per cent, stock. In the former, a
great addition is made to the nominal capital, which is ge¬
nerally redeemed during peace at a greatly advanced price.
Three per cents which were sold at sixty will probably be
repurchased at eighty, and may come to be bought at 100 ;
whereas in five per cents there would be little or no in¬
crease of nominal capital, and as all the stocks are redeem¬
able at par, they would be paid off with very little loss.
The correctness of this observation must depend on the
relative prices of these two stocks. During the war in
1798, the three per cents were at fifty, while the five per
cents were at seventy-three ; and at all times the five per
cents bear a-very low relative price to the three per cents.
Here then is one disadvantage to be put against another,
and it must depend upon the degree in which the prices of
the three per cents and five per cents differ, whether it be
more desirable to raise the loan in the one or in the other.
We have little doubt, that during many periods of the war,
there would have been a decided disadvantage in making the
loan in five per cent, stock in preference to three per cent,
stock. The market in five per cent, stock, too, is limited ;
a sale cannot be forced in it without causing a considerable
fall, a circumstance known to the contractors, and against
which they would naturally take some security in the price
which they bid for a large loan if in that stock. A pre¬
mium of two per cent, on the market price may appear to
them sufficient to compensate them for their risk in a loan
in three per cent, stock; they may require one of five per
cent, to protect them against the dangers they apprehend
from taking the same loan in a five per cent, stock.
II. After having duly considered the operation of a sink¬
ing fund derived from annual taxes, we come now to the
consideration of the best mode of providing for our annual
expenditure, both in war and peace ; and further, to exa¬
mine whether a country can have any security that a fund
raised for the purpose of paying debt will not be misapplied
by ministers, and be really made the instrument for creat¬
ing new debt, so as never to afford a rational hope that any
progress whatever will permanently be made in the reduc¬
tion of debt.
Suppose a country to be free from debt, and a war to take
place which should involve it in an annual additional expen¬
diture of twenty millions—there are three modes by which
this expenditure may be provided ; first, taxes may be raised
to the amount of twenty millions per annum, from which the
country would be totally freed on the return of peace ; or,
secondly, the money might be annually borrowed and fund¬
ed, in which case, if the interest agreed upon was five per
cent, a perpetual charge of one million per annum taxes
would be incurred for the first year’s expense, from which
there would be no relief during peace, or in any future
war,-—of an additional million for the second year’s expense,
and so on for every year that the war might last. At the
end of twenty years, if the war lasted so long, the country
would be perpetually encumbered with taxes of twenty
millions per annum, and would have to repeat the same
course on the recurrence of any new war. The third mode
of providing for the expenses of the war would be to bor¬
row annually the twenty millions required as before, but
to provide by taxes a fund, in addition to the interest,
which, accumulating at compound interest, should finally
be equal to the debt. In the case supposed, if money was
raised at five per cent, and a sum of L.200,000 per annum
2 u
338 FUNDING
Funding in addition to the million for interest were provided, it
System, would accumulate to twenty millions in forty-five years;
and, by consenting to raise L.1,200,000 per annum by
taxes for every loan of twenty millions, each loan would be
paid off in forty-five years from the time of its creation;
and in forty-five years from the termination of the war, if
no new debt were created, the whole would be redeemed,
and the whole of the taxes would be repealed.
Of these three modes, we are decidedly of opinion that
the preference should be given to the first. The burdens
of the war are undoubtedly great during its continuance,
but at its termination they cease altogether. When the
pressure of the war is felt at once, without mitigation, we
shall be less disposed wantonly to engage in an expensive
contest; and, if engaged in it, we shall be sooner disposed
to get out of it, unless it be a contest for some great na¬
tional interest. In point of economy, there is no real dif¬
ference in either of the modes ; for twenty millions in one
payment, one million per annum for ever, or L.1,200,000
for forty-five years, are precisely of the same value; but
the people who pay the taxes never so estimate them,
and therefore do not manage their private affairs accord¬
ingly. We are too apt to think that the war is burden¬
some only in proportion to what we are at the moment
called to pay for it in taxes, without reflecting on the pro¬
bable duration of such taxes. It would be difficult to con¬
vince a man possessed of L.20,000, or any other sum, that
a perpetual payment of L.50 per annum was equally bur¬
densome with a single tax of L.1000. He would have
some vague notion that the L.50 per annum would be
paid by posterity, and would not be paid by him ; but if
he leaves his fortune to his son, and leaves it charged
with this perpetual tax, where is the difference whether
he leaves him L.20,000 with the tax, or L.19,000 without
it ? This argument of charging posterity with the inte¬
rest of our debt, or of relieving them from a portion of
such interest, is often used by otherwise well-informed
people; but we confess we see no weight in it. It may
indeed be said that the wealth of the country may in¬
crease, and as a portion of the increased wealth will have
to contribute to the taxes, the proportion falling on the
present amount of wealth will be less, and thus posterity
will contribute to our present expenditure. That this
may be so, is true : but it may also be otherwise; the
wealth of the country may diminish ; individuals may with¬
draw from a country heavily taxed ; and therefore the pro¬
perty retained in the countiy may pay more than the just
equivalent, which would at the present time be received
from it. That an annual tax of L.50 is not deemed the
same in amount as L.1000 ready money, must have been
observed by every body. If an individual were called
upon to pay L.1000 to the income-tax, he would probably
endeavour to save the whole of it from his income; hewould
do no more if, in lieu of this war-tax, a loan had been rais¬
ed, for the interest of which he would have been called
upon to pay only L.50 income-tax. The war-taxes, then,
are more economical; for when they are paid, an effort is
made to save to the amount of the whole expenditure of
the war, leaving the national capital undiminished. In
the other case, an effort is only made to save to the
amount of the interest of such expenditure, and therefore
the national capital is diminished in amount. The usual
objection made to the payment of the larger tax is, that
it could not be conveniently paid by manufacturers and
landholders, for they have not large sums of money at
their command. We think that great efforts would be
made to save the tax out of their income, in which case
they could obtain the money from this source ; but sup¬
pose they could not, what should hinder them from selling
a part of their property for money, or of borrowing it at
interest ? That there are persons disposed to lend, is evi-
SYSTEM.
dent from the facility with which government raises its Funding
loans. Withdraw this great borrower from the market, System,
and private borrowers would be readily accommodated.
By wise regulations and good laws, the greatest facilities
and security might be afforded to individuals in such trans¬
actions. In the case of a loan, A advances the money,
and B pays the interest, and every thing else remains as
before. In the case of war-taxes, A would still advance
the money and B pay the interest, only with this differ¬
ence, he would pay it directly to A; now he pays it to
government, and government pays it to A.
These large taxes, it may be said, must fall on proper¬
ty, which the smaller taxes now do not exclusively do.
Those who are in professions, as well as those who live
from salaries and wages, and who now contribute annually
to the taxes, could not make a large ready money pay¬
ment; and they would therefore be benefited at the ex¬
pense of the capitalist and landholder. We believe that
they would be very little, if at all, benefited by the sys¬
tem of war-taxes. Fees to professional men, salaries, and
wages, are regulated by the prices of commodities, and
by the relative situation of those who pay and of those
who receive them. A tax of the nature proposed, if it
did not disturb prices, would, however, change the rela¬
tion between these classes, and a new arrangement of
fees, salaries, and wages, would take place, so that the
usual level would be restored.
The reward that is paid to professors, &c. is regulated,
like every thing else, by demand and supply. What pro¬
duces the supply of men, with certain qualifications, is
not any particular sum of money, but a certain relative
position in society. If you diminish, by additional taxes,
the incomes of landlords and capitalists, leaving the pay
of professions the same, the relative position of profes¬
sions would be raised; an additional number of persons
would therefore be enticed into those lines, and the com¬
petition would reduce the pay.
The greatest advantage that would attend war-taxes
would be the little permanent derangement that they
would cause to the industry of the country. The prices
of our commodities would not be disturbed by taxation;
or if they were, they would only be so during a period
when every thing is disturbed by other causes during war.
At the commencement of peace every thing would be at
its natural price again, and no inducement would be af¬
forded to us by the direct effect, and still less by the in¬
direct effect, of taxes on various commodities, to desert
employments in which we have peculiar skill and facili¬
ties, and engage in others in which the same skill and fa¬
cilities are wanting. In a state of freedom every man
naturally engages himself in that employment for which
he is best fitted, and the greatest abundance of products
is the result. An injudicious tax may induce us to im¬
port what we should otherwise have produced at home,
or to export what we should otherwise have received from
abroad ; and in both cases we shall receive, besides the
inconvenience of paying the tax, a less return for a given
quantity of our labour than what that labour would, if un¬
fettered, have produced. Under a complicated system of
taxation, it is impossible for the wisest legislature to dis¬
cover all the effects, direct and indirect, of its taxes; and
if it cannot do this, the industry of the country will not
be exerted to the greatest advantage. By war-taxes, we
should save many millions in the collection of taxes. We
might get rid of at least some of the expensive establish¬
ments, and the army of officers which they employ would
be dispensed with. There would be no charges for the
management of debt. Loans would not be raised at the
rate of L.50 or L.60 for a nominal capital of L.100, to be
repaid at L.70, L.80, or possibly at L.100 ; and perhaps,
what is of more importance than all these together, we
FUNDING SYSTEM.
339
Funding might get rid of those great sources of the demoralization
System, of the people, the Customs and Excise. In every view of
this question we come to the same conclusion, that it
would be a great improvement in our system for ever to
get rid of the practice of funding. Let us meet our diffi¬
culties as they arise, and keep our estates free from per¬
manent encumbrances, of the weight of which we are
never truly sensible till we are involved in them past re¬
medy.
We are now to compare the other two modes of defray¬
ing the expenses of a war, one by borrowing the capital
expended, and providing annual taxes permanently for
the payment of the interest; the other by borrowing the
capital expended, and, besides providing the interest by
annual taxes, raising, by the same mode, an additional re¬
venue (and which is called the sinking fund), with a view,
within a certain determinate time, to redeem the original
debt, and get rid entirely of the taxes.
Under the firm conviction that nations will at last adopt
the plan of defraying their expenses, ordinary and extra¬
ordinary, at the time they are incurred, we are favourable
to every plan which shall soonest redeem us from debt;
but then we must be convinced that the plan is effective
for the object. This, then, is the place to examine whether
we have or can have any security for the due application
of the sinking fund to the payment of debt.
When Mr Pitt, in 1786, established the sinking fund,
he was aware of the danger of intrusting it to ministers
and parliament; and therefore provided that the sums
applicable to the sinking fund should be paid by the ex¬
chequer into the hands of commissioners, by quarterly
payments, who should be required to invest equal sums
of money in the purchase of stock, on four days in each
week, or about fifty days in each quarter. The commis¬
sioners named were, the Speaker of the House of Com¬
mons, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Master of
the Rolls, the Accountant-General of the Court of Chan¬
cery, and the Governor and Deputy-Governor of the
Bank. He thought that, under such management, there
could be no misapplication of the funds, and he thought
correctly, for the commissioners have faithfully fulfilled
the trust reposed in them. In proposing the establish¬
ment of a sinking fund to parliament in 1786, Mr Pitt said,
“ With regard to preserving the fund to be invariably ap¬
plied to the diminution of the debt inalienable, it was the
essence of his plan to keep that sacred, and most effec¬
tually so in time of war. He must contend, that to suffer
the fund at any time, or on any pretence, to be diverted
from its proper object, would be to ruin, defeat, and over¬
turn his plan. He hoped, therefore, when the bill he
should introduce should pass into a law, that house
would hold itself solemnly pledged not to listen to a pro¬
posal for its repeal on any pretence whatever.”
“ If this million, to be so applied, is laid out with its
growing interest, it will amount to a very great sum in a
period that is not very long in the life of an individual,
and but an hour in the existence of a great nation; and
this will diminish the debt of this country so much as to
prevent the exigencies of war from raising it to the enor¬
mous height it has hitherto done. In the period of twen¬
ty-eight years, the sum of a million, annually improved,
would amount to four millions per annum ; but care must
be taken that this fund be not broken in upon : this has hi¬
therto been the bane of this country ; for if the original sink¬
ing fund had been properly preserved, it is easy to be
proved that our debts, at this moment, would not have
been very burdensome: this has hitherto been in vain endea¬
voured to be prevented by acts of parliament; the minister
has uniformly, when it suited his convenience, gotten Funding
hold of this sum, which ought to have been regarded as System,
most sacred. What then is the way of preventing this?
The plan I mean to propose is this, that this sum be vest¬
ed in certain commissioners, to be by them applied quar¬
terly to buy up stock; by this means, no sum so great
will ever be ready to be seized upon on any occasion, and
the fund will go on without interruption. Long and very
long has this country struggled under its heavy load,
without any prospect of being relieved; but it may now
look forward to an object upon which the existence of
this country depends; it is therefore proper it should be
fortified as much as possible against alienation. By this
manner of paying L.250,000 quarterly into the hands of
commissioners, it would make it impossible to take it by
stealth; and the advantage would be too well felt ever
to suffer a public act for that purpose. A minister could
not have the confidence to come to this house and de¬
sire the repeal of so beneficial a law, which tended so di¬
rectly to relieve the people from burden.”
Mr Pitt flattered himself most strangely, that he had
found a remedy for the difficulty which “ had hitherto
been the bane of this country:” he thought he had dis¬
covered means for preventing “ ministers, when it suited
their convenience, from getting hold of this sum, which
ought to be regarded as most sacred.” With the know¬
ledge of parliament which he had, it is surprising that he
should have relied so firmly on the resistance which the
House of Commons would offer to any plan of ministers
for violating the sinking fund. Ministers have never de¬
sired the partial repeal of this law, without obtaining a
ready compliance from parliament.
We have already shown, that in 1807, one chancellor
of the exchequer proposed to relieve the country from
taxation, with a very slight exception, for several years
together, while we were, during war, keeping up, if not
increasing, our expenditure, and supplying it by means of
annual loans. What is this but disposing of a fund which
ought to have been regarded as most sacred?
In 1809, another chancellor of the exchequer raised a
loan, without raising any additional taxes to pay the in¬
terest of it, but pledged a portion of the war-taxes for
that purpose, thereby rendering an addition to that amount
necessary to the loan of the following and every succeed¬
ing year. Was not this disposing of the sinking fund by
stealth, and accumulating debt at compound interest?
Another chancellor of the exchequer, in 1813, proposed a
partial repeal of the law, by which seven millions per an¬
num of the sinking fund was placed at his disposal, and
which he has employed in providing for the interest of
new debt. This was done with the sanction of parlia¬
ment, and, as we apprehend, in direct violation of all the
laws which had before been passed regarding the sinking
fund. But what has become of the remainder of this
fund, after deducting the seven millions taken from it by
the act of 1813 ?x It should now be sixteen millions, and
at that amount it was returned in the annual finance ac¬
counts last laid before parliament. The finance committee
appointed by the House of Commons did not fail to see
that nothing can be deemed an efficient fund for the re¬
demption of debt in time of peace, but such as arises from
an excess of revenue above expenditure; and as that ex¬
cess, under the most favourable view, was not quite two
millions, they considered that sum as the real efficient
sinking fund, which was now applicable to the discharge
of debt. If the act of 1802 had been complied with, if
the intentions of Mr Pitt had been fulfilled, we should
now have had a clear excess of revenue of above twenty
1 Some of the following observations refer to the period when this article was originally written.— Ed.
FUNDING SYSTEM.
340
Funding millions, applicable to the payment of the debt; as it is,
System. we have two millions only, and if we ask ministers what
has become of the remaining eighteen millions, they show
us an expensive peace establishment, which they have no
other means of defraying but by drafts on this fund, or
several hundred millions of three per cents, on which it is
employed in discharging the interest. If ministers had
not had such an amount of taxes to depend on, would
they have ventured, year after year, to encounter a defi¬
ciency of revenue below expenditure, for several years to¬
gether, of more than twelve millions? It is- true that the
measures of Mr Pitt locked it up from their immediate
seizure; but they knew it was in the hands of the com¬
missioners, and presumed as much upon it, and justly,
with the knowledge they had of parliament, as if it had
been in their own. They considered the commissioners
as their trustees, accumulating money for their benefit,
and of which they knew that they might dispose when¬
ever they should consider that the urgency of the case
required it. They seem to have made a tacit agreement
with the commissioners, that they should accumulate
twelve millions per annum at compound interest, while
they themselves accumulated an equal amount of debt,
also at compound interest. The facts are indeed no
longer denied. In the last session of parliament, for the
first time, the delusion was acknowledged by ministers,
after it had become manifest to every other person; but
yet it is avowed to be their intention to go on with this
nominal sinking fund, raising a loan every year for the
difference between its real and nominal amount, and let¬
ting the commissioners subscribe to it. On what prin¬
ciple this can be done, it would be difficult to give any ra¬
tional account. Perhaps it may be said that it would be
a breach of faith to the stockholder to take away the sink¬
ing fund; but is it not equally a breach of faith if the go¬
vernment itself sells to the commissioners the greatest
part of the stock which they buy ? The stockholder
wants something substantial and real to be done for him,
and not any thing deceitful and delusive. Disguise it as
you will, if of fourteen millions to be invested by the com¬
missioners in time of peace, the stock which twelve mil¬
lions will purchase is sold by the government itself, which
creates it for the very purpose of obtaining these twelve
millions, and only stock for two millions is purchased in
the market, and no taxes for sinking fund or interest are
provided for the twelve millions which government takes;
the result is precisely the same to the stockholder, and to
every one concerned, as if the sinking fund was reduced
to two millions. It is utterly unworthy of a great country
to countenance such pitiful shifts and evasions.
The sinking fund, then, has, instead of diminishing the
debt, greatly increased it. The sinking fund has encou¬
raged expenditure. If, during war, a country spends
twenty millions per annum, in addition to its ordinary ex¬
penditure, and raises taxes only for the interest, it will in
twenty years accumulate a debt of four hundred millions,
and its taxes will increase to twenty millions per annum.
If, in addition to the million per annum, taxes of L.200,000
were raised for a sinking fund, and regularly applied to
the purchase of stock, the taxes, at the end of twenty
years, would be twenty-four millions, and its debt only
three hundred and forty-two millions ; for fifty-eight mil¬
lions will have been paid off by the sinking fund; but if
at the end of this period new debt shall be contracted,
and the sinking fund itself, with all its accumulations,
amounting to L.6,940,000, be absorbed in the payment of
interest on such debt, the whole amount of debt will be
five hundred and thirty-eight millions, exceeding that
which would have existed if there had been no sinking
fund by a hundred and thirty-eight millions. If such an
additional expenditure were necessary, provision should
be made for it without any interference with the sinking Fundinsr
fund. If, at the end of the war, there is not a clear sur- System,
plus of revenue above expenditure of L.6,940,000 on the
above supposition, there is no use whatever in persever¬
ing in a system which is so little adequate to its object.
After all our experience, however, we are again toiling to
raise a sinking fund; and in the last session of parliament
three millions of new taxes were voted, with the avowed
object of raising the remnant of our sinking fund, now re¬
duced to two millions, to five millions. Is it rash to prog¬
nosticate that this sinking fund will share the fate of all
those which have preceded it? . Probably it will accumu¬
late for a few years, till we are engaged in some new con¬
test, when ministers, finding it difficult to raise taxes for
the interest of loans, will silently encroach on this fund;
and we shall be fortunate if, in their next arrangement,
we shall be able to preserve out of its wreck an amount
so large as two millions.
It is, we think, sufficiently proved that no securities
can be given by ministers that the sinking fund shall be
faithfully devoted to the payment of debt, and without
such securities we should be much better without such a
fund. To pay off the whole, or a great portion of our
debt, is, in our estimation, a most desirable object, if, at
the same time, we acknowledged the evils of the funding
system, and resolutely determined to carry on our future
contests without having recourse to it. This cannot, or
rather will not, be done by a sinking fund as at present
constituted, nor by any other that we can suggest; but
if, without raising any fund, the debt were paid by a tax
on property, once for all, it would effect its object. Its
operation might be completed in two or three years dur¬
ing peace; and if we mean honestly to discharge the
debt, we do not see any other mode of accomplishing it.
The objections to this plan are the same as those which
we have already attempted to answer in speaking of war-
taxes. The stockholders, being paid off, would have a
large mass of property, for which they would be eagerly
seeking employment. Manufacturers and landholders
would want large sums for their payments into the ex¬
chequer. These two parties would not fail to make an
arrangement with each other, by which one party would
employ their money, and the other raise it. They might
do this by loan, or by sale and purchase, as they might
think it most conducive to their respective interests; with
this the state would have nothing to do. Thus, by one
great effort, we should get rid of one of the most terrible
scourges which was ever invented to afflict a nation; and
our commerce would be extended without being subject
to all the vexatious delays and interruptions which our
present artificial system imposes upon it.
There cannot be a greater security for the continuance
of peace, than the imposing on ministers the necessity of
applying to the people for taxes to support a war. Suffer
the sinking fund to accumulate during peace to any con¬
siderable sum, and very little provocation would induce
them to enter into a new contest. They would know that,
by a little management, they could make the sinking fund
available to the raising of a new supply, instead of being
available to the payment of the debt. The argument is
now common in the mouths of ministers, when they wish
to lay on new taxes, for the purpose of creating a new
sinking fund, in lieu of one which they have just spent, to
say, “ It will make foreign countries respect us; they will
be afraid to insult or provoke us, when they know that we
are possessed of so powerful a resource.” What do they
mean by this argument, if the sinking fund be not consi¬
dered by them as a war fund, on which they can draw in
support of the contest? It cannot, at one and the same
time, be employed in the annoyance of an enemy, and in
the payment of debt. If taxes are, as they ought to be,
FUNDING SYSTEM.
341
Funding raised for tlie expenses of a war, what facility will a sink-
System? ing fund give to the raising of them ? none whatever. It
is not because the possession of a sinking fund will enable
them to raise new and additional taxes that ministers prize
it; for they know it will have no such effect; but because
they know that they will be enabled to substitute the
sinking fund in lieu of taxes, and employ it, as they have
always done, in war, and providing interest for fresh debt.
Their argument means this, or it means nothing; for a
sinking fund does not necessarily add to the wealth and
prosperity of a country ; and it is on that wealth and pros¬
perity that it must depend, whether new burdens can be
borne by the people. What did Mr Vansittart mean in
1813, when he said that “ the advantage which his new
plan of finance would hereafter give, in furnishing a hun¬
dred millions in time of peace, as a fund against the re¬
turn of hostilities, was one of great moment. This would
place an instrument of force in the hands of parliament,
which might lead to the most important results.” “ It
might be objected by some, that keeping in reserve a large
fund to meet the expenses of a new war, might be likely
to make the government of this country arrogant and am¬
bitious, and therefore have a tendency unnecessarily to
plunge us in new contests not a very unreasonable
objection, we should think. How does Mr Vansittart an¬
swer it? “ On this subject he would say, from long ex¬
perience and observation, that it would be better for our
neighbours to depend on the moderation of this country,
than for this country to depend on them. He should not
think the plan objectionable on this account. If the sums
treasured up were misapplied by the arrogant or ambitious
conduct of our government, the blame must fall on the
heads of those who misused it, not on those who put it
into their hands for purposes of defence. They did their
duty in furnishing the means of preserving the greatness
and glory of the country, though those means might be
used for the purposes of ambition, rapine, and desolation.”
These are very natural observations from the mouth of a
minister; but we are of opinion that such a treasure
would be more safe in the custody of the people, and that
parliament have something more to do than to furnish mi¬
nisters with the means of preserving the greatness and Funding
glory of the country. It is their duty to take every se- System,
curity that the resources of the country are not misap-
plied “ by the arrogant and ambitious conduct of our go¬
vernment,” or “ used for the purposes of ambition, rapine,
and desolation.”
On the extraordinary assumption that there was any
thing in Mr Vansittart’s plan that would more effectually
than the old plan allow a hundred millions hereafter to be
appropriated to the public service, Dr Hamilton has the
following observations:
“ We are altogether at a loss to form a distinct concep¬
tion of the valuable treasure here held forth. So soon as
any stock is purchased by the commissioners, and stands
invested in their name, a like amount of the public debt is
in fact discharged. Whether a parliamentary declaration
to the effect be made or not, is only a matter of form. If
the money remain invested in the name of the commission¬
ers, no doubt it may be transferred again to purchasers
in the stock exchange when war broke out anew; and
money may be raised for the public in this manner. It is
an application to the public to invest their capital in the
purchase of this dormant stock.” “ It is true, that if the
taxes imposed during war for the purpose of a sinking fund
be continued after peace is restored, till a large sum (sup¬
pose L.100,000,000) be vested in the hands of the com¬
missioners, the public, upon the renewal of the war, may
spend to that amount without imposing fresh taxes; an ad¬
vantage,” observes Mr Huskisson, “ not only not exclusively
belonging to this plan, but unavoidable under any plan of
a sinking fund in time of peace.” Mr Vansittart ought to
have said, “ if our sinking fund should accumulate in time
of peace to so large a sum that I can take five millions per
annum from it, I can spend L. 100,000,000 in a new war
without coming to you for fresh taxes : the disadvantages
of my plan are, that by now taking L.7,000,000 per annum
from it, and making a provision for speedily, and at regular
intervals, appropriating more of this fund to present objects,
the sinking fund will be so much diminished that I cannot
so soon, by a great many years, avail myself of the five mil¬
lions for the purpose which I have stated.” (d. r.)
The year 1825 found L.5,000,000 appropriated to a sink¬
ing fund, but this was reduced to L.3,000,000, and even
then it was found that it could not be continued with ad¬
vantage to the nation, and in the year 1828 a committee
was appointed by the House of Commons to consider the
question, which, after full consideration, came to the only
reasonable conclusion, that the true principle upon which to
calculate the amount applicable as a sinking fund for the
redemption of the debt was the excess of revenue over
expenditure. But this decision did not cause the sound
policy to be observed, and the deficiency bills payable out
of current revenue were met by the fund destined for the
extinction of the debt, and so the whole history of the sinking
fund, from 1716 up to the last moment, goes to demonstrate
the obvious fact that the redemption of the debt by the ap¬
plication of borrowed capital to the purchase of stock is a
sham and a delusion, and that the accumulation by any
means of a large amount of the securities of the state in
the hands of commissioners, has failed in its purpose of se¬
curing inviolate the sinking fund for its destined purpose.
The only means of diminishing the burden of the national
debt is by employing our surplus revenue for that purpose,
and it appears to us that the only efficacious manner of so
employing it is by the purchase of stock by the state, to
cancel and expunge it at once and for ever, so that the sur¬
plus revenue of the country would be larger every year by
the amount of the interest on the stock cancelled from the
period of the commencement of the operation.
Thus it would be out of the power of the minister to re¬
transfer to the public the stock redeemed, in order to apply
it to any extraordinary expenditure, and if he did not apply
to the people for taxes to support a war, at all events he
must come to them for authority to raise the required means
by loan, a process which they can understand, and which
admits of no mystification. And the sale to the public, by
commissioners in whom the stock accumulated under the
old system is vested, is neither more nor less than a loan,
the purchasers being, in fact, the lenders to the state of the
money received for the stock sold.
But these financial operations must be viewed practically
as well as theoretically. It has been shown that an accu¬
mulated sinking fund never has been preserved inviolate
for application to the purpose for which it was designed,
and in the same manner an accumulating excess of revenue
over expenditure comes with its embarrassment to a finance
minister in proportion to its amount. Every tax is more or
less inconvenient, not to say oppressive; and when the tax¬
payer sees at the disposal of the minister the means of its
entire or partial repeal he is not disposed to continue its
payment beyond the immediate exigency of the time, nor
to exchange the present relief which he will experience
from its remission for any prospective advantage whatever.
Thus, if every year there remained a surplus by which the
interest of the debt could be diminished, and this surplus
increased in a compound ratio by the diminution otherwise
of the charge on the consolidated fund, the people through
their representatives in parliament would, in all probability,
insist on its application to their present rather than to their
342
FUNDING SYSTEM.
Funding future and more solid advantage. Since the adoption of a
System, liberal fiscal policy a large amount of taxation has been re-
' pealed. We should have made great progress in the dimi¬
nution of our debt if we had annually cancelled an equal
amount of consols, but we should have failed to give direct
relief to the manufacturers and consumers of glass, and soap,
and bricks, and other articles upon which the tax has been
repealed, and these would not have been satisfied if, with a
large surplus revenue, they had been told that in some fifty
or sixty years ataxation of L.27,000,000 would be atone blow
remitted, in proof of which it may be observed, that among
the numerous financial projects which have been contem¬
plated by various administrations for the disposal of the long
annuities in the year 1860, when an annual charge of
L. 1,294,447, and in the year 1867, when a further annuity
of L.585,740 will expire, the reduction of the debt has
scarcely been mentioned.
In the year 1854, when the unparalleled and increasing
prosperity of the empire was rudely interrupted by the
breaking out of the Russian war, the Chancellor of the Ex¬
chequer announced in Parliament his intention to carry on
the expenditure from the income of the country, and to
make taxation support the war. But though he did not
remain in office long enough to be compelled officially to
acknowledge it himself, this was at once discovered to be
impracticable by his successor, and in the very first year
after the commencement of hostilities L. 14,475,000 of in¬
creased taxation having been imposed, and found to be less
by L. 15,721,000 than was required, the government did
not deem it possible to induce the House of Commons to
submit to so large an additional impost, and were compelled
to raise L.16,000,000 by loan, entailing a permanent annual
charge of L.480,000, and a further charge of L. 116,000
terminable in thirty years.
It was seen with regret by all those who coincide in the
principles here enunciated, that the fallacious system to
which so many eminent authorities have objected of the
old sinking fund, was on this occasion revived by a clause
inserted in the bill authorising the loan, which was in¬
tended to provide for the future extinction of the debt of
1..16,000,000 then incurred, by pledging parliament to an
annual payment of L.1,000,000 during sixteen years, to
commence at the termination of the Russian war. It is
difficult to understand the object of the Chancellor of the
Exchequer in volunteering to enter into this engagement
with the stock-holder, as while it could not fail to fetter
him in his future operations, it was of scarcely any available
value to him in the negotiation of his loan.
Although in the then temper of the House of Commons,
indignant at the previous parsimony and want of energy
which they conceived to have occasioned great disaster to
our army in the Crimea, no opposition was made to the
whole proposition, nevertheless this part of it did not pass
without comment and animadversion. In the House of
Lords Lord Monteagle protested strongly against it. “ This
prospective engagement,” he said, “ assumed that there
would either be a surplus revenue of L.1,000,000 a year,
or that parliament would be justified in adding L.1,000,000
a year to the taxation of the country, in order to provide
L.1,000,000 annually to apply to the reduction of the debt
just contracted. The only third alternative was that of a
new loan, or, in other words, the old folly of paying debt
with borrowed money. All experience proved that these
prospective engagements could not be relied on ... .
It should be remembered that war was not only an expen¬
sive operation in itself, but that when it was brought to a
close there were always heavy bills to pay, ships to be paid
off, retired allowances to provide, in short, the close of war
was even more expensive than war itself. Suppose then
no surplus existed, and that parliament were unwilling to
increase taxation, if money should have been borrowed in
time of war, and that at its termination money should have
to be borrowed for the purpose of paying off the debt, that
would be recurring to one of the most exploded blunders
in finance, that of paying off the debt with borrowed money.”
It is to be regretted that this fallacious system should
have been disinterred, as it was avoidable, but it was prac¬
tically unavoidable to raise as much as half the require¬
ments of the war by taxation, and the minister was com¬
pelled, so far as respected L.16,000,000, to call upon the
people for the interest instead of the principal of the war
expenditure. And so it is to be feared we shall always find
the actual practice opposed to the sound theory, and while
on the one hand the nation will not have the courage to
look its predominant difficulty fairly in the face, and endea¬
vour to diminish or extinguish its debt by a great temporary
sacrifice, we shall scarcely, in our time, see any sound, ab¬
solute, and defined system adopted to that end by the ad¬
ministrators of her finances, which will be impregnable to
circumstances and independent of exigencies. And if we
except the creation of terminable annuities, some of which
do not expire till the year 1893, little has been done during
nearly half a century of peace and prosperity to diminish
the incumbrance of the country ; and though the creation of
this description of security has been a favourite system with
financiers of later years as a means for the reduction of the
debt, it may be questioned how far it is consistent with
sound policy to create in such a manner a fixed sinking
fund, which is always payable whether the revenue of the
country be in surplus or deficit.
The following table details the progress of the funded
debt of Great Britain for the last thirty-five years.
National Debt existing on 5th January in each year
since 1820.
Year.
Unredeemed
Debt.
Annual
Interest
payable.
Year.
Unredeemed
Debt.
Annual
Interest
payable.
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
L.
801,565,310
795,312,767
796,530,144
791,701,614
781.123,222
778,128,267
783,801,739
777,476,892
772,322,540
771,251,932
757,486,996
755,543,884
754,100,549
751,658,883
743,675,299
758,549,866
761,422,570
762,275,188
L.
28,064,720
27,875,840
26,419,870
26,271,762
25,541,049
25,429,677
25,683,011
25,490,900
25,332,782
25,318,865
24,091,749
24,027,665
23,982,043
23,901,110
23,591,471
24,042,221
24,142,470
24,165,239
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854*
1854f
18551
L.
761,347,690
766,547,684
766,371,725
772,530,758
773,068,340
772,169,092
769,193,644
766,672,822
764,608,284
772,401,851
774,022,638
773,168,316
769,272,562
765,126,582
761,622,704
754,893,401
752,655,549
751,645,818
L.
24,135,179
24,290,239
24,283,939
24,444,230
24,459,842
24,432,019
23,719,147
23,642,676
23,580,033
23,813,746
23,862,256
23,836,432
23,719,299
23,594,784
23,489,286
23,279,122
23,206,380
22,557,355
* and f Jan. 5, and April 5, respectively.
Description of Stock at Jan. 5, 1821, and March 31, 1855.
1821
1855
Debt.
L.539,947,506
30,642,128
75,496,163
155,479,513
L.801,565,310
L.3,007,775
745,333,404
2,871,515
433,124
L.751,645,818
Stock.
3 per cents.
3J ...
4
5 ...
2J per cents.
3 ...
3J ...
Annual Interest.
L.16,198,425
1,072,474
3,019,846
7,773,975
L.28,064,720
L.75,194
22,360,002
100,503
21,656
L.22,557,355
1 Since this return was compiled, the loan of 1855 has added L.16,000,000 to the capital, and L.596,000 to the interest of the debt,
and it is to he feared that the continuance of the. war will still further add largely to its amount.
Funding
System.
FUN
FUN
343
Unredeemed Debt.
^undy; At January 5,1820   L.794,980,481
Ba][ °f At March 31, 1855  751,645,818
Funeral
Rites.
Decrease between January 5,
1820, and March 31, 1855....
J L.43,334,663
Annual Interest.
L.27,736,44'8
22,557,355
L.5,179,093
Reduction of interest from 1821 to 1854 inclusive.
Stock purchased with sinking fund 
Do. transferred for life annuities, and for annuities
for terms of years 
Do. transferred for redemption of land-tax 
Do. unclaimed for ten years, and purchased with
unclaimed dividends 
Do. reduced from a higher to a lower rate of interest
Do. paid off    
L.1,932,346
1,399,878
63,301
88,737
17,372,483
994,286
L.21,851,031
Increase of interest during the same years.
Stock created by loans  L.1,805,396
Do. by Exchequer bills funded  983,476
Do. exchanged from a higher to a lower
rate of interest   13,862,416
Unclaimed stock re-transferred to the
proprietors  20,697
  16,671,985
Total reduction of interest  L.5,179,046
A detailed statement of the national debt, since the year
1820, specifying the description of stock, the interest pay¬
able on each description, the reduction or increase of in¬
terest payable each year, with the cause of such reduction
or increase, and showing the amount of stock created or
redeemed in each year, will be found in Parliamentary
Return, 10th August 185.5. (j. l. r.)
FUNDY, Bay of. See Nova Scotia.
FUNEN, or Fuhnen(Danish Fyen),dL\\ island in the Bal¬
tic, belonging to Denmark, and, after Seeland, the largest
island of that kingdom. It lies between Seeland and the
mainland of Denmark, being separated from the former by
the Great Belt, and from the latter by the Little Belt,—
between N. Lat. 55. 2. and 55. 38., and E. Long. 9. 42. and
10.53. Area 1187 square miles. The surface is generally
hilly, particularly in the S.W.,but itseldom rises to above400
feet. With the exception of the S.W. part, the soil is very
fertile; but agriculture is still in a backward state. Its chief
productions are barley, oats, buckwheat, rye, flax, hemp,
hops, and fruits. The rearing of cattle and poultry receives
considerable attention, and honey and wax are among its
articles of export. The climate is humid and variable, but
milder than that of Seeland. There are few manufacturing
establishments, and their articles of clothing are chiefly of
domestic manufacture. The capital of the island is Oden-
see. Fiinen, with Langeland, Taasinge, and some smaller
islands, forms a stift or province of Denmark, with, in 1850,
187,818 inhabitants.
FUNERAL RITES, ceremonies accompanying the in¬
terment of the dead.
Egyptians. One of the earliest nations who paid any particular respect
to their dead were the Egyptians, the posterity of Ham, the
first cultivators of idolatrous worship and superstition after
the Deluge. This, no doubt, arose from their belief in the
immortality of the soul, its migration into all kinds of animals,
and its return to the human body, which they supposed to
be within the term of 3000 years. Hence the great care
with which they embalmed the dead, and the vast expense
they incurred in building proper repositories for them. In
fact they were more solicitous about tombs for the dead
than about houses for the living. This is strikingly dis¬
played in those stupendous excavations which were appro¬
priated to the reception of the dead, as well as those struc¬
tures above ground, such as the pyramids, in which some of
their kings were entombed.
Among the Egyptians, when a person died, his parents Funeral
and friends put on mourning habits and abstained from all Rites,
banquets and entertainments. This mourning lasted from ^^^z***
forty to seventy days, during which period the body was
embalmed. (See Embalming.) This ceremony completed,
it was restored to the friends, who placed it in a kind of open
chest, which was preserved either in their houses or in the
sepulchres of their ancestors. But before the dead were
allowed to be deposited in the tomb, they underwent a solemn
judgment. Of this remarkable custom we have a particu¬
lar account in the first book of Diodorus Siculus. “ Those
who prepare to bury a relative give notice of the day in¬
tended for the ceremony to the judges and to all the friends
of the deceased, informing them that the body will pass over
the lake of that district to which the dead belonged; when,
on the judges assembling, to the number of more than forty,
and ranging themselves in a semicircle on the further side of
the lake, the vessel, which those who superintend the funeral
have prepared for this purpose, is set afloat. This vessel is
managed by a pilot, called in the Egyptian language Charon
{fierce-eyed'); and hence they say, that Orpheus, travelling
in old times into Egypt and seeing this ceremony, formed
his fable of the infernal regions, partly from what he saw
and partly from invention. The vessel being launched on
the lake, before the coffin which contains the body is put on
board, the law permits all who are so inclined to produce
an accusation against it. If any one steps forth and proves
that the deceased has led an evil life, the judges pronounce
sentence, and the body is precluded from burial; but if the
accuser is convicted of injustice in his charge he falls him¬
self under a considerable penalty.” Such is the description
which Diodorus gives of this funeral judicature, to which
even the kings of Egypt were subject. The same author
asserts that many sovereigns had been thus judicially de¬
prived of the honours of burial by the indignation of the
people ; and that the terrors of such a fate had the most sa¬
lutary influence on the conduct of their kings.
The funeral rites amongst the Hebrews were solemn and Hebrews,
magnificent. Upon the demise of any person, the relatives
and friends of the deceased rent their clothes. This custom
is still imitated, but with a due regard to economy, by the
modern Jews, who only cut off a piece of their garment in
token of affliction. It was usual to bend the dead person’s
thumb into the hand, and fasten it in that posture with a
string, because the thumb having then the figure of the
name of God, they thought the evil spirit would not dare
to approach it. When they came to the burying-place, they
made a speech to the dead in the following terms:—“Blessed
be God, who has formed thee, fed thee, maintained thee,
and taken away thy life. O dead, he knows your numbers,
and shall one day restore your life and so on. After this
they delivered the funeral oration upon the deceased; then
said a prayer, called the “ righteousness of judgmentand,
finally, turning the face of the dead body towards heaven,
they cried out—“ Go in peace.”
Amongst the ancient Greeks it was usual before the in- Greeks,
terment to place a piece of money in the mouth of the de¬
ceased, as Charon’s fare for wafting the departed soul over
the river Styx. This ceremony was considered unnecessary
in those countries supposed to be situated in the neigh¬
bourhood of the infernal regions, and to lead thither by a
direct road. The corpse was likewise furnished with a cake
composed of flour, honey, and other ingredients, which was
designed to appease the fury of Cerberus, and to procure
the ghost a safe and quiet entrance to Hades. Whilst the
corpse continued in the house, a vessel of water was placed
before the door, that those concerned about the body might
purify themselves by washing; the Greeks, as well as the
Jews, believing that pollution was contracted by touching a
dead body.
The ceremonies by which they expressed their sorrow
344 F U N E It A
Funeral for the death of their friends were various ; but it seems to
Rites, have been a constant rule to recede as much as possible in
habit and behaviour from their ordinary customs. For this
reason they abstained from banquets and entertainments;
they divested themselves of all ornaments; and they tore,
cut off, or shaved their hair, which they cast on the funeral
pile, to be consumed with the remains of their deceasedfriend.
After interment followed the TreptSetTrvov, veKpdSaTrvov,
rdcfios, or feasts, at which the company used to appear
crowned; and upon this occasion they spoke in praise
of the dead, as far as they could go with truth, as it was
esteemed a notorious wickedness to disregard truth in their
eulogiums. And not only at these feasts, but even before
the company quitted the sepulchre, they were sometimes
entertained with a panegyric upon the deceased.
The Greek soldiers who died in battle had not only their
tombs adorned with inscriptions showing their names, pa^
rentage, and exploits, but were also honoured with an ora-
Athenians, tion in their praise. The custom among the Athenians in
the interment of their soldiers was as follows:—“ They used
to place the bodies of their dead in tents three days before
the funeral, that all persons might have an opportunity of
recognising their relatives, and paying their last respects to
them. Upon the fourth day a coffin of cypress was sent
from every tribe to convey the bones of their own relatives;
after which went a covered hearse, in memory of those
whose bodies could not be found. All these, accompanied
by a concourse of people, were carried to the public burying-
place, called Cerameicos, and there interred. One oration
was spoken in commendation of them all, and their monu¬
ments* were adorned with pillars, inscriptions, and other or¬
naments usual about the tombs of the most honourable per¬
sons. The oration was pronounced by the fathers of the de¬
ceased persons who had acquitted themselves most valiantly.
Thus, after the battle of Marathon, the fathers of Callima¬
chus and Cynaegyrus were appointed to pronounce the
funeral oration. And on the return of the day upon which
the solemnity was first held, the same oration was annually
repeated.”
Burying the dead in the earth seems to have been the
most ancient practice amongst the Greeks, though that of
burning the body came afterwards to be very general. It
was customary to throw on the funeral pile those garments
which the deceased had usually worn. The pile was lighted
by one of his nearest relatives or friends, who made prayers
and vows to the wind to assist the flames, that the body
might quickly be reduced to ashes ; and whilst the pile was
burning, the friends of the deceased stood by it, called upon
him, and poured out libations of wine.
Romans. The funeral rites among the ancient Romans were very
numerous. In the case of persons of distinction the body
was kept seven days. It was also washed with warm water
and anointed with oil. Lest the deceased was merely in a
trance, his friends at intervals, with the view to arouse him,
raised a shout. This last act was called conclamatio. The
third conclamation was on the seventh day; when, if no
signs of life appeared, the corpse was dressed and em¬
balmed by the pollinctores, placed on a couch in the vesti¬
bule of the house, with its feet towards the door; while the
outside of the gate, if the deceased were of rank, was hung
with cypress boughs. In the course of these seven days
before the dead was placed a small altar called acerra, on
which perfumes were burnt; and the libitinarii (under¬
takers) provided articles necessary for the interment.
On the seventh day a public crier was sent about the
city, inviting the people to the solemnization of the funeral
ki these words : Exsequias L. Tit. jilii, quibus est commo-
dum ire, jam tempus est. Olus (i. e. Me) ex cedibus effertur.
The company being assembled, the last conclamation ended,
and the couch was covered with purple. The procession
then moved forward, headed by a trumpeter, who was fol-
L KITES.
lowed by women called prceficce, singing songs in praise of Funeral
the deceased. Lastly, the corpse followed, borne by the Rites,
nearest relations; and if the person were of rank or dig-
nity, images of all his predecessors were carried before him
on poles. The deceased was followed by his children,
kindred, and others, clad in mourning {atrati). From this
act of following the corpse, these funeral rites were called
exsequice. The deceased being thus brought to the rostra,
the next of kin made a funeral oration in praise of him and
his ancestors. The body was then carried to the pyra or
funeral pile and burnt. The ashes were afterwards gathered;
and the priest, sprinkling the company thrice with clean
water, the eldest of the prcejicce crying aloud, Ilicet, dis¬
missed the people, who took their leave of the deceased in
this form, Vale, vale, vale ; nos te ordine quo natura per-
miserit cuncti sequemur. The ashes, enclosed in an urn,
were deposited in the sepulchre or tomb.
The ancient Christians testified their abhorrence of the Christians.
Pagan custom of burning the dead, and always deposited
the body entire in the ground; and it was usual to bestow
the honour of embalming upon the martyrs at least, if not
upon others. They prepared the body for burial by wash¬
ing it with water, and dressing it in funeral attire, The
exportation or carrying forth of the body was performed by
near relations, or by persons of such dignity as appeared
consistent with the circumstances of the deceased. The
singing of psalms was the chief ceremony in the funeral
processions of the early Christians.
In the Roman Catholic Church, the body of the deceased Homan
is washed, and a crucifix is put in its hand. At its feet is Catholics,
placed a vessel full of holy water, with a sprinkler, that
those who come in may sprinkle both themselves and the
body. A priest also stands by the corpse, and prays for the
deceased. In the funeral procession the exorcist walks first,
carrying the holy water, next the cross-bearer, afterwards
the rest of the clergy, and lastly the officiating priest. They
sing the miserere and some other psalms ; and at the end
of each psalm a requiem. We learn from Alet’s ritual that
the faces of deceased laymen must be turned towards the
altar when they are placed in the church, and those of the
clergy towards the people. The corpse is placed in the
church, and surrounded with lighted tapers : after the office
for the dead, mass is said; then the officiating priest sprinkles
the corpse thrice with holy water, and as often throws in¬
cense on it. The body being laid in the grave, the offi¬
ciating priest sprinkles it with holy water.
The funeral ceremonies of the Greek Church are much Greek
the same with those of the Latin. It needs only to be ob- Church,
served, that after the funeral service they kiss the crucifix,
and salute the mouth and forehead of the deceased; after
which each of the company eats a piece of bread and drinks
a glass of wine in the church, wishing the soul a good re¬
pose, and the afflicted family all consolation. (See also
Burial ; Burning of the Dead ; and Burying-Place.)
Funeral Games, It was customary for persons of rank
among the ancient Greeks and Romans to institute games,
with all sorts of exercises, to do honour to the manes of
their deceased friends. Patroelus’s funeral games occupy
the greater part of Book xxiii. of the Iliad; and Homer in¬
troduces Agamemnon’s ghost, telling the ghost of Achilles
that he had been a spectator at a great number of such
solemnities.
The funeral games of the Greeks consisted chiefly of Greeks,
horse-races. The prizes were of different kinds and value,
according to the rank and magnificence of the person who
instituted them. The garlands given to victors on the oc¬
casion usually consisted of parsley, which was thought to
have some relation to the dead.
These games, among the Romans, consisted chiefly of Romaus
processions, and sometimes of mortal combats of gladiators and Gauls,
around the funeral pile. In very early times they, as well
FUR FUR 345
Funeral as the Greeks, were accustomed to slay a number of cap-
Oration tives and slaves before the pile, as victims to appease the
II manes of the deceased. Caesar relates that the Gauls also
observed this sanguinary custom.
ra e’ j Funeral Oration, a discourse pronounced in praise of
'^sf a person deceased, at the ceremony of his funeral. This
custom is very ancient. In the latter part of the account
given of the Egyptian ceremonies of interment may be per¬
ceived the first rudiments of funeral orations, which were
afterwards moulded into a more regular form by other na¬
tions who adopted this custom. Nor should it be omitted
to be remarked, that those funeral solemnities were attended
not only with orations in praise of the deceased, but with
prayers for him ; which prayers, it seems, were made by one
who personated the deceased.
The Grecians received some of the seeds of supersti¬
tious and idolatrous worship from the Egyptians, through
Cecrops, Cadmus, Danaus, and Erechtheus ; and among
other customs transplanted from Egypt into Greece were
the solemnities used at the burial of the dead. Of these an
encomium on the deceased always formed part.
From the Egyptians and Grecians, especially from the
latter, the Romans received many of their laws and cus¬
toms, and among them that of pronouncing funeral orations
in praise of the dead. Plutarch says that “ he approved of
the law of the Romans, which ordered suitable praises to be
given to women as well as to men after death.” But from
what he says in another place it appears that the old Roman
law provided that funeral orations should be made only for
the elder women ; and therefore he says that Caesar was the
first who made one upon his own wife, though it was not then
usual to take notice of younger women in that way ; but by
that action he gained much favour with the populace. The
reason why such a law was made in favour of women, Livy
tells us, was—that when the public treasury was unable to
yield the sum agreed upon to buy off the Guals when be- Funfkir-
sieging the city and capitol, the women gave up their jewels cljen
for the purpose ; for which cause they not only received
thanks, but this additional honour, that after death they Tracje>
as well as men should be honoured with orations. v _r .
This custom of the Romans very early obtained among
the Christians. Some of their funeral orations are extant,
as that of Eusebius on Constantine, those of Nazianzen on
Basil and Caesarius, and of Ambrose on Valentinian, Theo¬
dosius, and others. Gregory, the brother of Basil, made a
funeral oration on Melitus bishop of Antioch. These ora¬
tions were usually pronounced before the bodies of the de¬
ceased were committed to the earth, which custom has been
more or less continued ever since.
FUNFKIRCHEN (i. e. Five Churches, Hungarian,
Pecs'), a free city of Hungary, capital of the circle of Bar-
anya, on the declivity of Mount Mecsek, 105 miles S.S.W.
of Buda. This is one of the oldest cities of Hungary, and
is the seat of a bishop, and of the civil and military boards
of the circle. It is well built, and consists of a single street
nearly four miles in length. The cathedral is of great size,
and said to be the oldest in Hungary. It has an ecclesias¬
tical seminary, gymnasium, and other educational establish¬
ments, and had formerly a university which was much fre¬
quented. Fiinfkirchen has manufactures of woollen cloths,
flannels, tobacco, leather, and paper ; and a considerable
trade in wine, tobacco, and gall-nuts, the produce of the
vicinity. There are some coal mines in the vicinity. Pop.
15,500, Hungarians, Germans, and Croatians.
FUNGI, the Mushroom order. See Botany, vol. v., pp.
146, 217, &c.
FUNGIBLES, in Scots Law, are such moveable goods
and effects as may be estimated by number, weight, or
measure; as corn, butter, ale, money, &c.
FUNICULAR, or Rope-Machine. See Mechanics.
FUR TRADE.
History. There is perhaps no branch of commerce that has drawn
forth a more daring and adventurous spirit, or given rise to
a more patient and courageous endurance of personal
dangers, privations, and hardships, than the fur trade, as
is manifest throughout its whole history. By its means
we have become accurately acquainted with nearly three-
fourths of the continent of North America. The inde¬
fatigable exertions of the fur merchant, stimulated by the
prospect of large gains from his hazardous pursuits, have
made known numerous tribes of men and nations partially
acquainted with the arts and refinements of civilized life,
who otherwise might have remained many ages, or for ever,
immersed in heathen darkness, and sunk in barbarity. Nor
are the general advantages derived from the fur trade con¬
fined to a more accurate geographical knowledge of a vast
range of country, and the extension of the arts of peace and
social happiness. The adventurous fur trader has often
been the precursor of the gospel missionary, and has enabled
him to pursue his important labours with comparative secu¬
rity and success.
Whence rphe use of furs seems to have been introduced into
introduced ^uroPe the northern invaders of the Roman empire. In
' the sixth century the skins of sables were brought to Rome
from the shores of the Arctic Ocean through the interven¬
tion of numerous parties, so that the cost to the consumer
was very high. During several centuries after that time furs
were not at all common in western Europe. In 1252 a.h.,
Marco Polo mentions, as a subject of curiosity, that he found
the tents of the khan of Tartary lined with the skins of sables
and ermines, which had been brought from countries far
north, “from the land of darkness.” In less than a century,
vol. x.
however, from that time, the wearing of furs as a part of
fashionable dress had become rather prevalent in England,
since in 1337 Edward III. commanded that all persons
among his subjects should be prohibited the use of furs un¬
less they could spend L.100 per annum.
Early in the seventeenth century the shores of the Arctic Arctic
seas were found tenanted by furred animals of great value ; regions,
and the idea of forming a settlement was suggested by Gros-
seliez, a Frenchman. The suggestion was made first to
his own government; but as it was coolly received, he ob¬
tained, through the English ambassador, an interview with
Prince Rupert, before whom he laid his plans. The prince
warmly entered into the project, and assisted in fitting out
a vessel, which reached in September 1668 the river then
called Nemisco, to which the adventurers gave the name
Rupert in honour of the prince. After wintering there
with less difficulty and suffering than they had anticipated,
they returned and gave so favourable a report that Prince
Rupert, the Duke of Albemarle, the Earl of Craven, Lord
Ashley, and others, formed themselves into a company, and
subscribed L.10,500 for the purpose of commencing a traffic
in furs. A charter of incorporation was granted by Charles Hudson's
II. in 1670, giving to the Hudson’s Bay Company full pos- Bay Coin¬
session of “ All the lands and territories upon the countries, Pany-
coasts, and confines of the seas, bays, lakes, rivers, creeks,
and sounds, in whatsoever latitude they shall be, that lie
within the entrance of the straits, commonly called Hud¬
son’s Straits, that are not already actually possessed by or
granted to any of our subjects, or possessed by the subjects
of any other Christian prince or state.” And the charter
proceeds to grant further, that “ The whole and entire trade
346
FUR TRADE.
and traffic to and from all havens, bays, creeks, rivers, lakes,
and seas into which they shall find entrance by water or
land out of the territories, limits, or places aforesaid; and
to and with all the natives and people inhabiting, or which
shall inhabit within the territories, limits, and places afore¬
said ; and to and with all other nations inhabiting any the
coasts adjacent to the said territories, limits, and places
which are not already possessed as aforesaid, or where¬
of the sole liberty or privilege of trade and traffic is not
Settlements granted to any other of our subjects.” On Rupert’s
on the river the company immediately formed a settlement; and
Rupert, jn 1674 stations were settled on Moose river, and a few
^Io°se’ years later on the Albany, and soon after two more on the
Nelson and Nelson and the Severn. By these vigorous measures the
Severn. French court was awakened to a sense of its neglect, and
Grosseliez, already detached from the English service, was
sent out in the year 1682 to found a factory on the river
Hayes, which he accomplished, and also surprised the Bri-
Prench tish factory on the Nelson. After this time hostilities be-
settlements came frequent between the French and the English settlers ;
and seiz- yet notwithstanding immense losses sustained by the com-
ure£’' pany from 1682 to 1688 (amounting to L.118,014), they
were able in 1684 to pay to the shareholders a dividend of
50 per cent. Again in 1688 an equal dividend was made,
and in 1689 one of 25 per cent. In 1690, without any call
being made, the stock was trebled, while at the same time a
dividend of 25 per cent, was paid on the increased or newly
created stock. By other captures of their factories by the
French in the years 1692, 1694, 1696, and 1697, the com¬
pany suffered further loss to the amount of L.97,500. At
the peace of Utrecht (in 1713), however, these captured
factories were restored to the company, who by 1720 had
again trebled their capital, with a call of only 10 per cent,
on the shareholders. Now they strengthened the old forts
and formed several new ones in the interior; but in 1749
a question arose in parliament concerning the rights of the
company, which was decided in their favour. Again in
1782 several of their factories were taken by the French
under La Perouse; still their traffic seems to have con¬
tinued very lucrative until the invasion of their rights and
North-west territories by a strong rival association, designated the
Company. North-west Company, whose fierce competition caused much
animosity and bloodshed. This was not only very destruc¬
tive to the fur trade, but most injurious to the Indians.
The North-west Company consisted of 23 partners, com¬
prising some of the most wealthy and enterprising settlers
in Canada, and employed about 2000 persons as clerks, in¬
terpreters, guides, and boatmen (voyageurs), who were sta¬
tioned over the vast regions of Canada ceded in 1763 by
the French to the English. Shareholders who engaged
actively in the trade were called agents, some of whom re¬
sided at the different ports established by the company in
the Indian territory, and others at Quebec and Montreal,
each attending to the affairs of the Company in his ap¬
pointed district. These active partners met annually at
Fort-William, one of their stations on Lake Superior, where
they discussed matters connected with the affairs of the
association, and arranged future plans. The clerks of the
North-west Company were mostly young Scotchmen, of
respectable families, who were willing to undergo the hard¬
ships attendant upon a residence of some years in these in^
hospitable regions, in order that they might thus secure the
advantage of succeeding in turn to a share of the profits of
the undertaking, the custom being to take from among the
clerks as partners those who had acquired the experience
New necessary for the management of the business. The hunt-
stations. ers of this company crossed the Rocky Mountains about
the year 1805, and established stations on the north¬
Manage'
ment.
ern head-waters of the Columbia. In 1813 they pur- Fur
chased Astoria on this river, which was relinquished by Mr Trade.
Astor1 of New York and his partners in consequence of's—
the war between the United States and Great Britain. At Warbe-
length the Hudson’s Bay Company, being roused by the twe;en Hud-
activity of the North-west Association, exercised for the first s
time its chartered right to colonise, and sold in 1812 a tract a^dThe^
of land on Lake Winnipeg and the Red River to Lord Sel- North-west
kirk, who introduced a considerable number of persons from Company.
Scotland. The consequence was an open war between the
partizans of the rival companies. After a war of two years
the Red River settlement was destroyed by the massacre
of the governor, Mr Semple, and many of his associates,
while the survivors were driven away. But this melancholy
and barbarous state of matters was put an end to by the
union of the rival companies in 1821, since which the trade Union of
has been peacefully and successfully prosecuted. When the rival
the partnership of the North-west Company was about to comPames-
expire in 182J, the three London representatives of the
firm offered to merge their interests in those of the Hud¬
son’s Bay Company. This was agreed to, and an act of
parliament was passed (1st and 2d Geo. IV., cap. 66), under
which the crown grants to the Hudson’s Bay Company and
to the three representative partners of the North-west Com¬
pany in London and Montreal a license of exclusive trade
for twenty-one years in the “ Indian territoriesthat is,
over all those tracts that might not be included in the
charter given by Charles II., and also over those tracts
which by mutual consent were open to the subjects of Eng¬
land and to those of the United States. The three North¬
west Company agents merged into the Hudson’s Bay Com¬
pany ; the exclusive trading license was surrendered in
1838 ; and, after careful investigation on the part of the
government, the crown granted on the 30th of May 1838
another license for twenty-one years of exclusive trade over
the Indian and neutral territories.
The affairs of the Hudson’s Bay Company are at present Present
conducted by a governor, deputy-governor, and a com-state ofj
mittee of 7, elected by 239 proprietors, representing a^uds°ns
capital of L.400,000. Of the 239 proprietors 55 have more ^ om"
than two votes. L.900 of stock must be held for six^
months by each voter previous to voting, except such
stock be acquired by bequest or marriage ; and each mem¬
ber of the committee must hold not less than L.1800
stock. The mode of election, oaths to be administered,
government, &c., are prescribed by the charter of Charles
II. already referred to. Accordingly, the Company has
established at the Red River settlement a governor, seat of go-
council, recorder, sheriff, coroner, &c., for the proper govern- vernment.
ment of the affairs of the Assiniboia, or Red River Terri¬
tory, and for the careful and legal administration of justice
throughout Rupert’s Land. Though not enjoined by the
charter of 1670, trial by jury was introduced by Sir George
Simpson under the direction of the Hudson’s Bay autho¬
rities in England. Crime is comparatively rare in Rupert’s
Land; and justice is administered under the same safe¬
guards that exist in England.
The traffic of the Company in furs and peltry is regu- Traffic,
lated by a Deed Poll, dated March 26th, 1821, when the
North-west Company and it united ; and by another Deed
Poll, dated June 6th, 1834, “for ascertaining the rights and
prescribing the duties of the chief factors and the chief
traders, and for conducting the trade.” The business of
the Company is superintended by the twenty-five chief
factors at the respective stations; and under them the
twenty-eight chief traders carry on the traffic with the In¬
dians. The clerks serve under both the factors and the
traders; and the very humblest clerk, by good conduct,
1 A most interesting account of the North-West Fur Company is given by Washington Irving in his Astoria.
FUR TRADE.
347
Fur
Trade.
Free trade
in furs.
Fur skins
imported.
may rise to the chief positions in the service of the Com¬
pany. The salaries of the clerks range from L.20 to L.100
per annum. Three chief factors and two chief traders are
allowed to leave the country annually for one year.
The Hudson’s Bay Company have no monopoly, as some
suppose, of the importation of furs into England; they
have to compete with the furs of the United States, of
Russia, of Norway, &c.; and if other traders can undersell
the Company the public have of course the benefit. Beaver
and other skins are now much lower in price than formerly
when so much used in the manufacture of hats; and the
gradual reduction in the price of foreign furs has been
chiefly brought about by the steady supply from the Hud¬
son’s Bay territories. Hence London is the most extensive
fur market in the world. The fall in the prices of all furs
has been very great; but as beaver constitutes the largest
item in value, the reduction of profit to the Company will
be seen by comparison with the prices and amount of sales.
In 1839 a beaver skin was worth 27s. 6d.; in 1846, 3s. 5d.
The number of skins sold in 1839 was 55,486 for L.76,312;
those sold in 1846 were 45,389 for L.7856. There is also
great variety in the prices of articles of similar denomina¬
tion ; but the Company are obliged to pay the same price
to the Indians for all skins according to tariff; whether the
skins are good or bad the Company must buy them. Hence
the profits of the shareholders are not to be estimated by the
difference in price between the cost of a skin at one of the
Company’s forts in the interior, and its sale price in Lon¬
don. The annual dividend is (1855) about 6 per cent.
The Hudson’s Bay Company have now about 140 es¬
tablishments besides hunting expeditions and shipping,
employing 25 chief factors, 28 chief traders, 152 clerks,
1200 regular servants, besides employing in occasional
labour the services of a large number of the natives; a
steam vessel and five sailing vessels of from 100 to 300
tons, all armed. Their forts or stockaded positions extend
from the coast of Labrador to the Pacific, and from the
northern boundaries of Canada to the shores of the Arctic
Ocean. At every large trading establishment there is an
“ Indian Hospital,” from which the natives derive the
greatest benefit; and several medical men are maintained
by the Company at different forts. Ministers of the gospel
of every denomination are encouraged and protected by the
Company, and a bishop of the Church of England now pre¬
sides over the diocese of Rupert’s Land.
The fur trade is prosecuted in the north-western terri¬
tories of the United States by an association called the
North American Fur Company, of which the chief managers
reside at New York. Its principal station is Michilimackinac,
to which are brought all the peltries collected at the other
ports of the Mississippi, Missouri, and Yellowstone rivers,
and all over the vast range of country extending thence to
the Rocky Mountains. This Company is admirably or¬
ganized and managed : it employs steamboats for ascending
the rivers, which also penetrate with ease to i-egions which
could formerly be explored only through the most painful
efforts in barges and keel-boats, or by small parties on foot
or on horseback.
About 5,000,000 skins of animals applicable as furs are
annually imported into Britain. The subjoined table gives
the imports and exports of fur-skins in the year 1851.
. • i Total imported x-,
Animals. into England. ExPorte<L
Racoon 525,000 525,000
Beaver    60,000 12,000
Chinchilla  85,000 30,000
Bear  9,500 8,000
Fisher   11,000 11,000
Fox, Red   50,000 50,000
... Cross  4,500 4,500
... Silver  1,000 1,000
... White  1,500 500
... Gray  20,000 18,000
consumed in
England.
None.
48,000
55,000
1,500
None.
None.
None.
None.
1,000
2,000
Animals.
Total imported Consumed in
into England. •t'xPortecl- England.
Lynx  55,000 50,000 5,000
Marten 120,000 15,000 105,000
Minx 245,000 75,000 170,000
Musquash 1,000,000 150,000 850,000
Otter  17,500 17,500 None.
Seal, Fur  15,000 12,500 2,500
Wolf   15,000 15,000 None.
Marten, Stone and Baum 120,000 5,000 115,000
Squirrel 3,000,000 100,000 2,900,000
Fitch  65,091 28,276 36,815
Kolinkski  53,410 200 53,210
Ermine 187,104 None. 187,104
Rabbit 120,000 None. 120,000
Wolverine ,... 1,200 1,200 None.
Skunk   1,200 1,200 None.
Sea-Otter  100 100 None.
Fur-Skinned Animals.—The northern and arctic regions
abound with races of animals, which are thickly covered with
fine hair or fur, and whose skins are very beautiful and
valuable as articles of clothing. The animals that are cap¬
tured for their fur, are:—The Russian Sable {Mustela
zibellind).—This rich and beautiful skin has long been
esteemed one of the most valuable and useful furs that have
been brought to our country. About 25,000 are annually
collected in the Russian territories, of which only a small
number is imported into England. The fur is brown, with
some gray spots on the head. The darker varieties are the
most highly valued, a single skin being frequently sold for
L.9, though the average value does not exceed L.2 or L.3.
Naturalists are not agreed whether to consider the animal
from which the skin is procured as a distinct species. Some
are of opinion that the Russian sable, the stone and pine
martens, as well as the Hudson’s Bay sable, are but one
species, on which the differences of food and climate have
produced some slight variations in form and colour. To
the furrier, however, the Russian sable is easily distin¬
guishable, from the length and fulness, as well as the darker
colour of the fur. The use of this choice variety is neces¬
sarily limited to the wealthy, on account of its scarcity.
In the reign of Henry VIII., by a law which sought to re¬
gulate the'expenses of the different classes, and to distin¬
guish them by peculiarity of costume, the use of the sable
was confined to the nobility above the rank of viscount.
The Hudson’s Bay Sable {Mustela canadensis).—The
sable skins next in repute to the Russian are those im¬
ported by the Hudson’s Bay Company, of which no less
than 120,000 are annually brought into this country. As
the natural colour of the skins is much lighter than the pre¬
vailing taste, it is the practice to dye many of them a
darker colour, and the furs thus treated are scarcely infe¬
rior to the natural sable. The Baum or Pine Marten {Mustela
abietum).—The sables imported under this name are the
produce of Europe. The animal is found in extensive
forests remote from the habitations of man, and preying on
birds and the smaller animals. They are distinguished from
the stone marten by the yellow colour of the throat; other
parts of the skin are brown. When dyed, they have a
similar appearance to the best sable. I he Stone Marten
{Mustela saxorum).—This marten is generally found in
mountainous and stony places, though a frequent visitor to
farm-yards and homesteads. It is generally distributed
through most European countries. The under fur is a
bluish-white, with the top hairs a dark brown. The throat
of this variety is usually of a pure white, by which character
it is generally distinguished. The French manufacturers
excel in dyeing this fur, from which circumstance it is fre¬
quently called French sable. It is also dyed in this country,
the excellent qualities of the skin adapting it to a great
variety of purposes to which furs are applied. The Fisher.—
There are about 11,000 of these skins annually brought to
this country from North America; they are larger than the
sables, and the fur is longer and fuller. The tail is long,
Fur
Trade.
348 FUR TRAD E.
Fur round, and full, gradually tapering to a point, and quite
Trade, black; a few years since it formed the common ornament
to a national cap worn by the Jew merchants of Poland,
and at that time was worth from 6s. to 9s., but its present
value does not exceed 6d. to 9d. The Minx {Mustela
vison).—There were 245,000 skins of this little animal
brought to this country in 1850 from the possessions of the
Hudson’s Bay Company and North America. The fur re¬
sembles the sable in colour, but is considerably shorter and
more glossy. It is a very durable and useful fur, and is ex¬
ported in large quantities to the Continent. -The Ermine
{Mustela ermined).—This animal is similar in form and
habit to the common weasel of this country; but in Siberia,
Russia, and Norway, from whence the skins are imported,
the little animal, during winter, becomes as white as the
snowy regions it inhabits, and is esteemed as the whitest
fur known, though its summer dress is a dingy brown. The
tail of the skin, of which the lower half is jet black, is gene¬
rally introduced as an ornament to the purely white fur. It
is worn on state occasions, and in the reign of Edward III.,
its use was restricted to the royal family. The Fitch or
Polecat {Mustela putorius).—These skins are produced
throughout Europe, and in no place of better quality than
in our own country. The ground of the fur is a rich yellow,
while the top hair is a jet black. This fur is at present very
little used in this country, but is much worn in America. It
is very durable, but the natural smell of the fur, which is rather
unpleasant, is difficult to counteract. The North Ameri¬
can Skunk {Mephitis americana).—The skins known under
this name are imported by the Hudson’s Bay Company.
The animal from which they are taken is allied to the pole¬
cat ot Europe, and, from the fcetor it emits when attacked,
which has been known to affect persons with sickness at 100
yards distance, has received the soubriquet of “1’ Enfant
du Diable.” It has a soft black fur, with two white
stripes running from the head to the tail, which is short and
bushy. The skins, though imported into England in small
numbers, are usually re-exported to the continent of Europe.
The Kolinkski {Mustela sibericd).—The Kolinkski or Tartar
sable is of a bright yellow colour, and is sometimes used for
ladies’ dress in its natural state, but it is more frequently
dyed brown to imitate other sable, to which it bears a strong
resemblance. It is remarkable for the uniformity of its
colour, having no spot or difference of shade in any part of
the body. The tail, which is of the same colour, is exclu¬
sively used for the best artists’ pencils. The Musquash or
Musk Rat(iA6er zibethicus).—The animal known under this
name is found in great numbers in North America, fre¬
quenting swamps and rivers, and, like the beaver, building
its habitations of mud with great ingenuity. Dr Richard¬
son states, that it has three litters of young in the course of
the summer, producing from three to seven at a litter. The
animal has a peculiar smell, similar to that of musk; but it
must not be mistaken for the animal from which the musk
of commerce is procured, which is a native of Tibet. About
one million skins are brought to this country annually; the
fur resembles that of the beaver, and is used by hat manu¬
facturers. The skins are also dyed by the furrier, and
manufactured into many cheap and useful articles. The
Nutria, or Coypou {Myopotamus coypus).—This rodent qua¬
druped is an expert swimmer, and frequents the neighbour¬
hood of water, where it lives in burrows; it is smaller than
the beaver, and considerably larger than the musquash, but
has a resemblance to both these animals in its natural
habits, and in the qualities of its fur. Until lately this fur
was very much used by hat manufacturers, and as many as
600,000 skins have been annually imported from Buenos
Ayres and Chili, in which countries the animal abounds.
Owing to the wars that continue to be carried on between
the different states of Buenos Ayres, and the consequent
withdrawal of the trappers from their accustomed occupa¬
tions, the importations have fallen to 3000 skins, which are Fur
dressed and dyed as a substitute for the costly fur seal. The Trade.
Hamster {Cricetus vulgaris).—About 100,000 of the skins
of the hamster are annually collected in central Germany,
where the animal abounds; it has a poor, short, and coarse
fur, and is almost exclusively used for cloak linings by the
Greeks; the colour of the back is a reddish-brown, the belly
black, with a few light spots. The animal is about 9 inches
in length, and lives under ground, forming several apart¬
ments for storing grain separate from its own hybernaculum.
It is so industrious and provident, that when the peasants
go “ hamster nesting” in the winter, they possess them¬
selves not only of the skin but of the valuable store of good
grain, which is said frequently to exceed two bushels. The
Perwit/ky.—The skin of this animal is beautifully marked
like tortoiseshell, and is brought from the south-eastern
territories of Asiatic Russia; the fur is short, giving little
warmth, and is chiefly made into cloak linings, and used by
the Russians. The Beaver {Castor americanus).—Beaver
skins are imported by the Hudson’s Bay Company in less
quantities than formerly; the use of the fur in our hat manu¬
factories has greatly diminished since the introduction of
silk hats, and a considerable depreciation has taken place in
their value. This beautiful fur is sometimes used for articles
of dress. In order to prepare the skin for this appropria¬
tion the coarse hairs are removed, and the surface is very
evenly cut by an ingenious machine, somewhat similar to that
used in dressing cloth. The fur thus prepared has a beauti¬
ful appearance, not unlike the costly South Sea otter, and
has the advantage of lightness, with durability and cheapness.
The white wool from the under part of the beaver still
obtains a high price, and is largely exported to France,
where it is manufactured into ladies’ bonnets. There is
no doubt that the beaver was formerly an inhabitant of the
British Isles, and Pennant remarks that two or three waters
in the principality of Wales still bear the name of Llyn yr
afangc, or the Beavers’ Lake. The Otter {Lutra vulgaris,
Lutra canadensis).—The large supply of otter skins used
by the Russians and Chinese is derived principally from
North America. The quality of the fur is in most respects
similar to the otter of the British Isles, of which there are
about 500 skins collected annually. This animal has fre¬
quently been tamed, and from its extreme agility in the
water, has been rendered serviceable in catching fish for
the use of its owner. The American otter is much larger
in size than the European, being about five feet from the
nose to the tip of the tail; a smaller variety abounds in the
East Indies, the fur of which is very short. The Sea Otter
{Enhydra marina).—The sea otter has a very thick, soft,
woolly fur, and is most highly prized by the Russians and
Chinese, to whom most of the skins are exported. In its
habits it is allied to the seal, but has never been met with
in large numbers. It is found in the North Pacific, from
Kamschatka to the Yellow Sea on the Asiatic coasts, and
from Alaska to California on the American coast. The
annual production is about 1000 skins, of which 100 are
imported into this country by the Hudson’s Bay Company.
Seal {Phoca).—There are numerous varieties of these
animals, some of which are found on the western coasts of
Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. They fi’equent, in immense
numbers, the coasts of Newfoundland, Greenland, and
Labrador, and the importations into this country frequently
exceed 500,000 in one season. The young seals of some
species increase in size with great rapidity, and it is asserted
by the seal fishers that they double their bulk in eight
days. The greater portion are tanned and enamelled with
black varnish for ladies’ shoes; other descriptions are well
adapted for fur, especially the seal of the South Seas and the
north-west coast of America. Before they can be used as
a fur, it is necessary to remove the very coarse hairs which
cover a beautifully fine and silky fur. The roots of these
FUR TRADE.
F’ur hairs are deeply seated in the substance of the thick pelt,
Trade, while the fur is strongly attached to the upper surface of
the skin. By shaving the pelt to half its natural substance
the roots of the coarse hairs are cut through, and they
easily fall out; but the same effect is produced by a natural
process of fermentation, which ensues when the skins are
properly prepared and allowed to remain together. The
soft curly fur of the seal is now rarely used in its natural
state, but is dyed a deep Vandyke brown, and has the ap¬
pearance of the richest velvet. The Fox.—Of foxes’ skins
brought to this country there are many varieties ; the black
and silver foxes ( Vulpes fulvus, var. argentatus) from the
arctic regions are the most valuable. Many of the skins
when highly dressed are worth from 10 to 40 guineas.
They are purchased for the Russian market, being highly
prized in that country. The cross and red foxes {Vulpes
fulvus) are used by the Russians, Turks, and Greeks for
cloak-linings and collars. The blue and white foxes are
used in this and other countries for ladies’ dresses. The
white foxes ( Vulpes lagopus) are represented by arctic
voyagers as exceedingly numerous, and migrating in troops
over the frozen seas at the approach of the rigorous season.
They are easily caught, fifteen having been taken from one
trap in four hours. The Wolverine {Gulo luscus).—This
animal, which is only met with in North America, Norway,
and Sweden, is now generally considered by zoologists as
identical with the glutton of old writers. It is extremely
mischievous to the fur-trader, and will follow the marten-
hunter’s path round a line of traps extending forty or fifty
miles, merely to come at the baits. The fur is generally
dark nut-brown, passing, in the depth of winter, almost
into black, and is chiefly used in Germany and other
northern countries for cloak-linings. The Bear {(jrsus).—
There are several descriptions of bear-skins used by the
furrier. The skin of the black bear of North America
(Ursus americanus) is used in this country for military
purposes, for rugs, and carriage hammercloths. In Russia
it is frequently manufactured for sleigh coverings, and the
skin of the cub bear is highly valued for trimmings and
coat-linings. That of the grizzly bear (Ursus ferox) is ap¬
plied to similar uses. That of the white polar bear, of
which the supply is very limited, is frequently made into
rugs, bordered with the black and grizzly bear skins. The
fur of the brown or Isabella bear (Ursus Isabellinus) has
frequently been vei’y fashionable in this country, when its
value has been tenfold the present price. It is still consi¬
derably used in America for various articles of ladies’ dress.
The Hare.—The wool or under fur of the European gray
hare (Lepus timidus) is extensively used for manufacturing
felt hats, both in Europe and America. A few of these are
dressed for the purpose of being worn as a protection to the
chest. The white hare of Russia and the polar regions
(Lepus glacialis) was formerly much worn in its pure white
state as a lining for ladies’ cloaks, and as a substitute for
the white fox, but the skin being exceedingly tender, its
use for this purpose has been discontinued. The white
hare is also frequently dyed; it looks exceedingly rich, but
is not very durable. The Rabbit (Lepus cuniculus').—The
English rabbit, both in its wild and domestic state, affords
a very plentiful supply of useful fur. When dressed and
dyed in imitation of other skins, it is manufactured into a
great variety of cheap and useful articles for the middle
classes. The wool has recently been manufactured into a
peculiar cloth adapted for ladies’ use, but by far the greater
number of skins are still used for hatters’ purposes. The
English silver-gray rabbit was originally a breed peculiar
to Lincolnshire, where great attention was paid to it; but
warrens have since been formed in various parts of the
country. Skins of this variety are continually exported to
China and Russia, where they are much esteemed and
command a comparatively high price. The Hudson’s Bay
349
rabbit is beautiful in the length and texture of its fur, but Fur
the skin is so fragile, and the fur so liable to fall off with Trade,
slight wear, that it has little value as an article of dress.
The white Polish rabbit is a breed peculiar to that country ;
its skin is often made into linings for ladies’ cloaks, and
being the cheapest and most useful fur for that purpose, the
animal is imported in great numbers. The Squirrel (Sci-
urus vulgaris).—This attractive little animal abounds in
most countries, especially in Siberia and tbe north of Europe.
It is from the Russian dominions that we derive our prin¬
cipal supply of the skins of this agile creature, which ex¬
ceeds in number that of any of the fur-producing animals.
It is said that 15,000,000 are every year captured in Russia,
our supply from thence exceeding 3,000,000 annually. The
fur of the squirrel, of which there are several varieties, is
light, warm, and durable ; some of the lighter colours are
dyed in imitation of sable. The colour of the Siberian
squirrels varies from a pearl gray to a dark blue gray ; the
under parts, which are white, are frequently cut out and
made into cloak-linings, remarkable for their lightness : the
tails are manufactured into boas for foreign markets ; they
are also extensively used in the manufacture of artists’
pencils. The Chinchilla (Chinchilla lanigerd).—There
are two chief varieties of chinchilla, the produce of South
America : those from Lima are short in the fur, and infe¬
rior in quality to those from Buenos Ayres and Arica; the
colour is a silvery gray, Arica producing the darkest and
best-coloured skins. The general appearance of the animal
places it between the squirrel and the rabbit: in its natural
abodes it has the agility of the former, and resembles the
rabbit in living in holes and burrows. The extreme soft¬
ness and delicacy of the fur adapt it only for ladies’ use.
Though much admired and frequently worn in this country,
it is more extensively consumed in France, Germany, and
Russia. The Racoon (Procyon lotor).—The racoon is an
inhabitant of North America: the skins are imported into
this country in immense numbers; but meeting with no
demand for our home trade, are exported by merchants
who purchase them at the periodical sales. They are used
throughout Germany and Russia for lining shubes and coats,
and, being of a durable nature and moderate in price, are
esteemed among the most useful furs. The Common
Badger (Meles vulgaris) ; American Badger (Meles labra-
doria).—The skin of the European badger, from the wiry
nature of its hair, is generally used for the manufacture of
superior kinds of shaving brushes; but the skins exported
from North America have a soft, fine fur, which renders
them suitable for many purposes for which the larger furs
are used. The Cat.—In Holland the cat (Felis domesti-
cus) is bred for its fur ; it is fed on fish, and carefully tended
until the fur arrives at its greatest perfection ; large num¬
bers are also collected in England and many other coun¬
tries. The wild cat (Felis catus) is much larger and
longer in its fur, and is met with in extensive forests, par¬
ticularly in Hungary ; the colour is brownish-gray, mottled,
and spotted with black. The softness and durability of the
fur render it very suitable for cloak-linings, and it is also
made into wrappers for open carriages and railway travel¬
ling. The Canada Lynx (Felis canadensis) ', Lynx Cat
(Felis rufa).—The fur of the lynx is long, soft, of a grayish
colour, and sometimes, as in the Norway lynx, covered
with brown spots; the belly is white, silky, and not unfre-
quently spotted with black. The change of fashion has for
some time discarded it from this country ; but it is dyed,
prepared, and exported in considerable quantities for the
American market, where it is much valued and admired. It
is generally used for cloaks, linings, and facings, for which pur¬
poses it is very appropriate, being exceedingly soft and light.
PRESERVATION OF FURS.
The fur of most animals is in its greatest perfection at
FUR TRADE.
350
Pur the approach of winter, and before the animal has attained
Trade, its greatest age. It is the object of the furrier, by dyeing
the inferior skins, to imitate the more perfect specimens.
Some difficulty has attended this process, as the nature of
the skin will admit of the dyes being used only in a cold
state; but the method which has been practised in Paris
and London has been so far successful, that the permanence
of the colour in the dyed sable is frequently found of equal
durability to that of skins of the natural colour. Consider¬
able excellence has been attained also in dyeing rabbit and
inferior furs of those colours which are more suitable to the
prevailing taste.
The first process of the fur dresser is to prepare the skins
from the raw state, and render them fit for ornamental dress.
In this country, the usual practice is to trample them in
closed tubs with a little salt butter, turning them over and
over for several hours. By this means the skins are made
into soft and pliable leather. The next process is to rub
them on the flesh side over a blunt iron in order to remove
loose pieces of integuments, and to reduce the substance,
after which it is necessary to cleanse the fur and skin com¬
pletely from the grease. For this purpose it is again trampled
with sawdust—usually that from mahogany—which being
beaten out and repeated several times, conduces to render
the fur glossy and clean, and to fit it for the cutter to fashion
into any shape that may be necessary.
Furs are subject to injury by several species of moths,
whose instincts lead them to deposit their eggs at the
roots of the fine hair of animals. Linnaeus mentions
five species that prey upon cloth and furs, of which Tinea
pellionella, T. vestionella, and T. tapetzella are the most
destructive. No sooner is the worm hatched than it
eats its way through the fur, and continues increas¬
ingly destructive until it arrives at its full growth, and
forms itself a silken covering, from which in a short
time it again emerges a perfect moth. Another cause of
the decay of furs is the moisture to which they are fre¬
quently exposed; the delicate structure of the fine under¬
fur cannot be preserved when any dampness is allowed to
remain in the skin. This fact is well known to the leather
manufacturer, who, having wetted his skins, allows them to
remain in a damp cellar for a few days for the purpose of
removing the hair, which is pulled out with the greatest
facility after remaining only one week in a moist condition.
It follows from these observations that to preserve furs it
is necessary to keep them dry, and to protect them from
moths; if exposed to damp or rain, they must be dried at
a moderate distance from the fire ; and when put by for the
summer should be combed and beaten with a small cane,
and very carefully secured in a dry brown paper or box
into which moths cannot enter. During the summer they
should be examined once a month, to be again beaten and
aired, if the situation in which they have been placed be at
all damp. With these precautions, the most valuable furs
may be preserved uninjured for many years.
MANUFACTURING OF FUR FOR FELTING PURPOSES.
In the manufacturing of furs for the making of hats, the
principal kinds of skins used are the hare, rabbit, beaver,
and nutria. All these kinds of skins, in the northern parts
of Europe, as well as in America, are divided by furriers into
two distinct sorts, namely, the seasoned and unseasoned
skins. The former are those which are taken off the ani¬
mal in winter, when the fur is at its full growth, and in the
highest state of perfection as to fineness; the latter are
those obtained in spring, summer, and autumn. The fur in
the unseasoned skins is short, coarse, and hairy, and is gene¬
rally not worth more than a third of the value of furs cut
off the best-seasoned skins. The mode of manufacturing
both descriptions is, however, the same; of which we shall
now endeavour to give a brief account.
Hare-Skins.—The first mechanical operation performed Fur
on the hare-skin is to open it with a knife down between the Trade,
middle of the forelegs, taking great care that the skin be
not torn ; for there is a considerable waste of the fiir if this
precaution be not attended to. The skin must now be
rubbed with what is called a rake, which resembles a com¬
mon dinner knife, with teeth like a saw. This is used for
the purpose of clearing away all impurities and dried blood
which may happen to be upon the skin. This cleaning
is of very great importance ; for the smallest particle of
dirt or blood will greatly injure the fur for felting purposes.
The operation requires to be carefully and judiciously per¬
formed for another reason. If the workman be not atten¬
tive, he will tear up, along with the bloody and dirty parts,
a considerable part of the good and clean fur, and thus great
loss will be incurred.
Hare-skins, after being thus opened and cleaned, must
be damped on the pelt side with a little water, and placed
under a heavy weight, pelt to pelt, to press them, so that all
ridges and inequalities in the pelt may be removed. The
skins are now fit for what is called shearing. Their out¬
sides are all covered over with a kind of hair, which pos¬
sesses no felting properties whatever; and this must be
taken off with hand shears. These are of two kinds ; the
one the common shears used for clipping the wool oft’ sheep;
the other kind resembles the cutting shears of tailors, only
the bowl is made equally large on both sides, for the admis¬
sion of all the fingers. Some furriers prefer one kind of
shears and some another. Those like tailors’ shears make
the neatest work when skilfully used; but the other re¬
quires less time for their management. The shearing of the
skins forms a very important part of their manufacture ; for
if one cuts too far down, he will seriously destroy both qua¬
lity and quantity of the fur, as well as disfigure its appear¬
ance. On this account many furriers confine a part of
their work-people to this branch of the business alone;
for the greater part of the profits of a master depends
upon the manner in which this shearing process is per¬
formed.
After a hare-skin has been submitted to the process of
shearing, it presents an appearance altogether different from
what it did before. A novice would not know it to be the
same skin. Previously, it was of a uniform brown colour;
now, it is down the whole of the back of a most beautiful jet
black, which gradually becomes fainter as it approaches the
sides of the skin. After it undergoes the process of round¬
ing, which consists in taking off all the irregular or angular
pieces of skin, and making the pelt smooth and even, it is
then fit for the cutting-board.
The cutting-boards of furriers are made of the willow
tree, and are commonly about twenty inches wide, and from
two to three feet broad. They ought to be moistened with
water at short intervals, when used, to make the wood soft,
and prevent the edge of the cutting-knife from being taken
off too soon. These knives are sometimes made of common
sheet-iron, but more frequently of steel, which are to be
preferred to the former, on account of keeping their edge
longer, and being much lighter for the hand. A fine edge
will not cut the fur off the skins; it must be a rough edge,
which is obtained from rubbing the knife about every twTo
or three minutes upon a piece of common freestone, of not
too fine a grain. These knives are from five to six inches
in length and three in breadth, and resemble in some mea¬
sure those knives used by grocers for the cutting up of
cheeses. The skins are all, before cutting, split down the
middle of the back into halves. The cutting then com¬
mences at the head or cheeks of the skin, and always in the
line of direction in which the fur lies. The cutting-knife
is run quickly backward and forward against the first joint
of the fingers across the skin ; whilst at every two or three
strokes the hand must be lifted up, to gather in the fur that
FUR T
Fur has been cut, and preserve it in as fleecy a form as possible.
Trade. Care must be taken against chopping the fur; because,
when this takes place, the felting principle in all furs is con¬
siderably weakened, and in some entirely destroyed.
An important point in the getting up of furs for sale is,
to keep them in as unbroken or fleecy consistency as pos¬
sible. This, abstractly considered, is of no consequence
to their felting power; but the practice of the trade as to
this matter has arisen from a desire to keep the different
kinds of fur from being’mixed with one another, and there¬
by in some degree to prevent adulteration. From this
cause the above mode of cutting the hare-skin has been
long since much improved by the use of instruments
made of tin, against which the cutting-knives run, and which
are so contrived as to gather in the whole fur off the largest
skin with as much ease as the fur of a half skin could be
gathered by the hand when the knife runs against the
fingers. This simple invention preserves all the most valu¬
able parts of the skin in one lump or fleece, and enables
the workman to sort the fur with more ease and readiness
than before.
Rabbit-Skins.—The rabbit-skin is cut in precisely the
same manner as that of the hare, only there is a consider¬
able difference in the mode of dressing or preparing the
former. The rabbit-skin is covered over on the pelt side
with large quantities of grease or fat, from which the hare-
skin is comparatively free. This must be removed when
the rabbit-skin is first opened. The knife used in opening
the skin must be pressed down upon that part of the pelt
where the fatty substance is, till it gets beneath the cuticle
on which it rests, when the whole of the greasy matter
may be removed, and a little whitening rubbed on the
spot. If this operation be not well attended to, the grease
will get mixed with the fur, and damage it considerably.
The rabbit, like the hare skin, is covered over with hair
upon the top of the fur; but this hair cannot be taken off
by shearing, as in the case of the former, but must be re¬
moved by pulling it out. This is done with a short knife
about three inches long, which is held so as to grasp the
hair between the thumb and it, which is secured from in¬
jury by having a piece of buckskin leather placed over it.
The hand of the workman ought to fall lightly upon the
skin, otherwise the hair will be cut and the fur pulled out
also, which will deteriorate its quality and diminish its quan¬
tity very considerably.
Beaver-Skins.—The skin of the beaver is manufactured
in the same way as that of the rabbit. The fat, however, in
the former is much greater in quantity and more firmly im¬
bedded in the pelt than in the latter ; and of course greater
care and trouble are required to remove it. Fuller’s earth
mixed with whitening is used to imbibe the fatty particles.
The pulling the outside hair off is of great importance. The
cutting of the beaver has been for some years performed by
machines ; the thickness and regularity in the pelt affording
facilities for this mode of operation, which the generality of
other skins do not.
The fur of the beaver is sorted into three or four dif¬
ferent kinds ; but that which is cut off the cheek of the
skin bears the highest price. White beaver is compara¬
tively scarce, and is much esteemed for fine drab hats.
Nutria-Skins.—These are dressed like rabbit-skins, only
the hair on the outside of the skins is much stronger than
in the rabbit, and requires a sharper knife and greater
strength to remove it. Nutria-skins are full of fat; and
before they are submitted to the pulling process, they
must be well washed with soap and boiling water. The
skin is laid with the pelt downwards, and well scrubbed
on the fur side with a brush, till the grease is entirely re¬
moved. They must then be well washed in cold spring
water, which is extracted from amongst the fur by a piece
of wood made for the purpose. After this they are placed
R A D E. 351
before a stove or hot fire to dry, and are then fit to go Fur
through the other manufacturing processes. Trade.
Both the beaver and nutria furs, before they are used
for hat purposes, must go through the operation of blowing.
This is done for the purpose of clearing them of those short
black hairs which remain amongst the fur after it is sepa¬
rated from the pelt. A blowing machine consists princi¬
pally of a cylinder, into which the fur is placed ; and by
means of a fly-wheel, situated within it, the stuff is thrown
up, and the hairs, by reason of their greater specific gravity,
fall to the bottom, and leave all the fine fur upon the top.
Hare and rabbit furs are also partially used in a blown state
for the nap or outside covering of hats.
Though the hare, rabbit, beaver, and nutria furs are the
staple articles of hat manufacture, yet there are other furs
occasionally used in their stead, or in conjunction with
them. These are the furs of the otter, the seal, musquash,
and the mole. The otter is fully as fine as the beaver
itself; but the principal objection hatters have to its use
is, that it does not retain a good black, but acquires a brown
or coppery shade. The seal is not so fine as the otter. It
finishes dull upon a hat, and, in consequence, is not much
used at present. Musquash is a useful fur. The mole is
the only skin known to furriers which for felting purposes
needs no preparatory dressing before cutting. Its fur is
alike fine throughout. But notwithstanding its fineness, it
is so very short as to prevent its being extensively used in
the hat manufacture.
Within the last century many attempts have been made
to apply machinery to the cutting of the various kinds of
fur, but, with the exception of the beaver fur, these at¬
tempts have hitherto been but partially successful. The
great difficulties in the way of machinery for cutting pur¬
poses are, the unevenness on the surface, and the inequa¬
lities in the thickness of the pelt in different skins. The
smallest particles of the fleshy part of the skin getting
among the fur will injure it; so much so, that apiece of
pelt not larger than a pin’s head will destroy the finest hat.
This circumstance has greatly increased the difficulty of
bringing machinery to bear upon the fur trade. There
are, however, at this moment some machines employed in
the cutting of hare and rabbit skins in England ; but until
they undergo numerous improvements, they are not likely,
from the obstacles above adverted to, to realize tbe expec¬
tations of gain at first entertained by those employing them,
either in the saving of labour, or in the superior manner in
which the fur is manufactured.
Many experiments have also been mad& to dispense with
the usual processes of cutting the different kinds of fur with
knives, by applying chemical substances to the pelts, so as
to loosen the roots of the fur, and make it leave the pelt
upon a slight application of force. Lime has often been
tried for this purpose, by using it in the same manner as
skinners do in the management of sheep-skins. Some fur¬
riers have also tried a partial state oi putrefaction ; but this,
as well as the lime preparation, has proved abortive. The
fur obtained off different kinds of skins by such means looks
in every respect as well to the eye as if it had been manu¬
factured in the usual manner; but the felting principle is
by all such means entirely destroyed.
Carroted Fur.—Sulphuric acid has the property of in¬
creasing the felting power of most kinds of fur. When this
is applied the fur is called carroted, from the colour which
the acid gives it. The most common kind of fur submitted
to this process is that belonging to the rabbit-skin ; and it
is generally employed in small quantities for the manufac¬
ture of all fine stuff hats. Carroted coney wool is made
in the following manner:—Mix one part of sulphuric
acid with two parts of pure spring water, in a dish of stone¬
ware ; then take and wet the rabbit-skin with a brush ah
over, making the liquid penetrate as near to the bottom of
352 FUR
Furca the fur as possible; care being used, in this process, not to
II _ touch the skin with the fingers, lest they be burned, but
Furetiere. a piece of iron hoop doubled so as to resemble a pair
of tongs. When the skins are thus wet, they must be placed
over a very hot fire to dry; but they must not be placed
too near, lest they take fire, which they are very apt to do
from the application of the acid. Instead of drying them
before the fire in this manner, some run a hatter’s finishing
iron, heated to a certain degree, over the skins, and allow
them to dry gradually in the sun. This is found to be a
very good plan. When the skins are dry they ought to be
gently beaten with a rod, and moistened on the pelt side
with water, previous to their being put under the pressing
stone. They are then cut in the usual manner. Skins
prepared in this way attract a great quantity of moisture
from the atmosphere; and carroted fur always feels to the
hand as if partially wet.
The fur off the rabbit-skin improves in its felting capabi¬
lities by being kept a moderate length of time after being
taken off the skin ; but hare fur does not. Great attention
ought to be paid by hat manufacturers, who keep consider¬
able stocks of fur on hand, as to the place in which they
are deposited. If it be too damp, they will rot; if too dry,
they will diminish in weight; therefore a moderately dry and
cool place ought to be chosen. The great enemy to all
furs is the common moth. This destroys the felting prin¬
ciple. Whenever the slightest appearance in the fur indi¬
cates the secure lodgment of this little creature, it ought
immediately to be used ; or, if this cannot be done, it should
be taken out of the paper bags, and broken all over with a
small switch rod, or, what will answer the purpose still bet¬
ter, a hatter’s bow. The same rules apply to the keeping
EUR
of skins in good condition as to fur. The situation ought Furies,
to be cool, dry, and well aired. They will seldom keep
longer than twelve or eighteen months without running
great risk of suffering injury from the moth or black beetle.
Too many ought not to be heaped together, and particu¬
larly if they be rabbit-skins, because the fat or grease about
these skins will get heated, run amongst the fur, and be¬
come of such an acrid nature as to corrode the very pelt
itself. It was formerly the practice to keep hare and rabbit
skins a long time, under the idea that the fur upon them will
increase in length from the moisture left in the pelt. This
is an entirely erroneous opinion. Any one who will make
the experiment will find that the amount of fur obtained off
any given quantity of skins is much greater in weight when
manufactured immediately after they are taken off the
animal, than after having been kept for six or twelve
months.
The qualities of all kinds of furs differ very considerably,
from climate and other local circumstances. The best rab¬
bit fur, used for the manufacture of the finest London hats,
is commonly considered as the produce of the east coast of
England, particularly from Lincolnshire to Berwick inclu¬
sively. The rabbit fur is always stronger in the felting
principle when got off rabbits bred on the sea-coast, than in
those found in inland places, however favourable in other
respects these places may be for the rearing of the animals.
The skins along the tract of coast already mentioned seem
all of the same size and quality. North of Berwick the
rabbit-skin becomes smaller, and the fur weaker and shorter;
and the further north, along the coast, the more inferior it
is found. Hare fur in Great Britain is superior, for hat pur¬
poses, to any in the world.
FURCA, a Latin word signifying properly a fo7'k, was
also used among the ancient Romans to denote an instru¬
ment of punishment, composed of two pieces of timber
joined together in the form of the letter V inverted. This
was placed on the offender’s neck, while his hands w^ere
fastened to the two ends ; and in this way he was compelled
to carry about the badge of his disgrace wherever he went.
Slaves were frequently punished thus. Sometimes the in¬
fliction of the scourge was superadded. The furca was
also employed in the ancient mode of capital punishment,
when the criminal was fastened to it and scourged to death.
The patibulum, another instrument used for the same pur¬
pose, or as a gibbet, appears to have been in the form of
the Greek letter II.
FURCHE, in Heraldry, an epithet of a cross forked at
the ends.
FUREEDPORE, a town of Hindustan, the principal
place of the British district of the same name, under the
jurisdiction of the lieutenant-governor of Bengal, on the
right or S.W. bank of the Ganges. The district of Fureed-
pore, which is also called Dacca Jelalpore, is bounded N.
by the British district Mymensing, E. by Dacca, S. by
Backergunge, W. by Jessore and Pubna. Area, 2052
square miles. It is altogether an alluvial tract, being inter¬
sected by the Ganges, and also by several feeders and off¬
sets of that river. Pop. 855,000, which gives 416 to a
square mile. The district was included in the grant of the
Dewanny made by the emperor Shah Alum to the East
India Company in 1765. The town is 115 miles N.E. of
Calcutta, in Lat. 23. 36., Long. 89. 50. (e. t.)
FURETlUltE, Antoine, author of the Dictionnaire
Universel de la Langue Franqaise, was born at Paris in
1620. He first studied law, and practised for a time as an
advocate, but finally entered the church, and became abbe
of Chalivoy, and prior of Chuines. In his leisure moments
he devoted himself to letters, and in virtue of his satires in
prose and verse was admitted a member of the French
Academy in 1662. That learned body had long promised
to the world a complete dictionary of the French tongue.
Furetiere had already planned and executed a work of a
similar nature which he was on the point of publishing when
the Academy interfered, alleging that he had borrowed from
their stores, and that they had the exclusive privilege of
publishing such a work as that in question. After much
bitter recrimination on both sides, Furetiere was expelled
from the academy. For this act of cruel injustice he took
a very severe revenge in his satire entitled Couches de
I’Academic. His Dictionnaire Universel was published in
Holland two years after his death, which happened in 1688.
It was afterwards revised and improved by Basnage, who
published his edition of it in 1701, and again in 1725. This
work enjoyed a deservedly high reputation till the appearance
of the Dictionnaire de Trevoux, which indeed is based on that
of Furetiere. Furetiere’s other works, consisting chiefly of
satires and fables, dq not possess any very great literary merit.
FURIES (in Latin Furice or Dirce, in Greek Erinnyesor
Eumenides), in Ancient Mythology, the deities whose busi¬
ness it was to punish in Hades the crimes committed upon
earth. The name “ Eumenides,” applied to these goddesses
by the Greeks, signifies the “ kindly” or “ propitious” deities.
Like the term “ Semnae,” or “ venerable,” it was euphemis-,
tically employed by the Athenians, who feared to call these
terrible beings by their real names. Though the proper
office of the Eumenides was to punish murder, perjury, dis¬
respect to old age, and other such crimes, they were some¬
times invested with very different functions. Thus, in
Aeschylus’ play, The Eumenides, they appear not only as
the instruments of wrath and vengeance against the matri¬
cide Orestes, but also as promising victory and every sort
of prosperity to the people of Athens. In this play, too,
they are described as being far more numerous than accorded
with the received traditions. They seem to have numbered
at least fifteen, whereas common accounts make them only
three, and give their names Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera.
F U T!
Furnace. In friezes and sculptures the furies are depicted as dark
beings, with serpents intertwined among their hair, blood
dripping from their eyes, and holding scourges or torches
in their hands. The sacrifices offered to them consisted
generally of black sheep. No wine was offered at their
sacrifices, but only libations of oil, honey, and water, called
“ nepalia.” Everything relating to these deities is fully
FUR 353
discussed in the second essay appended to Muller’s edition Furlong
of the Eumenides of dEschylus. I
FURLONG, an English measure of length, equal to Flirnace*
one-eighth of a mile, 220 yards, or 660 feet. ' N
FURLOUGH, in military language, a license granted by
a commanding officer to an officer or to a private to be ab¬
sent from duty for a certain time.
FURNACE,
Definition A general name for those contrivances used in the arts
and uses.. and in chemistry, by which an extraordinary degree of
heat is generated, much more intense than what obtains
in our ordinary fire-places. These are of very extensive
use, particularly where metals and minerals are the sub¬
jects of manufacture or of examination, such substances
requiring a very powerful heat for their reduction, cal¬
cination, or fusion. Hence the various kinds of furnaces
which occur in the manufacture of iron, steel, brass, cop¬
per, zinc, &c. in smelting, casting, and forging the metal,
and in numerous other processes connected with the for¬
mation of it. In other cases, such as glass-works, potte¬
ries, and various others, it is in general not so much a
very intense heat that is wanted, as a steady temperature,
and the fire of such magnitude as will keep a large body
of material in fusion, and at a very equable state for work¬
ing. Another large and extensive class of furnaces, and
one which is becoming every day of more and more im¬
portance, is that applied to the generation of steam in
the boilers of steam-engines; and here also it is not so
much an intense heat which is necessary, as a very large
quantity for a rapid production of the elastic fluid. The
construction of furnaces therefore forms an interesting
and very important branch of practical mechanics. We
shall endeavour at present to explain the general princi¬
ples of their construction, and describe a few of those
most generally in use ; and further information will be
found in treating of the different arts, manufactures, and
processes where the furnaces are chiefly employed.
General In regard to the general principles on which the opera-
principles. tion of furnaces depends, the exact nature of the process
of combustion is, we believe, hardly yet settled among che¬
mical philosophers ; and experiments are wanting to deter¬
mine many points which might be practically useful. It
was thought, for example, by Sir Humphry Davy, that by
a vivid and rapid combustion of our fufel, a much great¬
er quantity of heat would be generated than by a slow' and
languid action ; and this theory, were it consistent with fact,
would often be of great importance where economy of fuel
is the object. Be this, however, as it may, it is certain
that, in our ordinary furnaces, whatever be the fuel, the
grand supporter of combustion is the atmospheric air, or
rather the oxygen, which forms one of its constituent parts ;
and it is the combination of this aerial element with the
solid mass of the combustible material in the furnace, which
somehow or other, not well understood, produces all the
Supply of heat that we obtain. To provide, therefore, a supply of
air- this vital principle is the first object in the construction of
every furnace. It appears, from some experiments on the
products of combustion made by our celebrated chemist Dr
Thomson of Glasgow, that for every pound weight of good
caking coal consumed in a furnace, there will be required
at least 150 cubic feet of common air; and adding fifty
more for what cannot be rendered effective, we may allow
at least 200 cubic feet to each pound of coal; and this may
givers some idea of the vast quantity of air which must be
required for many of the large furnaces and fires which are
frequently used. In many of the furnaces, for instance, for
the boilers of our steam-vessels, the consumpt of coal is
VOL. x.
more than twenty cwt. each hour; and by the above cal¬
culation this will require 7400 cubic feet of air per minute.
It may seem at first no easy matter to supply so large a Draught
stream, and to make it pass regularly through the fire ; yet by chim-
this is done in the simplest manner, by means of the chim-ney-
ney, on the principle of the ascensional power of heat¬
ed air ; and few examples occur in practical mechanics of
so simple, beautiful, and highly useful an application of a
general principle. Air, like every other substance, is ex¬
panded by heat, and this in a remarkable degree, owing to
the feeble aggregation of its elementary parts. With every
degree of Fahrenheit, from the temperature of freezing to
that of boiling mercury, or 680°, it expands the 488th part
of its bulk. This is according to the accurate experiments
of Messrs Petit and Dulong; and these philosophers also
found the important law to obtain exactly within the above
range of the thermometer, that equal increments of heat
produced equal increments of expansion. Hence with a
heat of 488°, which is far surpassed in our fires, the volume
of the air is doubled; but with every such expansion the
air becomes in proportion specifically lighter, and ascends
by its buoyancy through the colder and of course denser
medium around it. The fire therefore heating the air above
it, this ascends, and the chimney forming a tube or per¬
pendicular shaft, either directly above the fire-place, or in
communication with it, the heated air fills it, and forms a
rarefied column standing in the midst of the ordinary me¬
dium. The external columns, therefore, pressing on all sides
into the partial vacuity, must rush in below where there
is a free communication through the fire : thus a constant
draught of air sets in towards the fire and up the chim¬
ney ; and by this means the combustion in the furnace
is kept up. It is exactly what takes place on a great scale
over the globe itself, by the sun heating excessively the
regions under the line; and this causing everywhere a
current of heated air upwards, draw's continually a current
of cold air from the regions on each side of the tropics;
and it is this which produces the phenomenon of the trade-
winds, the opposite currents coming into collision under the
equator, and destroying each other’s effect as to north or
south, while the rotation of the earth gives the whole an
apparent motion nearly due east. The chimney then is
the most essential part of every furnace, and its use is
not only to create a draught of heated air, but to receive
and discharge the smoke and other aerial products which
arise from the combustion. In ordinary fire-places, where
only a very moderate degree of heat is wanted to heat our
apartments comfortably, the chimney is left open below,
immediately above the fire-place, for the convenience of
getting fuel or cooking utensils put on. In that case only
a very small portion of the air which ascends up the chim¬
ney passes through the fire, namely, that which ascends
from under the grating, and perhaps a little in the front.
The greater proportion ascends above the fire-place, and
this mixing with the heated air, cools it, and moderates
the draught, which would otherwise become too great. In
furnaces, however, where all the heat is required which can
be produced, a different arrangement becomes necessary.
The fire-place in these must be closed on all sides, and
2 Y
354
FURNACE.
Essential
parts.
Grating.
Furnace, every access to the air excluded, excepting below, where
the fuel rests on an open grating, consisting of iron bars laid
parallel to each other, and at such distances apart as will
retain the fuel, while the air is admitted through them, and
the ashes and other refuse drop down into the ash-pit below.
Hence arises the same general construction in every fur¬
nace ; and, however they may vary in particular forms and
dimensions, each contains afire-place, grating, ash-pit, and
chimney. It is very essential, particularly where an in¬
tense temperature is wanted, that the fire-place should be
surrounded with substances of a very slow conducting power
for heat, otherwise this would be soon dissipated in the sur¬
rounding atmosphere, and no high degree of temperature
attained. Clay is found very useful for this purpose in
small furnaces intended for experiments; and the effect is
most strikingly exhibited if we try the action of a fire-place
of sheet iron : the heat is extremely feeble, and is observed
dissipating itself on all sides ; but if we line it with an inch
thickness of clay or pounded charcoal, a very intense heat
may then be generated. In large furnaces there is no ma¬
terial so useful for this purpose as brick, which is not only
a slow conductor, but can be made to withstand very in¬
tense heats. The magnitude of the fire must evidently
be determined by the size of the grating; for, however
large the fire-place be made, or great the quantity of
fuel in it, unless the grating is such as will admit a suf¬
ficiency of air, the combustion will not proceed. In large
fires, therefore, intended to generate a great quantity of
heat, such as those for steam-engine boilers, the grates
must be made large in proportion. In fires, again, where
it is not so much quantity as an intense temperature, the
grate may be quite small, as the temperature will depend
chiefly on the power of the draught. Most of the opera¬
tions of the brass-founder, and of gold and silver-smiths,
are performed with furnaces of which the grate does not
exceed two feet in area. It may be reckoned generally,
that for every ten pounds of coal consumed in an hour,
there should be a square foot of area in the grating. The
spaces between the bars should be about three eighths or
half an inch. The bars themselves should be loose, and
made to rest on two cross bars, one at each end, so that
they can be taken out and renewed at pleasure. In that
case they are made about an inch thick, and with a swell
in the middle for greater strength. They are seldom made
more than two feet or two and a half feet in length, one or
more of such lengths being used if required.
Power But the grating itself, though it will admit it, will not
of the determine any air to enter and pass through the fire. This
(fraught. the draught in the chimney ; and according as
this is more or less powerful, the fire will burn with great¬
er or less force. It is of the first importance, therefore, to
determine what are the circumstances in the form and di¬
mensions of the chimney on which the effect of this draught
depends, and by which it may be regulated to our purposes.
It is evident, in the first place, that the warmer the air is
in the chimney, the greater will be its buoyant force, and
the more powerful, therefore, the draught upwards. Every
means, therefore, should be taken to preserve the heat in
the chimney; and hence the great advantage in dwelling-
houses of conducting the vents as much as possible through
the interior walls, which are not exposed to the cooling ef¬
fects of the atmosphere, or of wind and rain, and also car¬
rying them up in a mass together, by which each pro¬
tects the other from the cold; secondly, the interior of
the chimney should be as straight, smooth, and regular
as possible, that the current of air may traverse it with
the least possible degree of impediment. There should
be no projections, nor any sudden inequalities in width,
which are sure to create eddies, and obstruct the progress
of the air. Hence even the cylindrical form of a chimney
will be found to improve the draught, because it presents a
larger area than a square in proportion to its circumference, Furnace,
and therefore presents less obstruction. A decided im-
provement has lately been introduced in the construction
of domestic chimneys, by the use of cylindrical cans of fire¬
brick, about a foot long, and built in, one above the other,
to the top of the chimney. These are glazed inside, and
present on the whole a very smooth and equal bore for the
heated air. The cylindrical form of a chimney also pre¬
sents externally less extent of cooling surface than the
square. Still there are facilities of construction in the
square form which give them an advantage. But whether
circular or square, as the air becomes necessarily rather
cooler at the top of the chimney than the bottom, and
therefore denser, hence the chimney should have a slight
degree of taper in proportion to this.
But of all the circumstances affecting the draught of fur- Height of
naces, that which has the most powerful influence is the chimney,
height of the chimney. The reason of this will be evident,
if we consider that the mechanical force producing the
draught is nothing else than the superior weight of the
external air over that within the chimney. The latter
forms a column expanded by heat, and having thus lost
part of the air which it would have contained had it been
at the same temperature with the external air. The ex¬
ternal column, therefore, presses on the internal with a
force exactly equal to this difference, and which is evident¬
ly proportional to the height of the chimney. For sup¬
pose we had a chimney fifteen feet high, and the air within
it heated to 488°, then one half of the air originally in the
chimney will be expelled. The column of fifteen feet
would now, if the tube were extended, occupy thirty feet.
This fifteen feet, therefore, of the expanded air, being
taken out of the scale of the internal column, it is evident
that the external air will now act with a preponderating
force exactly equal, or with such a pressure as will be
due to a column of the expanded air fifteen feet high,
which is just equal to a column of the ordinary air seven
and a half feet high. But suppose the chimney is thirty
feet high under the same circumstances, then the column
of expanded air expelled by the heat will be thirty feet
high, and the preponderating column of ordinary air fifteen
feet, just double of the former, in proportion to the double
altitude, and so of every other height; and hence we de¬
duce an important rule, that the height of the preponde¬
rating part of the column of air, by which the draught is
produced in the chimney, is in every case proportional to
the height of the chimney itself; and it is easy, from what
has been stated, to form a calculation of this height in
every case. Let H be the height of the chimney, n the
number of degrees by which the internal air is heated be¬
yond the external, taking of course the average heat of the
top and bottom of the chimney, or any other rule for giv¬
ing a true average from top to bottom, then H + 7;
wH
488
will be the height of the internal column when expanded
wH
by the heat, and the height of the preponderating
part of the external column, supposing it to have the den¬
sity of the internal. But suppose it to be of the ordinary
density, it will be
488 + n
These principles then being established, it is easy now to
calculate the velocity with which the external air will rush
into the chimney ; and this is the most important point to
arrive at, as it is this which must determine the rate of sup¬
ply, and whether it will be more or less than what is cal¬
culated on. This velocity, then, or Y, according to the
well-known formula, will be each second eight times the
square root of the height of the preponderating part of the
FURNACE.
355
furnace, column; and as this height is proportional to that of the
chimney itself, hence the rule that the velocity is propor¬
tional to the square root of the height of the chimney. Tak¬
ing then the above expression for the height of the pre¬
ponderating part of the column, we have the velocity of the
external air rushing into the chimney V = 8 J
nU
480 + ti
But in passing along the sides of the chimney, the air, par¬
ticularly with great velocities, encounters considerable ob¬
struction ; and for this, and for what may arise from ine¬
qualities or other causes, we may allow 6 instead of 8 for
the co-efficient in the above formula; this gives V zz 6
y
nH
480 -j- n
The air is also greatly obstructed at the
grating, and in passing through the interstices of the fuel;
but this is supposed to be allowed for by giving the grating
an enlarged capacity on this account, so that it may have
the same facility in passing through the fire as it has in the
chimney. This source of obstruction therefore need not
be taken into account.
The above simple formula will be found to agree very
nearly with facts ; and we have been thus particular in de¬
ducing it from well-known and established principles, as
rules and calculations have been given on this subject by
different authors, the results of which differ considerably
from each other. In cases of this nature, it is really super¬
fluous to enter into all the refinements of calculation ; there
are in actual practice so many anomalies and deranging cir¬
cumstances, that the only rules of any utility are those
which embody simply, but with accuracy, the leading prin¬
ciples involved in the action ; more complicated formu¬
lae, even though rigidly exact, instead of guiding, serve
often rather to deter the practical engineer from any cal¬
culation at all. In an ingenious paper on this subject,
by an eminent mathematician, in the Quarterly Journal
of Science, rigorous formulae are given for the above cal¬
culations ; but they are more complex, and the accuracy
of some parts may be doubted. The rarefaction of the
air by heat, for example, is calculated by a rule which
makes it, for 1500°, to be expanded upwards of twenty
times its natural volume; whereas, by Petit and Du
Long’s experiments, it would not exceed 4J- times. Let
us now take an example. Suppose we have a chimney
thirty feet in height, and the average temperature of the
air in it 300° above the external atmosphere, What will
be the velocity with which the external air will enter the
chimney? Here H zz 30 ra = 300, therefore V z= 6
°r a^out ^ ^eet Per second- Hence a chimney
at this height, and one foot square, ought to supply 1200
feet per minute ; and, from what we have seen, this would
be sufficient to consume six pounds of coal per hour; and
by enlarging the area of the chimney it would be adapted
to a larger fire. But suppose it is raised to 100 feet, the
velocity being in every case as the square root of the height,
this would give the ratio of 51 to 10, or 37 feet per second,
and a supply, with a one-foot chimney, of 2220 feet a
minute. This shows how slowly the effect of raising the
chimney proceeds. It requires the height to be raised four
times to double the effect, and nine times to triple it; and
this explains the great effect, comparatively, which is often
produced by chimneys of moderate height judiciously con¬
structed.
In this manner it is easy to calculate the effect of differ¬
ent heights and areas of chimneys, and proportion our di¬
mensions to the nature of the fire to be used. In the above
calculations it must be kept in view that the velocity re¬
ferred to is always the velocity of the external air entering
under the fire. The velocity in the chimney itself may be
often very different; and by not attending to this distinc- Furnace,
tion, serious mistakes may be committed. The formula
for this velocity is simpler, being V = 6 y?* ami in the
above case it is twenty-five m place of twenty, and the sup¬
ply 1500 feet in place of 1200.
In the smelting of iron, and other uses, where a more Blast-fur
intense temperature is required than can be produced bynace>
the natural draught of a chimney, it is necessary to resort
to artificial means for increasing the effect; and this gives
rise to the blast-furnace, where the draught is produced by
the action of bellows or blowing cylinders throwing by me¬
chanical force a violent current of air into the fire. The
same object has recently been attained in a very convenient
manner by means of fanners, which was originally propos¬
ed, we believe, by Desaguliersin the Philosophical Transac¬
tions, under the name of the centrifugal wheel, for the pur¬
pose of ventilating hospitals, ships, &c., and was a few
years ago revived and successfully adapted to the blast-fur¬
nace by Messrs Carmichael, engineers, Dundee, and is now
employed, not only for smelting, but instead of the bellows
in the smith’s forge, eight or ten forges being in some ma¬
nufactories all supplied from one fan-wheel.
We shall now describe a few of the furnaces most ge-Descrip-
nerally in use. The first is the common air-furnace usedtion °f ful5-
chiefly for melting the metals. In this, the metal being nace‘s-
placed in a crucible, is set in the heart of the fire, and
the heat is communicated directly from the materials in
combustion, of which charcoal or coke is the most power¬
ful. The draft is produced by a chimney of proper capaci¬
ty and height, and the heat generated is retained by a
building of brick. The most perfect form of air-furnace Commcu
of this description would be to have the chimney ascend-air-fur-
ing right above the fire-grate, and to be nearly of the samenace*
capacity. In that case, the draft would operate with the
most powerful effect. But in practice it is found more
convenient to have the use of the space immediately above
the fire-place for getting in and out the crucibles and the
metal. The chimney is therefore set to a side, and the
draft directed into it by a sloping vent, or even by a level
flue, the height of the chimney making up for any defi¬
ciency in the direct course of the heated air. Plate
CCLXIV. fig. 1, shows a furnace of this description, being
a section and side elevation. A shows the fire-place or
body of the furnace, with a smelting-pot or crucible on its
stand. The stand is often omitted, but is useful in rais¬
ing the crucible above the grate, so as to allow the bot¬
tom of it to receive the full heat of the fire. B is the sloping
flue, terminating in the chimney C, and D is the cover
or door for closing the opening when the crucible is set.
The angle E at the top of the inclined vent serves for set¬
ting a crucible to heat when necessary, a is the grate,
and F the ash-pit opening through the outer wall, or into a
cellar below, which serves to prevent the cold air rushing
in from injuring the workmen, d is the damper. Fig. 2 is
a plan of the same furnace, showing the furnace-bars, &c.
Fig. 3 is a section of another air-furnace, with a hori¬
zontal flue above the fire-place, pig. 4 is a section of
a brass-founder’s melting-furnace, which is found to an¬
swer the purpose extremely well. The body of the fur¬
nace is circular, composed of three courses of bricks form¬
ed to the arch, as shown in the plan, fig. 5. At the top
and bottom, and at the two intermediate joints of the
bricks, the whole is bound with hoops like a barrel, form¬
ing a very strong and durable construction. The flue is
horizontal, and of small capacity compared with the fire¬
place. Above all there is an iron plate, with a flanch in
front, holding the brick-work together, and an iron cover,
a, shutting the opening. A is the ash-pit; B the pave¬
ment on the floor of the workshop.
356
FURNACE.
Furnace.
The next sort of air-furnace is what is termed the re-
verberatory furnace. In this the metal is acted on, not
Reverbera- ^ tiie iieat generated among the combustible materials in
tory fur- tjie jieart 0f tiie f5rej but by the action of the flame and the
naces. heated air striking against it as it ascends up the chim-
ne3?. The fuel best suited for this furnace, therefore, is coal,
not coke ; and for the purpose of directing the current, the
space above the fire-place is arched over, and a horizon¬
tal or slightly descending flue is extended from this space
to about three or four times the length of the fire-place,
until it terminates in the bottom of the chimney. In this
flue the metal is placed, and the flame and heated air
striking against the top of the arch above the fire-place, is
from thence reflected with full force against the metal,
and from this sort of reverberation which takes place the
furnace takes its name. From this action, and from the
flame heating the interior of the chimney, the effect of
this furnace is very powerful; and it is most extensively
used in the iron manufacture.
At PI. CCLXIV. figs. 6, 7, and 8, are represented a plan
and sections of one of these reverberatory furnaces. A is
the fire-place with the arch above ; B the descending flue;
C the chimney; d the damper; E the ash-pit; F is an
opening for introducing the metal or other substance to
be acted on, which is laid on the inclined hearth at B,
where the flame, reverberating from the top of the arch,
strikes with full force. If the substance is intended to be
melted, it runs down, and can be taken out at the open¬
ing G.
At fig. 9 is a view of another reverberatory furnace,
contrived by l)r Black. The hearth or bottom of the flue
B here is horizontal. Immediately above the fire-place
there is an arched cover, H, of iron, from the top of which
an arch of brick-work is extended all the way to the chim¬
ney, in which the flame reverberates down upon the hearth.
There is only one opening, F, for the introduction of the
metal. This furnace may be used with advantage for
roasting various substances, such as the ores of metals, for
the purpose of expelling- their volatile matter. It may
also be employed for the cupellation ot metals, the door,
F, being a little opened for admitting atmospheric air.
Furnace A furnace of great power was constructed and em-
byMushet. ployed by Mr Mushet, in his numerous and valuable ex¬
periments on iron and steel, and was found very con¬
venient for such operations. It is represented at Plate
CCLXV. figs. I, 2. 3. Fig. 1 is the section of an assay or
melting and annealing furnace, and also a small reverbe¬
ratory furnace for fusing in very high heats with the flame
of pit-coal. # ,
The assay-furnace is cased in cast iron, with a flanch
projecting inward the breadth of a brick, and about half
an inch more, which serves instead of bearers for the bars
(see fig. 2 at D). Upon this flanch the brick-work is
reared. It ought to be of good fire-bricks on the bed. I he
furnace is nine inches square; total height twenty-seven
inches. From the top of the flanch to the bottom of the
flue the interval is eighteen inches ; the flue is four inches
high; the height above is five inches; flue seven inches
long, and keeps opening into the chimney, as may be seen
at fig. 3 at E. If the chimney is under twenty-five feet
in height, a larger flue is requisite; and if beyond thirt}'-
five feet, a smaller flue wdll throw the heat more regularly
through the furnace. In general, however, more harm
ensues from too small than too large a flue. G is the
floor-line, and also represents the edge of a grate which
covers the ash-pit, wThich is better seen on the ground-
plan, fig. 3, and in fig. 2 at H. This grate lies nine inches
from the bars, having an open space for the admission of
air. It projects twenty-four inches outwards, and serves
the operator to stand upon.
I 1, in figs. 1 and 2, is the ash-pit. In fig. 3, which is a
ground-plan of the chimney and furnaces, C is the an- Furnace,
nealing or cementing furnace, in which the crucibles are
annealed or baked to a bright red heat, and from thence
introduced, along with the matter to be operated upon,
into the assay-furnace. It also serves instead of a ce¬
menting furnace, being easily made to produce a heat of
100° of Wedgewood. It may be made of any size, from
nine to fourteen inches square ; a nine-inch chimney being
sufficiently wide to the extent of an eighteen-inch fur-
nace. .
The chimney to each furnace is carried up five feet
perpendicular; they then gradually incline to the centre
opening, which they enter about twelve feet above the
flues. &L, L, L are dampers. From the grates of this as¬
say-furnace to the top of the chimney the interval is thir¬
ty-three feet.
This furnace has melted 400 grains of malleable iron in
ten minutes, and half a pound from lumps in forty mi¬
nutes. If the materials to be operated upon are prepared
with judgment, any experiment to the extent of half a
pound of matter may be performed in half an hour, and
less quantities in much less time. When approaching to
its highest heat, a Stourbridge clay crucible (which drops
in 168° of Wedgewood) will disappear in fifteen minutes
from the time that it is put in. The first five bring it
to 140° of Wedgewood, at which cast iron boils. Steel
boils in it at 160°, and malleable iron boils in it at 170° to
1729 of Wedgewood. It is probable, however, that the
advantages of this furnace do not result from the height
of the chimney (which is not so great), or from the size
of its opening. More, it is likely, depends upon the flue,
the opening of the grate bars, the size of the fuel, and
particularly the feeding of the fire.
In many cases it is desirable to heat the articles of ma- Muffle
nufacture without exposing them to the smoke or dustfuinacei
arising from the fire or flame. 4 his gives rise to a varie¬
ty of furnaces variously adapted to the purpose ; a kitchen
oven is a furnace of this description; also the brass-found¬
er’s hot-plate or lacquering furnace ; the furnaces used by
enamellers; and all the different kinds known by the name
of muffle-furnaces, in which a close vessel or cavity is
formed above the fire-place, or in the draft ot heated air
from it, with a door opening externally, and by this the
articles to be heated are introduced. Plate CCLXV. fig.
4, represents a very convenient lacquering furnace or
hot-plate for brass-founders. It stands at some distance
from the wall of the apartment. The fire-place is imme¬
diately under the plate, and the flue carried horizontally
into the chimney. Above the plate there is a square cover
or box of tin plate, open below, which can be let down
over the plate, and encloses the articles as in an oven.
Figs. 5 and 6 represent a convenient furnace for ena¬
mellers. It is merely a common air-furnace, similar to
those already described, with a close vessel of earthen¬
ware placed over the fire-place, the latter being swelled
out to allow the heated air to ascend on each side of the
vessel. A is the fire-place; B the ash-pit; a the grate ;
C the vessel with its door; D the chimney; and d the
damper; the other parts to be understood. Ibis furnace
may also be used for assaying metals by cupellation.
Figs. 7, 8, and 9, represent a muffle-furnace for pro¬
ducing very intense degrees of heat, and which was em¬
ployed by Pott, and afterwards by D Arcet, in their ex¬
periments on earths and stones exposed to a continued
and violent heat. The fire-place or body of the furnace,
B B, is in the form of an oblong coffer, swelling out in the
middle. A shows the hole for the muffle; and the dome
or upper part of the furnace is shown in D D, with a
large door C, for introducing the fuel; g is the grate, s
the ash-pit; and the other parts will be understood.
For an account of the glass-house lurnaces, and those
FURNACE.
357
Furnace, in the potteries and other manufactories, we must refer to
the respective articles in this work.
Steam boil- In regard to furnaces for steam-boilers, the object of
er furnace, these, as already mentioned, is to produce rapidly a large
quantity of heat for the generation of the steam. For
this purpose the fire-place and grate are of great extent,
and the flame and heated air, after striking the bottom of
the boiler, is conveyed in flues along the bottom, and
then round and round the sides, so as to deliver the whole
of the heat, or as much of it as possible, to the water,
before it ascends into the chimney. Figs. 8, 9, 10, Plate
CCLXVI. represent a furnace and boiler of this descrip¬
tion. A is the fire-place ; B, B, the grate bars ; C, C, the
boiler; D, D, D, the flues running under and around the
boiler, and terminating in the chimney, E. For a more
particular account, we must refer to the article Steam-
Engine.
In all these furnaces, and particularly those for steam-
engines, a very important object has often been attempt¬
ed, namely, a consumption of the immense volumes of
smoke occasioned by the large fires which must be kept
up for their use. For an account of these, see Smoke
and Steam-Engine.
Figs. 11, 12, 13, and 14, represent the forms of fire-
tongs found useful in the operations connected with fur¬
naces.
Chemical Furnaces are of very extensive use in the numerous
furnaces, processes of chemistry, and are variously constructed, ac¬
cording to the notion of the chemist, the uses required, or
the means within his reach. They may be divided into
three kinds ; crucible-furnaces, wind-furnaces, and blast¬
furnaces. The first are used with charcoal, or, in the
larger ones, with charcoal mixed with coke. The draft for
the supply of air is obtained from the mere height of the
crucible, or by the addition of a funnel pipe. In the wind-
furnaces, the draft is obtained by connecting them with
the chimney of the laboratory, and therefore more power¬
ful, and better adapted for various uses. In the blast-fur¬
nace, again, the air is supplied by bellows; and furnaces
of this kind are capable of producing the most intense
degree of heat required. The crucible-furnaces are thus
described by Professor Faraday, in his well-known work
on Chemical Manipulation.
An exceedingly useful furnace, either in a large or
small laboratory, may be made out of a black-lead or
earthen crucible. The proper crucibles for this purpose
are known by the name of blue.pots, and may be had of
almost every size less than the height of twenty-two
inches, and of twelve or fourteen inches diameter in the
top. They are made of clay and plumbago mixed, and are
easily cut by a saw, rasp, or file. The price of one which
will make a very good furnace for small operations is about
six shillings.
One of these vessels, of the height of twelve inches, and
seven inches in width at the top within (Plate CCLXVT.
fig 1), will make a very useful furnace for the igniting of
a small crucible, heating a tube, or distilling with large
glass retorts at moderate temperatures, or with smaller
glass or earthen retorts at higher temperatures. It is
first, in the course of preparation, necessary to have cer¬
tain round holes pierced in it. These are easily made ; a
gimlet, bradawl, or other small instrument, is to be used
to penetrate the sides; and the small apertures thus pro¬
duced are to be enlarged with a rat’s-tail and round rasp,
and ultimately finished with a half-round rasp, which will
make them of the size required. Four of these holes are
to be placed at equal distances from each other, and about
two inches from the bottom of the pot. They may be one
and a fourth or one and a half inch in diameter. A se¬
cond ring of holes, five or six in number, is to be made
halfway between the top and bottom of the pot, and a
third row of five or six within two inches of the top. These furnace,
holes should be rather smaller than the four lower ones.
The pot should now be bound round with iron or copper
wire, to hold it together when it cracks, and a handle made
to it of iron wire.
A small round grate of cast iron is only wanting to
render this furnace complete for many operations ; and
several of these grates of different sizes should be ready
at hand to drop in, and fit at different heights, as may be
required. The part below the grate then forms the ash¬
pit, and the part above forms the body of the furnace.
For the purpose of regulating the fire, if this requires to
be diminished, the air-holes can be closed with stoppers
made of soft brick or old blue pots; and, to increase the
temperature, the body of the furnace itself may be en¬
larged by setting on the top of it a portion of an old pot,
as in fig. 2, cut off so as to form a ring, several of which
may be added as occasion requires ; and they increase con¬
siderably the draft as well as the capacity of the furnace.
Another simple method of increasing the power of these
furnaces is to set on the top a piece of straight funnel
pipe, as at fig. 3, two feet long, four inches diameter,
opening out below like a funnel, till it is about eight inches
diameter, with a wooden handle for the convenience of
taking off or putting on. These simple furnaces are very
powerful, and are capable, without difficulty, of raising a
crucible two and a half inches in diameter to a white heat.
In fact, all the ignitings and heatings which belong to the
analysis of siliceous and other minerals have long been
made in furnaces of this kind at the Royal Institution.
If the funnel-pipe in one of these crucible furnaces be
connected with any chimney or flue in the laboratory,
which is easily done by kneeing the pipe at the top, and
having two or three short pieces to fit in for adjusting it
to different lengths, as at fig. 4, its power is greatly in¬
creased, and in fact it becomes a wind furnace. The fun¬
nel termination at the bottom should be lined with fire¬
clay, and have an opening for the introduction of fuel, to
be closed by a stopper when the fire is in order; or a still
better arrangement is to continue the furnace upwards by
a deep ring with the feeding apertures in it, as at fig. 5.
On the same principle with the crucible-furnace is a
small portable furnace contrived by Mr Knight, and repre¬
sented at Plate CCLXVII. fig. 1, and consisting of a cy¬
linder of sheet-iron lined with an earthy composition. A
B is the fire-place; B C the ash-pit, closed on all sides
excepting at the register door, D, where air is admitted ;
E is an opening for fuel; F a recess for the neck of a re¬
tort. Fig. 2 is a funnel top for the furnace, with a pipe
above extending by other lengths into the chimney. Fig.
3 is a sand-bath, which can be used in place of the dome,
with a pipe rising up from it.
On the same principle is the well-known portable fur- j)r Black’s
nace of Dr Black, represented at fig. 4, Plate CCLXVII,portable
which is the most complete of the kind which has yet furnace,
been contrived. It is made of sheet iron, formed into an
elliptic shape for the purpose of getting a chimney sepa¬
rate from the body of the fire-place, and is carefully lined
with clay well tempered. A B is the fire-place ; B C
the ash-pit; E a sliding door for the admission of fuel;
D another door for the same purpose, and also for the in¬
troduction of a muffle. Fig. 5 is a cover, and fig. 6 a sand-
bath. F is the chimney, which is lengthened by pipes,
and connected with the chimney of the house.
On the same general principle of the wind-furnace is
the general laboratory or table-furnace, which, being of
considerable magnitude, is fixed in the laboratory, and
forms one of the most important and useful pieces of ap¬
paratus which the chemist employs. From the extreme
facility which, if conveniently arranged, it gives to every
operation, its use is partly domestic, partly chemical;
FURNACE.
358
Furnace, for it has to warm and air the place, occasionally to heat
water, as well as to supply the means of raising a crucible
to ignition, or of affording a high temperature to flasks
through the agency of a sand-bath.
These objects are best obtained by those furnaces which
are built with a table top. The fire-place itself is con¬
structed of brick-work with iron front and fittings; and
the flue being carried horizontally for three or four feet,
is afterwards carried off to and connected with the main
flue existing in the wall. The fire-place and horizontal
flue are covered with a large plate of cast .iron, of from
two to three feet in width. This is formed in the middle,
over the heated part, into sand-baths ; a round moveable
one over the fire itself, and a long fixed one over the flue.
The sand-baths supply every gradation of heat, from dull
redness, if required, down to a temperature of 100° or
lower; whilst on each side of them exists a level surface,
which answers every purpose of an ordinary table, and
supplies extraordinary facilities to experiments going on
in the sand-bath or furnace. Nor are these advantages
gained by any serious sacrifice of heating powrer in the
furnace itself; for it is easy so to construct it as to make
its ordinary combustion not more rapid than that of a
common fire, and yet, by closing the fire-door and open¬
ing the ash-pit, to obtain a heat that will readily melt
gold, silver, or cast iron.
A furnace like this is best placed in the middle, or
towards one end of the laboratory, independent of the
wall; for then it most effectually warms the air of the
place, and there is wrorking room all round it. The flue
may then either descend and be carried off for a short
distance under ground, or it may be connected by a fun¬
nel pipe with the upright draught chimney. But if more
convenient, either as occupying less of the room of a small
laboratory, or for other reasons, it may be placed with ad¬
vantage against one side; and where the laboratory is
made out of a room previously built, the best situation is
generally against the fire-place, and the flue of the furnace
is then easily connected with the chimney previously ex¬
isting. When a furnace of this kind stands against the
wall, it is frequently advantageous to construct a wooden
hood over the sand-bath, to receive the fumes evolved
during the digestions and solutions made upon it, and con¬
duct them away to the chimney.
Being in constant requisition as a table, a furnace of
this kind should be about thirty-four or thirty-five inches
in height; its other dimensions, and even its form, must
depend upon the space that can be allotted for it; and
the following is a more particular description of the one
in the laboratory of the Royal Institution, constructed un¬
der the direction of Mr Brande. It is represented at fig.
7, PI. CCLXVIL, and in section at fig. 8 through the line
AB. It has the brick-work fifty-two inches in length and
thirty-eight in width ; the iron plate, including sand-bath,
being fifty-seven inches by forty-two. Others have been
constructed, the plates of which are only forty inches by
twenty-seven. The principal part of this furnace is ne¬
cessarily of brick-work, only the top plate, with the backs
and the front, being of iron. The front is a curved iron
plate, having two apertures closed by iron doors, one be¬
longing to the fire-place, and the other to the ash-pit. It
is thirty-four inches high and fourteen inches wide. The
ash-hole door moves over the flooring beneath; the bot¬
tom of the fire-place door is twenty-two inches from the
ground, and the door itself is eight and a half inches by
seven. This front is guarded within, at the part which
encloses the fire, by a strong cast-iron plate, having an
opening through it, corresponding to the door of the fire¬
place. It has clamps attached to it, which, when the fur¬
nace is built up, are enclosed in the brick-work. In the
setting or building of the furnace, two lateral brick walls
are raised on each side the front plate, and a back wall at Furnace,
such a distance from it as to leave space for the ash-hole
and fire-place. These walls are lined with Welsh lumps
where they form the fire-chamber. Two iron bars are in¬
serted in the course of the work, to support the loose grate
bars in the usual manner, the grate being raised nineteen
inches from the ground. The side walls are continued
until of the height of the front, and are carried backward
from the front until in two parallel lines, so as to afford
support for the iron plate which is to cover the whole.
The back wall of the fire-place is not raised so high as the
side walls by six inches and a half, the interval which
is left between it and the bottom of the sand-bath being
the commencement of the flue or throat of the furnace.
In this way the fire-place, which is fourteen inches from
back to front, and nine inches wide, is formed, and also
the two sides of the portion of the horizontal flue which
belongs to the furnace, and is intended to heat the larger
sand-bath. The bottom of this part of the flue may be
made of brick-work, resting upon bearers laid on the two
side walls; or it may be a plate of cast iron, resting upon
a ledge of the brick-work on each side, and on the top of
the wall which forms the back of the fire-place. When
such an arrangement is adopted, the plate must not be
built into the brick-work, but suffered to lie on the ledges,
which are to be made flat and true for the purpose ; for,
if attached to the walls, it will by alternate expansion and
contraction disturb and throw them down. The ends of
the side walls, forming as it were the back of the furnace,
may be finished either by being carried to the wall against
which the furnace is built, or enclosed by a piece of con¬
necting brick-work, to make the whole square and com¬
plete ; or a warm air cupboard may be built in the cavity
beneath the flue, and the door made to occupy the opening
between the walls. Occasionally the flue may be requir¬
ed to descend there, and pass some distance under ground.
These joints should be arranged and prepared before the
plate constituting the top of the furnace is put on to the
brick-work, so that when the plate with its sand-baths are
in their places, they may complete the portion of the ho¬
rizontal flue by forming its upper side.
The size of this plate is the first thing to be consider¬
ed, and having been determined upon from a considera¬
tion of the situation to be occupied by the furnace, and
the places of the sand-bath also having been arranged,
the brick-work must then be carried up, so as to corre¬
spond with these determinations, and with the plate itself,
which in the mean time is to be cast. The sand-bath and
the plate are to be formed in separate pieces. The bath
over the fire is best of a circular form, and of such dia¬
meter, that when lifted out of its place, it may leave an
aperture in the plate equal in width to the upper part of
the fire-place beneath ; so that a still or cast-iron pot, or
a set of rings, may be put into its place over the fire. The
other sand-bath must be of such a form as to correspond
with the shape and size of the flue beneath. These
vessels are to be of cast iron, about three tenths of an
inch thick; their depth is to be two and a half inches or
three inches, and they are to be cast with blanches, so as
to act in the corresponding depressions of the plate, that
the level of the junctions may be uniform. This will be
understood from the accompanying sections of the fur¬
nace, see fig. 8, given through the line A B of the view.
It is essential that these sand-baths be of such dimensions
as to fit very loosely into the apertures in the plate, a space
ot the eighth of an inch or more being left all round them
when cold, as shown in the section, otherwise, when heat¬
ed, they will expand so much as entirely to fill the aper¬
tures, and even break the plate. The plate itself should
be half an inch thick.
When the plate and its sand-baths are prepared, and
FURNACE.
359
Furnace, the brick-work is ready, the furnace is finished by laying
the plate on the brick-work, with a bed of mortar inter¬
vening. If the walls are thin, or any peculiarity in their
arrangement occasions weakness, they should be bound
together, within by cranks built into the work, and with¬
out by iron bands. The alternate changes of temperature
from high to low and low to high, to which the furnace
is constantly subject, renders it liable to mechanical in¬
jury, in a degree much surpassing that which would occur
to a similar piece of brick-work always retained nearly at
one temperature.
The sand-baths which have been described are liable
to an accident that has induced some chemists to substi¬
tute others made of wrought iron. When first heated,
they frequently, indeed generally, crack from the unequal
expansion in different parts ; and the plate itself is subject
to the same accident. If constructed of wrought iron,
this effect is not produced; but then, after being used
some time, they warp into very irregular and inconvenient
forms, especially if made of thin metal; whilst, on the con¬
trary, those of cast iron, when cracked, are rarely injured
for the uses to which they are to be applied, and seldom
suffer further change.
These baths should have washed sea-sand put into
them. It is heavy, and occasions no dust when moved ;
whilst, on the contrary, unwashed and bad sand contains
much dirt, and occasions great injury in experimenting.
A piece of straightened iron hoop, about twelve inches in
length, should lie on the furnace, as an accompaniment
to the baths, being a sort of coarse spatula with which to
move away the sand.
The circular sand-bath is frequently replaced by a
set of concentric rings, or a cast-iron pot, see fig. 9. The
rings are convenient for leaving an aperture over the fire
of larger dimension, according as a larger or smaller num¬
ber are used at once; and being levelled at the edges, fit
accurately into each other, without any risk of becoming
fixed by expansion. The external one, like the sand-
baths, should be made smaller than the depression in the
furnace plate in which it rests. The iron pots are of vari¬
ous sizes, and adapted to the furnace by means of the rings.
A red heat is easily obtained in them for sublimation.
In cases where a greater heat is required than can
be obtained by the table furnace, or any of the portable
furnaces already described, other wind furnaces may be
constructed by proportioning the size of the chimney to
that of the furnace, much surpassing these in the inten¬
sity of heat produced; but in these and other cases it is
better to have recourse at once to the blast-furnace, the
operations being more manageable and expeditious, the
heat greater, and the consumption of fuel smaller. By
a little contrivance, one of the crucible furnaces before
described is easily converted into a blast-furnace, and
a very high temperature for small vessels obtained. This
is done by closing the holes of the ash-pit with the stop¬
pers, except one, and applying to that the nozzle of a pair
of double-hand bellows, from which a draft is to be urged,
and the furnace aided at the same time by the piece of
upright funnel pipe; the fuel is to be charcoal.
A very powerful blast-furnace on a small scale has been
contrived by Mr Aikin ; it is represented at fig. 10, and
is all made out of broken pots. The lower piece, A, is
the bottom of one of these pots, cut off so low as only to
leave a cavity of about an inch deep, and ground smooth
above and below. The outside diameter over the top is
five and a half inches. The middle piece or fire-place, B,
is a larger portion of a similar pot, with a cavity about
six inches deep, and measuring seven and a half inches
over the top, outside diameter, and perforated with six
alast-holes at the bottom. These two pots are all that are
essentially necessary to the furnace for most operations ;
but when it is wished to heap up fuel above the top of a Furnace,
crucible contained, and especially to protect the eyes —
from the intolerable glare of the fire when in full height,
an upper pot, C, is added, of the same dimensions as the
middle one, and with a large opening in the side, cut to
allow the exit of the smoke and flame. It has also an iron
stem with a wooden handle (an old chisel answers the
purpose very well), for removing it occasionally. The
bellows, which are double, D, are firmly fixed by a little
contrivance, which will take off and on, to a heavy stool,
as represented in the plate; and their handle should be
lengthened so as to make them work easier to the hand.
To increase their force on particular occasions, a plate of
lead may be firmly tied on the wood of the upper flap.
The nozzle is received into a hole in the pot, A, which con¬
ducts the blast into its cavity. Hence the air passes into
the fire-place, through six holes of the size of a large
gimlet, drilled at equal distances through the bottom of
the pot, and all converging in an inward direction, so
that if prolonged, they would meet about the centre of
the upper part of the fire. No luting is necessary in us¬
ing this furnace, so that it may be set up and taken down
immediately. Coke, or common cinders taken from the
fire when the coal ceases to blaze, sifted from the dust,
and broken into very small pieces, form the best fuel for
higher heats. The fire may be kindled at first by a few
lighted cinders and a small quantity of wood charcoal.
The heat which this little furnace will afford is so intense,
that its power was at first discovered accidentally by the
fusion of a thick piece of cast iron. The utmost heat pro¬
cured by it was 167° of Wedgewood’s pyrometer, when a
Hessian crucible was actually sinking down in a state of
porcelaneous fusion. A steady heat of 155° or 160° may
be depended on if the fire be properly managed and the
bellows worked with vigour.
The following is a description of a most excellent blast¬
furnace, which has been in use for some years in the la¬
boratory of the Royal Institution, and is represented at
fig. 11. It is sufficiently powerful to melt pure iron in
a crucible in twelve or fifteen minutes, the fire having
been previously lighted. It will effect the fusion of rho¬
dium ; and even pieces of pure platinum have sunk to¬
gether into one button in a crucible subjected to its
heat. All kinds of crucibles, including the Cornish
and the Hessian, soften, fuse, and become frothy in it;
and it is the want of vessels which has hitherto put
a limit to its applications. The exterior consists of a
blue pot, eighteen inches in height and thirteen inches
in external diameter at the top. A small blue pot of
seven and a half inches internal diameter at the top
had the lower part cut off so as to leave an aperture of
five inches. This, when put into the larger pot, rested
upon its lower external edge, the tops of the two being
level. The interval between them, which gradually in¬
creased from the lower to the upper part, was filled with
pulverized glass-blowers’ pots, to which enough of water
had been added to moisten the powder, which was pressed
down by sticks, so as to make the whole a compact mass.
A round grate was then dropped into the furnace, of such
a size that it rested about an inch above the lower edge
of the inner pot: the space beneath it, therefore, consti¬
tuted the air chamber, and the part above the body of the
furnace. The former was seven and a half inches from
the grate to the bottom, and the latter seven and a half
inches from the grate to the top. Finally, a horizontal
hole, conical in form, and one and a half inch in diame¬
ter on the exterior, was cut through the outer pot, form¬
ing an opening into the air-chamber at the lower part, its
use being to receive the nozzle of the bellows by which
the blast was to be thrown in. The furnace being thus
completed, the next object was to dry it gradually, that
360 FUR F U R
Furneaux when used it might not be blown to pieces by confined
Islands, aqueous vapour; a charcoal fire was therefore made in it,
and left to burn some hours, being supplied with air only
by the draught through the hole into the chamber be¬
neath. When vapours ceased to be formed, the furnace
was considered to be ready for use.
This furnace has always been used with a pair of large
double bellows mounted in an iron frame, the furnace being
raised upon a stool, so as to bring the aperture of the air-
chamber to a level with the nozzle of the bellows. The lat¬
ter has generally been inserted in the aperture ; for this
and similar furnaces are of such depth compared to their
width, that when charged with a crucible and fuel, there
is so much resistance to the passage of the air, when
urged by a blast competent to create and sustain a vivid
combustion, that a part returns by the side of the nozzle,
if the aperture be left open. The bellows spoken of is
far larger than necessary for the furnace described, and is
rarely worked to one third of its power ; for otherwise the
heat rises so high as to destroy the crucible, and the
results are lost. It is, however, at all times advisable to
have an abundant command of air.
The heat produced in this furnace is such as at every
violent operation to cause the production of some slag
from the melting of the inner surface of the furnace it¬
self, where the combustion has been most vivid. The
slag running down the interior, collects round the edge of
the grate, and should be removed with a chisel and ham¬
mer, or with an iron rod, after each operation, that the
grate may be clear and free of obstruction for the next
process. When in the course of time the interior of the
furnace is so far injured as to become thin and weak, it
must be displaced, and the furnace restored to its original
state by the introduction of a new inside, as before.
The fuel to be used in this furnace is coke. Its con¬
sumption is very small, considering the heat that is ob¬
tained in consequence of the short period of each opera¬
tion. The superiority of the blast-furnace over the wind-
furnace, in many operations for which high temperatures
are required, depends upon the rapidity of its action. It
is requisite to employ this furnace in the open air, or
under a well-arranged vent; for an immense number of
sparks, much flame, and a current of hot air, are projected
during its operation, which might occasion serious mis¬
chief in a room, unless the ceiling were at a considerable
height, or guarded by a mejtal screen.
The fuel to be used in furnaces is of three kinds,
coal, coke, and charcoal. Coal is the ordinary fuel for
the laboratory table furnace, or that intended to be in use
every day, and to serve for fusions, roastings, and other
operations, for which its temperature may be sufficient.
It is very desirable that this coal should be good, and not
of the kind which contains much sulphur, or an abundance
of earthy matter ; for the first interferes with various
fusions and ignitions, and the latter renders the fire dirty
and dusty, and, when the temperature is raised to a high
point, causes an abundance of clinkers. On certain occa¬
sions to be hereafter distinguished, especially if the coal
be sulphureous and bad, it may be necessary at times to
use both coke and charcoal in the table-furnace. Coal
should never be used in the blast-furnace; for, in conse¬
quence of its softening and swelling by heat, it aggregates,
closes the small channels by which the air finds a passage
through the fuel, and impedes the combustion.
Cohe is in constant requisition. It varies in quality Furneaux
with the coal from which it is obtained. Such as is in- Islands
tended for the service of the blast-furnace should be free II
from sulphureous, earthy, and metallic matter. Of this Furnes-
kind is the Staffordshire coke, which may be obtained at
various wharfs on the canals near London. It is frequently
so little altered in appearance as to resemble the original
coal. It burns completely away in a blast-furnace, leaving
scarcely a trace of slag, so that after several successive
portions have been introduced, no material quantity of
refuse is produced upon the grate, nor any thing that will
act seriously on the crucible as a flux.
On the contrary, if common gas-coke be used in this
furnace, the oxide of iron and earthy matter which it con¬
tains is so abundant, that slag is soon produced, which
flowing over the crucible, corrodes and destroys it.
The charcoal intended for laboratory use may be of
the ordinary kind, and must not be either too large or too
small. If large, the pieces should be broken down, or
they will be unfit for use in the crucible furnaces, for
which it is principally intended. Charcoal is a quick fuel;
but burning with facility, a small quantity of it can be easily
retained in a state of regular combustion ; and hence, in
cases where but little space intervenes between the sub¬
stance to be heated and the side of the furnace, or when a
small temporary fire is required in the air, it is very con¬
venient. Where Staffordshire coke will burn, and, by
means of a blast or a draught of air, will give sufficient
intensity of heat, it is very superior to charcoal in dura¬
tion. Occasionally a mixture of coke and charcoal is con¬
venient, since it affords a combination possessing the qua¬
lities of permanency and freedom of combustion.
A charcoal box is almost as essential in a laboratory
as one for coal, and should have its appointed place.
It must be remembered, that all operations with fur¬
naces should be carried on in safe situations ; care being
taken that no danger be incurred by the ascent of sparks,
flame, or hot air, by lateral vicinity to combustible bodies,
or by standing on an unprotected wooden surface.
When small furnaces are placed upon tables, stools,
or trays, a brick or a piece of sheet iron should be inter¬
posed, according to the mode by which the heat is likely
to be communicated.
For further information on the subject of furnaces, see
the articles already referred to, and others connected with
particular arts where they are used. See also Lewis’s
Philosophical Commerce of Arts ; Faraday’s Chemical Ma¬
nipulation ; Parke’s Chemical Essays ; Aikin’s Dictionary
of Chemistry; Tredgold on Warming and Ventilating
Buildings; Tredgold’s Account of the Steam-Engine;
Davies Gilbert, Quarterly Journal of Science, vol. xiii.;
Watt’s Patent Furnaces, Repertory of Arts, vol. iv. p. 226 ;
Raley’s Patent Furnaces, Repertory of Arts, vol. x. p. 155;
Miche on Reverberatory Furnaces, in Rozier’s Journal,
vol. xxxii. p. 385 ; Howard’s Improved Air Furnace, in
Tilloch’s Philosophical Magazine, vol. v. p. 190 ; Perceval's
Chamber Lamp Furnace, Repertory of Arts, vol. iii. p. 29,
and in the Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, vol.
iv.,p,91; Accum’s Improved Universal Furnace of Dr Black,
in his System of Practical Chemistry, vol. ii., p. 357, and
in Nicholson’s Journal, vol. vi., p. 273, 8vo. Curaudeu’s new
Evaporating Furnace is described in the Annales de Chimie,
No. 149, an. xii.; and in Nicholson’s ./owrvza/, vol. ix. For
other descriptions of furnaces, see Iron-Making, &c. (g. b.)
FURNEAUX Islands, a group of islands in Bass Strait, Cape Barren, Clarke’s, and Preservation Islands, are the
between Australia and Van Diemen’s Land, consisting of next in size. These islands are barren and unproductive,
four large and numerous smaller islands. Great Island, the being sandy in the lowTer parts.
principal, is about 40 miles in length by 10 in breadth; FlIRNES, a town of Belgium, province of W. Flanders,
Furruck-
abad
II
Furthcom¬
ing.
F U S
F U S 361
26 miles W.S.W. of Bruges, on the canal from Bruges to
Dunkirk, not far from the North Sea. It has a brisk trade
in corn, cattle, butter, and cheese; and contains (1851)
' 4766 inhabitants.
FURRUCKABAD, a fortified town of Hindustan, pro¬
vince of Agra, and capital of the district of the same name.
The town was built by a Patan colony about a hundred
years ago, and is situated about a mile from the western
bank of the Ganges. It contains a small citadel, and the
palace of the nabob. The streets are wide, and the houses
and open places are shaded with trees. It carries on an
extensive trade with Cashmere and other parts of India,
and derives considerable benefit from the extensive military
cantonments of Futtehghur in its vicinity. Long. 79. 40.,
Lat. 27. 24.
The district of Furruckabad is situated for the most part
in a country inclosed between the Ganges and the Jumna,
and between the 27th and 28th degrees of north latitude.
Area, 2122 square miles. Pop. 1,064,607; of which 936,747
are Hindus, and 127,860 Mohammedans. The latter are
stated to be descendants of the Patans or Afghans, who
early in the last century established themselves in the tract
extending between Oude and the Punjaub. In 1749 the
emperor of Delhi, marching to Furruckabad, confiscated
the estates of the deceased ruler, and conferred them upon
the vizier of Oude ; from whom, however, they were again
wrested by Ahmed Khan, brother of the former ruler. After
a lapse of some years the territory appears to have reverted
to the vizier of Oude, who in 1801 transferred it to the pro¬
tection of the British. Upon assuming possession the East
India Company effected an arrangement with the tributary
nawaub, under which his claims were liquidated by an an¬
nual stipend, which is still enjoyed by his descendants. The
district is represented as tranquil and prosperous, (e. t.)
FURSTENWALDE, a towm in the Prussian province
of Brandenburg, government of Frankfort, on the right bank
of the Spree, and on the railway between Berlin and Frank¬
fort, 28 miles E. of the former city. It has manufactures
of linen and woollen goods, and about 5000 inhabitants. It
was taken by the Swedes in 1631, and burned by the Im¬
perialists in 1633.
FURTH, an important manufacturing town of Bavaria,
circle of Middle Franconia, at the confluence of the Pegnitz
with the Rednitz, 5 miles N.W. of Nurnberg, with which
it is connected by railway. This town is chiefly indebted
for its importance to the industry and perseverance of the
Jews, who here enjoy privileges not accorded to them in
other parts of the continent. At the beginning of the pre¬
sent century they composed nearly one-half of the whole
population, and they now amount to about 2700. They
have a college, a separate court of justice, several schools
and synagogues, and two Hebrew printing establishments.
The manufactures are various, including mirrors, jewellery,
lacquered wares, chandeliers, spectacles, liqueurs, tobacco,
leather, woollen and cotton goods, See. A large annual fair
is held here at Michaelmas, which lasts for fourteen days.
In 1632 Gustavus Adolphus was defeated in the neighbour¬
hood of this town, in attempting to carry the intrenchments
of Wallenstein. Pop. (1849) 16,061.
FURTHCOMING, in Scots Law, is an action by which
a person who has used an arrestment in the hands of his
debtor’s creditor may have the money or goods so arrested
delivered up to him or sold in satisfaction of his claim.
FUSE, or Fuze, in Artillery, a small tube filled with
a combustible composition, used for firing shells. This
tube is cut to a length proportioned to the intended range
of the shell, so that it may explode at the instant the shell
touches the ground. The composition consists of nitre,
sulphur, and mealed powder. A 13-inch fuze burns forty
seconds. Naval service fuzes are made of gun-metal, cal¬
culated for certain ranges.
VOL. X.
FUSEE {IjSit.fusus a spindle), in Clock-ivork, a kind of Fusee
grooved cone around which the chain or cord is wound. (See II
Clock and Watch Work, vol. vii., p. 28.) Fuseli.
FUSELI, Henry, an eminent painter and writer on art,
was born at Zurich in Switzerland, 7th February 1741.
His father was John Caspar Fiissli, an artist of some note,
and author of Lives of the Helvetic Painters. This parent
destined his son for the church, and with this view sent him
to the Caroline College of his native town, where he re¬
ceived an excellent classical education. One of his school¬
mates there was Lavater, with whom he formed an intimate
friendship. After taking orders in 1761, Fuseli was
obliged to leave his country for a while in consequence of
having aided Lavater to expose an unjust magistrate, whose
family, however, was still powerful enough to make its ven¬
geance felt. He first travelled through Germany, and then
visited England, where he supported himself for some time
by literary hack-work. At this time he had the good for¬
tune to become acquainted with Sir Joshua Reynolds, to
whom he showed his drawings. By Sir Joshua’s advice he
now devoted himself wholly to art. In 1770 he made an
art-pilgrimage to Italy, where he remained till 1778, in
which year he returned to England, taking Zurich on his
way. He found a commission awaiting him from Aider-
man Boydell, who was then organizing his celebrated Shak-
speare gallery. Fuseli painted a number of pieces for this
patron, and about this time published an English edition of
Lavater’s work on physiognomy. He likewise gave Cow-
per some valuable assistance in preparing the translation of
Homer. In 1788 Fuseli married, and soon after became
an Associate of the Royal Academy. Two years later he
was promoted to the full dignity of an Academician. In
1799 he exhibited a series of paintings from subjects fur¬
nished by the works of Milton, with a view to forming a
Milton gallery, corresponding to Boydell’s Shakspeare
gallery. In that year he was appointed professor of paint¬
ing to the Academy. Four years afterwards he was chosen
keeper. In 1805 he brought out an edition of Pilking-
ton’s Lives of the Painters, which, however, did not add
much to his reputation. Canova, when on his visit to Eng¬
land, was much taken with Fuseli’s works, and on returning
to Rome in 1817 caused him to be elected a member of
the first class in the Academy of St Luke. Fuseli died at
Putney Hill, 16th April 1825, at the advanced age of eighty-
four, and was buried in the crypt of St Paul’s Cathedral.
Though under any circumstances Fuseli would probably
have made himself a great name in art, yet he enjoyed
peculiar advantages in making his appearance at a time
when English art was begining to recover from the degra¬
dation into which it had been gradually falling since the
days of Rubens and Vandyke. Portrait-painting had been
restored to its ancient dignity by Sir Joshua Reynolds:
the great school of British landscape had been founded by
Wilson and Gainsborough : but historical painting had
nothing to show except a few specimens from the pencil
of Reynolds, some hasty and superficial yet powerful
and promising pieces by Mortimer, and the solemnly
correct and tamely cold productions of West. The
very qualities that were wanting in these men, Fuseli
possessed in profusion. He had a daring invention, was
original, fertile in resource, and ever aspiring after the
highest forms of excellence. His mind was capable of
grasping and realizing the loftiest conceptions, which, how¬
ever, he often spoiled on the canvas by exaggerating the
due proportions of the parts, and throwing his figures into
attitudes of fantastic and over-strained contortion. In tlm
treatment of his subjects, which he delighted to select from
the region of the supernatural, he pitched everything upon
an ideal scale, believing a certain amount of exaggeration
necessary in the higher branches of historical painting. In
this theory he was confirmed by the study of Michael
362
F U S
F U S
F usib^e
Metal
II
Fust.
Angelo’s works and the marble statues of the Monte Ca-
vallo, which, when at Rome, he used often to contemplate
in the evening, relieved against a murky sky or illuminated
by lightning. But this idea was by him carried out to
absurd extremes, not only in the forms, but also in the at¬
titudes of his figures; and the violent and intemperate
action which he often displays destroys the grand eftect
which many of his pieces would otherwise produce. A
striking illustration of this occurs in his famous picture of
“ Hamlet breaking from his attendants to follow the Ghost.”
Hamlet, it has been said, looks as though he would burst
his clothes with convulsive cramps in all his muscles.
Even in pieces where calmness and simplicity are aimed at,
the figures are sometimes twisted into monstrous convolu¬
tions, or twisted into the most abrupt and singular angles.
This intemperance is the grand defect of nearly all Fuseli’s
compositions. On the other hand, however, his paintings
are never either languid or cold. His figures are always
full of life and earnestness, and seem to have an object in
view which they follow with rigid intensity. Like Rubens
he excelled in the art of setting his figures in motion.
Though the lofty and terrible was his proper sphere, Fuseli
had a fine perception of the ludicrous. The grotesque
humour of his fairy scenes, especially those taken from the
Midsummer Night’s Dream, is in its way quite as remark¬
able as the poetic power of his more ambitious works. As
a colourist Fuseli has but small claims to distinction. He
scorned to set a palette as most artists do. He merely
dashed his tints recklessly over it. Not unfrequently he
used his paints in the form of a dry powder, which he
rubbed up with his pencil either with oil, or with turpentine,
or gold size, regardless of the quantity, and depending for
accident on the general effect. This recklessness may
perhaps be explained by the fact that he did not begin to
paint in oil till he was twenty-five years of age. Despite
these drawbacks, however, Fuseli possessed the elements
of a great painter. He was an enthusiastic lover of his
art, and had he enjoyed a better training, and adopted a
more temperate habit of thinking, he might have taken
rank with the masters of the sublime Italian school, which
he so deeply admired. Fuseli’s general powers of mind
were great. He was a thorough master of French, Italian,
English, and German, and could write in all these tongues
with equal facility and vigour, though he preferred German
as the vehicle of his thoughts. His writings contain perhaps
the best art-criticism that English literature can show. Many
interesting anecdotes of Fuseli, and his relations to con¬
temporary artists, are given in his Life by John Knowles,
who also edited his works in 3 vols. 8vo, London, 1831.
FUSIBLE Metal, an alloy of three parts of lead with
two of tin and five of bismuth, which melts at 197° Fahr.
Teaspoons made of this very fusible alloy often form part
of a conjuror’s apparatus.
FUSIL (Fr. from hat. fusus, fundo), a light musket or
firelock.
Fusil, in Heraldry, a bearing of a rhomboidal form,
longer than the lozenge; so called from its shape, which
resembles that of a spindle.
FUSILIERS, or Fusileers, a body of troops formerly
armed with a fusil or light musket that might be slung over
the shoulder. In former times the term was applied to in¬
fantry soldiers who bore fire-arms, as distinguished from
pikemen and archers. The name is still retained in the
British army, which has four regiments of fusiliers, viz., the
7th, 21st, 23d, and 87th, but their equinment does not differ
from that of other regiments.
FUST (Ital. fusto a stalk or stem), in Architecture, the shaft
of a column, or the part between the base and the capital.
FUST, John, a goldsmith of Mayence, in the middle of
the fifteenth century, and a man not more distinguished
for his riches than for his knowledge of the arts, shares
with Guttemberg and Schceffer the glory of having invented Fust,
printing. Guttemberg is generally considered as the first v ^ ,,
inventor of this art; and, according to some, Fust had only
the merit (by no means a slight one) of supplying him with
money ; whilst othei's are of opinion that the goldsmith con¬
tributed both his funds and his industry towards the com¬
pletion of the invention. But however this may be, a
partnership was formed between them in 1450, and it ap¬
pears that these associates practised successively three sorts
of impressions : first, the tabellary, that is, in carved tablets
or plates, like our engravings on wood ; secondly, the xylo-
graphic, or in moveable characters of wood ; and, lastly, the
impression in characters cast in moulds or matrices, analo¬
gous to, if not identical with, the stereotype founding of the
px-esent day. There is reason to believe, however, that
Fust, notwithstanding his acquirements, contributed but
little of his own invention to the operations of the partner¬
ship contracted with Guttemberg; since the latter appears
to have been the first who thought of applying to regular
compositions the same mode which had been long practised
at the foot of engravings for their explanation ; and since
Schceffer, in inventing the punch, completed the discovery,
if indeed this ought not to be considei'ed as the discovery
itself. Fust, zealous in favour of all that regarded his art,
was so much delighted with the invention of SehcefFer that
he gave the latter his daughter in marriage. The Biblia
Sacra Latina, without date, in folio, and consisting of 637
leaves, is probably the fii’st production of printing, and seems
to have been executed between 1450 and 1455, during the
partnership of Fust and Guttemberg; but some think that,
the impression was struck from the characters invented
by Schceffer. In 1455 difficulties ai’ose between Fust and
Guttemberg, who, in consequence, sepai'ated on the 6th of
November. But, in reimbursement of the sums he had
advanced, Fust remained pi’opi’ietor of the establishment,
which he now carried on with Schceffer; and to this new
partnership we are indebted for the Psaltex-, Psalmorum
Codex, of 1457, the most ancient work printed with a date
(reprinted in 1459 from the same characters, which also
seiwed for the re-impressions of 1490,1502, and 1516); the
Durandi Bationale Divinorum OJficiorum, 1459; the Con-
stitutiones dementis Quinti, 1460; the celebrated Biblia
Latina of 1462, the first Bible with a date ; and the treatise
De Officiis of Cicero. Fust and Schceffer exercised printing
until 1466, when Fust went to Paris, and is thought to have
died of the plague which then ravaged that city.
Fust, the goldsmith of Mayence, and the promoter of
printing, has, however, been sometimes confounded with
Faust the magician, whose name is associated with so many
imaginary horrors. The' latter, born about the commence¬
ment of the sixteenth century, was the son of a peasant of
Weimar, or, as some say, of Kundling. He was educated
by one of his uncles, who caused him to study theology; and,
notwithstanding a sti'ong propensity to debauchery, he com¬
pleted his course, and obtained the degi’ee of doctor. But
having become disgusted with this pursuit, he cultivated
medicine and astrology, and in particular applied himself to
the study of magic. From this time his historians are only
insipid romancers, who relate a thousand absurdities re¬
specting him. They make him conjure up the devil him¬
self; employ an infenial spirit named Mephistopheles, with
whom he made a paction for twenty-four years; descend
into hell, and travel through the celestial spheres, as well as
through all the countries of this sublunary world, every¬
where suiTounding himself with illusions, playing mischie¬
vous pi’anks, having commei'ce with Helen the wife of Me-
nelaus, causing Alexander the Great to appear to Charles
V., and, lastly, to terminate the whole in a suitable manner,
having his neck twisted by the devil at the expiration of his
compact with that personage. Much more infallible than
even the illustrious Mathew Laensberg, Faust yearly circu-
PUT
Fustian lated in Germany almanacks, which, being dictated by Beel-
|| zebub, could scarcely fail to have great success. Such are
Futteh- (-he marvellous feats relate^ by George Rodolph Widman,
ghur. wj1Q published at Frankfort, in 1587, 8vo, the history of
—^ John Faust, and Christopher Wagner, his valet. This
history, or rather this romance, reprinted at Berlin in 1590,
and at Frankfort in 1591, re-appeared at Hamburg, 1598-
1600, in three volumes 4to, with historical, physical, and
moral commentaries, filled with ignorance and folly ; and it
was also translated into English, Dutch, and French. Ade-
lung has honoured Faust with an article at the end of his
History of Human Follies, where will also be found the
Conjurationes Fausti, but without the mysterious figures
which ought to have accompanied them, and by means of
which the reader might easily perform the same prodigies
as the magician of Weimar. The Germans, who are fond
of the marvellous, have often brought upon the scene the
descent of Dr Faust to the infernal regions. Of this
number are the celebrated Goethe, Klinger, and J. F.
Schink ; whilst Trithemus, the most ancient of all, J. Man¬
lius, Schaller, Wier, Del Rio, and even Camerarius and
Gesner, have discoursed of Faust and his enchantments, of
which Peter-Frederick Arpe has favoured the world with a
catalogue. But, notwithstanding the testimony of these
writers, many others (perhaps with reason) regard this per¬
sonage as entirely imaginary, and consider his history as a
romance intended merely for amusement. Some, indeed,
including Conrad Durius, are disposed to think that the le¬
gend of Faust is a satire fabricated by the monks against
John Fust, one of the inventors of printing, who had in¬
curred the resentment of these cenobites by being con¬
cerned in a discovery which superseded their useful func¬
tions as copyists of manuscripts; but others have shown
that this opinion is not well founded. Upon the subject of
Faust, the curious reader may consult Zeltner’s Schediasma
de Fausto prcestigiatore ex Joanne Fausto a quibusdam
Jicto ; Struvius in his Introductio in not. Rei Litterar., and
in his Bibl. Antiq.; and Neumann’s Dissertatio Historica
de Fausto prcestigiatore, VJittembexg, 1683, 1693, 1711,
in 4to. (j. b—e.)
FUSTIAN, in Commerce, a kind of cotton stuff, twilled
or ribbed on one side.
Fustian, in Criticism, an inflated or bombastical style of
writing or speaking.
FUSTIC, the wood of Morus tinctoria, used as a yellow
dye. See Dyeing, vol. viii., p. 295, &c.
FUSTUARIUM, in Roman Antiquity, a method of
inflicting capital punishment upon any soldier guilty of theft,
desertion, or similar crimes. When the accused had been
found guilty, he was made to stand in front of the legion
to which he belonged. One of the tribunes then touched
him lightly with a stick, and all the soldiers immediately
rushed upon the criminal and beat him to death with clubs
(fustes). If he escaped—as he was allowed to do if he
could, but which was rarely if ever possible—he was forbid¬
den ever to return to his native country, and his nearest
relatives were not allowed to receive him into their houses.
This method of capital punishment continued to be enforced
even under the empire. The “ animadversio fustium” dif¬
fered from the “ fustuarium.” It was a kind of corporal
chastisement inflicted upon ffeedmen of the lower orders,
and was less severe than the flogging with flagella, which
was confined to slaves.
FUTTEHGHUR, a town of Hindustan, British district
of Furruckabad, on the western bank of the Ganges, three
miles from the city of Furruckabad. In the vicinity is the
British military cantonment. The station is held in high
estimation by the military, being healthful and abundantly
supplied with provisions. Holkar, the Mahratta chief, ap¬
peared before the place in 1804, and was preparing for the
assault of the fort, when the arrival of the British army
F Y Z 363
under Lord Lake drove him into precipitate flight. Lat.Futtehpoor
27.22.; Long. 79. 41. (e. t.) I!
FUTTEHPOOR, a town of Hindustan, province of^Fyzab^a-
Agra, 24 miles from the town of that name. It was enlarged
and embellished by Akbar, in honour of a celebrated saint,
to whose prayers the Emperor Akbar thought that he was
indebted for a son. The tomb of this saint is situated on
a mountain near the town, and is still the resort of Moham¬
medan pilgrims. The place is inclosed with a high stone
wall of great extent; but the space within appears never
to have contained buildings. Futtehpoor presents at present
a wide extent of ruined houses and mosques, interspersed
with fields of rice and mustard, with a few tamarind trees ;
and nearly in the middle, on a high ridge of rocky hills, is a
range of numerous palaces, serais, and other public buildings,
in the best style of Mussulman architecture, with a noble
mosque in good repair. Long 77. 44. E.; Lat. 27. 5. N.
FUTTEHPORE, in Hindustan, a town in the British
district of the same name, on the route from Allahabad to
Cawnpore. Lat. 25. 57.; Long. 80. 54. It is described
as a large and thriving town, with a population (1853) of
20,864. The district, of which it is the chief place, is
bounded N.E. by the Ganges, separating it from the king¬
dom of Oude, E. by Allahabad, S.W. by the Jumna, and
N.W. by Cawnpore. Area, 1583 square miles. Pop.
679,787; of which 612,437 are Hindus, and 67,350 Mo¬
hammedans The district is described by a recent traveller
(Captain Leopold Von Orlich) as a boundless garden, in
which sugar-cane, indigo, cotton, poppy, wheat, barley, and
many vegetables flourish. In 1801 the Vizier of Oude
transferred the district to the East India Company in com¬
mutation of the subsidy which he had stipulated to pay for
the defence of his territory. (e. t.)
FUTTOCKS, in a ship, the timbers raised over the keel,
or the encompassing timbers which form her breadth and
capacity. Futtock plates are iron plates crossing the sides
of the top-rim perpendicularly. The dead eyes of the top¬
mast rigging are fitted to their upper ends, and the futtock
shrouds to their lower ends.—(Dana’s Seaman’s Manual.)
FUTWA, a town of Hindustan, in the British district
of Patna, under the jurisdiction of the Lieut.-Governor of
Bengal, situated at the confluence of the Pompon with the
Ganges, nine miles south of Patna, over which is a good
bridge of brick. In 1574, when the Afghan army was re¬
treating before Akbar, the bridge broke down, and the
troops were mostly either drowned or put to the sword. It
is noted for the manufacture of tablecloths and sheeting.
Long. 85. 22. E.; Lat. 25. 30. N. (e. t.)
FYNE, Loch, anarmoftheseain Argyleshire, about 40
miles in length, and 5 in average breadth. See Argyleshire.
FYZABAD, a town of Hindustan, province of Oude,
on the S. bank of the river Dewah or Gogra. This city
is said to have owed its origin to the Nabob Sufder Jung,
who in 1740 erected some temporary houses in an exten¬
sive garden at this place; and his son, Shuja Addowleh,
after the battle of Buxar, made this his residence, and gave
orders for erecting a palace and other public buildings. The
city soon rose into importance; but Shuja having subse¬
quently transferred his residence to Lucknow, many of the
houses, which had been hastily built, fell into decay. It is
still, however, a considerable city, and contains a numerous
population, chiefly of the lower classes, the merchants and
bankers having removed to Lucknow along with the court.
Fyzabad was the residence of the two celebrated Begums,
the mother and grandmother of the last-mentioned nabob.
Adjoining is the ancient city of Oude or Ayodha, the capi¬
tal of the great Ram, who conquered Ceylon. The city
contains some handsome tombs belonging to the reigning
family ; and its gardens are celebrated for grapes and other
fruits. It is 90 miles E. of Lucknow. Long. 82. 10. E.;
Lat. 26. 46. N.
364
Gr.
G-. the seventh letter and fifth consonant of our alphabet,
II and the third in the Hebrew, Phoenician, Chaldee,
Gabara. gyrjaCj Samaritan, Arabic, and Greek. The Hebrews call
it ghimel or gimel, a camel, from its fancied resemblance
to the hump on the back of that animal; and it bears the
same appellation in the Samaritan, Phoenician, and Chal¬
dee: in the Syriac it is called gamel, in Arabic/m, and
in Greek gamma. The Greek gamma, T, is manifestly the
ghimel, of the Hebrews or Samaritans turned in the oppo¬
site direction. The early Latins used C for the Greek gamma,
and hence C came to hold the third place in the alphabet.
Diomedes (lib. ii., cap. De Litera) calls G a new letter.
His reason is, that the Romans had not introduced it before
the first Punic war, as appears from the Columna Rostrata
erected by Duilius, in which C is everywhere found instead
of G. It was Sp. Carvilius who, as we learn from Teren-
tius Scaurus (120 A.P.), first distinguished between these
two letters, and invented the figure of the G.
G, however, is found instead of C on several medals
(Vaillant, Num. Imperat. tom. i., p. 39); and Beger pro¬
duces a medal of the Familia Ogulnia where we find Gar
instead of Car, which is the reading on those of Palin. But
C is more frequently seen on medals instead of G, as Aucus-
talis, CallcBcia, Cartacinensis, &c. ; not that the pronun¬
ciation of these words was altered, but only that the G was
unskilfully or negligently cut by the workmen; as may
be seen in different inscriptions of the eastern empire, where
avc is frequently found for aug, and so in other cases. The
northern nations frequently changed the G into V or W, as
in Gallus, Wallus; Gallia, Wallia, Vallia, &c. But it
must not be supposed that the French have changed the
W into G ; because they wrote Gallus long before Wallus
or Wallia was known, as appears from all the ancient Greek
and Roman writers. And yet it is equally true that the
French change the W of the northern nations, and V con¬
sonant, into G ; as Willielmus, William, into Guillaume ;
Wulphilas into Gulphilas; Vascon into Gascon, and so in
other cases.
The letter G is a mute, and cannot be sounded without
the help of a vowel. It is formed by the reflection of the
breath against the palate by the tongue, or, as Martianus
Capella expresses it, G spiritus cum. palato ; so that G is
a palatal letter. The modern G takes its form from that of
the Latins. In English it has two sounds; one from the
Greek T, which is hard, as before a, o, u, l, r; and the
other soft, resembling that of j, as in gesture, giant. G is
often hard before i, as give, &c., and sometimes before e, as
get, &c. It is also hard in derivatives from words ending
in g, as singing, stronger, &c.; and generally before er at
the ends of words, as finger. G is mute before n, as gnash,
sign. Gh has the sound of the hard G in the beginning of
a word, as ghostly; in the middle, and sometimes at the end,
it is quite silent, as right, though. At the end of a word
Gh has often the sound of/, as laugh, rough, tough.
As a numeral, G was anciently used to denote 400; and
with a dash over it thus, (J, 40,000. As an abbreviature,
G stands for Gains, Gellius, gens, genius, &c. G. G. for
gemina, gessit, gesserunt, &c. G. C. for genio civitatis or
Ccesaris. G. L. for Gains lihertus, or genius loci. G. V. S.
for genio urbis sacrum ; G. B. for genio bono ; and G. T.
fox genio tutelari. In music, G is the mark of the treble
cleff; and from its being placed at the head, or marking the
first sound in Guido’s scale, the whole scale took the name
of gamut.
GABARA, or Gabbara, in Antiquity, the dead bodies
which the Egyptians embalmed and kept in their houses, Gabardine
especially those of such as had died as martyrs, or with the , II
reputation of great piety and holiness. Gabler.
GABARDINE (fiy&w. gabardina, a coat with a hood and
close sleeves) has been sometimes used to denote a coarse
frock, or mean dress. In this sense it is used by Shakspeare
in his Tempest and Merchant of Venice, and by Butler in
his Hudibras.
GABEL (Fr. gabelle ; Sax. gafel or gafol): a tax, im¬
post, or duty, particularly that on salt, but afterwards applied
to all other taxes.
GABIA GRANDE, a secular town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince and archbishopric of Granada. It contains 4000 in¬
habitants, and is situated on a rising ground on the left bank
of the river Genii. Gabia has a public granary and several
tile and gypsum kilns.
GABII, now Castiglione, in Ancient Geography, an
old and at one time important city of Latium, on the Via
Praenestina, between 12 and 13 miles from Rome. Long
before the foundation of Rome, Gabii seems to have been
one of the largest and most populous of the Latin cities.
According to an old tradition, noticed both by Dionysius
and Plutarch, Romulus and Remus are said to have been
educated there. During the period of regal Rome, Gabii
appears to have kept its ground against the growing power
of that city, and only fell into the hands of Tarquin the
Proud by a stratagem contrived by his son Sextus. On
the expulsion of the Tarquins, Sextus took refuge at Gabii,
and was murdered by the inhabitants in revenge for his
treachery. After this period Gabii always appears in his¬
tory as the ally or dependent of Rome, and gradually fell
into such a state of decay as to become a proverb of deso¬
lation. In this condition it remained till the reign of Tibe¬
rius, when the fame of its cold sulphureous waters tended
to revive it considerably. After the third century it dis¬
appears altogether from history. The only relic of the
ancient Gabii now visible is a temple of Juno on a hill
now crowned by the ruins of the mediaeval fortress of Cas¬
tiglione.
In the neighbourhood of Gabii were valuable and exten¬
sive quarries of an excellent building-stone, known as the
“ lapis Gabinus,” which was largely used by the Romans.
It was a hard and compact variety of the volcanic tufa found
in abundance throughout the Campagna, and closely re¬
sembled the “ lapis Albanus,” to which, however, it was
superior.
GAB INI A LEX, in Roman Antiquity, a law proposed
by the tribune Gabinius, B.c. 139, introducing the ballot in
the election of magistrates.
GABION, in Fortification, a kind of basket of wicker¬
work, cylindrical in shape, generally about three feet high,
open at both ends, and filled with earth. See Fortifi¬
cation.
GABLE (from the Celtic gavael), the upright triangular
end of a house, from the cornice or eaves to the top.
GABLER, Jean Philippe, was a celebrated Protestant
divine, to whom we are indebted for several important
works, critical and exegetical, on the text of the New Tes¬
tament. He was born at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, June 4,
1753. After having studied the ancient languages and
their literature, as well as the philosophy of Wolf and the
theology of Baumgarten, he resorted to the university of
Jena. Being much dissatisfied with theology as then taught,
Gabler was on the point of abandoning it altogether, when
Griesbach, who was preparing for the publication of his New
GAD
Gabriel Testament, and had just been appointed to a professorship
|| at Jena, persuaded him to continue to pursue his theologi-
Gac1, cal studies. In 1780 he gave private lectures on theology
at Gottingen, and soon got permission to open a public
course. In 1783 he was nominated professor of philosophy
at Dortmund, and two years after at Altdorf, where he be¬
came also deacon of the Protestant church in that town.
He received the degree of D.D. in 1787, and in 1804 he
became one of the professors of the faculty of Jena. Gries-
bach dying some years after, Gabler was appointed to fill
his chair as first professor of theology ; and, while still hold¬
ing the rank of private, ecclesiastical, and consistorial coun¬
sellor, he died, Feb. 17, 1826.
The works which Dr Gabler has left show him to have
been not only a man of consummate erudition, but a pro¬
found thinker. Rising above all prejudice, he gave expres¬
sion to his ideas in the most candid and liberal manner.
The principal of his works are: “ Essai d'herrneneutique du
Nouveau-Testament, Altdorf, 1788; Introduction Historico-
critique au Nouveau-Testament, Altdorf, 1789; and Nou-
vel essai sur Vhistoire de la creation de Moise, Altdorf,
1795 ; a supplement to EHistoire Primative by Eichhorn,
of which he published an edition, much enhanced by a
learned preface and notes. He took an active part also in
the redaction of the Journal llieologique, Nuremberg,
1796-1811, in 16 vols.
GABRIEL SIONITA, a learned Maronite, was born
near the end of the sixteenth century at Edden, a small town
on Mount Lebanon. He was appointed professor of oriental
languages at Rome, whence he was transferred in 1614 to
Paris, in order that he might co-operate with Le Jay in the
preparation and construction of his famous Polyglot. The
Syriac and the Arabic texts were prepared by Sionita from
copies which he made with his own hand from MSS. at
Rome. The vowel points were added by himself as they
still stand both in Le Jay and in the English Polyglot.
His also is the Latin version which is in accordance with
the punctuation of the texts. A dispute having arisen be¬
tween him and Le Jay, he did not continue to superintend
the Arabic and Syriac portions of the work to the end ; in
these Abraham Ecchel continued and completed the work.
Sionita was the translator of the Arabic Geography of Abu-
Abdallah-Mohamed Edrisi into Latin, and entitled Geo-
graphia Nubiensis, 4to, 1619. He published also an Arabic
Grammar, which bore a high character in its day. He also
translated the Psalms of David into Arabic; and soon after
died in 1646 at Paris, where he had for some years been
professor-royal of Syriac and Arabic.
GABRIEL (i.e., the mighty one of God), the heavenly
messenger who was sent to Daniel to explain the vision of
the ram and the he-goat (Dan. viii.), and to communicate
the prediction of the Seventy Weeks (Dan. ix.) Under
the new dispensation he was employed to announce the
birth of John the Baptist to his father Zechariah, and that
of the Messiah to the Virgin Mary (Luke i.) Both by
Jewish and Christian writers Gabriel is accounted one of
the archangels, though the Scriptures affirm nothing posi¬
tively respecting his rank.
GAD, a son of Jacob by his concubine Zilpah, and who
became the progenitor of one of the twelve tribes. The
Gadites were a warlike people, and at the time of the con¬
quest of Canaan numbered 45,650 warriors. As a reward
for having formed the vanguard of the army in war, they
were allowed to appropriate to their exclusive use some pas¬
toral districts beyond the Jordan. The inheritance of this
tribe, called the land of Gad, was situated beyond the Jor¬
dan in Gilead, north of Reuben, and separated on the east
from Ammon by the river Jabbok. According to 1 Chron.
v. 11, the Gadites had extended their possessions on the
east as far as Salkah, though the latter had been allotted by
Moses to Manasseh (Deut. iii. 10, 13) : a proof how diffi-
G A E 365
cult it is to draw a decided line of demarcation between the Gad
possessions of pastoral tribes. The territory of Gad forms II
a part of the present Belka (Burckhardt, Syria, ii. 598.) Gaertner.
Gad, a Jewish prophet, the domestic seer of king David,
and his adviser in all matters of importance.
GADAMES, or Ghadames, an oasis S.W. of Tripoli,
in the Sahara of Africa. It stands S. of the main chain of
the Atlas Mountains, with a town near it, in Lat. 30. 10.,
Long. 90. 19. E. This important oasis contains numerous
villages and a few antiquities of the Roman period, while
it forms the centre of divergent routes to Tunis, Tripoli,
the Oases of Ghraat, Twat, Gharglah, &c. See Tripoli.
GADARA, a city of Palestine, and by Josephus con¬
sidered as the capital of Perma, to the S.E. of the Lake of
Tiberias. Pliny places it on the river Hieromax (now
Yarmak). The country which took its name from Gadara—
“the country of the Gadarenes”—was the eastern bound¬
ary of Galilee. At the time of its capture by Antiochus,
Polybius states that it was the strongest city in those parts.
It was restored by Pompey, and was the seat of one of the
five sanhedrims instituted by Gabinius. This seems strange,
since it was considered one of the Grecian cities, and so
exempted from the jurisdiction of Archelaus, and put under
the prefecture of Syria, though it had, by special grace, been
granted to Herod the Great. The ruins of the ancient
Gadara (now our Keis), to the south of the Yarmak, are
very considerable. They are on the E. side of tlie Jordan
valley, and about six miles S.E. by E. of the Sea of Galilee.
The hot spring and baths of Gadara were celebrated in
ancient times, ranking second only to those of Baiae. These
springs burst out from the foot of the mountain on which
the city was built, and the baths were built over them. The
temperature of the water is lower than the springs of Tibe¬
rias. The ruins of a Roman bath are still visible at the
source of the springs.
GADES, Gaddis, or Gadis. See Cadiz.
GAD OR, a royal town of Spain, in the province of Gra¬
nada and bishopric of Almeria. It contains about 2000 in¬
habitants, and is situated on the bank of the river Almeria.
The surrounding country produces of excellent quality all
the cereals, as well as wine, silk, and oil, in abundance. The
Sierra de Gador abounds with mines of various metals,
especially of lead, in the working of which there are con¬
stantly employed above 10,000 hands. This Sierra is a
lofty and enormous piece of marble, from which the finest
species of lime is made. The marble of Gador dissolves
completely in acids, without leaving the slightest residuum
of sand or any other substance. It thus differs essentially
from all the other limestones of Spain, but especially from
that of Valencia; hence the ancient Spanish proverb is easily
understood—Donde hay yeso y cal, no hay mineral—
“ where there is gypsum and lime there is no mineral,”
which is the fact in reference to the marble and limestone of
Valencia. Hence also the immense difference between the
ancient buildings of the city and the modern, the former
being made with mortar formed of the pure water from the
Rambla, while the moderns employ sea-sand.
GADFLY. See index to Entomology.
GAELIC LANGUAGE. See Language, Philo¬
logy, &c.
GAERTNER, Joseph, an eminent botanist, who was
born at Calw, in the duchy of Wiirtemberg, March 12,
1732. In the university of Gottingen he studied theology,
law, and medicine, and attended the lectures of the cele¬
brated Haller. Natural history was his forte, however;
and the lessons of his illustrious teacher there, as well as
those of Adrian Van Rogen at Leyden, rendered him still
more devoted to its cultivation. After receiving his doc¬
tor’s degree he travelled through Italy, France, England,
and more recently Holland and England, and published
several memoirs upon various subjects bearing upon marine
366 G A E
Gaeta botany and zoology. In 1768 he was appointed professor
II of natural history and botany at St Petersburg, where
Gaetulia. ]le commenced his great work, Carpoloyia sen Descrip-
tiones et leones fructuum et seminum plantarum, upon
which his eminent reputation depends. At the end of two
years he was obliged, by the severity of the climate, to leave
Russia and return to his native land, where for eight years he
arduously pursued his great undertaking. During his second
visit to Holland and England, Sir Joseph Banks and Thun-
berg opened to him their valuable collections, the one from
the South Seas and the other from Japan. Sodong as botany
continues to be studied as a science, this great work will be
held in high estimation. It contains the essential generic
characters and particular descriptions of the fruits of 1000
genera, illustrated by figures drawn by himself. Gaertner
excels in the anatomical elucidation, definition, and descrip¬
tion of the parts of the seeds of plants. Schraber has
named a genus of plants after him, Gaertenera. His other
works are, De ftuctibus et seminibus plantarum, Stuttgard,
1788, and Tubingen, 1791, in 2 vols. 4to.; a Memoire sur
les Mollusques, printed in the Transactions Philosophiques.
A notice of the life and writings of Gaertner was published
by Deleuse in vol. i. of the Annales du Musee D'Histoire
Naturelle.
GAETA, the ancient Caieta, a strongly fortified seaport-
town of Naples, province of Terra di Lavoro, at the ex¬
tremity of a peninsula forming the N.W. boundary of the
gulf of Gaeta, 40 miles N.W. of Naples. The ancient town
is said to have derived its name from Caieta the nurse of
JUneas, who, according to Virgil and others, was buried here.
The port became early an important shipping station, and
Cicero describes it as being in his time “portus celeberri-
mus et plenissimus navium. The neighbourhood, too, be¬
came a favourite place of resort with the Romans, and the
coast between Caieta and Formiae, about four miles distant,
was studded with numerous elegant villas. The town, how¬
ever, seems to have been an inconsiderable place up to the
time of Antoninus Pius, by whom it, together with the
port, was much improved. After the fall of the western
empire it for some time enjoyed a x'epublican form of go¬
vernment, and was afterwards governed by dukes, who ac¬
knowledged the temporal supremacy of the pope. In 1435 it
was taken by Alphonso V. of Aragon, and since that time it
has belonged to the crown of Naples. It has sustained
several remarkable sieges; in modern times may be men¬
tioned those of 1702, 1734, and 1806. In 1815 and 1821
it held out for some time against the Austrians. The palace
of the governor was for some time the residence of Pope
Pius IX. after his flight from Rome in 1849. Of the an¬
cient city the remains comprised a temple and aqueduct.
The most interesting, however, is the sepulchre of L. Mu-
natius Plancus, called Torre di Orlando, which stands on the
highest part of the isthmus connecting the citadel with the
mainland. It is of a circular form, in excellent preserva¬
tion, and retains its inscription uninjured. Mola di Gaeta
occupies the site of the ancient Formiae, where Cicero had a
favourite villa, and where he was put to death by order of
Antony. Gaeta is surrounded by walls flanked by bastions
and redoubts, and defended by a castle. It is the see of an
archbishop, and has a fine cathedral, several other churches
and convents, a public seminary, hospital, and foundling
asylum. It has a considerable trade, and the port is one of
the best in Italy. Pop. (exclusive of the garrison) about
10,000, of whom nearly three-fourths are in the suburbs.
GACTULIA, in Ancient Geography, a district of Africa,
bounded on the N. by Mauretania and Numidia, E. by the
country of the Garamantes, S. by the basin of the Niger,
and W. by the Atlantic. The Gsetuli, who inhabited it,
and from it took their name, are stated by Sallust to have
been one of two great aboriginal races of Africa; the Libyans
being the other. They originally occupied the northern
G A I
sea-board of Africa, from which they were gradually driven Gaff
out by the Asiatic invaders, who afterwards became known ||
as Numidians and Mauretanians. They were a warlike race Gainsl)o-
of fierce disposition, and without a settled government; and rouSh-
roved over the deserts, clad in skins, and living on milk and
the proceeds of the chase. They engaged but little in
trade, though their country yielded abundantly some valu¬
able natural products. The shores of the Atlantic, espe¬
cially, furnished in great quantities the murex, from which
the famous purple dye of antiquity was obtained.
Till the Jugurthine war the Gsetuli, according to Sallust,
were ignorant of the Roman name. In that struggle they
furnished a quota of cavalry to the armies of the Numidian
king. Some of them afterwards served under Marius, and
owned a kind of allegiance to Hiempsal. In the civil war
large numbers of them sided with Caesar; but in the time
of Augustus conducted themselves in a manner so turbulent
and disorderly, that they had to be kept in check by a power¬
ful army.
GAFF, in nautical language, a spar to which the head
of a fore-and-aft sail is bent. Gaff-topsail, a small sail set
over a gaff, which serves to spread the foot of the sail.
GAGE, a pledge or pawn, given by way of security.
Gage, a challenge to combat; that is, a gauntlet, glove,
cap, or the like, cast on the ground by the challenger, and
taken up by the accepter of the challenge.
Gage, in nautical language, the depth of water a vessel
draws, i.e. the number of feet she sinks in the water. In a
different sense, when a ship is to windward of another, she
is said to have the weather-gage of such vessel.
Gage, among letter-founders, a piece of hard wood va¬
riously notched, used to adjust the dimensions, slopes, &c.
of the different sorts of letters. In joinery it denotes an in¬
strument to strike a line parallel to the straight side of
a board. Sliding-gage, among mathematical-instrument
makers, a tool for measuring and setting off distances.
The term gage, implying measure, as of depth, height,
force, quantity, &c., is frequently used in composition to de¬
note particular kinds of instruments; as sea-gage, tide-gage,
wind-gage, rain-gage, &c., &c.
GAILLAC, the capital of a cognominal arrondissement,
department of Tarn, France, on the right bank of the Tarn,
12 miles W. of Alby. It has an agricultural society, a
communal college, hospital, theatre, and manufactures of
wine casks, leather, brandy, &c. The vicinity is very fertile,
producing some good wines, which constitute its principal
trade. Pop. (1851) 8152.
GAIN, in Architecture, is the workmen’s term for the be¬
velling shoulder of a joist on other timber.
GAIN AGE, Gainagium {q.d. wainage), in our ancient
writers, signifies the draught oxen, horses, wain, plough,
and their furniture, which, when a villein was amerced, were
left free, that agriculture might not be interrupted. 1 he
word also denoted the land itself, or the profit derived from
its cultivation.
GAINSBOROUGH, a market-town and river port of
Lincolnshire, on the right bank of the Trent, 21 miles above
its junction with the estuary of the Humber, and 16 miles
N.W. of Lincoln. It consists chiefly of one long well-paved
street running parallel with the river, which is here crossed
by a fine stone bridge of three arches. It has a neat church
erected in 1748, several dissenting places of worship, a town
hall, and a small theatre. The old hall called John O’Gaunt s
palace is a curious oak-timber framed building, forming
three sides of a quadrangle, and having a tower <8 feet
high. Gainsborough possesses a free grammar and other
schools, an athenaeum, savings-bank, dispensary, &c. Ship¬
building is carried on; and there are manufactures of linseed
cake, ropes, malt, and tobacco. Vessels of 200 tons burden
can come up to the town. The gross amount of custom
duties received at the port in 1852 was L.20,637. On 31st
GAL
rainsbo- Decembei* 1853, 11 sailing vessels of 620 tons, and 5 steam-
rough vessels of 356 tons, were registered at the port; while dur-
II ing that year 214 vessels of 13,292 tons entered, and 237
lakcto vesse]s 0f 12,725 cleared at the port. Market-day, Tues-
cndron. ^ pop> 75()6>
GAINSBOROUGH, Thomas, a celebrated English
landscape-painter, was born in 1737, at Sudbury in Suffolk.
His father was a man of humble fortune, and unable to give
him any but the scantiest education. The time which he
ought to have spent in the school-room, he thus passed in
the woods and fields, where, at an early age, he became im¬
bued with a taste for the quiet beauties of nature, which he
afterwards reproduced with so much effect in his early land¬
scapes. He made a habit of sketching every picturesque
object that struck his fancy, and before the age of twelve
had acquired great facility in drawing, and some skill in
colouring. At that early age he was sent to London to
master his art, and supported himself by portrait-painting
till his nineteenth year, when he married a lady of fortune.
After his marriage he removed to Ipswich, thence to Bath;
and in 1774 returned to London, where he enjoyed an ex¬
tensive practice as a portrait-painter. At the foundation of
the Royal Academy, Gainsborough was appointed a mem¬
ber of it, but does not seem to have taken any active in¬
terest in its proceedings. During the latter years of his
life he suffered much from a cancer in the neck, which ul¬
timately proved fatal, 2d August 1788.
It is as a painter of landscapes and fancy pieces that
Gainsborough will be longest remembered by posterity.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, indeed, in his Character of Gains¬
borough, says, “Whether he excelled most in portraits, land¬
scapes, or fancy-pictures, it is difficult to determine.” But
the difficulty has been already solved. His portraits, it is
true, were very highly valued by his contemporaries, and
possessed the prime merit of being always admirable like¬
nesses. But this was often their sole merit, for they wrere very
frequently so roughly and carelessly finished, and scumbled
in a manner so peculiar, that though they looked well at a
distance, they had a blurred and indistinct appearance when
viewed near at hand. However, the artist himself always
regarded this as a peculiar merit in his portraits, which he
always requested might be hung low in the exhibition, so
as to be within reach of the closest scrutiny. But Gains¬
borough’s real fame rests on his landscapes and fancy-pieces.
His early style differed greatly from his later. In the for¬
mer he copied nature in all her details with the fidelity of
a photographer. In the latter he aimed at producing grand
impressions by the effects of great breadth, and a judicious
chiaroscuro. It is perhaps too much to claim for him, as
some of his admirers have done, an equality with Rubens,
Claude, or Ruysdael; but no one will now refuse to accept
the verdict of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who says, that if ever
this nation should produce genius sufficient to acquire to us
the honourable distinction of an English school, the name
of Gainsborough will be transmitted to posterity as one of
the very first of that rising name.
GAIUS, OR Cahjs, a celebrated Roman jurist in the
time of Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius. Great use
was made of his voluminous works in the compilation of the
Digest. His Institution's, an elementary treatise on Ro¬
man law, was one of his most celebrated works. This work
was long the ordinary text-book for those beginning the
study of Roman Jaw ; but after the compilation of the In-
stitutiones of Justinian, it fell into disuse, and was finally
lost. In 1816, however, this long-lost and valuable work
was discovered by Niebuhr in the library of the chapter at
Verona. The MS. containing “ Gains” was a palimpsest,
with the new writing, in general, directly over the old. The
Institutes of Gaius are composed in a terse, clear style, and
seldom fail of pure I atinity.
GALACTODENDRON, or Milk-Tree (in Spanish
GAL 367
called Pcz/o de Vaca), a South American tree of the natural Gaj|acz
order Urticacece, from the stem of which, when wounded, Galapagos,
there flows a milky and nutritious juice, which forms an v ^-1 ^
important article of diet among the poor natives of the dis¬
tricts where it grows.
GALACZ, or Galatz, a towm and port of Moldavia, on
the left bank of the Danube, between the mouths of the
Sereth and Pruth, in Lat. 45. 25. N., Long. 28. 1. E. The
town is ill-built and dirty, but has latterly been much im¬
proved. It has a large bazaar always well filled with mer¬
chandise, and numerous warehouses for grain and other pro¬
duce. Since 1834, when it was made a free port, its trade
has rapidly increased, and various English and other foreigners
have formed establishments here. Vessels of 300 tons can
come up to the town, and regular steam communication is
maintained with Vienna and Constantinople. Being the
only port of Moldavia, and indeed in the best position for
becoming the port of the Danube, it promises at no very
distant period to become a first-rate emporium. Moldavia
and Wallachia are very productive provinces, being rich
both in corn and cattle. Our imports of corn from these
two provinces in 1853 were, wheat 227,143 qrs., maize
373,790 qrs., and other kinds 64,173 qrs. In 1851, the ex¬
ports by sea from Galacz amounted in value to L.496,368,
being chiefly wheat, maize, rye, tallow, hides, wane, and
timber. The chief imports were British and Austrian ma¬
nufactures, colonial products, &c. Pop. estimated at 25,000.
(See M‘Culloch’s Commercial Dictionary, 1854,)
GALfESUS, or Galesus, in Ancient Geography, a
small river of Calabria, falling into the gulf of Tarentum, a
few miles W. of that city. It flowed through rich pasture-
lands browsed by the sheep which produced the famous
Tarentine wool. The value of this product was very great,
and that none of it might be lost, the sheep were sent to
feed completely enveloped in skins. Hence the force of
Horace’s allusion to the
Dulce pellitis ovibus Galsesi
Flumen.
The stream is often mentioned by the Roman poets, and has
thus acquired a wider fame than many Italian rivers ten
times its size. Indeed so small was the Galaesus, that it
has not been identified with certainty. Swinburne, who is
probably the best authority on the subject, supposes that
the Cervaro is the real Galesus; and his supposition tallies
better with the descriptions of Livy and Polybius than any
other that has been advanced. The local antiquaries have
tried, though not very successfully, to identify the Galsesus
with a small stream called Le Citrezze, which falls into the
Mare Piccolo, or great port of Tarentum, on its northern
side.
GALAPAGOS, a group of islands in the Pacific Ocean,
so called from the Spanish Galdpago, a land tortoise, from
their abounding in that animal. They consist of six princi¬
pal and seven smaller islands, lying between 1 N. and 2 S.
Lat., and between 89 and 92 W. Long., about 700 miles
from the continent of South America. The largest, Albe¬
marle Island, is 60 miles in length, by about 15 in breadth.
The highest part is 4000 feet above the sea. They are all
of volcanic origin, and along their shores black dismal-look¬
ing heaps of broken lava everywhere meet the eye. In
many places the lava cliffs are very high, while close to them
the water is so deep that a ship cannot anchor even in a
calm. In the interior are some valleys and plains of mo¬
derate extent and of great fertility. The land tortoises,
called the great elephant tortoises, their feet being like
those of a small elephant, are numerous, and grow to a great
size, frequently weighing several hundred pounds. A small
colony has been established on Charles Island, in a plain
about 1000 feet above the sea. They cultivate bananas,
sugar canes, sweet potatoes and Indian corn, and supply
with these articles the whalers who resort to the island. The
368
GAL
GAL
climate is healthy and the heat moderate, considering the
geographical position of these islands.
GALAROZA, a royal town of Spain, in the province of
Sevilla. It is situated near the left bank of the Murtiga,
about sixty miles N.E. of Huelva, among calcareous hills,
and enjoys the advantage of a very copious spring, whose
waters are skilfully applied to irrigate its beautiful gardens.
Meat is extensively cured here for the markets of Cadiz and
Seville. The population is nearly 3000.
GALASHIELS, a thriving manufacturing town of Scot¬
land, in the counties of Roxburgh and Selkirk, and in the
parishes of Galashiels and Ladhope. It stands on both
sides of the Gala, about a mile above its confluence with
the Tweed, and is 33 miles distant from Edinburgh by the
North British Railway. Galashiels was made a burgh of
barony in 1599, when it contained 400 inhabitants ; but it
is mentioned in history nearly three centuries before that
date. Until late in the eighteenth century, however, it was
a mere village standing on the side of Gala Hill. Being
situated in a rich pastoral district, yielding abundance of
wool, a woollen-mill was erected here in 1791, in which
was placed one set of engines. Since that date the trade of
the town has steadily increased, so that now more than a
mile of the picturesque valley of the Gala is covered with
neat modern houses and mills. There are at present (1855)
fifteen of the latter, of large size, which contain 46 sets of
carding engines, employing 32,200 spindles. Yarns spun
in England, sufficient to employ 12 sets of engines, are also
brought here for manufacture into cloths. The wool for¬
merly used was all of home growth ; but now the wools of
Germany and Australia almost exclusively occupy the looms.
There are about 2300 persons employed in the trade, who
receive L.4600 per month in wages, and turn out annually
from L.250,000 to L.300,000 worth of goods, at manufac¬
turers’ prices. These goods are chiefly Tweeds, shawls,
plaids, and tartans. The drainage of agricultural lands has
been found seriously to affect the water-power of the Gala,
the stream being greatly swollen after rains, and nearly dry in
their absence. This has led to the general introduction ot
steam power, and to migration to the neighbouring town
of Selkirk and to the village of Innerleithen. Besides this
staple manufacture, Galashiels has a tannery, a skinnery,
brewery, saw-mill, bone-mill, savings-bank, four bank
agencies, and one weekly newspaper, the Border Adver¬
tiser. The places of worship are—two parish churches, two
Free churches, two United Presbyterian churches, one
Episcopalian and one Roman Catholic chapel, an Indepen¬
dent meeting-house, a Glassite and a Baptist place of wor¬
ship. There are five public schools, a town library, a pub¬
lic reading-room, and a mechanics’ institution with library.
The town is a burgh of barony ; but in 1850 it adopted the
provisions of the police act, 13th and 14th Viet., cap. 33,
and is now governed by a chief magistrate, two junior ma¬
gistrates, and five commissioners. Pop. (1851) 5918. Ab¬
botsford is about a mile and a half from the town, on the
right bank of the Tweed.
In connection with Galashiels it may be mentioned, that
it was from observations made here that the salubrious na¬
ture of the employment in wool manufactures was first par¬
ticularly pointed out. In working up the wool there is a
large consumption of oil, with which the air becomes im¬
pregnated, and which is thus imbibed into the system.
Children working in the mills are in consequence healthier
and heavier than those in the town not so employed; and
weakly children are purposely sent to mill employment for
the strengthening and development of their bodily frames.
Mr M‘Dougall, surgeon in Galashiels, was the first to call
attention to this fact, and his observations have been con¬
firmed by the further investigations of Professor Simpson.
GAL AT A, one of the suburbs of Constantinople. See
Constantinople.
GALATIA, afterwards called also GALLO-GitiECTA, in Galatia
Ancient Geography, an inland division of Asia Minor, il
bounded on the N. by Bithynia and Paphlagonia, E. by Galatians.
Pontus, S. by Cappadocia and Lycaonia, W. by Phrygia. ^
Thes/ boundaries, however, varied at different periods in
the history of Galatia. The river Halys flowed in a northerly
direction through the centre of the province, the eastern
half of which was watered by tributaries of that stream,
while the Sangarius and its affluents rose among the moun¬
tains of the western half.
According to Strabo, Galatia was occupied by three Gal¬
lic tribes : the Trocmi who dwelt in the east, the Tecto-
sages in the centre, and the Tolistobogii in the west. Each
of these tribes was subdivided into four parts; and these
were each ruled over by a tetrarch of their own. I he power
of the tetrarchs was limited by a senate of 300, before
which also all capital cases were tried. Minor offences
came under the cognizance of the tetrarchs and special
judges appointed by them. This system continued in force
till within about fifty years b.c. I he three tribes all spoke
the same tongue; and though in course of time they became
Hellenized, their original language was still in use among
them as late as the time of Jerome.
The only towns of importance in Galatia were Tavium,
the capital of the Trocmi, a small town which speedily fell
into decay; Ancyra, the capital of the Tectosages, and Pes-
sinus, the chief town of the Tolistobogii, where a splendid
temple was consecrated to Agdistis, the mother of the gods.
The only other place of note in Galatia was Gordium, the
ancient capital of Phrygia, and the scene of Alexanders
famous exploit of cutting the Gordian knot.
Galatia took its name from a body of Gauls who invaded
Asia Minor about the year 279 B.c. They had formed part
of the army which invaded Greece under Brennus; but
having quarrelled with that commander had left his standard,
and marching into Thrace under generals of their own
choice, advanced to Byzantium, whence they were invited
by Nicomedes, king of Bithynia, to cross into Asia and help
him in his struggle against his brother Ziha^tas. After per¬
forming the required services, they turned their arms against
their employer, and ravaged the western half of Asia Minor.
Their success allured over hordes of their countrymen, who
readily took service with the Asiatic kings in their wars
against each other. No oriental prince was found able to
check them, until Attalus king of Pergamus defeated them
in a great battle B.c. 239; and compelled them to settle in
that part of the country, which after them was called Ga¬
latia. They still remained independent, however, and proved
a formidable foe to the Romans in their wars with Antio-
chus. It was found necessary to direct a special army against
them, and the result of the campaign was their complete
subjugation to the power of Rome. Galatia, however,^ was
not at this time reduced to a Roman province, but the Gauls
were still allowed to choose their own kings. One of the
most famous of these was Deiotarus, who, in return for the
assistance which he gave the Romans, was rewarded with a
grant of Pontus and Armenia Minor, and styled king by the
senate. On the death of his son Amyntas, B.C. 25, Galatia
became a Roman province. Theodosius the Great sub¬
divided it for purposes of government into Galatia I lima,
of which Ancyra was made the capital, and Galatia Secunda,
with Pessinus for its chief-town. . .
GALATIANS, Epistle to the. The Pauline origin
of this epistle is attested not only by the superscription
which it bears (i. 1), but also by the unanimous testimony
of the ancient church, (Lardner, Works, vol. ii. 8vo.) fc
is corroborated also by the style, tone, and contents of the
epistle, which are perfectly in keeping with those ot the
Apostle’s other writings.
The parties to whom this epistle was addressed are de¬
scribed in the epistle itself as “ the churches of Galatia.
GAL
Galaxy Into this district the gospel was first introduced by Paul
|| himself (Acts xvi.) Churches were then also probably
Galba. formed; for on revisiting this district some time after his
first visit, it is mentioned that he “ strengthened the dis¬
ciples” (Acts xviii.) These churches seem to have been
composed principally of converts directly from heathenism,
but partly, also, of Jewish converts, both pure Jews and
proselytes. Unhappily, the latter, not thoroughly emanci¬
pated from early opinions and prepossessions, had been
seized with a zealous desire to incorporate the rites and
ceremonies of Judaism with the spiritual truths and simple
ordinances of Christianity. So active had this party been in
disseminating their views on this head through the churches
of Galatia, that the majority at least of the members had
been seduced to adopt them (i. 6; iii. 1, &c.) To this re¬
sult it is probable that the previous religious conceptions of
the Galatians contributed; for, accustomed to the worship
of Cybele, which they had learned from their neighbours
the Phrygians, and to the theosophistic doctrines with which
that worship was associated, they would be the more readily
induced to believe that the fulness of Christianity could
alone be developed through the symbolical adumbrations of
an elaborate ceremonial (Neander, Apostol. Zeitalter, s. 400,
2te Aufl.) From some passages in this epistle it would
appear also that insinuations had been disseminated among
the Galatian churches to the effect that Paul was not a
divinely-commissioned apostle, but only a messenger of the
church at Jerusalem; that Peter and he were at variance
upon the subject of the relation of the Jewish rites to Chris¬
tianity ; and that Paul himself was not at all times so strenu¬
ously opposed to those rites as he had chosen to be among
the Galatians. Of this state of things intelligence having
been conveyed to the apostle, he wrote this epistle for the
purpose of vindicating his own pretensions and conduct, of
counteracting the influence of these false views, and of re¬
calling the Galatians to the simplicity of the gospel which
they had received. The importance of the case was pro¬
bably the reason why the apostle put himself to the great
labour of writing this epistle with his own hand (vi. 11).
Respecting the time when and the place where this epistle
was written, great diversity of opinion prevails. It seems,
however, probable that it was written and despatched not
long after Paul had left Galatia for the second time, and
perhaps while he was residing at Ephesus (comp. Acts xviii.
23; xix. 1, sqq.)
Of commentaries on this epistle the most important are
the following:—-Borger, Interpretatio Ep. Pauli ad Ga-
latas, 8vo, Lugd. Bat. 1807; Winer, Pauli Ep, ad Gal.
perpet. Annot. illustravit, 8vo, ed. tertia, Lipsise, 1829;
Ruckert, Commentar. ub. d. Brief Pauli an d. Gal., 8vo,
Leipzig, 1833 ; Usteri, Commentar. ub. d. Br. Pauli an d.
Gal. 8vo, Zurich, 1833 ; Hermann, Be Pauli Epist. ad Gal.
tribus primis capitibus, 4to, Lips. 1832.
GALAXY, or Milky W ay (Gk. YaXaBa-i), the great lumi¬
nous tract which encompasses the heavens like a coronal or
girdle, and which is easily perceivable in a clear night, es¬
pecially when the moon does not appear. It passes between
Sagittarius and Gemini, and divides the sphere into two
parts. It is unequally broad, and in some parts is single,
in others double. See Astronomy, vol. iv. p. 86.
GALBA, the name of a patrician family at Rome. The
most noteworthy members of this family were Sulpicius
Galba, who flourished at the beginning of the second cen¬
tury b.c., and distinguished himself in the wars with Philip
ofMacedon ; Sergius Galba, who was praetor b.c. 151, and
held Lusitania as his province, in which office he made him¬
self notorious by his atrocious cruelties, for which he was
tried on his return to Rome, and narrowly escaped punish¬
ment ; and Sergius Sulpicius Galba, emperor of Rome
From June a.d. 68 to January a.d. 69. (For the details of
his life and reign see Roman History.)
vol. x.
GAL 369
CrALBANUM, a gum-resin procured from incisions made Galbanum
in the stems of Galbanum officinale, a perennial plant grow- || _
ing in Africa (near the Cape of Good Hope), in Syria and Galemsts-
Persia. It is imported into this country from the Levant,
in ductile masses composed of distinct yellowish tears ag¬
glutinated together by a darker substance, and is generally
much mixed with impurities. It has a strong nauseous odour,
and a bitter acrid taste. It is sometimes used in medicine as
a stimulant antispasmodic, but is a drug of little importance.
GALDAR, a royal Spanish town in the N.W. of the
Island Gran Canarea, beautifully situated five miles from
Las Palmas, in a plain, with good air and fine temperate
climate. It contains 4052 inhabitants, a church, a monas¬
tery a short distance from the town, and six hermitages,
numerous ruined houses and caves of the ancient inhabitants,
with the ruins of an edifice or palace of the Guanche chiefs.
GALDO, Santa Maria de, a district of Spain, in Ga¬
licia, province and bishopric of Mondonedo, and jurisdiction
of Galdo. It contains 2130 inhabitants, and stands in the
valley of Vivero, which extends from N. to S. to the banks
of the river Landrove. Its agricultural productions and its in¬
dustry are altogether similar to those of Vivero. See Vivero.
GALENA, a city in the state of Illinois, N. America,
on the Feve, six miles above its junction with the Missis¬
sippi. It is the metropolis of the great lead region of
northern Illinois, and the commercial depot of an extensive
and fine country, the river being at all seasons navigable to
this point for the largest river steamers. The Galena branch
of the Illinois Central Railway passes through the city, and
the Galena and Chicago Union Railway gives it access to
the lakes and roads leading eastward. The city was first
settled in 1826. Pop. (1850), 6500.
GALENA, native sulphuret of lead. See Mineralogy.
GALENISTS, in Medical History, a name given to the
followers of Galen, in contradistinction to the practitioners
of the chemical school. The distinction of galenical and
chemical in the method of treating diseases was occasioned
by a division of the practitioners of medicine into two sects,
on the introduction of chemistry into medicine. The term
galenical was applied to those medicines that were easily
formed, as by infusion or decoction, in contradistinction to
chemical, or such as required more elaborate preparation,
as by calcination, digestion, fermentation, and the like.
GALENISTS, a sect of religionists, who were so named
from their first teacher Galenus Abrahams de Haan, a doctor
of medicine, and a minister among the Mennonites at Am¬
sterdam. The schism in which the Galenists originated took
place in 1664 in the church of the Flemings at Amsterdam,
in which were the two preachers Galenus Abrahams de
Haan and Samuel Apostool. Galenus was a man whom
even his enemies applauded for his eloquence and penetia-
tion. His teaching was in accordance with the views of the
Arminians, that the Christian religion is not so much a
body of truths to be assented to as of precepts to be obeyed ;
and he would have admission to the church and to the title
and privileges of brethren open to all persons who merely
believe the books of the Old and New 1 estament to be
divinely inspired, and lived pure and holy lives. The Ga¬
lenists are equally ready with the Arminians to admit all
persons into their communion who call themselves Chris¬
tians, and they are the only Anabaptists in Holland who
refuse to be called Mennonites. The Apostoolians admit
no one to membership who does not profess to believe the
doctrines contained in the public formula of their religion.
Mosheim’s Hist., Cent, xvii., sect, ii., pt. ii., chap, v., 7^;
Wagnaer, Amsterdam, pt. ii., pp. 195 and 237; Schyn’s
Plenior Deductio Histories Mennonit., cap. xv., p.318, and
cap. xviii., p. 237 ; Description of the City of Amsterdam,
in Dutch, vol. i., p. 500, &c.; Stoupa, La Religion des
Hollandois, p. 20, &c.; and Bentheim’s Hollandischer
Schul und Kirschenstaat, pt. i., chap, xix., p. 830.
3 A
370 GAL
Galenus. GALENUS, Claudius, commonly called Galen, the
most celebrated of the ancient medical writers, and a man
who has exercised a greater influence on medical science
than any other individual author of ancient or modern times.
Of his personal history little is known except what is ga¬
thered from his own works ; but these are so full of personal
detail as to furnish sufficient material for a life. He was
born at Pergamus in Mysia towards the close of the year
130 a.d. His father, whose name was Nicon, was an ar¬
chitect and geometrician of that city, and is highly praised
by Galen for his many good qualities both of heart and
head. His mother, on the other hand, is described as a
second Xanthippe, differing only from her prototype by
being worse than she. No expense was spared in educating
the young Galen, whose teachers were the most celebrated
scientific men of his native town. Stratonicus, a disciple
of the Hippocratic school; Satyrus, an eminent anatomist;
and flEschrion, an empiric. After the death of his father,
whom he lost in his twentieth year, Galen went to study
successively at Smyrna, Corinth, and Alexandria, which last
was the most famous medical school of the ancient world.
He likewise seized the opportunity of travelling in various
other foreign countries. In a.d. 158 he was publicly in¬
vited by his fellow-citizens to return home, and was ap¬
pointed physician to the gladiatorial school. Five years
later he was compelled, by civil dissensions, to quit his na¬
tive city, and he then betook himself to Rome, where his
unparalleled success drew down upon him the jealousy and
hatred of the Roman practitioners. For some time he bore
up against the ill-treatment which he met with at their
hands, and wrote and lectured for a number of years with
ever-growing success, but in daily dread of being poisoned
by his rivals. In a.d. 167, Galen at length left, partly to
avoid an introduction to the emperor M. Aurelius, partly to
revisit his native city. His departure was probably has¬
tened by the breaking out of the pestilence at Rome. He
had hardly settled down at Pergamus when he received
orders to join M. Aurelius in the north of Italy. Soon after
he joined the emperor the plague broke out with great vio¬
lence in the Roman camp, and M. Aurelius instantly re¬
turned to Rome, taking Galen in his train. It was pro¬
bably about this time that he prepared for the emperor the
famous medicine called “ theriaca,” of which the royal pa¬
tient took a little every day. During his stay at Rome
Galen composed two of his best known works in the leisure
moments of his extensive practice. These were his trea¬
tises De Usu Partium Corporis Humani, and De Hip-
pocratis et Platonis Deeretis. After this time his history
is not very clearly ascertained. He seems to have left
Rome and returned to Pergamus, visiting on his way the
island of Lemnos, where he learned the method of prepar¬
ing the “ terra lemnia” or sigillata, a medicine then much
in vogue. It is not fully known whether he ever returned to
Rome; but it seems probable that he did. Neither the year
nor the place of his death is thoroughly ascertained. Suidas,
whose testimony is generally followed, says that he died
when he was seventy years of age, which would place his
death in the year 201. One of his Arabian biographers,
however, makes him survive till his eightieth year; and an¬
other, Abul-faraj, states that he died in Sicily at the age of
eighty-eight.
Galen is, on the whole, one of the most remarkable writers
of antiquity. As is frequently the case, his worth wTas ill
appreciated during his lifetime, but after his death his na¬
tive city caused medals to be struck in his honour; and he
became generally known by the title of “ the wonderful.”
During his early residence at Rome, indeed, his skill had
earned for him the titles of u Paradoxologus,” the wonder-
1 Virgilii JEn. vii. 688 ; Suet. Nar. xxvi.; and Juv. viii. 208.
3 Juv. vi. 120 ; Mart. xiv. 50; and Suet. Oth. 12.
GAL
speaker, and “ Paradoxopaeus,” the wonder-worker. But Galerus
it was not on his skill as a physician alone or chiefly that ||
his fame depended. He was one of the most extensively and Galiani.
variously learned men of his age, and is known to have V-*'
written nearly five hundred distinct treatises on different
subjects, including logic, ethics, and grammar. He seems
to have entertained a very justifiable respect for himself and
his influence and position, and to have looked down with
perhaps too great contempt on his rivals and detractors.
But the bitter disgust which he felt towards them is ex¬
cusable, if we remember that he lived among them in daily
terror of his life. It is remarkable that though Christianity
was in Galen’s time spreading apace, he seems to have
known no more about it than might have been picked up
in ordinary conversation. At least he only alludes to the
Christians in one of his works as remarkable for their self-
denial, temperance, chastity, and other virtues, never indi¬
cating, however, any personal sympathy for them in the per¬
secutions to which they were exposed. For a detailed ac¬
count of Galen’s influence and position in medical science,
see Anatomy, vol. ii., pp. 752-754.
The works now extant, attributed to Galen, amount to
123 separate treatises. Of these only eighty-three are un¬
doubtedly genuine; nineteen are doubtful; forty-five con¬
fessedly spurious ; nineteen are mere fragments ; fifteen are
comments upon portions of Hippocrates; while fifty are
enumerated as still lying unpublished in various European
libraries. There have been numerous editions of Galen’s
complete works, and also of some of the individual treatises.
A list of those who have edited or illustrated Galen is given
by Conrad Gesner in the Basle edition of 1561. The most
important of these, as well as of others who have since fol¬
lowed in the same track, are named in the following list:—
Jo. Bapt. Opizo, A. Lacuna, Ant. Musa Brassavolus, Aug.
Gadaldinus, Conrad Gesner, Sylvius, Cornarius, Joannes
Montanus, Joannes Caius, Thomas Linacre, Theodore Goul-
ston, Caspar Hoffmann, Rene Chartier, Haller, and Kuhn.
There have been numerous Latin translations of Galen.
Altogether, according to Choulant, there was one version
in the fifteenth century ; twenty-two versions in the follow¬
ing century ; and none since. There have been also four
editions of the Greek text; the first by the Aldi at Venice,
in 5 vols. fob, 1525; the next, also in 5 vols. fob, Basle,
1538 ; the third, by Rene Chartier, bears date Paris, 1679,
and amounts to 13 vols. fob; the last and best is that by
C. G. Kuhn, Leipzig, 1821-1833.
GALERUS, or Galerum, diminutive Galericulum
(probably allied to galea, helmet), in Roman Antiquity, was
originally a head-dress worn by priests, but especially by the
fiamen dialis} Its shape was probably a round cap formed
of leather, with its top terminating in an apex. In later
times the galerus was any kind of cap fitting close to the
head like a helmet.1 2 Galerus, as well as galericulum, also
came to signify a peruke, wig, or covering for the head
made of hair.3 Fiamen dialis solus album habet galerum?
See Albogalerus, vol. ii., p. 449.
GALIANT, FERDiNANDO,an eminent political economist,
was born at Chieti, in the Abruzzo, Dec. 2, 1728. At eight
years of age he was sent to Naples, where he received his
elementary education. He devoted himself with ardour to
the study of history, antiquities, the belles-lettres, and phi¬
losophy, and more particularly to political economy. At
the age of sixteen he produced a Memoir on the Coins of
the period of the Trojan War; and this early production
first inspired him with the idea of his great work on money.
He also translated Locke’s treatise on Money and Interest.
At the age of eighteen he undertook a work on the Ancient
History of the Navigation of the Mediterranean ; and in
2 Ibid.
4 Var. in Gell. x. 15.
Galianl. his great work, we find that he there made use of part of
the materials which he had collected at this early age. A
jeu $ esprit, which had nearly been attended with serious
consequences, diverted him for some time from his graver
studies. Having been charged by his brother Bernard to
deliver, in his absence, a discourse in an academy of which
he was a member, the president, looking only at the youth
of Ferdinand, and being ignorant of his talents, would not
permit him to proceed. The latter resolved to revenge
himself in a manner that showed more spirit than prudence.
It was the custom in this academy, as in several others, that
when any great personage died at Naples, all the academi¬
cians published, in his praise, a collection of pieces in prose
and verse. The executioner at Naples having died, Galiani
seized the opportunity of turning the academy into ridicule.
With the assistance of a friend, he composed in the course
of a few days, a collection of serious pieces on this event,
which were ascribed to each of the members, and in which
their peculiar style and manner were so well imitated, that
one of them confessed he should have been himself de¬
ceived, if he had not been perfectly certain that he had not
written the piece to which his name was subscribed. This
malicious and witty little volume appeared in 1749, under
the title of Componimenti varj per la Morte di Domenico
Jannacone, Carnejice della gran corte della vicaria, rac-
colti e dati in luce da Gian. Anton. Sergio Avvocato Na-
poletano. This Sergio was the president of the academy.
The publication was eminently successful, and excited a
sensation which the authors had not foreseen ; and as they
became afraid of being discovered by the publisher, they
went directly to the minister Tanucci, confessed the fact,
and got off for the performance of some spiritual exercises.
Galiani soon effaced the impression made by this piece
of youthful folly, by the publication of his Treatise on
Money, which had employed the labour of several years.
It appeared at Naples in 1750, when the author was only
twenty-one. It was first published anonymously, and the
author did not make himself known until the success of the
work was decided. He afterwards travelled through the
whole of Italy, was presented at the various courts, and ad¬
mitted a member of some of the most celebrated academies.
His next publication was a treatise entitled Della perfetta
Conservazione del Grano, written, with his usual elegance,
for the purpose of recommending an ingenious machine,
invented by his friend Intieri, for drying and preserving
grain.
Galiani was the first to form a collection of the volcanic
productions of Vesuvius; and he wrote a learned treatise
upon this subject, which, however, was not printed until
about fifteen years afterwards. He presented the manu¬
script to Pope Benedict XIV. along with the collection it¬
self, which was arranged in seven boxes, according to the
order of the treatise. The collection was placed in the
Museum of the Institute of Bologna, where it still remains.
In presenting this collection to the pope, Galiani had writ¬
ten upon one of the boxes, Beatissime Pater, fac ut lapides
isti panes fiant. His holiness, understanding the hint, gave
him the prebend of Amalfi, worth 400 ducats a-year. In
the lifetime of his uncle, whom he lost in 1753, he enjoyed
a benefice of 500 ducats, which conferred upon him the
episcopal dignity, and another living worth 600 ducats.
His funeral oration, on the death of his patron, Benedict
XIV., who died in 1758, procured him a high character
for eloquence, and was one of his works which he himself
most esteemed.
Galiani was one of the members of the academy of Her¬
culaneum, established by King Charles III. for the purpose
of illustrating the remains of ancient art discovered among
the ruins of that city ; and he furnished several memoirs,
which were inserted in the first volume of that magnificent
work, the Antiquities of Herculaneum. With the other
academicians who were engaged in this labour, Galiani en¬
joyed the royal bounty, in a pension of 250 ducats.
In the month of January 1759 he was appointed secre¬
tary of state and of the royal household, and, soon after¬
wards, secretary to the French embassy; and he arrived at
Paris in the month of June following. He applied himself
with great zeal and assiduity to the acquisition of a correct
French style of writing, his mastery of which he afterwards
showed in his celebrated Dialogues sur le Commerce des
Dies. The style of this work is so easy and elegant, that
one would never suppose it to be the work of a foreigner.
The manuscript was left in the hands of Diderot, and was
published in 1770, with the date of London, and without
the name of the author. The work excited great attention
in France, and the best writers were loud and unanimous
in praise of it. Voltaire wrote to Diderot, who had sent
him a copy, in the following terms: “ The powers of
Plato and Moliere seem to be combined in the composition
of this work. I have as yet only read about two-thirds of
it; and I expect the denouement of the piece with great
impatience.” The same author again praises the work in
his Questions sur VEncyclopedic, in the article Bled ou
Ble.
Meanwhile, Galiani had returned to Naples, where, in
addition to his office of member of the Council of Com¬
merce, he received that of secretary to the same tribunal.
These two situations brought him a revenue of 1600 ducats.
In 1777 he was made one of the ministers of the junto of
the royal domains, which had the charge of everything con¬
nected with the private patrimony of the king; an office
which added 200 ducats to his income. His partiality for
the writings of Horace inspired him with the idea of a
treatise Des instincts ou des gouts nature Is et des habitudes
de Vhomme, ou Principes du droit de la nature et des gens,
tires des Poesies d’Horace ; a work which he left nearly
complete, but which has never been published. There is
a Life of Horace prefixed, much better and more complete
than that which is inserted in the works of Algarotti. The
project which he entertained of a dramatic academy in¬
duced him to attempt the composition of a comic opera, in
a new and singular style. This was The Imaginary So¬
crates, of which he gave the plan to the poet Lorenzi, who
put it into verse, and it was set to music by the celebrated
Paesiello. The piece was performed with the greatest suc¬
cess throughout Italy, Germany, and even at St Petersburg.
A work of a different kind soon afterwards engaged his
attention. In the war which broke out in 1778, between
England on one side, and France and Spain on the other,
Naples and some other powers had remained neutral; but
their rights, as they conceived, were not sufficiently re¬
spected by the belligerent parties. Numerous writings ap¬
peared throughout Europe on the rights and duties of neu¬
trals ; and, among others, Galiani produced a treatise in
Italian, On the Duties of Neutrals towards Belligerent
Potvers, and of the latter towards the former. It was pub¬
lished at Naples in 1 782, in 4to. In the same year he was
appointed first assessor to the general council of finance ; a
situation which he accepted the more readily, as its duties
were analogous to his other studies ; but he refused to
touch the salary. A few months afterwards, however, the
king presented him with the abbacy of Scurcoli, which was
worth 1200 ducats per annum, after deducting all charges
and pensions. The office of assessor of economy in the
superintendence of the crown funds, to which he was ap¬
pointed in 1748, added to his public duties, and likewise
increased his income. Meanwhile his health, which was
naturally weak, declined daily. On the 13th of May 1785
he had an attack of apoplexy; and in order to prevent a
return, he travelled the following year through Puglia. In
1787 he made a longer journey, and went as far as Venice,
where he was well received by all the men of letters, as he
372 G A L I
Galicia, was also at Modena by Tiraboschi, and by Cesarotti at
'wv—^ Padua. On his return to Naples his health rapidly declined ;
and he died Oct. 30, 1787, at the age of fifty-nine.
Besides the works already mentioned, Galiani left behind
him a variety of interesting manuscripts. Among them are
The Commentary on Horace, with the Life ; The Lexicon
of Words peculiar to the Neapolitan Dialect; A Poetical
Translation of the Anti-Lucretius; A Miscellaneous Col¬
lection of Poetical Pieces ; Several volumes full of facetious
Letters, Novels, and Anecdotes; His Epistolary Corre¬
spondence, which would form of itself a pretty voluminous
collection. A part of it was published at Paris in 1818, in
two vols. 8vo. (See art. Galiani, Biogr. Univ., tom.
xvi.) (J. C.)
GALICIA, the largest province of Spain, called by the
Spaniards “ El Reino de Galicia” (the kingdom of Galicia),
and written with one /, although they write the name of
the inhabitants with two (los Gallegos), forms the N.W.
angle of the Peninsula, and is bounded by the Bay of
Biscay, the Asturias, Leon, and Portugal. It contains the
four modern provinces of Coruna, Lugo, Orense, and
Pontevedra, with a total area of 16,000 square miles, and
a population of 2,000,000.
Surface. The surface of Galicia consists almost entirely of hills
and mountains, which here and there embosom a small
plain, and are intersected by numerous valleys, narrow,
rugged, and scarcely accessible. The whole province
indeed forms the western extremity of the direct course of
Mountains. t]ie great Cantabrian mountain range. From the boundary
of Asturias and Leon, the Sierra de Penamarela enters
Galicia, and sweeps in a northerly direction round by Mon-
donedo, then turning southward, and passing by Lugo and
Orense on the west, it terminates on the coast between
Vigo and Tuy. The basin of the Mino and its tributaries
is inclosed by this mountain range, under the names of
the Sierra de Penamarela, de Mondonedo, de Lobo, and
other local denominations, separating it from the valleys of
all the other rivers entering the Atlantic or the Bay of
Biscay. During the greater part of the year, many of the
summits of this series of sierras are covered witb snow.
Another offshoot from the Cantabrian chain, after passing
through the province of Leon, enters Galicia at the S.E.
angle, when it extends from E. to W. to the coast, and
forms the boundary between Portugal and Galicia. 1 he
basin of the Sil is shut in by this offshoot, and joined to
that of the Mino, of which the Sil is the largest tributary,
and hence the second river in Galicia.
Rivers. This territory is drained and watered by innumerable
mountain torrents and streams, of which no fewer than
seventy are called rivers. The principal of these is the
Mino (Minho), which derives its name from its ancient
name Minius, and was so designated from the minium or
vermilion found along its banks. It rises near Mondonedo
in the Sierra de Mondonedo, and after a course of 170
miles in a S. and S.W. direction, it enters the Atlantic
near the port of Guardia. In its course it receives nume¬
rous affluents, of which the principal is the Sil, and passes
the towns of Lugo, Orense, Ribadavia, and Tuy. Ihe
Sil, which enters the Mino about ten miles above Orense,
receives in its course the affluents Cabe, Bibey, and nume¬
rous smaller streams, all of which come from the mountains
of Leon and Asturias. The river Tea rises on the W.
flank of Monte Faro, and falls into the Mino above d uy.
The Tambre, the Ulla, and the Lerez flow in a S.W.
direction, and fall into the sea by wide estuaries, which
respectively bear the names of Ria de Muros y Noya, Ria
de Arosa, and Ria de Pontevedra {ria being the Spanish of
estuary).
Coast and ^le coast Galicia is everywhere bold, and may be
harbours, safely approached by mariners; it is much more broken,
however, than the coasts of Asturias and Biscay, being more
CIA.
exposed to the violent action of the strong currents of the Galicia.
Atlantic, which run in these latitudes at the rate of half a
mile an hour. Hence many secure havens have been in
the course of ages scooped out by the storms and currents,
and its deep inlets thus formed with its lofty promontories
give this peculiar feature to this coast. Rivadeo, on the
left bank of the Miranda, has a safe and capacious harbour,
with three fathoms water at ebb-tide. Vivero Bay is one
mile wide, and runs three inland, affording good anchorage
throughout, with from six to eight fathoms of water. Still
further westward, the Bay of Stanques la Verre, or inlet of
Barquero, on the E. side of the Punta de la Estaca, is an
excellent harbour, three miles wide and six long, with
anchorage in six fathoms. I he harbour of Ferrol is said
to be the best in Europe ; it is ten miles in length, and
from a quarter to half a mile in breadth, with sufficient
depth of water to allow the largest vessels to approach the
town, which stands five miles from the entrance, and frigates^
may pass two miles further up. The shores on both sides of
this fine harbour are lofty and well-guarded by the castles
of San Felipe and Palma, while the entrance, which is
formed by piers, may be closed by a boom. Here are
docks, arsenals, and magazines, though now in a very
neglected state, which might afford ready means of equip¬
ping the largest fleet; and until a few years since there were
here also marine schools and barracks for the accommoda¬
tion of 6000 artificers. Ferrol is strongly fortified on the
land side by a wall, on which 200 cannon might easily be
mounted; and it contains a population of about 17,000,
who subsist without any trade, except that which is
afforded by the presence of the fleet, as foreign goods are
prohibited from entering the port. A long narrow penin¬
sula separates the bays of Betanzos and of Ayres from the
harbour of Ferrol, opposite to which stands the port of
Coruna. The great bay which forms the common entrance
to all these inlets is the Portus Magnus of the ancients.
About one mile N. of Coruna stands the famous lighthouse
called the Tower of Hercules, or the Iron Tower, which
was repaired in 1788. It is 92 feet high, with walls de¬
fect thick. The construction proves clearly that it was
built by the Romans, and an inscription discovered near its
foundation informs us that it was built by Caius Servius
Lupus, architect to the town of Aqua Flavia, and that it
was dedicated to Mars. The principal port on the western
coast of Galicia is the deep, capacious Bay of Vigo, in
which the largest vessels may ride securely one mile above
the town.
The climate of Galicia is variable—cold in the interior Climate,
as compared with the other provinces of Spain, but tempe-
rate on the coast. The skies are cloudy, and rains very P.ons.
frequent. Forest trees abound on the hill slopes, and also
chestnut trees, which supply much of the food of the pea¬
santry. Large herds of cattle, mules, and asses browse on
the abundant rich pasture of the valleys. rI he soil is gene¬
rally stony, but when carefully cultivated, produces flax,
maize, barley, wheat, abundance of fruit, and a considera¬
ble quantity of wine. Great numbers of pigs are reared ;
and the hams cured in this province are in great request.
The woods abound with game in great variety, wdiile the
rivers and indented shores teem with fish, especially trout,
salmon, anchovies, tunny, lampreys, and the bezugos or
hog-fish—a singular species, which has no bones, and re¬
sembles the lamprey in the richness of its flavour. The
fisheries on the coast are a profitable branch of industiy,
not only supplying food for the inhabitants, but being
largely exported into Leon and the Castiles. I he chief Manufac-
manufacture is linen, which is made in large quantities, and ture.
of good quality for domestic use.
The Galicians (Gallegos) are a hardy, docile, and Indus- People,
trious people, resembling their neighbours, the Portuguese,
much more in their habits than the other inhabitants of the
Galicia.
vomen.
language.
^Id ani-
mls.
linerals.
fowns.
¥
G A L
Peninsula. To most of the rest of the Spaniards, Galicians
are very little known. They form their ideas of them from
those who emigrate into the other parts of Spain. The
district of La Coruna supplies the Castiles, as Pontevedra
and Orense do Portugal. The emigrants remain absent
during four or five years, after which they pay their homes
a visit, and start forth again. Others only go down for the
harvest time, and return like the Irish to enjoy their hardly-
earned gains. Those who settle in Madrid become repos¬
ter os and managers in families. They are also well calcu¬
lated, by their muscular frames, to do the porters’ work of
Spain and Portugal; hence the term gallego is synonymous
with a boor, ganapan, or mozo de cordel. They are very
numerous in Lisbon, Portugal being nearer their own
homes than the Castiles. When the men migrate, the
women do all the drudgery at home, in the house and field,
and painful it is to see them tugging at the plough. They
are never idle; and the rueca or distaff is part and parcel
of a Gallega as is the fan of an Andaluza. This hard
work, with their bad fare, nips their beauty in the bud ;
few indeed are born good-looking, or even retain their
good looks long. They are aged at thirty, and then seem
models for witches, and even as if they never had been
young. From the Gallegos a direct answer is scarcely
ever obtained. In their wretched huts they seem not a
whit improved since the time of Justin and Strabo. Still,
now as then, they are proud of their pedigrees.
The language of Galicia is a harsh, uncouth dialect,
quite unintelligible to Spaniards, who sneer at their use of
u for o; and yet from it and the dialect of the Asturias
the modern elegant and refined Castilian has sprung.
These interesting keys to the origin of their language
has never yet received the attention they deserve from
the Spanish philologists.
Among the woody hills there are numerous wolves and
wdld boars that descend into the plains, and sometimes
commit great depredations among the flocks and herds.
Advancing northward, primitive formations begin to ap¬
pear as the outline of the hills becomes bolder ; and near
Coruna lofty granitic ridges stretch as far as Cape Ortegal.
These granites, which seem to be a continuation of those
of Cornwall, contain an abundance of the common tin ore,
the working of which is laborious, and not very profitable
to the Galicians, who are far behind in scientific and me¬
chanical appliances. There is strong probability that the
Phoenicians visited Galicia as well as Cornwall and the
Cassiterides for this tin ore. In former times, gold and
silver were also among its mineral wealth; but at present
lead, tin, and copper, which are found chiefly along the
northern coast and along the banks of the Mino, are the
only riches of which the mines of Galicia can boast.
Galicia contains 6 cities, 70 towns, and rather more than
3000 villages. Coruna is now the capital of Galicia, and
chief town of the province of Coruna. Betanzos, 11 miles
W.S.W. from Coruna, is situated on a peninsula, formed
by the junction of two streams, which flow unitedly into
the Ba> of Betanzos. It is an old town, and some of the
narrow streets are still entered by ancient granite gateways.
The population, about 5000, are mostly employed in the
fisheries. Ferrol has already been mentioned among the
harbours. Lugo stands 52 miles S.E. from Coruna, and is
the capital of the modern province of Lugo. Under the
name Lucus Augusti, Lugo was celebrated in Roman
times for its warm sulphur baths. These thermo; have
disappeared, but some remains of a dike against inundations
testify their former magnificence. The present incommo¬
dious baths are on the left bank of the Mino, and they are
beneficial in cutaneous and rheumatic disorders from the
middle of June till the end of September. Close to these
there is a mineral spring containing nitre and antimony.
In September 1842 the Calle de Batitales, a Roman
GAL
mosaic pavement was discovered, with designs of fish,
animals, and other devices. The population of Lugo is
(1855) nearly 8000. Orense (aquae) urentes, “ warm
sea,” was anciently celebrated for its warm baths, and
those called Las Burgas are still frequented from July to
September. They gush forth at the W. of the towm from
a granite rock almost boiling, and are turned to many use¬
ful purposes besides medical ones. Orense has very narrow
streets, but is a clean, neat town, and the capital of the
modern province of Orense. The population is about
7000. The town is pleasantly situated, encircled with
hills, and rising gently from the Mino. The bridge over
the river is a striking object, being 1320 feet long and 18
wide, defended by a castle on the town side. The grand
arch is 156 feet span, and 135 in elevation from the bed of
the stream, which is subject to sudden inundations. It was
built in the year 1230 by Bishop Lorenzo, and repaired in
1449 by one of his successors, Pedro de Silva. It was in
this city that the Suevi-Goths first renounced Paganism.
Pontevedra is 80 miles S.S.W. of Coruna, and situated on
the S. bank of the Lerez at its entrance into the Ria de
Pontevedra. The town has its name from the long bridge
which here crosses the Lerez ; it signifies “ old bridge.”
The town is well built, surrounded with walls, well paved,
clean, and has a commodious harbour for small craft. It
contains a population of about 5000. The other principal
towns—Mondonedo, Santiago de Compostela (formerly the
capital of Galicia), Tuy, and Vigo—are given in their
alphabetic order.
The origin of the name of Galicia is very uncertain. History-
Some suppose that it was given by the Galli, who, pur¬
sued by the Kymri, took refuge in Spain; while others
adopt the notion that the name was given by its first
inhabitants, the Callicai or Gallceci. In a.d. 408 the
Suevians, Alans, and Vandals entered Spain, and became
masters of several provinces, which they partitioned among
them. Galicia fell to the Suevians, wdio chose for their
chief Hermeneric (a.d. 411.) In 559 Theodomir and his
son established and warmly defended Christianity in their
dominions ; but in 590 Luvigildus, king of the Visi-Goths,
rendered himself master of Galicia, which he united to his
own estates. In 713 the Moors invaded the kingdom, and
were in turn driven out of it by Troila, king of Leon and
the Asturias. In 1065 Ferdinand I. erected Galicia into
a separate kingdom for his second son, Don Garcia. But
his tyranny and debaucheries excited the hatred of the
nation so much that he was first driven from his throne
in 1071, and two years afterwards deprived of all his
estates by Alfonso, king of Castile. After that, the
younger sons of the kings of Castile often held Galicia as
an appanage, but only with the title of Count. These
Counts remained independent till 1474, the date of the
complete destruction offeodality by Ferdinand the Catho¬
lic. Since that time, Galicia has preserved no trace of
its ancient grandeur and independence, except the name
of kingdom, though only considered as a province of Spain.
In 1822 the Cortes subdivided it into the present four
small provinces, as already mentioned.
Galicia, Kingdom of, a province of Austria, formerly
constituting a part of Poland.
GALILEE (TaXikaLa), the Greek form of the name
given to one of the three principal divisions of Palestine,
the other two being Judaea and Samaria. This name of
the region was very ancient. It occurs in the Hebrew'
forms of Galiland Galilah, Josh. xx. 7; xxi. 3 ; 1 Kings ix.
11; 2 Kings xv.29; and in Isa. viii. 23 we have pDJfJ
“ Galilee of the nations ” (PaAiAaia aXKofvXwv, 1 Macc. v.
15 ; Matt. iv. 15.)
Galilee was the most northern of the three divisions, and
was divided into Upper and Lower. The former district
had Mount Lebanon and the countries of Tyre and Sidcu
374 GAL GAL
Galileo. on ^]ie north ; the Mediterranean Sea on the west; Abilene, lute ; and during the whole of his life this continued to be Galileo.
Ituraea, and the country of Decapolis on the east; and his favourite recreation amidst more serious pursuits. In v^-
Lower Galilee on the south. This was the portion of the latter, which he had at one time thoughts of cultivat-
Galilee which was distinctively called “ Galilee of the ing as a profession, he acquired so perfect a taste, that
nations,” or of the “ Gentiles,” from its having a more eminent contemporary artists did not scruple to own their
mixed population, i.e. less purely Jewish than the others, obligations to him for his counsel and suggestions. Such
Caesarea Philippi was its principal city. Lower Galilee had was Galileo at the age of eighteen, when his father, be-
Upper Galilee on the north, the Mediterranean on the coming daily more sensible of the extent of his genius,
west, the Sea of Galilee or Lake of Gennesareth on the determined, at whatever sacrifice, to give him the advan-
east, and Samaria on the south. Its principal towns were tage of an university education. .In 1581 he accordingly
Tiberias, Chorazin, Bethsaida, Nazaretb, Cana, Capernaum, commenced his academical career in the university of Pisa,
Nain, Caesarea of Palestine, and Ptolemais. This is the which he entered with the intention of studying medicine,
district which was of all others the most honoured with the from the profession of which his father hoped that he
presence of our Saviour. Here he lived entirely until he might one day procure an easy and honourable subsist-
was thirty years of age ; and although after the commence- ence.1 And, that he might not lose any kind of instruc-
ment of his ministry he frequently visited the other pro- tion which was to be obtained, he attended a course of pe-
vinces, it was here that he chiefly resided. Here also he ripatetic philosophy, such as it was then taught, in addi-
made his first appearance to the apostles after his resurrection; tion to that of medicine. But, called by the predestina-
for they were all natives of this region, and had returned tion of genius to unveil to mankind those wonders of nature,
hither after the sad events at Jerusalem (Matt, xxviii. 7). which their fanatical confidence in the opinions of Aristo-
Hence the disciples of Christ were called “Galileans.” tie prevented them from seeing even when revealed, he
They were easily recognised as such; for the Galileans could not bring himself to assent without conviction, nor to
spoke a dialect of the vernacular Syriac different from that admit the authority of a master in questions which reason
of Judaea, impure in comparison with that of the metro- and experiment ought alone to decide. Actuated by this
polis. The Galilean dialect (as we learn from Buxtorf, spirit, he several times ventured, in the academical discus-
Lightfoot, and others) was of a broad and rustic tone, sions, to combat tbe firmest supporters of the Aristotelian
which affected the pronunciation not only of letters but dogmas, and in consequence be obtained the reputation of
of words. It partook much of the Samaritan and Syriac possessing an obstinate and contradictory disposition; for
idiom ; but, in the instance of Peter, it must have been men do not easily reconcile themselves to the subversion
the tone which bewrayed him, the words being seemingly of opinions, the stability of which they have long been
too few for that effect. accustomed to consider as incapable of being shaken ; and
GALILEO GALILEI, the founder of experimental hence the partisans of Aristotle found as great difficulty
science, was born at Pisa on the 15th of February 1564, in doubting as Galileo did in admitting tbe authority of
being descended of a noble and ancient Florentine fa- that master. It is not a little remarkable that, some years
mily, which, under the surname of Bonajuti, afterwards later, Descartes commenced in France, as Bacon did in
changed to that of Galilei, had filled distinguished offices England, the same war which Galileo had so boldly de¬
in the state. His father, Vincenzo Galilei, was a man of dared at Pisa; thus proving that the great regenerative
considerable talent and learning, with a competent know- efforts of the human mind are inevitably brought on by
ledge of the mathematics, and particularly devoted to the the force of circumstances and the natural progress of
study of music, on the theory and practice of which he ideas, and that the men of genius who attach their names
published several treatises. Vincenzo had three sons, to these memorable revolutions, are themselves carried
Galileo, Michel Angelo, and Benedetto, and the same onward by their age, and precede it only by a few steps,
number of daughters", Giulia, Virginia, and Livia; but he It was at this period, 1582, when he had scarcely com-
was not opulent, and being burdened with a numerous pleted his eighteenth year, that Galileo made the first and
family, was unable to provide for them expensive instruc- perhaps the finest of his discoveries. Happening one day
tors. The subject of this notice exhibited early symptoms to be in the metropolitan church of Pisa, he remarked the
of an active and original mind, and even in his childhood regular and periodic movement of a lamp suspended from
showed a singular aptitude for mechanical contrivances, the roof of the cathedral; he also observed the equal du-
imitating with infinite address all sorts of machines, in- ration of its oscillations, whether great or small; and this
venting new ones, or when, as often happened, he wanted he confirmed by repeated experiments. Having satisfied
the necessary materials for constructing these, adding himself as to the phenomenon itself, he immediately per-
new pieces to old ones. It is worthy of observation, that ceived the use to which it might be applied for the exact
the boyhood of his great follower, Newton, whose genius measurement of time ; and this idea having remained in his
in many respects closely resembled his own, was marked mind, he employed it fifty years afterwards (in 1633) for
by a similar talent. Galileo commenced his literary stu- the construction of a clock intended for astronomical ob-
dies at Florence, where his family resided ; but, for the servations. In what manner this instrument was construct-
reason already stated, his masters were of the humblest ed, does not exactly appear; but it seems certain that it
kind. Knowing the disadvantages of his situation, how- was employed for the purpose stated; and this, in our
ever, Galileo resolved to supply by industry the want of opinion, is sufficient to entitle Galileo to the honour of
better opportunities; and he applied with so much assi- having been the first to make an application which after-
duity to the study of the classic models, that he soon laid wards became of so much importance to astronomy; for
the foundations of that extensive and solid literature to Huygens, who, in truth, rendered it incomparably more
which he was afterwards indebted for the purity of his perfect, by employing the pendulum as the regulator of
language and the elegance of his writings. His leisure clocks, and not as the motive power alone, did not publish
hours were applied to the cultivation of music and draw- his researches on this subject until about the year 1658.
ing, in both of which arts he excelled. For the former he At the time of which we are here speaking, Galileo had
inherited his father’s talent, which he displayed by per- no knowledge of the mathematics, nor even the least desire
forming skilfully on several instruments, especially the to learn them, not conceiving in what respect triangles
1 In the.matriculation lists of Pisa he is styled Galileo, the son of Vincenzo Galilei, a Florentine, scholar in arts. His entry is
dated the 5th November 1581.
GALILEO. 375
Galileo, and circles could conduce to the advancement of philoso-
phy. The study of geometry was then at a very low ebb,
not only in Italy, but in every country of Europe. Com-
mandine, it is true, had recently revived a taste for the
writings of Euclid and Archimedes ; Vieta, Tartalea, and
others had made considerable progress in algebra; and
Guido Ubaldi and Benedetti had done something towards
establishing the principles of statics, the only branch of
mechanics as yet cultivated. But, with these exceptions,
the application of mathematics to the phenomena of na¬
ture was scarcely thought of. Galileo’s first inducement
to acquire a knowledge of geometry arose from his par¬
tiality for music and drawing; he had heard his father re¬
peatedly state, that these arts, of which he was passion¬
ately fond, had their principles in the relations of numbers
and of position taught by the mathematics; and he now
entreated to be instructed in a subject which promised to
unfold to him the true theory of his favourite pursuits.
But his father, apprehensive that a study which so strong¬
ly attaches those who take pleasure in it would diminish
his zeal for medicine, told him to wait until he had com¬
pleted his course. Galileo, however, was not satisfied;
and as Ostilio Ricci, professor of mathematics in the uni¬
versity, frequently visited at his father’s house, he besought
this person to give him secretly some lessons in geometry.
The professor consented, after having privately asked and
obtained the consent of the father. But the young man
had no sooner entered into that field of investigation for
which nature had destined him, than his mind became en¬
grossed by the pleasure he felt in the certain and entire
possession of truth ; from that moment medicine and philo¬
sophy were abandoned for Euclid ; and all the efforts and
remonstrances of his father, who desired to recall him to
pursuits which he thought more useful, and even went so
far as to prohibit him from holding any intercourse with
Ricci, proved unavailing. The impulse had been given,
and all attempts to counteract it were fortunately useless.
Galileo had learned enough to study alone. He accord¬
ingly continued in secret the perusal of Euclid, at the
same time keeping open beside him a Galen or an Hippo¬
crates, in order to conceal the favourite book when his fa¬
ther entered. Having thus by stealth advanced as far as
the sixth book, and being transported with the utility
which he discovered in the science of geometry for giving
force and method to the understanding, he resolved to
avow his progress to his father, and entreat the latter no
longer to oppose the decided bent of his mind. Vincenzo,
perceiving that he was born for the mathematics, yielded
to the irresistible predilection of his son, and permitted
him to enter freely upon those speculations to which he
thenceforward devoted all the energies of his highly-gift¬
ed intellect.
Having thus abandoned medicine, Galileo read with
avidity the works of the ancient geometers, and then pro¬
ceeded to study the treatise of Archimedes on floating
bodies, which greatly delighted him. He now sought to
multiply the applications of the method employed by the
illustrious ancient in determining the proportions of an al¬
loy of silver and of gold by successive weighings in water
and in air; and for this purpose he invented an instru¬
ment similar in its uses to that which was afterwards call¬
ed the hydrostatic balance. This invention, joined to his
previous discovery respecting the movement of oscillation,
and his new and free method of discussing subjects in phi¬
losophy, had already procured him considerable reputa¬
tion, when he formed a connection with the Marquis Gui¬
do Ubaldi, then one of the most learned mathematicians
of Italy. At the suggestion of this distinguished person,
Galileo applied himself to consider the position of the Galileo,
centre of gravity in solid bodies; a choice of subject suf-
ficiently indicating the estimate which Ubaldi had form¬
ed of his powers, considering that the question was one
on which Commandine had recently written, and which
at that time engaged the attention of geometricians of the
highest order. Galileo, however, discontinued his re¬
searches on meeting with Valerio’s treatise upon the same
subject; but Ubaldi was so much struck with the genius
displayed in the essay which Galileo presented to him,
that he introduced the },oung geometer to his brother the
Cardinal del Monte, who again warmly recommended him
to John de’ Medici and the Grand Duke Ferdinand of
Tuscany, as a person of the highest promise. These illus¬
trious personages gave him a most favourable reception,
and soon afterwards bestowed on him the chair of mathe¬
matics in the university of Pisa, although he had as yet
scarcely completed his twenty-fifth year.
Excited by this distinction, Galileo neglected nothing
calculated to justify the preference which had been given
him ; and conceiving that a knowledge of the laws of mo¬
tion is the basis of all solid study of nature, he undertook to
establish them, not by hypothetical reasonings, as was the
practice in the schools, but by real experiments. He thus
demonstrated that all bodies, whatever be their nature, are
equally affected by gravity; and that, if the spaces through
which they descend in equal times are different, this de¬
pends on the unequal resistance opposed to them by the
air, according to their different volumes. This important
proposition Galileo completed long afterwards, in a work
entitled Dialoghi delle Scienze Nuove, in which he esta¬
blished the true theory of uniformly accelerated motion.
The novelty and beauty of his first experiments, performed
before an immense concourse of spectators, excited great
enthusiasm. But they at the same time embittered the
animosity of the partisans of the ancient philosophy, who,
seeing their whole science attacked, sought to destroy the
innovator in the opinion of persons in power, and at length
succeeded in raising against him such a host of annoy¬
ances and persecutions, that, in 1592, he was obliged to
resign his chair at Pisa. He returned to Florence with¬
out employment, but durst not present himself in the
house of his father, who had already made so many sacri¬
fices on his account. He had the good fortune, however,
to obtain from Guido Ubaldi a letter of recommendation
to an opulent gentleman of Florence, of the family of the
Salviati, who received him with extreme kindness, and
afforded him the means of prosecuting his discoveries, until
he could find some employment. With a view to serve
him, Salviati also made him known to a Venetian noble¬
man of the name of Sagredo ; an enlightened and influen¬
tial man, who soon afterwards obtained for the youthful
philosopher the chair of mathematics at Padua, which was
conferred on him for six years. It was in gratitude for
these seasonable benefits that Galileo gave the names of
Sagredo and Salviati to the two interlocutors in his dia¬
logues who support the true philosophy.
In his new situation, where he enjoyed greater freedom
than he had done at Pisa, Galileo continued, with still more
brilliant success, both his public lessons and his experi¬
mental researches. Fie constructed, for the service of the
state, various machines of great utility ; and he wrote for his
pupils treatises on gnomonics, mechanics, spherical astrono¬
my, and even fortification, according to the usage of the age,
when many things were united which the progress of know¬
ledge has since separated. In 1597, he invented the ther¬
mometer1 and the proportional compass or sector, which he
called the military compass, because he had principally in-
1 The original idea of this instrument belongs to the Greek mathematician Hero ; and even Santorio, who has been named by
Italian writers as the inventor, and, at one time, claimed the invention as his own, refers it to him. In 1613, Sagredo, who has been
376
GALILEO.
Galileo, tended it for the use of engineers. In 1599, his cominis-
sion having expired, the senate renewed it for another six
years, with an increase of salary, which Galileo repaid
to the republic by new discoveries. In 1604, an unknown
star of extraordinary brightness having suddenly appeared in
the constellation of Serpentarius, Galileo demonstrated, by
his observations, that this body was placed far beyond what
the peripatetics called the elementary region ; nay, that it
was much more remote than all the planets, contrary to
the formal and infallible opinion of Aristotle, who main¬
tains that the heavens are incorruptible and'free from all
mutation. He also made researches on natural magnets,
and succeeded in considerably augmenting their power by
means of capping or casing them. His commission as pro¬
fessor was renewed a second time in 1606, with additional
advantages, for which he testified his gratitude, as before,
by increased diligence in the prosecution of his discoveries.
But envy, which had never lost sight of him, exerted herself
to disturb that peace which is so necessary to the success¬
ful pursuit of science. In 1604, on the occasion of his re¬
searches respecting the new star, he had been grossly
abused by one Baltasar Capra of Milan. This man had
the audacity to publish a Latin treatise on the proportional
compass, in which he represented himself as the real in¬
ventor of that instrument; but the calumny was so gross
that nobody was deceived by it; Galileo confounded his
adversary, and the work of Capra was prohibited as a de¬
famatory libel. Nor was this the only instance in which
he had to vindicate his right of property in his own inven¬
tions. He frequently found himself ill recompensed for the
readiness with which he communicated the results of his
investigations ; but he always raised himself by new disco¬
veries, far above these disgraceful attempts to appropriate
the fruits of his genius.
The year 1609 was signalised by a discovery on the part
of Galileo, which forms one of the most solid foundations
of his glory. In the month of April or of May, a rumour
was circulated in Venice that a Dutchman had presented
to Count Maurice of Nassau an instrument, by which means
distant objects appeared as if they were near at hand. On
this slight and cursory hint Galileo immediately applied
himself to discover whether the thing was possible, con¬
formably with the passage of the luminous rays through
spherical glasses of various forms. Some attempts made with
lenses which he had at hand produced the desired effect;
and next day he gave an account of his success to his
friends, which, in fact, was nothing less than the invention
of the telescope. A short time afterwards he presented
several of these instruments to the senate of Venice, ac¬
companied with a description in which he unfolded the im¬
mense consequences for nautical and astronomical observa¬
tions which would certainly result from the discovery; and
in recompense of his ingenuity his commission as professor
was continued for life, with an allowance of salary triple
that which he had previously received. Galileo neglected
nothing calculated to evince his gratitude, or to add to the
claims which had merited these favours. Indefatigable in
his researches, he invented the microscope ; he also im¬
proved his telescope, and soon brought it to a state fit to
be applied to the observation of the heavens. He then
perceived what as yet no mortal eye had ever seen ; the sur¬
face of the moon, like that of the earth, bristled with high
mountains and ploughed with deep valleys; Venus, pre¬
senting, like the moon, phases which prove her rotundity;
Jupiter environed with four satellites, who accompany him
in his course ; the milky way ; the nebulae ; in a word, the
whole heavens bespangled with a countless multitude of
stars too small to be even perceived by the naked eye. It
is more easy to conceive than describe the surprise and de¬
light which the first view of so many wonders must have in¬
spired him withal, as well as the admiration which they could
not fail to produce when they were known. A few days
having sufficed to pass them in review, he hastened to an¬
nounce his observations to the world in a publication en¬
titled Nuncius Sidereus, or Celestial Courier, which he de¬
dicated to the princes of Medici, and which he continued
at intervals, in proportion as he discovered new objects.
He also observed that Saturn sometimes appeared under
the form of a simple disc, and sometimes with two appen¬
dages which seemed two small planets ; but it was reserved
for another astronomer (see Huygens) to demonstrate that
these appearances were produced by the ring with which
Saturn is surrounded. Galileo also discovered moveable
spots on the globe or disc of the sun, whom the peripate¬
tics had declared incorruptible, and did not hesitate from
these to infer the rotation of that planet. He remarked that
feeble light which, in the first and last quarter of the moon,
renders visible, by means of the telescope, the part of her
disc which is not then directly enlightened by the sun;
and he concluded rightly that this effect was owing to the
light reflected towards the moon by the earth. The
continued observation of the spots of the moon satisfied
him that that planet always presents nearly the same as¬
pect ; but in these he nevertheless recognised a species of
periodic oscillation, to which he gave the name of libration,
the exact laws of which were afterwards made known by
Dominic Cassini. In a word, not less profound in follow¬
ing new truths to their consequences than subtile in disco¬
vering them, Galileo perceived the use to which the mo¬
tions and eclipses of the satellites of Jupiter might be turned
for the measure of longitudes; and he even undertook to
make a sufficient number of observations of these stars to
enable him to construct tables for the use of navigators.
After so many and so admirable discoveries, we have
good reason to be astonished that any one should dream
of denying to Galileo the invention of the telescope, with
which he had made them; as if, in such a case, the inventor
was not he who, guided by certain rules and by great
views, knew how to perform wonders with that which
chance had thrown rude and unfashioned into incapable
hands. If he who, in Holland, accidentally joined two
glasses of unequal curvature, was really the inventor of the
telescope, why then did he not turn it towards the heavens,
the most beautiful and sublime application of that instru-
Galileo,
already mentioned as the friend of Galileo, writes to him in the following terms :—“ I have brought the instrument which you in¬
vented, into several convenient forms, so that the difference of temperature between two rooms is seen as far as a hundred degrees.”
The date of this communication, which incidentally establishes the invention of Galileo, is anterior to the claims of Santorio, and also
to those of Drebbel, a Dutch physician, who obtained, and still preserves in Germany, the honour of having invented this instru¬
ment. Another testimony may be added. In 1638, Castelli wrote to Cesarini that he remembered an experiment shown to him
more than thirty years before by Galileo, who took a small glass bottle, about the size of a hen’s egg, the neck of which was twenty-
two inches long, and as narrow as a straw. “ Having well heated the bulb in his hands, and then introduced its mouth into a vessel
containing water, he withdrew his hand from the bulb, on which the water rose in the neck of the bottle more than eleven inches
above the level of that in the vessel; and this principle he employed in the construction of an instrument for measuring heat and
cold.” Galileo’s thermometer, therefore, consisted merely of a glass tube ending in a bulb, the air in which, being partly expelled
by heat, was replaced by water from a glass in which the open end of the tube was immersed; and the different degrees of heat were
indicated by the expansion of the air which still remained in the bulb, so that the scale would be the reverse of that now in use, as
the water would stand at the highest level in the coldest weather. In other words, it was a compound of the barometer and
thermometer.
G A L I L E O.
Galileo, ment ? Why (lid he leave to Galileo the happiness and
glory of overturning, in the eyes of all, ancient prejudices,
of consolidating by the clearest proofs the system of Co¬
pernicus, and of aggrandising the celestial spaces beyond
all that the imagination could have conceived? But how¬
ever this may be, it is easy to comprehend to what a
height so many and so great discoveries must have raised
the views of Galileo ; he perceived all the consequences
which resulted from them relatively to the constitution of
the universe ; and, indeed, how could they escape him who,
having taken nature as his guide, had, during Ids whole
life, preserved his mind open to her impressions P1 He
concealed none of these high consequences, which formed
as it were the soul of his writings and conversation ; and
he considered himself as henceforth entitled to despise
errors too gross to be honestly maintained.
But, unfortunately for himself, he was no longer under
the protection of Venice. Yielding to the instances of
the Grand Duke of Tuscany, who had named him mathe¬
matician extraordinary, and loaded him with favours, he
had quitted Padua, where he enjoyed the utmost free¬
dom, for Florence, where such a thing as liberty was
scarcely known. Honoured by the senate of Venice,
and united by the ties of friendship with several of the
most distinguished senators, he could publish his opinions
without danger to himself as long as he remained within
the territories of that state. But, in the end, experience
proved that he could have no such security at the court
of a prince, obliged at least to keep up appearances with
the court of Home. Besides the number of envious per¬
sons whom his great merit had exasperated against him,
his discoveries made to him enemies of all those who had
hitherto taught the ancient doctrines ; and of these per¬
sons by far the greater part were ecclesiastics. According¬
ly, some spread it abroad that his discoveries in the stars
were pure visions, comparable only to the voyage of As-
tolphus ; others affirmed that they had had the telescope in
their possession during entire nights, and that they had
seen nothing of all that which Galileo had announced;
and a preacher was found who, malicious enough to con¬
vey a dangerous allusion in a pun, took as his text the
377
words of the Gospel, Viri Galilai, quid statis adspicientes Galileo.
in ccelum? It was thus that the countrymen of Coperni-
cus had publicly ridiculed him on the stage; and it was
thus that, at a later period, the reformed of Holland per¬
secuted Descartes, who had taken refuge amongst them.
But the most certain method of reaching Galileo was
to begin by prohibiting the doctrine of Copernicus, which
he supported and propagated with so much distinction.
This was accordingly effected by representing it as con¬
trary to Scripture, and denouncing it to the holy see. Ga¬
lileo endeavoured in vain to allay the storm, by publish¬
ing, in 1616, a letter addressed to the Grand Duchess of
Tuscany, in which he undertook to prove theologically,
and by reasons deduced from the Fathers, that the terms
of Scripture might be reconciled with his new discoveries
respecting the constitution of the universe. But this pro¬
duction only afforded a new handle to his adversaries,
who maintained that he had rested his defence on an opi¬
nion which was itself erroneous in point of doctrine. He
was cited to appear personally at Rome, and constrained
to repair thither to defend himself. But neither the ar¬
guments which he urged in support of his opinions, nor
the justice which they were forced to render to his know¬
ledge, his merit, and even his catholicity, could prevent
an assembly of theology, named by the pope, from coming
to the following conclusion : “ To maintain that the sun
is placed immoveable in the centre of the world, is an
opinion absurd in itself, false in philosophy, and formally
heretical, because it is expressly contrary to the Scrip¬
tures; to maintain that the earth is not placed in the
centre of the world, that it is not immoveable, and that it
has even a daily motion of rotation, is also an absurd pro¬
position, false in philosophy, and at least erroneous in
point of faith.” Confounded at this deliverance, Galileo
employed all the arguments which the truth suggested to
him in defence of a doctrine which his observations had
rendered indubitable ; but his efforts were unavailing; his
reasonings were disregarded; and as he had not showed
sufficient deference to the decision of the holy office, he
was personally interdicted from professing in future the
opinion which had just been condemned.2
1 “ Ihe interpreter of the works of nature is experiment,” says Leonardo da Vinci; “ that is never wrong: it is our judgment
which is sometimes deceived, because we expect results which experiment refuses to give. We must consult experiment, and vary
the circumstances, till wre have deduced general rules, for it alone can furnish us with them. But, it will be asked, what is the use
qt these general rules ? I answer, that they may direct us in our inquiries into nature and the operations of art. They keep us
from deceiving ourselves and others, by promising ourselves results which we can never obtain.” (Venturi, Essai sur les Ouvrages
de Leonardo da Vinci.)
2 It has been contended that the treatment which Galileo experienced on this and a subsequent occasion was caused, not by his
maintaining the true system of the world, which, in the above declaration, is formally condemned as “ false in philosophy and errone¬
ous in faith,” but solely by his persisting in the endeavour to prove that the Scriptures were reconcilable with the Copernican the¬
ory. “ Ce philosoplm (Galileo),” says Bergier, “ ne fut point persecute comme bon astronome, mais comme mauvais theologien.
C’est son entetement a vouloir concilier la Bible avec Copemic, qui lui donna les juges. Mais vingt auteurs, surtout parmi les Pro-
testans, ont ecrit que Galilee fut persecute et imprisonne pour avoir soutenu que la terre tourne autour du soleil, que ce systeme a
ete condamne par 1’Inquisition comme faut, errone, et contraire a la Bible.” {Encyclopidie Mcthodique, art. Sciences humabies, Baris,
1790.) This is a complete misrepresentation of facts known to every one. So far was Galileo from persisting in an attempt to re¬
concile the Bible with Copernicus, that he regarded this as a matter altogether indifferent, and indeed beside the real question. “ I
am inclined to believe,” says he in his letter to the Grand Duchess of Tuscany, “ that the intention of the sacred Scriptures is to
give mankind the information necessary for their salvation, and which, surpassing all human knowledge, can by no other means be
accredited than by the mouth of the Holy Spirit. But I do not hold it necessary to believe that the same God who has endowed us
with senses, with speech, and with intellect, intended that we should neglect the use of these, and seek by other means for knowledge
which they are sufficient to procure us ; especially in a science like astronomy, of which so little notice is taken in the Scriptures, that
none of the planets, except the sun and moon, and once or twice only Venus, under the name of Lucifer, are so much as named there.
This therefore being granted, I think that in the discussion of natural problems we ought not to begin at the authority of texts of
Scripture, but at sensible experiments and necessary demonstrations ; for from the divine word sacred Scripture and nature did both
alike proceed ; and I conceive that, concerning natural effects, that which either sensible experience sets before our eyes, or necessary
demonstrations prove unto us, ought not upon any account to be called in question, much less condemned, upon the testimony of
Scripture texts, which may under their words couch senses seemingly contrary thereto.” Can any thing be more explicit than the
contradiction of the assertion of Bergier contained in these words ? Is there any evidence here of Galileo’s alleged entetement a
vouloir concilier la Bible avec Copernic ?” But the philosopher proceeds in continuation : “ Again, to command the professors of
astronomy that they of themselves should see to the confuting of their own observations and demonstrations, is to enjoin a thing be¬
yond all possibility of being done; for it is not only to command them not to see that which they do see, and not to understand that
which they do understand, but it is to order them to seek for and find the contrary of that which they happen to meet with. I
would entreat these wise and prudent fathers that they would with all diligence consider the difference which exists between opi-
nionative and demonstrative doctrines ; to the end that, well weighing in their own minds with what force necessary inferences uro-e
VOL. X. 3 B
378
Galileo.
G A L X
Galileo returned to Florence in 1617, and resumed,
with what s^rief uiay he easdy imagined, the couiseoi his
astronomical labours. But his love for these sublime
truths, of which he considered himself as the depositary,
increasing in proportion to the efforts made to extinguish
it, he undertook to silence, if he could not persuade, his
adversaries, by collecting into a body all the physical
proofs of the motion of the earth and the constitution of
the heavens; and during sixteen entire years he was en¬
gaged in this work. All that the finest genius could ima¬
gine in point of ingenuity, or the purest taste admit in
point of elegance, he employed to render the truth attrac¬
tive. But it is not a learned treatise which he presents
to us as the fruit of his labour and talents; it is merely a
continued simple dialogue between two of the most distin¬
guished personages of Florence and Venice, and a third
interlocutor, who, under the name of Simplicius, under¬
takes to re-produce the “ invincible arguments” of the
peripatetics ; and each perfectly sustains the part assign¬
ed to him. The two men of the world possess instruction,
without system, and without prejudices ; they discuss, ex¬
amine, propose doubts, and only yield to cogent reasons.
The good Simplicius, on the other hand, is altogether scho¬
lastic ; he neither understands nor desires to comprehend
any thing but Aristotle; he judges things true or false
according as they are conformable or opposed to the asser¬
tions of his master; the least pleasantry on this subject
is insupportable to him, and he yields not to any kind of
conviction. The style of each of the interlocutors is also
perfectly adapted to his character, without ceasing how¬
ever to preserve, amidst these shades of distinction, an ex¬
quisite elegance, united with the most felicitous choice of
expressions.
But if great genius was required for the composition
of such a work, equal address was necessary to obtain
permission to publish it; and this Galileo undertook to
procure even in Rome itself. In 1630 he proceeded to
that city, and having waited on the master of the sacred
palace, boldly presented his work as a collection of new
scientific fancies, at the same time requesting him to have
the goodness to examine it scrupulously, to retrench what¬
ever might appear to him exceptionable, and indeed to
criticise it with the greatest severity. The prelate, not sus¬
pecting any thing, read it once and again ; handed it to one
of his colleagues for his opinion ; and, not seeing any thing
reprehensible in the work, set his hand to the most ample
approbation of its contents. But the permission thus ob¬
tained was not sufficient; for, in order to profit by it, the
work must be printed at Rome; and the numerous ene¬
mies of Galileo in that city would not have failed to ex¬
plode the mine which the philosopher was himself charg¬
ing to blow them up. On the pretext of some difficulty
of communication between Rome and Florence, occasioned
by a contagious distemper which then prevailed, Galileo
accordingly wrote to the master of the sacred palace, so¬
liciting permission to print his work at Florence, on the
condition of having it again examined in that city. But the
Ij e o.
prelate, who perhaps began to suspect some deception, Galileo,
made difficulties; pointed out to Galileo a new censor;
and demanded to see the approbation which he had pre¬
viously given, in order, as he said, to revise the terms in
which it had been conceived. With this request Galileo
could not refuse to comply; but the prelate having once
got hold of the document, refused to restore it, or to give
any answer in explanation of his conduct; so that Galileo,
after making every effort to recover it, and even causing it
to be demanded by the ambassador of Tuscany, was com¬
pelled to abandon the pursuit as hopeless; and, content¬
ing himself with the approbation of the censor of Florence,
which he now managed to obtain, he published his work
in 1632.
To shield himself as much as possible from prosecution,
he however imagined the singular expedient of present¬
ing his dialogues to the public as an apology for the judg¬
ment of Rome, by which the doctrine of Copernicus had
been condemned. “ Some years ago,” says he, in the com¬
mencement of the introduction, which is addressed to discreet
readers, “ a salutary edict was promulgated at Rome, which,
in order to obviate the perilous scandals of the age, enjoined
an opportune silence as to the Pythagorean opinion of the
earth’s motion. There were not wanting persons who rash¬
ly asserted that this decree had originated, not in a judici¬
ous examination, but in ignorance and passion ; and com¬
plaints were even heard that councillors unexperienced
in astronomical observations should have attempted by
hasty prohibitions to clip the wings of speculative minds.
When I heard these rash lamentations, my zeal would not
suffer me to remain silent; and being fully informed in re¬
gard to that most prudent determination, I thought it pro¬
per to appear publicly on the theatre of the world as a wit¬
ness of the actual truth. I happened at that time to be in
Rome ; I was admitted to the audiences, and enjoyed the
approbation, of the most eminent prelates of that court;
nor did the publication of the decree pass without my re¬
ceiving some previous intimation of the circumstance.1
Wherefore it is my intention, in this present work, to
show to foreign nations that as much is known of this
matter in Italy, and particularly in Rome, as ultramontane
diligence ever formed any notion of; and, collecting toge¬
ther all my own speculations on the Copernican system, to
give them to understand that the knowledge of these pre¬
ceded the Roman censures, and that from this country pro¬
ceed not only dogmas for the salvation of the soul, but also
ingenious discoveries for the gratification of the under¬
standing. With this object in view, I have taken up in
the dialogue the Copernican side of the question, treating
it as purely a mathematical hypothesis, and endeavouring
in every artificial manner to represent it as having the ad¬
vantage, not over the opinion of the stability of the earth
absolutely, but according to the manner in which that opi¬
nion is defended by some who indeed profess to be peripa¬
tetics, but retain only the name, and are contented without
improvement to worship shadows, not philosophizing with
their own reason, but only from the recollection of four
us, they mio-ht the better assure themselves that it is not in the power of professors of demonstrative sciences to change their opinions
at pleasure,"and adopt first one side and then another ; and that there is a great difference between commanding a mathematician or
a philosopher, and the disposing of a lawyer or a merchant; and that the demonstrated conclusions touching the things ol nature
and of the heavens cannot be changed with the same facility as the opinions are what is lawful or not in a contract, bargain, or bill
of exchange. Therefore, first let these men apply themselves to examine the arguments of Copernicus and others, and leave tne
condemning of them as erroneous and heretical to whom it belongs; yet let them not hope to find such rash and precipitate deter-
minations in the judicious and holy fathers, or in the absolute wisdom of him who cannot err, as those into which they suffer them¬
selves to be hurried by some particular affection or interest of their own. In these and such other positions, which are not directly
articles of faith, no man doubts but his holiness has always an absolute power of admitting or condemning them ; but it is not m tne
power of any creature to make them to he true or false, otherwise than of their own nature and in fad they are."
i Delambre, whose prejudice against Galileo is as unreasonable as his partiality to Kepler is marked, quotes this sentence as an
instance of mis-statement of facts on the part of Galileo. With all his acknowledged ability, the historian of astronomy does not seem
to have perceived, what must be obvious to almost every reader, that the whole passage is ironical, and that in the very sentence
which he has cited there lurks a bitter sarcasm. {Histoire de 1'Astronomic Moderne, tome i. p. (J6C.)
Galileo.
—
GALILEO.
379
principles imperfectly understood.” Any one who peruses
a few pages of the dialogues will be at no loss how to in¬
terpret this declaration, nor will he feel any surprise that
those whom Galileo here pretended to vindicate should
have evinced but little gratitude for such a justification.
But what can scarcely be imagined now, is the fury which
the appearance of this work excited amongst the theolo¬
gians of Rome, almost all of whom were ardent peripatetics.
In vain did Galileo attempt to escape by alleging that his
book had been submitted to the judgment of the holy see ;
in vain did he, as a last resource, protest that his only ob¬
ject had been to expound, in a philosophical manner, the
two systems of Ptolemy and Copernicus. His enemies would
not suffer any such excuse to be listened to. Still there
remained to him some hope, founded upon the personal
esteem of Pope Urban VIII.., who, on a former occasion,
had given him a most gracious reception, and had even paid
his astronomical discoveries the compliment of celebrating
them in bad verse ; but the holy father having been per¬
suaded that Galileo had intended to represent him under
the character of Simplicius, his wounded self-love rendered
his severity inexorable.1 Notwithstanding the intercession
of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and the earnest solicita¬
tions which this prince caused to be made by his ambas¬
sador, the work of Galileo was delated to the Inquisition,
and the author himself ordained to appear before that for¬
midable tribunal.
The power of Rome was then supreme; it was neces¬
sary to obey. Neither the infirmity of his health, nor the
pain he suffered from a rheumatic complaint which afflicted
him, could procure an exemption from that sorrowful jour¬
ney. This was in 1633, Galileo being then in the sixty-
ninth year of his age. “ I arrived at Rcme,” says he, in
one of his letters, “ on the 10th February, and was re¬
mitted to the clemency of the Inquisition, and of the so¬
vereign pontiff, Urban VIII. who had some esteem for me,
although I could not compose epigrams or write little ama¬
tory sonnets. I was put under arrest in the delicious palace
of the Trinita de’ Monti, the residence of the ambassa¬
dor of Tuscany. Next day I received a visit from Father
Lancio, commissary of the holy office, who took me with
him in his coach. By the way he put to me a number of
questions, and showed a great desire that I would repair
the scandal which I had given to all Italy by maintaining
the opinion of the motion of the earth ; and to all the ma¬
thematical reasons which I could oppose to him, he could Galileo,
make no other answer than this: Terra autem in ceternum ''—-y-'w
stabit, quia terra in (sternum stat. In discoursing thus we
arrived at the palace of the holy office. I was present¬
ed by the commissary to the assessor, with whom 1 found
two religious Dominicans, who civilly informed me that I
would be permitted to explain my reasons before the con¬
gregation, and that afterwards I should be heard as to
my grounds of excuse, if I was found guilty. The Thurs¬
day following I appeared before the congregation, and
applied myself to the exposition of my proofs. But, un¬
fortunately for me, they were not apprehended; and,
notwithstanding all the pains I took, I could not succeed
in making myself understood. My reasonings were cut
short by bursts of zeal; they spoke to me only of the
scandal which I had occasioned; and always opposed to
me the passage of Scripture on the miracle of Joshua as
the victorious piece of my process. This brought to my
recollection another passage where the language of the
sacred book is evidently conformable to popular ideas,
since it is said that the heavens are solid, and ■polished like
a mirror of brass. This example appeared to me one in
point to prove that the expression of Joshua might be
similarly interpreted ; and the consequence seemed to me
perfectly just. But no regard whatever was paid to it;
and all the answer I received consisted of shrugs of the
shoulders.”2 On the 30th of April Galileo was sent back
to the residence of the ambassador, with a prohibition not
to go beyond the enceinte of the palace, but with permis¬
sion to walk freely in the extensive gardens attached to it.
On the 22d of June he was again brought before the tri¬
bunal to hear the sentence read, and pronounce the abju¬
ration dictated to him, according to which the venerable
philosopher was made to say, “ I abjure, curse, and detest
the error and heresy of the motion of the earth,” &c. and
to promise that he would never more in future say or as¬
sert any thing, verbally or in writing, importing “ that the
sun is the centre of the world, and immoveable ; and that
the earth is not the centre of the world, and moveable.”
This expiation being completed, his dialogues were prohi¬
bited ; he was condemned to suffer imprisonment for an in¬
definite period; and, as a salutary punishment, he was ordain¬
ed to recite once a week for three years, the seven peniten¬
tial psalms. Such was the unworthy recompense of one of
the greatest geniuses that has ever enlightened humanity.3
1 See Letter written by Galileo from Aeastri, 2Gth June 1G36, and cited by Targioni-Tozzetti in his History of the Sciences in
Tuscany, tome ii. p. 147*
2 Letter of Galileo, cited by Tiraboschi.
5 The sentence of the Inquisition on Galileo, one of the most remarkable records of intolerant ignorance and bigoted folly to be
found in the history of science, is conceived in the following terms:—“ We, the undersigned, by the grace of God, cardinals of the
Holy Roman Church, Inquisitors General throughout the whole Christian Republic, Special Deputies of the Holy Apostolical Chair
against heretical depravity : IV hereas you, Galileo, son of the late Vincenzo Galilei of Florence, aged seventy years, were denounced
in 1G15 to this holy office, for holding as true a false doctrine taught by many, namely, that the sun is immoveable in the centre of
the world, and that the earth moves, and also with a diurnal motion ; also, for having pupils whom you instructed in the same opi¬
nions ; also, for maintaining a correspondence on the same with some German mathematicians ; also, for publishing certain letters on
the solar spots, in which you developed the same doctrine as true; also, for answering the objections which were continually pro¬
duced from the holy Scriptures, by glozing the said Scriptures according to your own meaning; and whereas thereupon was pro¬
duced the copy of a writing, in form of a letter, professedly written by you to a person formerly your pupil, in which, following the
hypothesis of Copernicus, you include several propositions contrary to the true sense and authority of the holy Scripture : therefore
this holy tribunal, being desirous of providing against the disorder and mischief which was thence proceeding and increasing, to the detri¬
ment of the holy faith, by the desire of his holiness, and of the most eminent lords cardinals of this supreme and universal Inquisition,
the two propositions of the stability of the sun, and motion of the earth, were qualified by the theological qualifiers as follows : 1st, The, ■pro¬
position that the sun is in the centre of the world, and immoveable from its place, is absurd, philosophically false, and formally heretical, because it is
expressly contrary to th - holy Scripture ; 2dly, The proposition that the earth is not the centre of the world, nor immoveable, but that it moves,
and also with a diurnal motion, is also absurd, philosophically false, and, theologically considered, at least erroneous in faith. Rut whereas being
pleased at that time to deal mildly with you, it was decreed in the holy congregation, held before his holiness on the 25th dav of Fe¬
bruary IGI6, that his eminence the Lord Cardinal Bellarmine should enjoin you to give up altogether the said false doctrine; if you
should refuse, that you should be ordered by the commissary of the holy office to relinquish it, not to teach it to others, nor to defend
it, nor ever mention it, and in default of acquiescence that you should be imprisoned ; and in execution of this decree, on the follow¬
ing day, at the palace, in presence of his eminence the said Lord Cardinal Bellarmine, after you had been mildly admonished by the
said lord cardinal, you were commanded by the acting commissary of the holy office, before a notary and witnesses, to relinquish al¬
together the said false opinion, and in future neither to defend nor teach it in any manner, neither verbally nor in writing; and upon
your promising obedience you wrere dismissed. And in order that so pernicious a doctrine might be altogether rooted out, nor insi¬
nuate itself farther to the heavy detriment of the Catholic truth, a decree emanated from the holy congregation of the index prohi-
380
GALILEO.
Galileo. It is said that, after having pronounced his abjuration,
*^~y~**J Galileo, as he rose from the kneeling posture, indignant at
the monstrous injustice of his age, stamped on the ground,
and said in an under tone, JE pur si muove, It moves not¬
withstanding. No doubt it does move, and this is the only
answer which those who study nature should at all times
make to their detractors and persecutors. What signifies
the opinion of men when nature herself speaks ? Of what
value are their prejudices, or even their wisdom, in opposi¬
tion to her laws ? Why denounce as an impiety the obser¬
vation of the works of God? Such, indeed,-are now the
sentiments of persons the most enlightened on the subject
of theology; the motion of the earth and the immobility
of the sun are no longer contrary to the words of Scripture ;
it is at length admitted that the Holy Spirit spoke to men
in the only language which they could comprehend. It is
true that this interpretation, which is now universally re¬
ceived, did not appear good in the time of Galileo, since
we have seen that he was himself reprehended for having
attempted to give it effect; but, from what we have relat¬
ed of the history of his life, it is evident that the persecu¬
tion exercised against him was the effect, unhappily too com¬
mon, of the envy which always attaches to great celebrity.
There are arms peculiar to every country. Galileo was a
heretic in Italy, as Descartes was an atheist in Holland.
However, in denouncing to posterity the shameful injus¬
tice done to this great man, it must in fairness be admitted
that the formidable tribunal by which he was condemned
did not exercise towards him its extreme severity. It has
been pretended, without any probability, that he was put
to the question. But although it is true that, in the inqui¬
sitorial style, this seems to be indicated by the words rigo-
rosum examen which are found in the text of the judgment,
and although, by a singular coincidence, he began about
this time to be afflicted with an intestinal hernia, the ordi¬
nary consequence of the particular species of torture (il tor-
mento della cordd) to which he is supposed to have been
subjected ; yet, for the honour of humanity, these presump-
\
biting the books which treat of this doctrine; and it was declared false, and altogether contrary to the holy and divine Scripture.
And whereas a book has since appeared, published at Florence last year, the title of which showed that you were the author, which
title is, The Dialogue of Galileo Galilei, on the two principal systems of the world, the Ptolemaic and Copernican ; and whereas the holy con¬
gregation has heard that, in consequence of the printing of the said book, the false opinion of the earth’s motion and stability of the
sun is daily gaining ground, the said book has been taken into careful consideration, and in it has been detected a glaring violation of
the said order, which had been intimated to you ; inasmuch as in this book you have defended the said opinion, already and in your
presence condemned; although in the said book you labour with many circumlocutions to induce the belief that it is left by you un¬
decided, and in express terms probable; which is equally a very grave error, since an opinion can in no way be probable which has
been already declared and finally determined contrary to the divine Scripture. Therefore by our order you have been cited to this
holy office, where, on your examination upon oath, you have acknowledged the said book as written and printed by you. You also
confessed that you began to write the said book ten or twelve years ago, after the order aforesaid had been given. Also, that you de¬
manded license to publish it, but without signifying to those who granted you this permission that you had been commanded not to
hold, defend, or teach the said doctrine in any manner. You also confessed that the style of the said book was, in many places, so
composed that the reader might think the arguments adduced on the false side to be so worded as more effectually to entangle the
understanding than to be easily solved, alleging in excuse that you have thus run into an error, foreign (as you say) to your inten¬
tion, from writing in the form of a dialogue, and in consequence of the natural complacency which every one feels with regard to his
own subtilties, and in showing himself more skilful than the generality of mankind in contriving, even in favour of false propositions,
ingenious and apparently probable arguments. And, upon a convenient time being given to you for making your defence, you pro¬
duced a certificate in the handwriting of his eminence the Lord Cardinal Bellarmine, procured as you said by yourself, that you might
defend yourself against the calumnies of your enemies, who reported that you had abjured your opinions, and had been punished by
the holy office; in which certificate it is declared that you had not abjured, nor had been punished, but merely that the declaration
made by his holiness, and promulgated by the holy congregation of the index, had been announced to you, which declares that the
opinion of the motion of the earth, and stability of the sun, is contrary to the holy Scriptures, and therefore cannot be held or de¬
fended. Wherefore, since no mention is there made of two articles of the order, to wit, the order ‘ not to teach,’ and ‘ in any man¬
ner,’ you argued that we ought to believe that, in the lapse of fourteen or sixteen years they had escaped your memory, and that this
was also the reason why you were silent as to the order, when you sought permission to publish your book, and that this is said by
you not to excuse your error, but that it may be attributed to vain-glorious ambition rather than to malice. But this very certifi¬
cate, produced on your behalf, has greatly aggravated your offence, since it is therein declared that the said opinion is contrary to
the holy Scripture, and yet you have dared to treat of it, to defend it, and to argue that it is probable ; nor is there any extenuation
in the license artfully and cunningly extorted by you, since you did not intimate the command imposed upon you. But whereas it
appeared to us that you had not disclosed the whole truth with regard to your intentions, we thought it necessary to proceed to the
rigorous examination of you, in which (without any prejudice to what you had confessed, and which is above detailed against you.
with regard to your said intention) you answered like a good Catholic. Therefore, having seen and maturely considered the merits
of your cause, with your said coniessions and excuses, and every thing else which ought, to be seen and considered, we have come to
the underwritten final sentence against you. Invoking, therefore, the most holy name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of his most
glorious Yirgin Mother Mary, by this our final sentence, which, sitting in council and judgment for the tribunal of the reverend
masters of sacred theology, and doctors of both laws, our assessors, we put forth in this writing touching the matters and contro¬
versies before us, between the magnificent Charles Sincerus, doctor of both laws, fiscal proctor of this holy office of the one part, and
you, Galileo Galilei, an examined and confessed criminal from this present writing now in progress as above of the other part, we
pronounce, judge, and declare, that you, the said Galileo, by reason of these things which have been detailed in the course of this
writing, and which, as above, you have confessed, have rendered yourself vehemently suspected by this holy office of heresy; that is
to say, that you believe and hold the false doctrine, and contrary to the holy and divine Scriptures, namely, that the sun is the centre
of the world, and that it does not move from east to west, and that the earth does move, and is not the centre of the world ; also that
an opinion can be held and supported as probable after it has been declared and finally decreed contrary to the holy Scripture, and
consequently that you have'incurred all the censures and penalties enjoined and promulgated in the sacred canons, and other general
and particular constitutions against delinquents of this description. From which it is our pleasure that you be absolved, provided
that, first, with a sincere heart and unfeigned faith, in our presence, you abjure, curse, and detest the said errors and heresies, and
every other error and heresy contrary to the Catholic and apostolic church of Home, in the form now shown to you. But, that your
grievous and pernicious error and transgression may not go altogether unpunished, and that you may be made more cautious in fu¬
ture, and may be a warning to others to abstain from delinquencies of this sort, we decree that the book of the Dialogues of Galileo
Galilei be prohibited by a public edict, and we condemn you to the formal prison of this holy office, for a period determinable at our
pleasure; and, by way of salutary penance, we order you, during the next three years, to recite once a week the seven penitential
psalms, reserving to ourselves the power of moderating, commuting, or taking off the whole or part of the said punishment and pen¬
ance. And so we say, pronounce, and by our sentence declare, decree, and reserve, in this and in every other better form and man¬
ner, which lawfully we may and can use. So we, the subscribing cardinals, pronounce. Felix, Cardinal di Ascoli; Guido, Cardinal
Bentivoglio; Desiderio, Cardinal di Cremona; Antonio, Cardinal S. Onofrio ; Berlingero, Cardinal Gessi; Fabricio, Cardinal Verospi;
Martino, Cardinal Ginetti.” This document is decisive as to the fallacy of the allegation, that “ Galileo was not persecuted as a
good astronomer, but only as a bad theologian.”
GAL]
Galileo, tions seem completely destroyed by the conduct which was
subsequently observed towards him. It is certain, from the
letters of the ambassador of Tuscany, that he was not
thrown into the dungeons of the holy office, although the
judgment bears so. The prison assigned him was the lodg¬
ing of one of the superior officers of the tribunal, with per¬
mission to walk throughout the whole palace ; he was al¬
lowed to retain his domestic ; and, so far from being put in
solitary confinement, he was permitted to receive the visits
of his friends as often as he pleased. All this is establish¬
ed by numerous letters of Galileo himself, dated at this
period, and which, fortunately for the cause of truth and
humanity, have been preserved. If he did not at once re¬
cover his entire liberty, his captivity was at least mitigated
as much as it could well be, since the prison assigned him
was the magnificent palace of the Archbishop of Sienna,
Piccolomini, his friend and pupil, surrounded with beauti¬
ful gardens, in which he was allowed to take exercise at
pleasure. In the beginning of December 1633, the pope
granted him permission to reside openly in the country
near Florence ; and at a somewhat later period, he was al¬
lowed to enter the city as often as his infirmities required.
Nevertheless, these restrictions prove that he still remain¬
ed under the surveillance of the Inquisition ; and the Ita¬
lian writers even say that he several times received, from
that tribunal, threatening letters, on account of the pursuits
to which he still applied himself, and on pretence of the
too intimate connection which he maintained with the learn¬
ed in Germany.
It was no doubt too much thus to afflict an old man who
had committed no other error than that of unfolding truths
previously unknown. This treatment made a deep impres¬
sion on his mind, as may be seen from the preface to his
two new dialogues on the motion and resistance of solids,
which he confided in manuscript to the Count de Noailles,
when the latter was on his return to France from Rome,
where he had been ambassador. “ Confounded and afflict¬
ed with the bad success of my other works,” says he, “ and
having resolved to publish nothing more, I have wished at
least to place in sure hands some copy of my works ; and
as the particular affection with which you have honoured
me will certainly make you desirous to preserve them, I
have chosen to confide these to you.” The count lost no
time in communicating them to the Elzevirs, by whom they
were printed at Leyden, in 1628, 4to ; and it may be pre¬
sumed that this publication did not occasion Galileo as
much uneasiness as his disciple Viviani, writing, like him¬
self, near Rome, would lead us to believe ; a presumption
confirmed by several letters, addressed to his intimate
friends, which have fortunately been preserved. In these
two dialogues Galileo created a science altogether new,
namely, that of the resistance of solids ; and he established,
with admirable sagacity, the laws, not less novel, of the
accelerated motion of heavy bodies, whether falling freelv
through space or descending on inclined planes. Nor is
this the only production of Galileo which the French have
had the honour of saving from his enemies. It was a
Frenchman, Father Mersenne, who first published his me¬
chanics; a book which, in a few pages, contains, among
other discoveries, a demonstration of the laws of equilibri¬
um on the inclined plane, and that other principle so fruit¬
ful in consequences, since called the principle of virtual
velocities, which consists in this, that, in any machine
whatsoever, the power and the weight in equilibrio are in¬
versely proportional to the spaces which they would pass
through in a time infinitely small, if the equilibrium were
ever so little disturbed.
Oppressed with the weight of years and misfortunes,
Galileo still pursued his observations, and worked with in¬
defatigable courage to continue his tables of Jupiter’s satel¬
lites, when the loss of sight obliged him, at the age of se-
LEO. 381
venty-four, to discontinue his labours. But his faculties Galileo,
survived this deprivation, and he did not cease to meditate
on nature though it was now concealed from his view. Sur¬
rounded by attentive and respectful pupils, and by the most
distinguished persons of Florence, he lived four years in
this state of blindness, after which a slow fever terminated
his long and brilliant career, on the 9th of January 1642
(the same year in which Newton was born), at the advan¬
ced age of seventy-eight. His body was transported to
Florence, and buried in the church of Santa Croce ; but
it was not until near a century later that the splendid mo¬
nument was erected which now covers his remains and
those of his celebrated pupil and friend Viviani.
The most masterly, and at the same time the most impar¬
tial estimate which has yet appeared of the services ren¬
dered to the cause of human knowledge by the Florentine
philosopher, will be found in the Third Dissertation prefix¬
ed to this work (see particularly p. 469, 470), to which
the reader is accordingly referred ; more especially with re¬
spect to the preference which Biot, supported by Hume,
has been pleased to assign to Galileo over Bacon in point¬
ing out the true method of studying nature, and showing
the art, if it may be so called, of interrogating her by
means of experiment. On this subject Professor Playfair
has left little or nothing to be said by those who come af¬
ter him. The accomplishments of Galileo as a scholar
were scarcely less remarkable than his discoveries in science.
His style, which has been happily characterised by Hume,
is so elegant and pure that it has become a classical au¬
thority ; and we have already shown by what happy prepa¬
ration he attained this excellence in the art of writing. He
loved literature, especially poetry, and was so passionate an
admirer of Ariosto that he knew the whole of the Orlando
by heart. This predilection indeed he carried so far as to
suffer it to betray him into injustice towards Tasso ; at least
if we may judge from an early composition published after
his death, but which he most probably never intended to
see the light. But if the manner in which he speaks of
the Jerusalem Delivered be not always consistent with the
respect due to so great a poet, something must at the same
time be allowed for that freedom with which the mind gives
scope to its own impressions when it converses as it were
with itself alone, and is not obliged to observe any of those
restraints which publication imposes. It is probable that
Galileo would have softened his criticism if he had pub¬
lished it; and it may be believed that when his taste was
formed, he would have judged it proper to suppress it en¬
tirely ; for in several passages of his letters he renders jus¬
tice to the merit of Tasso, although Ariosto always appear¬
ed to him superior as a poet. We have entered into this
detail, because an interest attaches to all the distinctive
characteristics or peculiarities of celebrated men. For the
same reason, we shall add, that Galileo was a man of ami¬
able character and agreeable appearance, particularly in
his old age ; that his temperament was animated, his man¬
ners cheerful, and his conversation attractive ; and that he
preferred living in the country, where his favourite relax¬
ations consisted in the cultivation of his garden, and in
the conversation of his friends. He was never married ;
but he left three natural children, a son, and two daugh¬
ters, who, after his death, entered a convent, and took the
veil.
Without pretending to give an accurate list of all the
works of Galileo, we shall content ourselves with the fol¬
lowing enumeration of his principal productions:—1, Nun-
cius Sidereus, Florence, 1610, in 4to, reprinted the same
year at Venice in 4to, and at Frankfort in 8vo; 2. II Sag-
giatore, nel quale, con bilancia esquisita e giusta, si pon-
derano le cose contenute, &c. Rome, 1623, in 4to, being a
refutation of the Libra Astronomica of the Jesuit Grassi-
ni; 3. Dialog! quattro sopra i due massimi Sistemi del
O CD
GAL
GAL
all.
Mondo, Tolema'ico e Copernicano, Florence, 1632, in 4to,
translated into Latin by Bernegger, with other pieces,
under the title of Systema Cosmicum; 4. Epistolae Tres
de conciliatione Sacrae Scripturae cum Systemate Telluris
mobilis, quarum dua? posteriores nunc primum cura M.
Nevraei prodeunt, Lyons, 1649; 5. Considerazioni al Tas¬
so, printed for the first time in 1793, Venice, in 12mo,
and Rome, in 4to; 6. Lettere inedite di Uomini Illustri,
published by Fabroni, Florence, 1773, in 8vo, in which
are included several unedited letters of Galileo. His trea¬
tise on Fortification and Military Architecture is pre¬
served in manuscript in the Bibliotheca Riccardiana, of
which Lami published a catalogue in 1756. The editions
of his collected works, in which is contained much that
was never published separately, are, 1. Opere di Galileo
Galilei, Bologna, Charles Manolessi, 1656, in 2 vols. 4to,
but very incomplete ; 2. Opere, &c., Florence, Bothni,
1718, in 3 vols. 4to, scarcely less so; 3. Opere, &c., Pa¬
dua, 1744, in 4 vols. 4to, being the first edition of the
collected works, containing the Dialogue on the System
of the World, after the copy corrected and improved by
the author; 4. Opere, &c., Milan, 1811, in 11 vols. 8vo,
which is the most complete of all. The most extended
life which has yet appeared of this illustrious philosopher
is that by Louis Brenna, which has been inserted by Fab¬
roni in the first volume of his Vitce Italorum, 1778. Many
precious notices are also to be found in Tiraboschi, and
in the work of Targioni-Tozetti on the History of the Sci¬
ences in Tuscany. (See Biographic Universelle, art. Ga¬
lileo Galilei, by Biot; Saggio della Filosojia del Galileo,
by Andres; and Drinkwater’s Life of Galileo, in the Li¬
brary oj Useful Knowledge^ (j. B—E.)
GALL, in the animal economy, the same thing as bile.
(See Anatomy.) It was customary among the Jews to give
gall or a bitter potion to persons suffering death under the
sentence of the law, for the purpose of rendering them less
sensible to pain. At our Saviour’s crucifixion, according
to St Matthew, “ They gave him vinegar to drink, mingled
with galf’—o£os /aero. yoAlj? ; whereas in St Mark it is said
to be “wine mingled with myrrh.”—a very bitter ingredient.
It would hence appear that the word yoA?) was used figura¬
tively, or generally for whatever is exceedingly bitter.
The clarified gall of the ox is employed in the arts for
several purposes. It is used by the scourers of clothes to
remove spots of grease ; and by painters in water-colours.
Gall or Gall-Nut (Lat. galla). Gall-nuts are ex¬
crescences which are formed on the Quercus infectoria, a
species of oak that abounds in Asia Minor, Syria, Persia,
&c., and on some others. They are produced by the attacks
of the cynips, a small insect which deposits its eggs in the
tender shoots of the tree ; and when the maggot is hatched,
it occasions a morbid excrescence of the surrounding parts.
Galls are inodorous, and have a nauseously bitter and as¬
tringent taste. They are nearly spherical, and vary in magni¬
tude from the size of a pea to that of a hazel-nut. When
good, they are of a black or deep olive colour, and the surface
is tubercular. In commerce they are distinguished into w/ttVc,
green, and blue galls. The two latter kinds are the best.
I he chief products of galls are tannin and gallic acid. Galls
are very extensively used in dyeing, and in the manufacture
of ink. (See Dyeing.) They are the most powerful of all the
vegetable astringents, and are frequently used in medicine.
Galls are chiefly imported from Aleppo, Tripoli, Smyrna, and
Said. It is not unusual to dye the white or inferior kind blue,
in order to increase their value ; but this fraud is easily
detected by their being perforated, and lighter than the
genuine blue galls. (M‘Culloch’s Diet, of Com.) The term
gall is also applied generally to any protuberance or tumour
produced on trees by the puncture of insects.
Gall of Glass, called also sandiver, is the neutral salt
skimmed off the surface of crown-glass in the melting pots.
GALL, Francis Joseph, the founder of Phrenology,
as it is now called, was descended of a respectable family
residing at Tiefenbrunn, two leagues distant from Pforz¬
heim, in Suabia, and born on the 9th of March 1757. His
father was a shopkeeper or merchant, and mayor of the vil¬
lage. His parents, who were of the Roman Catholic per¬
suasion, originally intended him for holy orders; but his
natural dispositions were adverse to such a destination.
He pursued his studies first at Baden, then at Brucksal,
and afterwards at Strasburg, where he completed his lite¬
rary education. Having resolved to study medicine with
a view to the practice of physic, he, in 1781, proceeded
to Vienna, the medical school of that capital having ac¬
quired great celebrity, particularly since the times of Van
Swieten and Stoll; and, after passing through the ordi¬
nary course, he took his degree.
Being early given to observation, Gall, whilst yet a bo}',
was struck with the fact, that each of his companions and
schoolfellows possessed some peculiarity of talent which dis¬
tinguished him from the others. One excelled in penman¬
ship, another in arithmetic, a third in the acquisition of lan¬
guages. The compositions of some were remarkable for
elegance, whilst those of others were hard, stiff, formal, and
dry ; several connected their reasonings in the closest man¬
ner, and clothed their arguments in forcible language;
many were devoid of the talent for logical arrangement, and
incapable of expressing themselves with clearness and pre¬
cision. Nor were their dispositions less various than their
intellectual endowments. Not a few manifested a capaci¬
ty for employments which they had not been taught, such
as cutting figures in wood, or delineating them on paper;
some devoted their leisure to drawing or gardening, whilst
others abandoned themselves to noisy games, or traversed
the woods to gather flowers, search for birds’ nests, or
catch butterflies. In short, each presented a character
peculiar to himself, and Gall did not observe that the indi¬
vidual who, one year, displayed selfish or knavish propen¬
sities, became a kind and faithful friend the next. Of
his schoolfellows, those with whom he experienced the
greatest difficulty in competing, were the boys who com¬
mitted their lessons to memory with the greatest facility;
and such individuals frequently gained from him by their
repetitions the places which he had obtained by the me¬
rit of his original compositions. Several years afterwards,
having changed his place of residence, and still meeting
with individuals possessed of the same faculty, he observ¬
ed that the individuals so gifted had all prominent eyes,
and he also recollected that his rivals in the first school
had been distinguished by the same peculiarity. On en¬
tering the university, he accordingly directed his atten¬
tion to those students who had large eyes, and, upon in¬
quiry, he found that they all excelled in committing pieces
to memory and giving correct recitations, although many
of them were by no means remarkable for general talent.
As the coincidence thus observed was recognised by the
other students in the classes, Gall conceived that it could
not be entirely accidental; and hence, from this period,
he seems to have come to the conclusion that they stood
in an important relation to each other. But if verbal
memory was thus indicated by an external sign, it requir¬
ed no great effort of generalization to conceive that the
other intellectual powers might have each its appropriate
manifestation. Proceeding on this idea or assumption,
Gall now directed his attention to individuals distinguish¬
ed by any remarkable faculty; and, after a course of ob¬
servation, he conceived himself to have discovered and
defined the external characteristics indicative of decided
talents for painting, music, and the mechanical arts. Hav¬
ing also become acquainted with several persons remark¬
able for determination of character, he observed that a
particular part of their heads was largely developed, and
G A
Gall. this development he set down as the external sign or ma-
nitestation of the character referred to.
His next step was to look in the head for the indications
of the moral sentiments as well as of the intellectual fa¬
culties ; but here he experienced considerable difficulties.
Hitherto he bad been ignorant of the opinions of physio¬
logists concerning the brain, and of metaphysicians re¬
specting the mental faculties; and, on turning to books,
he became so much perplexed by the discordance of the
views therein inculcated, that, for a time, he hesitated as
to the correctness of his own observations. He found
that, whilst Pythagoras, Plato, Galen, Haller, and others,
placed the sentient soul in the brain, Aristotle fixed its
residence in the heart, Van Helmont in the stomach, Des¬
cartes in the pineal gland, and Drelincourt in the cerebel¬
lum; that, according to many philosophers and physiolo¬
gists, all men are born with equal mental faculties; and
that the differences observable amongst mankind are not
ascribable to any original or constitutional inequality of
powers, but the result partly of education, and partly of
the diversified circumstances in which individuals are
placed. But if all differences are accidental, it is evident
that there can be no natural signs of predominating facul¬
ties, and, consequently, that the project of attempting,
by observation, to discover the functions of the different
portions of the brain, must be abandoned as hopeless.
Sensible of this, Gall combated the difficulty by denying
the truth of the doctrine of original equality on which it is
founded. He contended that persons who have all re¬
ceived the same or very nearly the same education unfold
each a distinct character, over which circumstances ap¬
pear to exercise only a limited control ; that individuals,
wdiose education has been conducted with the greatest
care, and on whom the labours of instructors have been
most freely lavished, frequently remain far behind their
companions in attainments; that many, even with the
most ardent desire, followed out by the most persevering
efforts, cannot, in some pursuits, attain even to medio¬
crity ; that, in point of fact, instructors of youth do not
appear to attach much faith to the system which teaches
the equality of mental faculties, and think themselves en¬
titled to exact more from one scholar and less from ano¬
ther ; that the doctrine of Scripture, according to which,
each will be required to render an account only in propor¬
tion to tbe gifts which he has received, serves to confirm
this view, and is, moreover, in accordance with observa¬
tion and experience. On these grounds, Dr Gall con¬
cluded that there is a natural and constitutional diversity
of talents and dispositions amongst men; and that, sup¬
posing the exercise of the mental faculties dependent on
the functions of the brain, the external signs of these
faculties may be determined by observation.
Abandoning every theory and preconceived opinion,
therefore, he applied himself to the discovery of those signs
of the existence of which he had thus satisfied his own
mind. Being physician to a lunatic asylum at Vienna, he
had opportunities of making observations on the insane ;
he visited prisons, and resorted to the seats of learning;
he was introduced to the courts of princes and the tribu¬
nals of justice ; wherever he heard of an individual remark¬
able either for his mental endowments or defects, he studied
the development of his head ; and at length he conceived
himself warranted in maintaining that particular mental
powers are indicated by particular configurations of the shell
L L. 383
or case in which the brain is lodged. Hitherto he had resort- Gall,
ed only to physiognomical indications in order to discover
the functions of the brain ; but, being convinced that phy¬
siology is imperfect when separated from anatomy, he felt
the necessity of instituting anatomical researches into
tbe structure of the brain.1 Accordingly, in every in¬
stance where an individual whose head he had examined
whilst alive happened to die, he used every means to ob¬
tain permission to examine the brain, and frequently did
so ; and he states it as a general fact, that, on the skull
being removed, the brain, covered by the dura mater, pre¬
sented a form corresponding to that which the skull had
exhibited in life. Thus, by successive steps, by first ob¬
serving a concomitance between particular talents and
dispositions, and particular forms of the head, and next by
ascertaining that the figure and size of the brain were in¬
dicated by these external forms, Dr Gall conceived that
he had determined the intellectual dispositions corre¬
sponding to about twenty organs, or, in other words, ascer¬
tained the residences of as many intellectual faculties of
the first order; and these organs he named according to the
faculty or propensity which he attributed to each respec¬
tively. In short, he maintained that the intellectual dis¬
positions being innate, have their seats in the brain, where
the organs of the faculties are also situated ; that the more
prominent any isolated point on the skull is, the greater
is the activity of the faculty, the organ of which is there
placed; and that the part of the brain where such facul¬
ty resides and acts, by pressing on the skull, forms, on its
convex surface, a protuberance, which indicates exter¬
nally the organ, and is, in fact, its invariable sign.
Dr Gall first became known as an author by the pub¬
lication of two chapters of a work entitled Philosophisch-
Meicinishe Untersuchungen uber Natur und Kunst im ge-
sunden undkrauken Zustande des Menschen, Vienna, 1791.
This work was not continued ; but in the two chapters pub¬
lished, Dr Gall evinced the spirit which subsequently
guided his researches into the intellectual and moral na¬
ture of man. The first written notice of his inquiries re¬
specting the differences of form observable in the human
head was contained in a familiar letter addressed to Baron
Iletzen, which appeared in the Deutschen Mercur of De¬
cember 1798 ; but two years before this Dr Gall bad com¬
menced giving courses of private lectures at Vienna, where
his doctrines soon attracted general attention ; and Fro-
riep, Martens, and Walther, were among his hearers. He
continued his lectures for five years, with increasing suc¬
cess, when, at length, upon the 8th of January 1802, the
Austrian government issued an order, interdicting them,
on the ground that tbe doctrines therein promulgated were
dangerous to religion; and, in a general regulation which
accompanied the order, all private lectures were prohibit¬
ed, unless specially permitted by tbe public authorities.
Dr Gall understood the object of this regulation, and never
solicited permission ; but, as usually happens, the prohibi¬
tion stimulated curiosity, and the doctrines thus interdict¬
ed were studied with greater zeal than before. It is dif¬
ficult to perceive wbat object the Austrian government
proposed to attain by this foolish interposition, more espe¬
cially as publications on tbe subject continued to be per¬
mitted, provided they abstained from reflecting on the go¬
vernment for issuing tbe order above mentioned. On the
6th March 1805, Dr Gall left Vienna, in company with
Dr Spurzheim, whom he had now associated with him in
1 Havino- observed a woman, aged fifty-four years, who from her youth had been afflicted with water in the head, yet possessed
a mind as” active and intelligent as that of any other individual of her class, Dr Gall declared his conviction that the structure of
the brain must be different from what it was generally supposed to be ; a conclusion which Tulpius had already drawn from ob¬
serving a hydrocephalic patient, whose mental faculties remained unaffected by the disease under which he was labouring, ihis,
and other analogous cases, convinced Dr Gall of the necessity of instituting minute anatomical researches into the structure and
functions of the brain.
384 GAL
Gail, his pursuits, and proceeded to Berlin, where he remained
v>—a short time ; he then visited all the principal towns and
universities of Germany, and in November 1807 repaired
to Paris, where he established himself as a medical practi¬
tioner, and remained till the time of his death. To the
charge of Spinozism or atheism, which was strongly urged
against him, particularly by some of the French scholars,
Dr Gall replied in a work entitled Des Dispositions innees
de VAme et de lEsprit, ou du Materialisme, Paris, 1812, in
8vo, which he seems to have intended as an authoritative
exposition of the metaphysics of the new science. But a
much ruder onset awaited it. In 1815, and again in 1826,
craniology was attacked in able articles inserted in the Edin¬
burgh Review, where the united powers of argument and ri¬
dicule were forcibly directed against it by writers possessing
an equal mastery over both ; but the results of Dr Gall’s ob¬
servations were not, in the opinion of his followers, destroy¬
ed, nor even materially affected, by the critical severity
wdth which these had been examined in the Review; and
their confidence in the truth of the system, which to the
uninitiated appeared to be overthrown, gained strength
from each successive shock to which it was exposed. But
whatever may be thought of Dr Gall’s discoveries, either
in reference to the philosophy of mind, or to the moral
and religious opinions of mankind, it seems to be pretty
generally conceded, that, by his dissections and observa¬
tions, he has considerably advanced the knowledge of the
cerebral system, and that, even if he be accounted a bad
philosopher, he has at least shown himself an able anato¬
mist. He demonstrated, what before was only conjectur¬
ed, that cerebral matter does not derive its origin from
the brain, but from the spinal marrow ; which, expanding
as it proceeds, at length forms the two hemispheres into
which the brain is divided. In conjunction with Spurz-
heim, Dr Gall published at Paris, in 1810, Anatomie et
Physiologic du Systeme nerveux en general, et du Cerveau
en particulier ; but of this work there only appeared a vo¬
lume and a half. The most elaborate of his productions,
however, is Organologie, ou Expositions des Instincts Pen-
chans, &)C. et d.u siege de lews Organes, which was com¬
pleted in 1825. His Histoire des Fonctions du Cerveau
had appeared in 1822, in two vols. 8vo. In 1828 Dr Gall
died at Paris, where he had for many years practised me¬
dicine with success, leaving his mantle to Dr Spurzheim,
who had been long associated with him both in the pur¬
suit and the propagandism of phrenology. (See Biogra¬
phic des Hommes Vivants, art. Gall; and Transactions of
the Phrenological Society, Edinburgh, 1824; Necrologie,
1828; Edinburgh Review, vols. xxv. and xlv.) (j. B—E.)
GALL, St (German Sankt Gallen), a canton in the
N.E. of Switzerland, occupying the fourteenth place in the
Swiss confederation, and bounded on the N. by the canton
of Thurgau and the lake of Constance, E. by the Rhine,
which separates it from Tyrol and the principality of Liech¬
tenstein, S. by the cantons of Grisons and Glarus, and
W. by those of Schwyz and Zurich. Area 753 square
miles. This canton was formed in 1798, by the union of
the territories of the abbot of St Gall with the free town of
St Gall, and several districts previously subject to the older
cantons. As these all lay around the canton of Appenzell,
that canton is wholly surrounded by the canton of St Gall.
The surface is greatly diversified, and for the most part
mountainous, particularly in the south, where it is almost
wholly covered with Alpine ranges. The summits of some of
these rise to the height of 7000 or 8000 feet, and Mount
Scheibe at the S.W. extremity has an elevation of about
9000 feet. These mountain ranges inclose some extensive
and fertile valleys, the principal of which are those of the
Rhine and Toggeriburg. Besides the Rhine, the principal
rivers of this canton are the Thur, Sitter, Seez, Linth, and
Tamina. St Gall includes parts of the lakes of Constance and
GAL
Ziirich, and the greater portion of that of Wallenstadt. The Gall,
plains and valleys are in many parts well cultivated, but the v*
produce of corn is not equal to the wants of the inhabitants.
Potatoes are extensively grown, and fruits of various kinds
are raised in large quantities, especially apples, from which
cider, the common drink of the people, is made. Some
wine is also made; and kirschwasser (cherry-water) is an
important product of the mountainous parts of the canton.
The country being generally better adapted for pasturage
than tillage, the rearing of cattle constitutes the chief branch
of rural industry. The forests in the south are extensive,
and consist chiefly of pine and fir trees. Coal and turf are
found in several districts, and iron mines are wrought in one
or two places. Mineral springs are numerous,—the most
celebrated being those of the Pfeifers. Manufactures con¬
stitute an important branch of industry in this canton. Its
capital, St Gall, was long celebrated for its linen manufac¬
tures, but these have been in a great measure replaced by
the manufacture of cotton goods, especially muslins. Cotton
goods are also largely manufactured in the valley of Tog-
genburg and other places. The women are much employed
in embroidery. There are numerous bleaching establish¬
ments, glass-works, and wax-bleaching factories; but the
manufactures have generally decreased since the peace.
The imports are chiefly corn and other provisions, and raw
materials for the manufactures; and the chief exports are
manufactured goods, cattle, and hides. The government is
one of the most democratic in Switzerland. It consists of a
great and a little council. The former is composed of 150
members chosen in the different districts, by citizens above
21 years of age, who hold office for two years. Ihe little
council or executive consists of seven members, chosen by
the great council from among its own members, and hold¬
ing office for four years. The people enjoy the right of a
veto on any law passed by the councils, within 35 days of
the time of its passing. The canton of St Gall returns eight
members to the national council. The language of the
people is a dialect of the German, resembling the Suabian.
St Gall is the only town of importance in this canton,—
none of the others having a population of above 2500 inhabi¬
tants. Pop. (1851) 169,625, of whom 105,370 were Catho¬
lics, 64,192 Calvinists, and the remainder chiefly Jews.
Gall, St, the capital of the above canton, is situated in
an elevated valley on the Steinach, 7 miles S.W. of the lake
of Constance. It is a well-built town, surrounded by old
walls, but the ditch has been filled up and converted into gar¬
dens. Among its public buildings may be noticed the cathe¬
dral, formerly the abbey church ; an orphan asylum outside
the walls ; the assembly-rooms ; and the townhouse. It has
also a Catholic and a Protestant gymnasium, several learned
and benevolent societies, natural history collections, a public
library, &c. The Catholic gymnasium occupies the abbey
buildings, and the abbot’s palace is now used for public
offices. This is one of the principal manufacturing towns
of Switzerland. Its manufactures are chiefly muslins and
other cotton goods; and in the town and vicinity are nu¬
merous bleaching establishments. This town is said to
have taken its rise from a cell founded here in the eaily
part of the seventh century by St Gallus, a monk from
Iona. Fifty years after his death was erected, under t ie
auspices of Pepin 1’Heristhal, an abbey, which between t le
eighth and tenth centuries was one of the most celebiate
schools in Europe. About the end of the tenth centuiy t ic
abbey buildings were fortified, and subsequently the abbots
obtained possession of considerable territory, and became
princes of the empire. Early in the fifteenth century p-
penzell threw off the yoke of the abbot, and the town o
St Gall acquired its independence at the Reformation. ie
abbey was secularized after the French Revolubon, an in
1805 its revenues were sequestrated. Pop. (18o0) 11, >
chiefly Protestant.
G A L
Galland. GALLAND, Antoine, a celebrated orientalist and
numismatist, was born in 1646, at llollat, near Montdi-
dier in Picardy. His father died when he was a mere
child ; but his mother contrived to place him in the college
of Noyon, where he was carefully educated. After leaving
this establishment he had to contend with many difficulties
and hardships, arising from the poverty of his family ; but
he manfully continued to prosecute his oriental studies, till
in 1670 he was attached to the French embassy at Con¬
stantinople. His special duty was to procure from the
Greek churches formal attestations of the articles of their
faith, which then formed the subject of a grand controversy
between Arnauld and Claude. He also accompanied the
French ambassador to Jerusalem, and availed himself of
the opportunity to copy a great number of inscriptions, and
even to remove them, as often as he found it practicable to
do so. Of these, Montfaucon has published some fragments
in his Palceographia Grceca. From Syria Galland returned
directly to France, whence he immediately set out again for
the Levant with the intention of collecting medals. In 1679
he undertook a third voyage, being charged by the India
Company to collect everything calculated to enrich the
cabinet of Colbert; but this commission having ceased in
consequence of changes which took place in the company,
Colbert, and, after his death, Louvois, instructed Galland
to continue his researches, and caused the title of “ antiquary
to the king” to be conferred on him. On his return to Paris,
Thevenot, keeper of the king’s library, and D’Herbelot, the
celebrated oriental scholar, availed themselves of his labours.
After their death he attached himself to Bignon, and finally
to Foucault, intendant of Lower Normandy, who received
Galland into his house, where, in the midst of a tine library,
and a numerous collection of medals, he applied himself to
the composition of different works, in which he turned to
account his knowledge of the Arabic, Persian, and Turkish
languages, with which he had rendered himself familiar
during his residence in the east. In 1701 he was admitted
into the Academy of Inscriptions, although he resided at
Caen. In 1706 he returned to take up his habitation in
Paris ; and three years afterwards he obtained the chair
of Arabic in the Royal College of France. This learned
man terminated his laborious, useful, and irreproachable
life on the 17th of February 1715, at the age of sixty-nine.
The following is a list of his printed works:—1. Trois Lettres
touchant la critique de M. Guillet, sur le Voyage de Grece de Spon,
printed in the reply of Spon, Lyons, 1679, in 12mo; 2. Paroles
remarquables, tons mots, et maximes des Orientaux, traduits de
leurs ouvrages Arabes, Persans, et Turcs, avec des remarques,
Paris, 1694, in 12mo; 3. Lettres touchant PHistoire des quatre
Gordiens, prouvee par les Medailles, Paris, 1696, in 12mo; 4.
Lettre touchant quatre medailles antiques, publiees par le P. Cha-
millard, Caen, 1697, in 12mo; 5. Lettre touchant la nouvelle ex¬
plication d’une medaille d’or du cabinet du Roi, Caen, 1698, in
12mo; 6. Lettre sur le meme sujet, printed in the Journal des Sa¬
vants, 15th August 1705 ; 7. Observations sur quelques medailles
de T^tricus le pere, et d’autres tirees du cabinet de M. Ballon-
seaux, Caen, 1701, in 8vo; 8. De 1’origine et du progres du Caffe,
translated from an Arabic manuscript in the library of the king,
Caen, 1699, in 12mo; 9. Les Mille et Une Nuits, contes Arabes,
traduits en Pranfais, Paris, in 12 vols. 12mo: Relation de la Mort
du Sultan Osman, et du couronnement du Sultan Mustapha, trans¬
lated from the Turkish, Paris, 1678, in 12mo; 11. Several articles
in the Journal de Trevoux; 12. Letters written from Smyrna and
Constantinople ; 13. Contributions to the Menagiana, as well as to
the Bibliotheque Orientale of D’Herbelot, who died before the
printing of the work was completed; 14. Ten dissertations and
memoirs for the collection of the Academy of which he was a mem¬
ber. Since the death of Galland there have been published of his,
1. Contes et Fables Indiennes de Pidpa'i et de Lokmann, Paris,
1724, in 12mo ; 2. Dissertation sur une medaille Grecque de
1’Empereur Diadumenien, frappee a Ephese, 1739 ; 3. Relation de
1’esclavage d’un Marchand Franfais de la ville de Cassis a Tunis,
1809. The manuscripts left by Galland were, 1. Histoire des
Princes de la lign6e de Tamerlan, depuis le Sultan Abou-Said-
Bahadur, jusqu’au Sultan Abou-Sa’id-Kourkan; 2. Histoire Otho-
mane, traduite du Turc de Na'ima Effendi; 3. Vocabularium
VOL. X.
GAL 385
Turkico-Latinum; 4. A translation of the History of Djenguyz- Gallas
Khan, extracted from the Persian History of Mirkhoud ; 5. Cata¬
logue d’6crivains Arabes, Persans, et Turcs; 6. Journal de mon Gallia,
sejour a Constantinople pendant Fannie 1672 et 1673; 7. Diction- v _ | x
naire Numismatique ; 8. Relation de ses Voyages; 9. Traduction
de PAlcoran ; 10. Necrologie de la mort des Savants pour chaque
jour de 1’annee de 1500 a 1701; 11. Relation d’un Voyage fait a
Constantinople en 1679 et 1680; 12. Etat present des lies de
Samos, de Nicaire, de Patmos, et du Mont Athos; 13. Description
de la Ville de Constantinople en 1671 et 1672; 14. Relation
des Evenemens qui se sont passes a Constantinople en 1671 et
1672. (J. B—E.)
GALLAS, a rude and savage people of Africa, who have
overrun the greater part of Abyssinia from the south. See
Abyssinia, and Africa.
GALLEGO, a river of Spain, in the province of Aragon.
It rises in the valley of Tena, among the Pyrenees, on the
mutual boundary between France and Spain, in a large
fountain near Tormigal. After a course of about 100 miles
it falls into the Ebro a mile below Zaragoza.
GALLEGOS, San Felices de los, a secular town of
Spain, in the province of Salamanca. It contains 2000 in¬
habitants, and is situated 25 miles from Ciudad Iloderigo,
in a plain encompassed with hills, abounding in springs of
excellent water and mineral wells. About six miles west
of it flows the river Agueda, crossed by an excellent bridge.
The industrial occupations of the inhabitants are chiefly the
manufacture of oil, wine, and linseed for domestic use.
GALLEON, the name given by the Spaniards to a very
large kind of ship with three or four decks, such as those
formerly employed by them to transport the precious metals
from the mines of Mexico and Peru.
GALLEOT, or Galliot, a small galley or large felucca,
used chiefly in the Mediterranean. Galliot also denotes a
peculiar kind of flat-bottomed vessel, very strongly tim¬
bered, used as a bomb-ship against forts and batteries.
Bomb-ketch is likewise applied by the Dutch, Swedes, and
other northern nations, to a strong-built trading vessel,
rounded at stem and stern, and registering from 200 to
300 tons.
GALLERY, in Fortification, an underground passage,
either cut through the soil or built of masonry. Galleries
(reverse) or niches are sometimes constructed in the coun¬
terscarp of a ditch, so as to afford a flanking musketry fire.
They are closed in front, and the men fire through loop¬
holes.
Gallery, in the Fine Arts, see Exhibition.
GALLEY, a low-built long and narrow vessel, with
one deck, propelled by oars and sails, and much used in
the Mediterranean previous to the introduction of steam¬
boats. Galleys of the largest size were about 166 feet by
32 in breadth, with 26 or more pairs of oars. The rowers
were usually either convicts or Turkish prisoners, who ivere
chained to the benches on which they sat. rI he word gal¬
ley is from the Latin galea, a helmet—a designation said
to be derived from a kind of basket-work at the mast-head
of the vessel.
GALLI, in Antiquity, a name given to the priests of
Cybele, and said to be derived from the river Gallus in
Phrygia. See Corybantes, and Curetes.
GALLIA, in English Gaul, the country inhabited by
the Galli. By the Romans the term “ Gallia” was re¬
stricted in its use to those portions of Europe occupied by
tribes of the Gallic name. In classical times these fell na¬
turally into two great divisions, the one lying on the southern
or Roman side of the Alps, and thence called “ Gallia
Cisalpinaand the other on the northern or further side
of that mountain-range, and thence called “Gallia Trans-
alpina.” Transalpine Gaul, as understood by Caesar, com¬
prised the whole of France and Belgium, a small part of
the Netherlands, Luxemburg, Germany west of the Rhine,
the greater part of Switzerland, and a part of Savoy. T his
country, the entire area of which was about 240,000 square
386
GAL
GAL
Gallic Acid miles, was bounded on the east and north-east by the Alps,
|| extending from Genoa to Mont St Gothard, and the Rhine
Gallipoli. from ;ts source to the sea. On the south it extended along
v>—the Mediterranean from the small river Varus (the Var),
which separated it from Italy, to a short distance beyond
Portus Veneris (Bellegarde), at the eastern extremity of
the Pyrenees, which mountain-range separated it from
Spain. The western and northern shores of Gaul were
washed by the ocean.
Gallia Cisalpina extended southwards from the Alps to
the confines of Etruria and Umbria. Only a small portion
of this country, however, was occupied by tribes of Gallic
origin, but the Romans who had at first employed the term
in a somewhat vague sense to northern Italy, ended by ap¬
plying it to the basin of the Po and the Alpine country
north of that river, so far as it had been subdued by them.
The Inalpini, or tribes that dwelt within the Alps, were
not finally subdued till the times of Augustus.
The most important of the tribes inhabiting both the
Gauls will be found described under their respective heads.
GALLIC ACID. See Dyeing, vol. viii. p. 281.
GALLICISM, an idiom of the French language em¬
ployed in an expression, or in the construction of a sen¬
tence belonging to another language.
GALLIENUS, P. Licmius, emperor of Rome from
253 to 268 a.d. In the beginning of his reign he gave
proof both of bravery and ability in his defeat of the barba¬
rians who had invaded Italy from the north. He afterwards
belied the promise of his youth, and gave himself up to
excess and debauchery of every kind. Usurpers soon ap¬
peared in almost every province of the empire, and this
period of Roman history came to be called the reign of the
thirty tyrants. Gallienus was killed at Milan while besieg¬
ing one of his refractory vassals in that city.
GALLIPOLI, anciently Callipolis, an important sea¬
port town of Naples, province of Terra di Otranto, beauti¬
fully situated on a rocky islet, on the east shore of the Gulf
of Taranto, and connected by a long stone bridge of twelve
arches with the mainland, on which is its suburb of Lizza.
The town is well-built and fortified, and has a castle erected
by Charles I. of Anjou, a cathedral, and a fountain deco¬
rated by antique bas-reliefs. It is chiefly noted for its ex¬
tensive cisterns cut in the solid rock for containing the olive
oil collected from all parts of Puglia, and which constitutes
its chief export. It has no harbour, but a bay or roadstead
north-eastof the town, with from ten to twelve fathoms water,
but trending towards the shore so that vessels of consider¬
able burden should not come within less than a musket shot
of the land. Gallipoli has also a considerable trade in corn,
fruits, &c., and a productive tunny fishery. The chief ma¬
nufactures are muslins, cotton stockings, and woollen goods.
Pop. upwards of 10,000.
Gallipoli, anciently Callipolis, a seaport town of Eu¬
ropean Turkey, province of Rumilia, on the northern shore
of the Hellespont, at the entrance to the sea of Marmora,
90 miles south of Adrianople. It is situated on a peninsula,
and protected by two ports, and is one of the chief stations
of the Turkish fleet. Its trade is chiefly in corn, wine, and
oil, and it has several extensive and well-furnished bazaars.
The chief manufactures are cottons, silks, earthenware, and
Morocco leather, which last is the best made in Turkey.
It is the see of a bishop of the Greek Church. The houses are
mean, and the streets narrow and dirty. It was once fortified,
but its walls have been destroyed, and its only defence is now
an old square castle with a tower, built probably by Bajazet.
On the south side of the town are some tumuli, said to be
the sepulchres of the ancient Thracian kings, and on the
north are some undefined ruins, supposed to be the remains
of the ancient city. Fragments of sculpture and architec¬
ture are to be seen in all parts of the town. A considerable
improvement was effected here by the allied troops in 1854.
Pop. probably about 20,000, including Turks, Armenians, Gallois
Jews, and some Greeks. II
GALLOIS, Jean, one of the founders of the Journal Gall°way,
des Savans, was born at Paris on the 11th of June 1632. ''■"v"'*-'
From his infancy he evinced a strong inclination for learn¬
ing, which his father, an advocate in the parliament, culti¬
vated with the greatest care. Having entered the eccle¬
siastical state, he turned his studies towards theology, and
at the same time endeavoured to perfect himself in the
knowledge of Greek and of Hebrew, that he might be able
to read the sacred books in the originals; he also devoted his
leisure hours to literature and the sciences ; and as he was
endowed with an excellent memory, as well as a sound judg¬
ment, his different acquisitions arranged themselves without
confusion or disorder in his mind. To learning equally
solid and various he joined the talent, then rare among
scholars, of writing his vernacular with precision and ele¬
gance ; and hence no one could be better qualified than
he for conducting a work having for its object to make
known the literary and scientific productions of other na¬
tions. Such was the object of the Journal des Savans;
and as the privilege had been withdrawn from Sallo, on the
complaints of some writers whom he had censured with too
great bitterness, Colbert bestowed it on the Abbe Gallois
in 1666. The latter had the sole charge of this journal till
1674, when the amount of labour which it imposed, with
his other avocations, forced him to abandon it altogether.
Colbert, who had appreciated the merit of Gallois, gave him
at first an apartment in his hotel, and afterwards, during
his journeys to Versailles, intrusted it entirely to his care.
It has been alleged that this minister desired to learn Latin,
and that he retained the Abbe Gallois for the purpose of
instructing him in that language. It is believed that Gal¬
lois furnished the plan of the Academy of Inscriptions, al¬
though he did not become a member; but he had been
admitted into the Academy of Sciences in 1668, and in
1673 he filled the place of Bourzeis in the French Academy,
being admitted the same day with Flechier and Racine.
After the death of his illustrious protector, he obtained the
place of keeper of the king’s library ; and, some years after¬
wards, when he lost this situation, he was, by way of com¬
pensation, appointed professor of the Greek language in the
Royal College. After the remodelling of the Academy of
Sciences, he was placed in the class of geometry; and he
then proposed to publish the treatise of Pappus, of which
there only existed a defective Latin translation ; but this
design was not carried into execution. The Abbe Gallois
died on the 19th of April 1707, in the seventy-fifth year of
his age. Notwithstanding the extreme mediocrity of his
fortune, he had collected more than twelve thousand choice
volumes, a catalogue of which w^as printed in 1710. Be¬
sides his contributions to the Journal des Savans, the Abbe
Gallois wrote, 1. Traduction Latine du Traite de Paix des
Pyrenees, Paris, 1659, in fol.; 2. Remarques sur le projet
de 1’Histoire de France, dresse par Ducange, printed in the
new edition of the Bibliotheque Historique de France, tome
iii.; 3. Reponse a 1’ecrit de David Gregory, touchant les
lignes appelees Robervallienes, qui servent a transformer les
figures, Mem. de FA cad. des Sciences, 1692; with some
others of less note. The eloge of Gallois was pronounced
by Fontenelle. (J* B B*) .
GALLON, a measure of capacity both for dry and liquid
articles, containing four quarts.
GALLOON, a rich kind of lace made of gold or silver,
or of silk only.
GALLOWAY, a district of Scotland comprehending the
stewartry of Kirkcudbright and Wigtonshire. See Kikk-
cudbright, and Wigtonshire.
Galloway, Mull of. See Wigtonshire.
Galloway, New, a royal and parliamentary burgh of
Scotland, stew artry of Kirkcudbright, on the Ken, 19 miles
GAL
GAL
387
Galloway N. 0f Kirkcudbright. It unites with Wigton, Stranraer,
N t and Whithorn in returning a member to parliament, and
. a ‘ , is governed by a provost and eighteen councillors. Loch
Ken and Kenmure castle are in the vicinity. Pop. (1851)
447.
GALLOWAY, Thomas, a distinguished Scottish ma¬
thematician, was born at Symington in the upper ward of
Lanarkshire, 26th February 17lfe. After receiving such
education as the best schools of his own and some adjoining
parishes could give, he removed in 1812 to Edinburgh, at
the university of which city he distinguished himself, espe¬
cially in the department of mathematical study. In 1823
he was appointed one of the teachers of mathematics at the
military college of Sandhurst. On the death of Sir John
Leslie in 1832, Galloway applied for the vacant chair of
natural philosophy in Edinburgh, and was one of the three
candidates among whom the chances of success ultimately
lay. He was not the successful competitor; but in the
following year was appointed actuary to the Amicable Life
Assurance Office, the oldest institution of that kind in
London. In this situation Galloway remained till his death,
November 1, 1851.
Galloway was a voluminous though for the most part an
anonymous writer, and took a leading part in the proceed¬
ings of the principal scientific societies of London. He
contributed largely to the Encyclopoedia Britannica, and
other works of a similar nature. Some of his more elabo¬
rate treatises, such as that on Probability, have been pub¬
lished separately. His contributions to the Edinburgh and
Foreign Quarterly Reviews, like the rest of his writings,
display extensive erudition, great soundness of judgment,
and fine powers of critical analysis.
GALLS. See Gall.
GALLUS, C. Corxelius, a distinguished Roman poet,
orator, and politician. He was born of humble parents at
Forum Julii (Frejus) in Gaul, about the year 66 b.c. At
an early age he removed to Rome, where he was taught by
the same master as Virgil and Varius, with both of whom
he afterwards lived on terms of the most intimate friendship.
In political life he espoused the cause of Octavianus; and
in reward for his services was made first prefect of Egypt.
His good fortune, however, turned his head, and urged him
to a course of conduct which brought him into disgrace with
Augustus. The accusations of arrogance, extortion, and
even cruelty, brought against him were so numerous and
well supported, that Gallus, in order to escape exposure,
put an end to his life by throwing himself on his sword,
B.c. 26 years.
Gallus enjoyed a high reputation among his contempo¬
raries as a man of intellect. He associated on terms of
equality with all the literary notabilities of his day, Virgil,
Ovid, Varius, Asinius Pollio, and others. He wrote four
books of elegies, which were so good that Ovid claimed for
their author the first place among the elegiac poets of Rome.
His fame as an orator was hardly inferior to his renown as
a poet; but as not a fragment of his composition has de¬
scended to our times, we have no means of judging the
worth of his literary pretensions, and have to content our¬
selves with the somewhat partial estimate of his personal
friends.
GALSTON, a small market-town of Ayrshire, on the
left bank of the Irvine, and on the South-Western Railway,
22 miles S. by W. of Glasgow. Pop. (1851) 2538, chiefly
cotton weavers.
GALT, John, a popular Scottish novelist, born in 1779
a.t Irvine in Ayrshire—a small town that enjoys the triple
literary distinction of having been the birth-place of Galt
and James Montgomery, and the residence of Burns during
an interesting portion of his early career. From the same
place, too, Galt derived the prototypes of some of his best
Scottish characters. Having received his education at
Greenock, and acquired a knowledge of mercantile affairs,
Galt proceeded to London to push his fortune. He was
unsuccessful in a partnership scheme, and afterwards en¬
tered himself of Lincoln’s Inn, intending to study the law.
He was tempted abroad, however, partly by delicate health
and partly to carry out some mercantile speculations. At
Gibraltar he met with Lord Byron and Mr Hobhouse, and
sailed in the same packet with them to Sardinia and Malta.
I his accidental acquaintance, which was afterwards slightly
renewed, led Galt to write a life of Byron after the decease
of the noble poet, but the work did not add to his reputa¬
tion. After three years’ residence and wanderings in Sicily,
Greece, and Turkey, during which hewras engaged in several
commercial enterprises of importance, though not of profit,
Mr Galt returned to England, published his travels, and en¬
tered on what may be called a professional literary life. A
Scottish tale, The Ayrshire Legatees, published in Black¬
wood’s Magazine, was highly popular ; and this was followed
by a series of works of a similar character— The Annals of the
Parish, The Provost, The Steam-Boat, Sir Andrew Wylie,
The Entail, and The Last of the Lairds. In these novels
Galt opened up views of Scottish life and character scarcely
touched upon by Scott, yet as true to nature as the portraits
of that great master. They were types of classes fast dis¬
appearing—old-fashioned ministers, magistrates, and lairds,
whose oddities are portrayed in lively colours, interspersed
with scenes of genuine pathos and winning simplicity.
Another charm in these works was their rich and copious
Scottish diction—the fine old quaint Doric, so simple yet
figurative and expressive—which is now rarely heard in the
same unsophisticated purity and force even among the vil¬
lage elders. The Annals of the Parish stands at the head
of these works, and there is little hazard in predicting that
it will form Galt’s best passport to a durable fame. He
wrote many other novels, several plays and poems, the life
of Cardinal Wolsey, and that of Benjamin West the artist.
No author was ever more unequal than Galt—extravagant
improbable fictions followed some of his happiest creations,
and much of what he published must be considered as mere
task-work written to meet the exigencies of the day. In
one other novel he was eminently successful. He was ap¬
pointed agent for the Canada Land Company, and was
placed among the woods and wildernesses of the new world,
and amidst settlers and squatters of various descriptions.
New phases of life and strange adventures were thus brought
before him, and he embodied his observations in a tale en¬
titled Lawrie Todd, founded on the real experiences of a
pawky Scottish emigrant. This is a powerful and interest¬
ing work, resembling the fictions of De Foe in its life-like
reality and teeming variety of incidents. The latter years
of this ingenious writer were clouded by poverty and disease.
All his splendid commercial and trading schemes had failed,
his inventions, like those of most inveterate projectors,
brought him only trouble or disappointment, and though his
mind and pen were still as facile and ready as ever, he had
exhausted his fine original vein, and had to contend with
confirmed ill-health. Repeated attacks of paralysis reduced
his frame to a helpless wreck, but still left his restless and
energetic mind to work on its way eager and unsubdued.
Having attained his sixtieth year, he died at Greenock,
April 11, 1839. (r. c—s.)
GALVAN!, Aloisio, or Luigi, the celebrated disco¬
verer of galvanism, or, as he himself called it, “ animal
electricity,” was born at Bologna in Italy in 1737. In his
youth he gave evidence of a strongly devotional cast of
thought, and he was accordingly educated with a view to
taking orders. He changed his plans, however, and studied
medicine at the university of his native town. Shortly after
graduation, he obtained a public appointment as a medical
lecturer, and increased his fame by publishing his Observa¬
tions on the Organs of Hearing in Birds ; Observations on
Galvani.
388
GAL
Galvanism the Urinary Organs, and by various contributions to the
II transactions of the university. An event, however, appa-
Galway. rent]y accidental in its origin, occurred, which directed into
a new channel the study of electrical science, and identified
the name of Galvani with one of the most important branches
of that great department of physics. His wife was prepar¬
ing frogs for soup, and having skinned the animals, had
placed them near the conductor of a newly charged elec¬
trical machine. Happening to touch them with a scalpel
which had been in contact with the machine, she saw to her
surprise the muscles of the frogs convulsed with violent
spasmodic action. Galvani repeated the experiment in a
variety of forms, and came to the conclusion that there
existed what he called an “ animal electrioity ” both in
nerves and muscles. To this erroneous idea he clung
through life, even after it had been disproved by his coun¬
tryman Volta and other experimenters. He took great
pains to develop his theory in regard to the phenomena in
question as fully as possible, by publishing in 1791 his
Commentarius de viribus electricitatis in motu musculari.
The purport of this work, and its influence on electrical
science, are fully discussed under Electricity.
In 1797 Galvani made a tour of the shores of the Medi¬
terranean, with a view to verifying his theory by experiments
on the electric eel. Soon after returning home he lost his wife ;
and his affliction was enhanced by his being expelled from
his chair for refusing to take the oaths of allegiance when
Bologna was incorporated with the Cisalpine Republic. His
health and spirits gave way under these calamities, and though
he was ultimately reinstated in his professorship, his death,
in 1 798, prevented him from profiting by his good fortune.
GALVANISM, that branch of physical science which
treats of the chemical agencies of electricity, and of its in¬
fluence upon the animal frame. The chemical effects of elec¬
trical action had been previously studied by Cavendish as a
branch of ordinary electricity; and it was not till the year 1790,
when Galvani made the interesting discovery that mus¬
cular contractions were excited in dead frogs by the con¬
tact of metals, that the new science of Galvanism was esta¬
blished. The boundaries of Galvanism were widely ex¬
tended by the invention of the pile in 1800, by M. Volta
of Corna, in consequence of which the name of Voltaic
Electricity has been very generally substituted instead of
Galvanism. The subject of Galvanism, including Animal
Electricity, is treated of under Voltaic Electricity.
GALVANIZED IRON, iron alloyed superficially with
zinc, by plunging the metal, previously well cleaned by
friction with dilute acid, into a bath of melted zinc covered
with sal ammoniac, and stirring it about for some time.
When iron thus treated is exposed to humidity, the zinc is
said to become oxidized in consequence of galvanic action.
This coating protects the iron beneath from rusting ; and
hence galvanized iron will retain its whiteness for a long
period under circumstances that would cause ordinary tinned
iron to exhibit marks of corrosion.
GALVESTON, a seaport-town of the state of Texas,
North America, near the eastern extremity of Galveston
Island, at the entrance of Galveston Bay, Gulf of Mexico.
It is the commercial emporium of Texas, and has the best
and most accessible harbour on the whole coast. Its trade
is chiefly coastwise with New Orleans and New York.
Galveston Island is about 36 miles in length, by an average
width of 2 miles. Pop. of town 4167.
GALVEZ, a town of Spain, in the province of Toledo.
It stands 15 miles south-west of Toledo, has a serge ma¬
nufactory, and contains 3000 inhabitants.
GALWAY, a maritime county in the province of Con¬
naught, in the extreme west of Ireland, bounded on the
north by Mayo and Roscommon, on the east by Roscom¬
mon, King’s County, and Tipperary, on the south by Clare
and the Bay of Galway ; extending the entire breadth of
GAL
the province of Connaught from the river Shannon to the Galway
Atlantic Ocean, which forms the western boundary of the '•
county. According to the Ordnance Survey, it comprises
an area of 2447 square miles, or 1,566,354 acres, of which
742,805 are arable, 708,000 uncultivated, 23,718 in planta¬
tions, 1801 in towns, and 90,030 under water. Excepting
the counties of Antrim, Clare, and Fermanagh, this county
comprises, in proportion to its area, a greater quantity of land
under water than any other in Ireland.
The name of Galway, originally applied to the town ofName.
the same name, is generally supposed to have been derived
from “ Gaelis, or Gailes, ‘ traffic or commerce,’ signifying
a merchant, and ibh in Irish, signifying tribes or families,
whence Gailibh, tribes of merchants? which name was pro¬
nounced Gallive, and afterwards in 1440 corrupted into
Galway. In the time of Ptolemy it was inhabited by the
Auterii. At a later period it was divided into the districts
of Clanconow, Hy-Maine, Maghullen, Lilanchia, Hy-Fia-
crin-Aidne (afterwards Clanrickard), and Hy-Tartagh. In
the commencement of the sixteenth century it was portioned
out amongst a number of families or septs, of which the
principal were the O’Flahertys and O’Maleys in the west;
the Burkes and Berminghams in the north ; the O’Nagh-
tens, O’Kellys, and O’Dalys in the east; and the O’Heynes,
the O’Maddens, and the O’Shaughnessys in the north. It
was made shire-ground by Elizabeth in 1569, and is now
divided into eighteen baronies. These are sub-divided in¬
to 120 parishes, forming the entire diocese of Kilmacduagh
and portions of the dioceses of Tuam, Clonfert, Elphin, and
Killaloe. The dioceses of Kilmacduagh and Clonfert are
now united with Killaloe and Kilfenora under one bishop;
the former archbishopric of Tuam, together with Killala and
Achonry, is a bishop’s see; and Elphin is united with Kil-
more and Ardagh : the county is therefore under the eccle¬
siastical jurisdiction of the bishops of I uam, Killaloe, and
Kilmore. It is the seat of the Poor-Law Unions of Bal-
linasloe, Clifden, Galway, Glennamaddy, Gort, Loughrea,
Mountbellew, Oughterard, Portumna, and 1 uam, but small
portions of the county are comprised in the neighbouring
unions of Scariff and Roscommon. Galway is within the
military district of Limerick, with barrack stations at Lough¬
rea, Dunmore, Portumna, Galway, Gort, and Oughterard.
The headquarters of the constabulary force, numbering
about 750 men, are at Galway for the West-Riding, and
Loughrea for the East-Riding.
The county is naturally divided by Lough Corrib into Divisions
two great divisions, differing from each other in several Easten
striking points. The eastern division, which comprehends
all the county except the four western baronies, rests on a
limestone base, is convertible into good tillage land, and is,
generally speaking, a level champaign county, but contain¬
ing large quantities of wet bog ; the western has a substra¬
tum of granite, and is barren, rugged, and mountainous.
The southern part of the former of these divisions is sup¬
posed by some to be a continuation of the Golden Vale of
Limerick, so celebrated for its fertility, and produces the
finest wheat, except in the region of the Slieveboghta
Mountains, which form part of the boundary between tins
county and Clare. The northern part of the same division
is also rich pasture and tillage ground, beautifully diversine
with hill and dale. Some of the intermediate country is
comparatively barren ; but those parts which would not re¬
pay the expense of tillage form excellent pasturage or
sheep, which is the great staple commodity of the county.
The western division is divided into the three districts of Western
Connemara, Jar-Connaught, and Joyces Countiy, w ici
correspond in boundary with the three modem baionies o
Ballynahinch, Moycullen, and Ross. The name of Conne¬
mara is, however, often applied to the whole district, an
signifies the Bays of the Ocean. Its highest mountains are
the grand and picturesque group of Binabola, or the 1 we ve
GALWAY. 3S9
Galway. Pins, which occupy a space of about 25 square miles, mid-
^ j way between Lough Corrib and Aghris Point, the most
western projection of the county. Knockenhiggen, the
highest of these, is about 2400 feet high. The vale of Glen
Ina is overhung by a naked perpendicular cliff 1200 feet in
elevation, over which a considerable sheet of water is pre¬
cipitated. But this district, although mountainous, is not
an elevated country; the surface of most of it is not 100
feet above the level of the sea, rising from the edge of Gal¬
way Bay, in a gently sloping plain, to a height of not more
than 300 feet, with some hills about 700 feet high. Joyce’s
Country, more northwards, is an elevated tract, with flat-
topped hills of from 1300 to 2000 feet high, and deep nar¬
row valleys lying between them.
Rivers. The rivers are few, and excepting the Shannon, which
forms the south-eastern boundary of the county, are of
small extent. The Suck rises in Roscommon, and forms
the eastern boundary, passing by Ballinasloe, and unites
with the Shannon at Shannon Bridge. This latter river
then forms part of the boundary of the county, passing by
Shannon harbour, Banagher, Meelick, and Portumna, and
presenting little that is attractive to the eye; “ the banks
are chiefly wide and apparently interminable plains, unin¬
closed—almost level with the river—bearing luxuriant crops
of herbage, and feeding innumerable herds. We see
scarcely any habitations; no villages or hamlets; and no
road or traffic on the banks. The meadows of which I
speak extend on both sides of the river for the greater part
of its course from Banagher to Portumna. These meadows
are all overflowed during the winter, and are let for grazing
at a very high rent. For many miles there is nothing to
relieve the monotony of these vast flats, excepting an old
castle called Torr Castle—no otherwise remarkable than
as being the only object which breaks the level. The views
on this part of the Shannon brought forcibly to my recol¬
lection the banks of the Guadalquiver, between Seville and
Cadiz.”—Inglis. After leaving Portumna, the Shannon
swells into the great expanse of water called Lough Derg,
which skirts the county of Galway as far as the prettily
situated village of Mount Shannon. The Suck is joined by
the Shevin and Ahascragh rivers. The Blackwater, a tri¬
fling stream, forms part of the northern boundary between
Galway and Mayo, and discharges itself into Lough Corrib.
Near Shrule it sinks into the ground through an open called
a shallow, and, after a short underground course, bursts
forth again through several springs. The Carnamart, a
small stream, passes through the southern baronies, and
falls into Galway Bay. The Ballynahinch, which is con¬
sidered one of the best salmon-fishing rivers in Connaught,
rises in the Twelve Pins Mountains, passes through Bally¬
nahinch Lake, and after a short but rapid course empties
itself into Birterbuy Bay.
Lakes. The lakes are numerous. Lough Corrib extends from
Galway town northwards over 30,000 acres, and embraces
a coast of fifty miles in extent, affording a large scope for
inland navigation. It communicates with the sea by the
Galway river, but as its level is 13 feet above high-tide
mark, the fall is such as to prevent a water passage by the
river from the bay to the lake. A former attempt made
to connect them by a canal having failed, was long pointed
out under the name of Lynch’s Folly; but the whole ex¬
tent of Loughs Corrib and Mask are now being made navi¬
gable to the sea at Galway. The lake is studded with many
islands, some of them thickly inhabited. Near it is Lake
Ross, which, with some smaller lakes, receives a large sup¬
ply of water from streams, but has no visible outlet. In
Connemara are a number of lakes extending nearly 20 miles
from Lough Corrib to the sea, besides several others in other
parts. About 25 of these are more than a mile in length
each, and there are upwards of 100 of smaller dimensions
extending almost the whole length of Connemara. “It was
impossible to cast the eye over the vast inclined plains of Galway,
bog-land, skirted by fine water levels, which seemed to in-
vite draining, without feeling a conviction of the immense
capabilities of this part of Ireland ; and seeing, in prospec¬
tive, these vast tracts bearing abundant produce—and the
chains of lochs carrying that produce—on the one side to
Lough Corrib and Galway Bay, and on the other to Birter¬
buy Bay, or one of the other bays which lie to the west¬
ward.”—Inglis. Lough Rea, at the town of the same name,
is more remarkable for scenic beauty than extent. Besides
these perennial lakes, there are several low tracts which are
covered with water during a great part of the year: they
are called Turloughs. The largest is Turloughmore, ex¬
tending from Tuam nearly to Clare Galway. Another of
large size is near Rahasane. A few sheep are grazed on
them during four months in summer, but they are unpro¬
fitable in winter. They are, however, mostly of easy drain¬
age, and some of them have already been drained, whilst
others are now undergoing the process.
Galway enjoys the advantage of a very extended line of Coast,
sea-coast, indented by numerous and safe harbours, rarely
used except by a few coasting and fishing vessels. Com¬
mencing at the coast of Mayo in the north are the Killeries,
two bays which separate the counties of Galway and Mayo.
The first bay on the western coast capable of accommodat¬
ing large ships is Ballynakill, sheltered by Truchelaun or
Heath Island. Next in succession is Cleggan Bay, having
Ennisbofin in its offing. Streamstown is a narrow inlet,
within which are the inhabited islands of Tarbert and In-
nisturk. Ardbear harbour divides itself into two inlets, the
northern of which is terminated by the town of Clifden, with
excellent anchorage opposite the castle ; the southern inlet
has also good anchorage within the bar, and has a good
salmon-fishery. Mannin Bay, though large, is much ex¬
posed, and but little frequented by shipping. From Slyne
Head the coast turns eastward to Roundstone Bay, having
its entrance protected by the islands of Innisnee and Innis-
lacken ; here the whole British navy could lie in safety.
Next in order is Birterbuy Bay, studded with islands, islets,
and rocks, but deep and safe. Between it and Kilkerrin
Bay are the islands of Mason, Mynish, and Fynish, all in¬
habited ; Elanmacdara, and Cruanakeely which was used as
a deer park by Mr Martin of Ballynahinch. Kilkerrin Bay,
the largest on this coast, has a most productive kelp shore
of nearly 100 miles, including its islands of Annaghvane,
Garomna, Lettermore, Lettermullen, Knappagh, and Fur-
nish, yet its mouth is but eight miles broad. Between
Garonna and the main-land is Greatman’s Bay, and close
to it Costello Bay, the most eastern of those in Connemara.
Next is the bay and harbour of Galway. At the Oranmore
the coast turns southwards, and presents the harbours of
Rynville, Ardfry, Ballynacourty, Stradbally, Killeen or New
Arran, Kinvarra, and Duras, where the county joins that of
Clare. The whole of this coast, from Greatman’s Bay east¬
ward, together with the northern shore of Clare, to Black¬
head, is comprehended in the Bay of Galway, the entrance
of which is protected by the three limestone islands of Arran,
Innishere, Ennismain, and Arranmore, forming a distinct
barony, and remarkable as well for many relics of ancient
pagan and monastic institutions, as for the singular mode of
life of the inhabitants, who are partly agriculturists and
partly fishermen, wholly uncivilized, very ignorant and su¬
perstitious, and are occasionally reduced to great distress.
The climate, though most variable, and exposed to fre- Climate,
quent and violent gales from the west, is mild and salu¬
brious. The country is subject to no diseases except those
incident to a population not attentive to domestic neatness,
and frequently in a state of great destitution. Frost or
snow seldom remains long on the western coast, and cattle
of every description continue unhoused during the winter.
The boundary line between the limestone and granitic Geology.
390
GALWAY.
Galway, district is easily discernible by the diminution of the ver-
v'—dant hue which marks the latter. The high road from
Galway to Oughterard nearly marks the division. All the
country to the north and east of this limit is limestone, all
to the south and west granite, excepting some detached
masses of primitive limestone between Oughterard and
Clifden, and some scattered portions of other minerals, ot
great variety of appearance. The component rock of Bi-
nabola is quartz, in general distinctly stratified, or at least
schistose. The position of its beds is various. Towards
the western shore they are vertical, easily splitting by in¬
tervening mica plates, and affording good building stone.
Limestone occurs in some places along the foot of these
mountains, where also is some green serpentine, which is
conveyed to Galway and elsewhere for ornamental pur¬
poses. Round the basis of this group are also gneiss and
mica slate, with bands of hornblende and primitive mica.
Along the north side of Lough Corrib to Ballynakill the
mica slate and hornblende rise into mountains, and the
limestone disappears. From Lough Mask to the Killeries
is a transition country of greenstone and grauwacke slate,
covered by the old red sandstone or glomerate. The hill
of Gian on the shore of Lough Corrib exhibits, in a small
compass, all tbe formations which occur in the district.
The western end is quartz; the north-eastern side mica
slate; the middle is penetrated by beds of mica slate, con¬
taining hornblende and granular mica covered by thick
beds of pyritous greenstone. On the south and east are
granite and syenite, which runs under the sandstone, con¬
glomerate towaids Oughterard, and this again passes under
the floetz limestone, which, passing Lough Corrib, occupies
the greater part of Connaught and Leinster. Along the
borders of tbe flcetz limestone is a series of vast caverns,
usually traversed by subterraneous rivers, a phenomenon
which, though not of unfrequent occurrence in limestone
countries, is peculiarly striking here. The succession of
the stratified rocks may be distinctly seen at the water-fall
at Oughterard. A fine gritstone, highly valued for making
mill-stones, is raised near Dunmore. Crystalline sand, of a
superior quality for scythe boards, occurs at Lough Coutra.
Lead, zinc, copper, sulphur, ore, mundic, and bismuth,
have been discovered in various parts of the western
division of the county. Iron was raised at Woodford, and
smelted until the timber was exhausted. The mountains
of Slieveboghta, which separate Galway from Clare, are
siliceous. A beautiful black marble, without spots or flaws,
and susceptible of a high polish, is raised near the town of
Galway in large quantities, particularly for chimney-pieces.
Mineral Mineral spas, mostly chalybeate, are abundant. That at
springs. Kingston was pronounced by Kirwan to be one of the best
in Europe. At the village of Quose is a well which in¬
stantly kills poultry that drink of it. A spa at Oughterard
draws many invalids to that town. Others at Athenry,
Woodbrook, Rathglass, Killimore, and Abbert, are prized
in their respective neighbourhoods.
People. The inhabitants of Galway are not distinguished by any
striking peculiarities from those of the rest of the province.
On the settlement of Ireland after the Restoration, such of
the native Irish as had been allowed to possess property
were removed from other provinces and compelled to ex¬
change their properties for lands in Connaught supposed to
be of equal value with those they were forced to surrender.
1 hey were also prohibited from settling in any of the cor¬
porate towns, or within a mile of the sea-coast, the boun¬
dary of which was called the mile-line. Thus cooped up,
and debarred all opportunities of intermixing with stran¬
gers, it is not surprising that they have retained many
peculiarities of appearance and manners. These peculiari¬
ties, however, are not confined to this county.
Popula. The population of the county has been stated as fol-
tion. iows by the under-cited authorities :—
Galway.
1760—De Burgo    ..82,188
1792—Beaufort  142,000
1812—Parliamentary return  261,000
1821—Do 337,374
1831—Do 414,684
In 1841 the population was 440,198, the excess in the
number of females being 1070, whilst in 1851 the total
population was only 321,230, and the number of females
preponderated by 7270.
Notwithstanding its great extent and proportionate popu- Represen-
lation, the county sent but eight members to the Irish tation in
parliament; two for the county at large, and two each fbrParlia‘
the boroughs of Galway, Athenry, and Tuam. By thement‘
Act of Union the number of borough members was re¬
duced to three, two for the county and one for the town of
Galway. By the Reform Act this number was increased to
four; the county and town now returning two members
each. The constituency previously to the disfranchise¬
ment of the forty-shilling freeholders was the most nu¬
merous of any county in Ireland. The changes produced
on its numbers by the Catholic Relief Act, and by the Re¬
form Act, &c., will best appear by tbe following table :—
1829.
1830.
1831.
1853.
L.50.
..828
.897
..326
L.20.
274
299
191
L.10.
950
1812
2540
40s.
32,055
Total.
34,107
3,008
3,057
3,344
From the population returns of 1821, and those of theKducation.
commissioners of education in 1824-26, the state of educa¬
tion was as follows :—•
Sex not
Boys. Girls. ascertained. Total.
1821  7,690 3161 ... 10,851
1824-26 11,874 6487 463 18,824
Of the number of pupils stated in the latter return*
1471 w'ere of the Established church, and 17,090 Roman
Catholics. The number of children attending public schools
in 1841 was, in rudimental schools 9046 males, and 5691
females ; in superior schools 424 males, and 170 females—
total 15,331. In 1853 there were 174 national schools in
opei’ation, attended by 21,572 children ; 10,537 males, and
11,035 females. The proportion of Protestants to Catho¬
lics, estimated from the relative numbers of the children of
each persuasion receiving scholastic instruction in 1824, was
as 1 to 11^ nearly.
The eastern part of the county produces the best wheat, Produc-
the growth of which requires the preparatory culture oftions and
potatoes. Oats are frequently sown after potatoes in moorycultlvatl0n
soils less adapted for wheat. Manure is generally abundant,
but most so in the western districts, which do not admit
the growth of wheat. The flat shores of the bays there are
formed of coralline sand, and the sea-weed thrown up after
storms affords a copious supply of vegetable manure. Lime¬
stone, gravel, and marl is to be had in most other parts.
When a sufficient quantity of manure for potatoes cannot
be had, the usual practice is to pare and burn the surface.
Potatoes are still planted in ridges by tbe small farmers,
who make much use of spade culture, particularly in the
upland districts, where the ruggedness of the surface is un¬
favourable to the application of the plough. In many
places on the sea-shore fine early potatoes are raised in deep
sea-sand, manured with sea-weed, and the crop is succeeded
by barley. The fences most in use are formed of the stones Fences,
collected from the surface, and raised to the height ot five
or six feet in dry walls, broad at the base, and narrowing
upwards. According to the returns of the census commis¬
sioners of the year 1841, the county of Galway was then
divided into 44,393 farms of various dimensions, viz. 28,006
of from 1 to 5 acres, 12.677 from 5 to 15 acres, 2032 from
15 to 30 acres, and 1678 of greater extent. The estimated
total value of the aggregate live stock at the same period
upon the whole of these farms was L. 1,050,431.
GALWAY.
S91
Galway. The number of holdings of each description in the county
v—of Galway in the years 1852 and 1853 was—
Farms.
1852
1853
Differ¬
ence in
1853,
Not ex¬
ceeding
1 acre.
2-373
2-335
-38
From
1 to 5
acres.
6-010
5-713
-297
From
5 to 15
acres.
11-996
11-931
From
15 to 30
acres.
7-191
7-551
-65 +360
From
30 to 50
acres.
3-051
3-128
+ 77
From | From From i Above
50 to 100 100 to 200’200 to 500 500
acres. acres. acres, acres.
2-059
2-138
+ 79
1-126
1-239
+ 113
796
812
185
250
+ 16 | + 75
From this return it appears that 400 small holdings were
absorbed in the larger description of farms, which increased
in one year 720 in number. This increase, however, could
not have arisen entirely out of the consolidation of 400 farms
of small extent, but must have been mainly caused by the
addition of tracts of mountain-land hitherto returned as
“ untenanted bog and waste,” and shows an increase in the
extent of cultivated land, which amounted in 1852 to 229-421
acres, and in 1853 to 235-257 acres, being an increase of
5836 acres brought into cultivation. The extent of each
class of crops cultivated was—•
1852
1853
Differ¬
ence in
1853,
Corn,
Keans, and
Peas.
112- 684
113- 397
+ •713
Potatoes.
41-366
46-134
+ 4-768
Turnips,
Man gel-
Wurzel,
Beet root,
Carrots,
and Pars¬
nips.
17-450
19-502
+ 2-052
CaKbage,
Vetches,
and other
green
crops.
1- 966
2- 023
+ 57
Bias.
546
784
+ 238
Meadow,
Clover,
and Rape.
55-409
53-417
-1-992
Cereals. The cultivation of wheat, which in 1847 occupied 33-523
acres, had declined in 1853 to 13-731 acres; the cultivation
of barley has also decreased, but a considerable increase has
taken place in the amount of other crops cultivated, espe¬
cially potatoes, beans, peas, and green crops. The total
produce of potato, cereal, and other crops, with the propor¬
tion which they bore to the population in 1853, was as
follows:—
hive stock.
Corn, Beans,
and Peas.
Average
per head.
Potatoes.
Average
per head.
Galway.
Tons.
86,895
I,t>s.
605
Barrels.
2,449,432
Stones.
152
All Ireland.
2,046,794
700
45,932,301
146
The quantity of live stock in the county has rapidly in¬
creased of late years, as will appear by the following return
for the five years from 1849 to 1853.
Markets.
Pastures.
Years. Horses,
Mules
and
Asses.
No. No.
1849 22,258 10,410
1850122,220 11,237
1851 s 23,086 12,490
Cattle.
Sheep.
No. No.
96,707i 244,912
105,803 287,324
115,566 327,697
1852 I 24,347 13,350 127,005 386,356
Pigs.
No.
22,723
26,373
36,478
38,953
1853 j 25,916,13,714 139,497, 466,430; 41,403
Goats.
Poultry.
Total
Value.
No. No. L.
8,655 246,088 1,134,536
9,419, 276,528 1,246,258
11,711! 326,016 1,375,706
15,270 355,943 1,530,051
16,632 410,199, 1,718,233
The chief markets for grain are Galway, Loughrea, Tuam,
Ballinasloe, Gort, Eyrecourt, and Mount Bellew. The
great cattle fair of Ballinasloe is held annually in October,
and large numbers of sheep and horned cattle are offered
for sale; the prices obtained here exercising an extensive in¬
fluence upon those in other markets throughout the king¬
dom. Flour-mills are numerous. Those parts of the east¬
ern district less fitted for grain are employed in pasturage.
Heathy sheep-walks occupy a very large tract between
Monivea and Galway. An extensive range from Athenrv,
stretching to Galway Bay at Kinvarra, is also chiefly occu- Galway,
pied by sheep. .
Manufactures are not carried beyond the demand caused Manufac-
by the domestic consumption of the people. Coarse friezes, tures.
flannels, and blankets are made in all parts, and sold largely
in Galway and Loughrea. Connemara has been long cele¬
brated for its woollen stockings. They are knit by the
hand, and have a softness and elasticity, caused by the fine¬
ness of the wool used, superior to that of the woven article;
but they are slight, and therefore stand but little wear.
Coarse linen, of a narrow breadth, called handle linen, is
also made for home consumption. The manufacture of
finer linens and diapers has been attempted, but with little
success. The manufacture of kelp, introduced about the
year 1700, was formerly one of the great sources of profit on
the western shores, and is still to some extent carried on.
Of the minor manufactures, marble is wrought for domestic
and sepulchral purposes in Galway. Felt hats and coarse
straw bonnets are made in several places. Feathers are Feather
brought in great quantities from the islands of Arran, where collectors
they are procured from the puffins and other sea-fowl that and wild
frequent the cliffs on the coasts. They are caught by men fow1,
trained to the practice, who are let down at night from the
projecting crags above, by means of a rope tied round their
waist, to the haunts of the birds ; and after supplying them¬
selves with all they can capture, they are hauled up again
in the morning. Sea fowls’ eggs are collected in large
quantities in the same manner.
Amongst the relics of antiquity are the round towers 0f
Ardrahan, Ballygaddy, Kilbannon, Kilmacduagh, Meelick,ties"
and Murrough. The last-named of these is of very small
dimensions: that of Kilmacduagh, which is still fifty feet
high, inclines seventeen feet from the perpendicular. Baths
are numerous, and several cromlechs are still to be seen
in good preservation. The ruins of monastic buildings are
also numerous. That of Knockmoy, about six miles from
Tuam, said to have been founded in 1180 by Cathal O’Con¬
nor, was adorned with rude fresco paintings, which are still
discernible, and were considered valuable by antiquaries as
being the best authentic representations existing of ancient
Irish costumes. Ancient castles and square towers of the
Anglo-Norman settlers are very numerous ; some have been
kept in repair, and are still inhabited ; but the greater num¬
ber are in ruins. The castle of Tuam, built in 1161 by
Roderic O’Connor, king of Ireland at the period of the
English invasion, is said to have been the first building of
this description of stone and mortar in Ireland. The re¬
mains of a round castle, a form of building very uncommon
in the military architecture of the country, is to be seen
between York and Kilmacduagh. (h. s-r.)
Galway, the county town, formerly designated the Liber- Galway
ties of Galway, and a county in itself, having an exclusive town-
local jurisdiction, extending two miles on every side except
the south. It stands on the northern shore of the Bay of
Galway, on the eastern bank of the river of the same name,
and is inclosed on the land side by the baronies of Clare,
Dunkellin, and Moycullen. It is supposed by some to be
the Nagnata of Ptolemy. It certainly was considered a
position of much importance from the earliest period, as in
the divisions of the island into north and south, at first made
by the descendants of Heremen, and afterwards repeated
by Conn and Eogan, it was fixed upon as the eastern ex¬
tremity of the line of demarcation, which proceeded east¬
wards to Dublin. Little, however, is known of it until after
the arrival of the English, at which time it was under the
protection of O’Flaherty, who possessed the adjoining dis¬
trict to the west. On the extinction of the native dynasty
of the O’Connors, the town fell into the hands of the De
Burgos, the head of a branch of which, under the name of
M‘William Eighter, long governed it by magistrates of his
own appointment. After it had been secured by walls, which
CO °
GALWAY.
beo-an to be built in 1270, it became the residence of a
number of enterprising settlers, through whom it attained
a position of much commercial celebrity* Oi these settleis
the principal families, fourteen in number, aie still known
by the name of the Tribes of Galway. Their names are
preserved in the following distich:—
Athy, Blake, Bodkin, Browne, Deane, Darcy, Lynch,
Joyes, Kirwan, Martin, Morris, Skerrett, French.
The tribe, whose name is not included in the rhyme, was
called Ffont. With the exception of Athy and Kirwan, all
these families were of Norman, Saxon, or Welsh descent.
They became so closely connected by intermarriages, that
dispensations were frequently requisite for the canonical le¬
gality of marriages among them. Sir Olivier St John, de¬
scribing Connaught in 1641, says, that 4< the mei chants (of
Galway) are rich, and great adventurers at the sea; their
commonaltie is composed of the descendants of the ancient
English families of the towne, and rarelie admit any new
English among them, and never any of the Irish ” The
town rapidly increased from this period in wealth and com¬
mercial rank, in this respect far surpassing the rival city of
Limerick. Richard II. granted it a charter of incorporation
with liberal privileges, which was confirmed by his succes¬
sor. It had the right of coinage by act of parliament; but
there is no evidence to show that it exercised the privilege.
Another charter, granted in 1545, extended the jurisdiction
of the port to the islands of Arran, permitted the exporta¬
tion of all kinds of goods except linens and woollens, and
confirmed all the former privileges. Large numbers ol
Cromwell’s soldiers are said to have settled here; and there
are many traces of Spanish blood among the population.
The commercial prosperity of the town, which had been
steadily advancing under the protecting favour of the go¬
vernment, received its first check by an unfavourable de¬
cision of the Court of Chancery respecting the prisage of
wine; a toll paid by every sea-port to the head of the Or¬
mond family, in right of his office of chief butler to the king,
and from the payment of which Galway claimed exemption.
Wine was the great staple of commerce. The payment of
prisage, which consisted of two pipes of wine from every
vessel discharging at the port, was a heavy drawback upon
its profits. But soon after, its municipal privileges were
extended by a charter from James L, whereby the town,
and a district of two miles round in every direction, were
formed into a distinct county, with exclusive jurisdiction
and a right of choosing its own magistrates. During the
civil wars of 1641, the town took part with the Irish, and
was surrendered on articles to the parliamentary forces under
Sir Charles Coote ; after which the ancient inhabitants were
mostly driven out, and their property was given to adventur¬
ers and soldiers, chiefly from England. On the accession o
James II. the old inhabitants entertained sanguine hopes of
recovering their former rights. But the successes of King
William soon put an end to their expectations ; and the
town, after undergoing another siege, again capitulated to
the force brought against it by General de Ginkle, on con¬
dition of a safe conduct for the garrison to Limerick, pai -
dons and the protection of property and civil rights to the
townsmen, and the free exercise of their religion in private.
The penal statutes passed by Queen Anne against the Ro¬
man Catholics rendered the latter clause of the capitulation
nugatory, and exposed that portion of the population which
stood in need of protection to much persecution, particu¬
larly on the breaking out of the rebellions of 1715 and 1 745
in Scotland. In the beginning of the present century the
walls were thrown down, and buildings erected on their
site. Several streets have also been carried out eastwards,
to which the name of the New Town is given.
Galway is governed by the high sheriff, recorder, local
magistrates, and a board of twenty-four commissioners,
elected triennially, who have charge of the property of the
town arising from tolls, amounting to about L.2000 per Galway,
annum, besides harbour dues, which are chiefly applied to v"—v—^
the repair of the pier, dock-gates, &c. The right of re¬
turning members was exercised at an early period. By the
Act of Union the number of its representatives was reduced
to one; but the second member was restored by the Re¬
form Act. The population in 1821 amounted to 27,775,
and in 1831 it had increased to 33,120; in 1841 it had
diminished to 17,2/5, and in 1851 risen to 23,69o.
In its ecclesiastical arrangements the town formed part Ecclesias-
of the ancient diocese of Enachdune or Annaghdown, which tical ar-
was incorporated in 1324 with the archdiocese of Tuam. range-
But in 1458 it was erected into an exempt jurisdiction by
the name of the wardenship of Galway, to be governed by
a warden and eight vicars, chosen by the inhabitants under
the authority of the bull of Pope Innocent. In 1486 one
of the chief merchants of the town built part of the college-
pQ-Qgg f(jr the wardens and vicars; and soon alteiv-aids the
parishes of Furanmore, Moycullen, Skreen, and Ballenclare
were united to the wardenship by ^ illiam Joyes, a native of
the town and archbishop of iuam. At the Reformation it was
deprived of much of its property ; and since that time there
have been two wardens, one nominated by the Protestant
members of the corporation, and a Latholic, chosen by the
ancient inhabitants or tribes.
The town, which is old-fashioned and crowded, with- Situation,
out any good streets, and with very few good houses, is
situated on the extremity of a projecting neck of land, rising
with a gentle acclivity on both sides of the liver Gonib,
which connects Lough Corrib with the sea. 1 he space with¬
in the walls formed an oval of about 3426 square perches.
Some of the streets are very narrow, and contain some
curious specimens of old buildings, chiefly in the antique
Spanish fashion, being square, with a court in the centie,
and a gateway opening into the street. St Nicholas’ Church
is the most remarkable building in the town. It is cruci¬
form, 152 feet long by 126 broad, with a steeple rising
over the nave, and the side aisles separated from the centie
by Gothic pillars. There are several antique monuments
in it. The exchange, or tholsel, near the church, consists
of an open corridor, 90 feet long by 28 broad, with a fiont
of arches supporting an upper story, in which are apartments
for holding their own courts, and for other public purposes.
The county court-house is an elegant building, with ample
accommodation for all the purposes of its erection, an
near it are the county and town prisons. 1 he town also
contains the county infirmary, the union workhouse, and also
a fever hospital. A grammar-school, maintained by the go
vernors of Erasmus Smith’s bequest, is in the immediate
neighbourhood of the town. The new Queens College,
built of beautiful gray limestone, is an elegant and exten¬
sive quadrangular structure in the Tudor Gothic style. IN ear
the college is a new national (model) school. Immense
works have long been in progress to connect the navigation
of the Bay of Galway with that of the great lakes Corrib and
Mask. Extensive new docks have been constructed. ,
Though much reduced in the scale of mercantile impoi commerc
ance, it is still an extensive exporting town ; the c ne ai i
cles exported being agricultural produce, wool, ani mai e.
Galway is divided into the old and new towns, and t le ma
ritime suburb of Claddagh, inhabited almost entn e y J
fishermen and their families, who have acquired oi ie ame
peculiar usages and habits of their own. They mairy among
one another, and jealously resist the residence o ^Gangers.
They were formerly governed by a mayor, electee ly iem
selves, whose only mark of office was the white sai o ns
boat, and a flag at its mast-head ; but to him t ley pai im
plicit deference. He regulated the time of the sailing ot
the fishing fleet, and its movements when at sea. ^ i lus
usage has been discontinued, but the Claddag ntes are s
governed by their own laws in matters relating to s nn0.
\
C A M
Gama. At home the women are mistresses ; the moment the boats’
cargoes are unloaded, the whole is transferred to them ; they
make the sales and spend the produce, their husbands being
fully satisfied with the liberal allowance of spirits and to¬
bacco they receive from them: but on their fishing expe¬
ditions no ardent spirits are suffered in their boats; their
stock then consists solely of potatoes, oaten bread, and
water. Their language is Irish, which they speak with a
harsh discordant accent. The dress of the men consists of
three flannel vests under a fourth of white dimity, a blue
rug jacket, and blue plush breeches, blue worsted stockings,
a horizontal-brimmed hat, and a red silk neckerchief. Among
the women, the matron’s dress is a blue mantle, a red body-
gown and petticoat, and a silk handkerchief on the head.
Unmarried women are known by their muslin caps trimmed
with lace. The females of all ages are remarkable for atten¬
tion to neatness, both in their persons and household. Their
religion is almost exclusively Roman Catholic, with but one
or two exceptions. The rigid exclusiveness which has hi¬
therto retarded the civilization of this community will in
all probability be broken down by the application of im¬
proved methods of fishing, together with the introduction
of capital consequent upon the opening of the markets by
the Midland Great Western Railway, and the operation of
the Limited Liabilities Act.
The towns of chief importance after the county town are
Tuam, with a population in 1851 of 4938; Loughrea, pop.
6342, situated on the borders of the lake of the same name;
Gort, pop. 2405; Ballinasloe, pop. 4063; and the new and
beautifully situated town of Clifden. (h. s—R.)
GAMA, Vasco da, the first European who reached
India by doubling the Cape of Good Hope, was born at
Sines, a small sea-port of Portugal. Of his early history
so little has been recorded, that even the date of his birth
is unknown. On attaining manhood, he found that the
success of Columbus had given a powerful impulse to the
spirit of maritime adventure. In 1487 Pedro Da Covilham
had set out for India by way of Egypt and the Red Sea,
accompanied by Alfonso de Payva. At Cairo the latter of
these travellers separated from his companions, and went in
quest of “ Prester John,” a Christian king who was reported
to be then reigning in Abyssinia over a people in a high
state of civilization. Covilham, prosecuting his voyage
alone, reached Goa and Calicut, and satisfied himself of the
importance of the whole country as a field of commercial
enterprise. He also became convinced of the possibility of
reaching India by tbe Cape of Good Hope, a route which
he found to be quite familiar to the Indian and Arabian
traders. In the same year in which Covilham had set out
on his eastern voyage, Bartholomew Diaz had returned to
Lisbon, after discovering that the southern coast of Africa
was really bounded by a navigable sea. On the 4th July
1497, Vasco da Gama sailed from Lisbon with a small squad¬
ron of three vessels manned by sixty sailors, bent on making
his way to India round the Cape of Good Hope, then known
as the Cabo Tormentoso, or Stormy Cape. The hardships
and dangers to be encountered were appalling, and led to
a mutiny, which was with difficulty quelled by the firmness
and prudence of the commander. He doubled the Cape
at length, and reached in safety the small town of Melinda,
where he secured the services of an Indian pilot. In twenty-
three days they reached Malabar, and on the 20th May
1498 they came to anchor at Calicut. Gama was well re¬
ceived by the zamarin ; whom, though not without difficulty,
he convinced of the advantages that would accrue to his
country by the establishment of a commercial treaty with
Portugal. Gama then tunfed his prows homeward; and,
having touched at various points on the Asiatic and African
coasts, he once more cast anchor in the Tagus in the Sep¬
tember of 1499, after an absence of two years and two
months. Emmanuel received him with great honours,
VOL. X.
GAM 393
ennobled him, and gave him the title of admiral of the Gamaliel
Indian, Persian, and Arabian seas. The effect of Gama’s II
voyage was soon visible in the ruined trade of the Italian Gambia*
commercial republics, which had hitherto monopolized the
traffic of the east. In prosecution of Gama’s discoveries,
another fleet was sent out to India, under Cabral, who ac¬
cidentally discovered the Brazils, and on reaching his desti¬
nation established a factory at Calicut. The natives, insti¬
gated by the Moorish merchants, who were jealous of the
Portuguese, rose up in arms, and murdered all whom Cabral
had left behind. To avenge this cruelty, the Portuguese
fitted out a powerful armament, of which the command was
given to Gama. The admiral set sail, and devastated those
parts of Africa and India where he had formerly been re¬
ceived in a hostile spirit- He executed especial vengeance
upon Calicut, which he bombarded and reduced to ashes,
at the same time hanging the sailors of the vessels in the
harbour which had fallen into his hands. He then sailed
away to Cochin, where he established a factory, from which
the power of Portugal radiated over India. In 1503 he
returned home, and as before was welcomed with honours
and titles, but was not immediately re-appointed to the com¬
mand in India. He remained at home in inaction during
nearly twenty years; but in 1524 (some years after the
death of the great Albuquerque, who had been consolidating
the Portuguese power in the east),Gama was appointed vice¬
roy of Portuguese India. Not long after arriving at Cochin
Gama died, in 1525, and was buried there; but thirteen
years later his bones were disinterred and conveyed to
Portugal by order of John III., king of that country.
Vasco da Gama was a man of great ability, courage, and
enterprise; but he possessed none of these qualities in a
higher degree than many others of his contemporaries
who have long since passed into oblivion. He owes no
small portion of his fame to the fact of his being the hero
of a part of the national epic of Portugal. The moment of
his doubling the Cape of Good Hope, and seeing in the
clouds the Spirit of that stormy region, has been often seized
by painters as a striking subject for pictorial delineation.
One of the most remarkable of these pictures is that by
the late David Scott, of Edinburgh.
GAMALIEL (i.e. God is my rewarder), a member of
the Sanhedrim in the early times of Christianity, who, by
his favourable interference, saved the apostles from an igno¬
minious death (Acts v. 34). He was the teacher of the
apostle Paul before the conversion of the latter (Acts xxii.
3). He bears in the Talmud the surname of Hazoken, “ the
old man,” and is represented as the son of Rabbi Simeon,
and grandson of the famous Hillel. He is said to have
occupied a seat, if not the presidency, in the Sanhedrim
during the reigns of Tiberius, Caligula, and Claudius, and
to have died eighteen years after the destruction of Jeru¬
salem. There are idle traditions about his having been
converted to Christianity by Peter and John (Phot. Cod.
clxxi.,p. 199) ; but they are altogether irreconcilable with the
esteem and respect in which he was held even in later times
by the Jewish Rabbin, by whom his opinions are frequently
quoted as an all-silencing authority on points of religious law.
GAMBEER. See Catechu.
GAMBIA, an important river of Western Africa, flow¬
ing westward through Senegambia, and falling into the
ocean at Bathurst, in N. Lat. 13. 30., W. Long. 16. 40.
Its sources have never been explored by Europeans, but it
has been ascertained to take its rise among the lofty range
of mountains which form the eastern front of Foota falls,
and is estimated to have a course of upwards of 1000 miles.
It is about 9 miles in width at its mouth, between Cape
St Mary on the S. and the Bird’s Island on the N. It is
navigable for vessels of 300 tons for 60 leagues, and for
smaller vessels to the falls of Barraconda 250 leagues from
its mouth. In the beginning of 1851 Governor Macdonnell
3 D
394
G A M
G A M
Gambling, proceeded with a party, in open boats accompanied by a
sy—^ canoe, 160 miles above Barraconda. He says, “ We passed
a long way beyond the Nyarico, a river which flows into
the Gambia from the northward, and is mentioned by me
in a former report. Near it I was waited on by the inha¬
bitants of a town called Jallacoota, who expressed a strong
desire that some of our traders would penetrate to their
country, as they had more corn and ground nuts than they
could use, but had no means of bartering them for goods
which they wanted. We did not find near the banks of the
river any, or at least but few, signs of cultivation or inha¬
bitants. Nevertheless, apart from the possibility of extend¬
ing our commerce, the mere geographical question of the
direction and extent of the course of the Gambia is one
replete with interest, and which I hope may ere long be
set at rest. It does not appear that much expense or dan¬
ger wrould attend such an expedition if undertaken at the
proper season, viz., the end of December or beginning of
January. I and my party bivouacked fifteen nights in the
woods after leaving the £ Dover,’ and returned in perfect
health. The abundance of game to be found in the country
would ensure provisions, the carriage of which is in all such
undertakings a great difficulty.”
The British colony of Gambia consists of several trading
stations on this river, and in 1851 contained 5693 inhabi¬
tants, as follow:—
Whites. Coloured.
Males. Females. Males. Females.
Island of St Mary 167 13 2192 1890
M'Carthy’s Island  8 0 637 526
Barra Point  1 0 131 74
Cape St Mary  11 36 16
Total, 177 14 2996 2506
St Mary’s Island lies at the mouth of the river, on the
S. side, close to the continent, and is about 15 miles in
length from N. to S., but of very inconsiderable breadth.
The surface is a slightly elevated plain. The soil is sandy,
with a small admixture of loam. Bathurst Town stands on
the E. side of the island, about 12 or 14 feet above high-
water mark, and is nearly surrounded on three sides by a
tolerably deep and rapid river. A public hospital, church,
courthouse, and public offices, are in course of construction,
or have lately been finished.
M‘Carthy’s Island is generally said to be about 250 or
300 miles above St Mary’s, and according to the Admiralty
charts it is 235 miles above Bathurst, but Dr Madden says
it is not more than 175 miles above it. It is about 5^ miles
in length, by 1 in breadth. Like St Mary’s, it is but little
raised above the river, and both are in a great measure
covered with water during the rainy season.
In 1852 the total value of the exports from this colony
was L.217,856 ; of imports, L.l 10,174. The chief exports
are ground nuts, wax, hides, ivory, timber, gold dust, palm-
oil, gum-arabic, and bees’-wax.
GAMBLING or GAMING. The most important
games are considered under tlieir several heads, and there¬
fore do not require particular notice in this place. It is here
intended to treat of the department of jurisprudence and le¬
gislation, which deals with gambling as a vice. None of the
practices which merge from harmless enjoyment to vice has
perhaps afforded so difficult a problem to the moralist and le¬
gislator. The danger of encountering the gambling propensity
with inflexible penal prohibitions has been too amply exem¬
plified, and at the present day gambling is perhaps nowhere
so rife and dangerous as in those parts of the United States
where the laws for its suppression are the most peremptory
and severe. Legislation encounters the double danger of
suppressing harmless and genial amusements because they
are offensive to morbidly austere minds, and of aggravating
vicious propensities by violent suppression instead of judi¬
cious discouragement. That much evil has been done by
ill-devised laws against gambling is too clear, but at the Gambling
same time the most zealous advocate of civil freedom and
non-intervention will hardly venture to say that penal laws
against so desolating and so infectious a propensity as gam¬
bling are not necessary.
In Rome gambling was a conspicuous vice under the
empire, but the civil law contains only a limited amount of
legislation on this subject. Of the tenor of the few vestiges
in the corpus juris, a succinct account is found in the Re¬
port of the Select Committee on Gaming, in 1844, where it
is said that “ All games of chance, with the exception of cer¬
tain manly sports, five in number, were absolutely prohi¬
bited ; and the lawful amount of the stakes were in all cases
restricted to a certain sum. The loser could never be sued
in case of non-payment; and an action was given for monies
lost, during the space of fifty years to himself and his heirs,
or, in their default, to any person who chose to prosecute.
The municipal body in the town where the loss took place
was specially enjoined to do so, and was to spend recovered
money towards public purposes.”—(P. 199.)
We have here the valuable principle of refusing legal
remedy for obligations tainted with a gambling character,
which has generally been tacitly adopted throughout the
other countries of Europe, but was reluctantly, and as it
were by force, dragged into the English law. One of the
pervading technicalities of the English common law, which
makes a “ consideration ” the most essential element of a suf¬
ficient contract, made it be “ agreed that a person who wins
money at gaming may establish a special indebitatus assump¬
sit for it; for the contract is not unlawful in itself, and the
winner’s venturing his money is a sufficient consideration to
entitle him to the action.”—(Bacon. Abridg.) In Scotland
the position taken from the beginning, as founded on the
civil law, was, that the courts of law were created to do
substantial justice in the serious business of life between
man and man, and were not to be occupied with the en¬
forcement of the fanciful and capricious, if not vicious, obli¬
gations of the gaming table and the betting stand. In Eng¬
land, by a laborious application of specialties, the protection
of the law was by slow degrees removed from this class of
obligations. Wagers, however, continued to be very trouble¬
some, and somewhat scandalous to the courts of law; and
in 1844 Mr Starkie, Q.C., stated to the committee of in¬
quiry on gaming that “ The general rule of the common
law is that a wager is a valid contract; but there are many
exceptions to it, founded upon the principle that the wagers
so excepted are against sound policy and convenience.”
And he says further, “ In modern times the courts have
gone farther than formerly in making exceptions on grounds
of policy; and it is probable that several cases of wagers
which formerly were held to be valid, as within the general
rule, would now be deemed to fall within the principle of
exception.” The committee recommended the adoption
in England of the broad principle followed in Scotland ;
and accordingly the gambling act of 1845 provided that “ all
contracts or agreements, whether by parole or in writing,
by way of gaming or wagering, shall be null and void ; and
that no suit shall be brought or maintained in any court of
law or equity for recovering any sum of money or valuable
thing alleged to be won upon any wager, or which shall
have been deposited in the hands of any person to abide
the event on which any wager shall have been made. ’ (§ 17.)
Fromthe reign of Henry VUI.downwards, several statutes
were passed for the forcible suppression of gaming in Eng¬
land. The earlier acts in general applied only to artificers
and humble people, but subsequently legislation was profess¬
edly levelled against all classes alike. It would be difficult
to say whether the rich or the poor most effectually baffled
and evaded these enactments. One incident in 1844 showed
how little they were respected. By the statute of the 9th
of Queen Anne, when any person gained in a wager a sum
GAM
Gamboge, exceeding L.10, the loser was entitled to pursue for re-
t J ; petition of the stake if he had paid it; and it he failed
to take advantage of his privilege of restoration within
three months, any stranger might pursue for treble the
amount with costs. The provision had been forgotten,
until in 1844 a body of professional informers resolved to
act on it. They raised a crowd of actions against many
affluent men eminent on the turf; and the alarm was so
sensibly felt in parliament that an act was instantly carried
through to stay the proceedings. It was fortunate that the
legislature were then occupied with the whole question of
the gambling laws in England, and in the following year
they passed the act already alluded to (8th and 9th Viet.,
cap. 109), intended to furnish a complete code of the penal
laws against gambling. On the narrative that “ doubts
have arisen whether certain houses alleged or reputed to
be open for the use of the subscribers only, or not open to
all persons desirous of using the same, are to be deemed
common gaming houses,” a definition is in this act af¬
forded of the establishment which the law is to count a
gaming house, and it is sufficient “ that such house or place
is kept or used for playing therein at any unlawful game,
and that a bank is kept there by one or more of the players
exclusively of the others, or that the chances of any gain
played therein are not alike favourable to all the players,
including among the players the banker or other person by
whom the game is managed, or against whom the other
players stake, play, or bet.”
For some years the peculiarly English practice of bet¬
ting on horse-races had been rising to a climax, until, on
the occasion of each of the great periodical races, it became
a popular frenzy in which some classes of the community
lost all sense of discretion and integrity. The metropolis
was filled with ephemeral establishments called betting-
houses, and the daily papers swarmed with the advertise¬
ments of their keepers, who professed to have private and
authentic information to impart about the horses known by
adepts to be certainly successful. In addition to their dis¬
semination of a taste for gambling among the poor and the
young, there was the minor evil that when the settling time
came the establishment was often found to be closed, the
owner appropriating all deposits. In 1853 an act was passed
(16th and 17th Viet., cap. 119) “for the suppression of
betting-houses,” by which every such establishment was
subjected to the gambling act already referred to, and ren¬
dered liable to be dealt with as “ a common nuisance, and
contrary to law.” The act just cited does not extend
to Scotland. The old statute law of that part of the empire
is directed to the extermination of the practice of gambling ;
but, according to a principle different from anything known
in England, the provisions are modified or neutralized by dis¬
use. The act of 1621, cap. 14, provides that any sum above
100 merks gained within 24 hours at gaming, or gained in
horse-racing, shall go to the poor of the parish, but practical
difficulties have interfered with the recovery of the sums
thus nominally forfeited. (j. H. b.)
GAMBOGE, a concrete vegetable juice or gum-resin
obtained by making incisions in the bark of the Garcinia
cambogia, a forest" tree of the same genus as that which
affords the mangostein, the most exquisite fruit of the east.
It is imported sometimes in orbicular masses, but generally
in cylindrical rolls; is of a bright yellow colour, opaque,
brittle, has a vitreous fracture, no smell, and a slightly acrid
taste. It forms a beautiful yellow pigment, which is much
employed by painters in watercolour ; is used to stain wood
in imitation of box ; and the tincture enters into the com¬
position of the gold-coloured varnish for lacquering brass.
It also gives a beautiful and durable stain to marble. Medi¬
cinally it is a drastic purgative.
G A M 395
GAME LAWS, a term applicable to a code of laws Game
calculated to preserve to certain qualified persons the ex- Laws,
elusive privilege of sport in the destruction of the wild
animals coming within the definition of game. It is per¬
haps, among all the social peculiarities of this country, that
which retains in its present observance the most remarkable
characteristics of its feudal origin. As the privilege of an
extensive class, it appears to have no parallel in other social
systems. Possibly it might be found that in many countries
war against wild beasts, like war against foreign nations,
was under the administration and control of the rulers of
the people. It is as a well-guarded privilege of the so¬
vereign’s office that we find the earliest restraints in the pur¬
suit of wild animals in the feudal laws. The spirit of this
restrictive privilege could not be better expressed than in
Manwood’s definition of a forest, as “ a certain territory, or
circuit of woody grounds and pastures, known in its bounds,
and privileged for the peaceable being and abiding of wild
beasts and fowls of forest chase and warren, to be under
the king’s protection for his princely delight.” In the
Anglo-Saxon law, while the pursuit of game is treated as a
mere adjunct of the possession of land, there are very spe¬
cial precautions against infringements of the monarch’s
right. In the secular ordinance of king Canute is this pro¬
vision : “ And I will that every man be entitled to his hunt¬
ing in wood and in field on his own possession. And Jet
every one forego my hunting: take notice where I will
have it untrespassed on, under penalty of the full ‘ wite.’”1
The progress made by the Norman kings in the establish¬
ment of hunting grounds, protected by cruel forest laws, is
a portion of constitutional history involved in much doubt
and dispute. Taking as an admitted point that pursuing
wild animals was originally a royal privilege, Blackstone,
in his Commentaries, gives a sketch of its extension to the
landed gentry in a spirit strangely at variance with his usual
laudation of existing institutions. Alluding to the royal
privilege, he says,—“ From this root has sprung a bastard
slip known by the name of the game law, now arrived to and
wantoning in its highest vigour, both founded upon the same
unreasonable notion of permanent property in wild creatures,
and both productive of the same tyranny to the commons; but
with this difference, that while the forest laws established only
one mighty hunter throughout the land, the game laws have
raised a little Nimrod in every manor” (Com. iv. 416). To
adjust the system to his general theory in English law,
Blackstone presumed game to be property, and represented
the monarch as possessed of the ultimate property in all
feudal lands, retaining this right to himself, or communicating
it to those whom he favoured. But all efforts to find a prac¬
tical support for this subtle theory have only tended to show
that the monarch arrogated to himself a monopoly in the
higher class of field sports, because it was his will, and he
had the power to do so; and that at a later period the landed
gentry claimed a monopoly in the sports of the field for a
similar reason. By the act of 13th Richard II., cap. 13
(1389), the possession of property was made a specific quali¬
fication for the privilege of killing game, and it was enacted
that “ no manner of artificer, labourer, nor any other lay¬
man, who hath not lands and tenements to the value of
forty shillings by the year, nor any priest nor other clerk,
if he be not advanced to the value of ten pounds by the
year,” shall keep hunting dogs, or use other methods of
killing game, upon pain of one year’s imprisonment.
The extent and character of the property qualifica¬
tion were modified from time to time during succeeding
reigns. In Scotland, an act of the year 1600 (cap. 23)
protests, in a true sportsmanlike spirit, against the slaughter
of wild animals by the most effective means, and their
sale by persons having regard to gain, and commodity to
1 Mr Thorpe’s Translation in Record Commission’s Ancient Laws and Institutes, i., 421.
396 G A M E
Game those who seek “ their own inordinate appetite and glut-
Laws. tony.” Hawking is the method of sport deemed legitimate
' by this act, and* among the illegitimate methods of slaughter
it is curious to perceive the accepted methods of the present
day, by “ hagbut” or fowling-piece, and “ fowler dog,” held
as “indirect means,” and “speciallyforbidden.” The authors
of this act seem to have placed their chief reliance on the
withdrawal of game from legitimate commerce ; but twenty-
one years afterwards the English property qualification was
adopted, in a very brief act, which simply enacts “ that no
man hunt nor hawk at any time hereafter who hath not a
plough of land in heritage, under the pain of ane hundred
pounds.” The extent of the “ plough of land” was a prac¬
tical question down to very late times. In fact the “ landed
qualification” still exists in Scotland, so that nominally the
sports of the field are a privilege exclusively enjoyed by
those who possess landed property in the country. In prac¬
tice, however, the offensive character of the rule, as con¬
ferring a privilege on a class, is modified by the presump¬
tion that he who has permission from a landowner to sport
over his property is invested with the owner’s qualification.
In England the qualification from estate was abolished in
1831. Above forty years previous to that date (25th Geo.
III., cap. 50) the enjoyments of the sportsman were con¬
sidered a legitimate object of taxation, and the payment
of a license-duty became the virtual qualification. The act
of 1831 (1st and 2d Will. IV., cap. 32) is the leading statute
on this subject, and contains the main substance of the Eng¬
lish game law, enumerating the animals that come within
its scope, adjusting close times and other restraints on the
pursuit of game, limiting the commerce in dead game, and
defining the special arbitrary powers necessary to the en¬
forcement of the system. The general tenor of this act was
followed in a general game act for Scotland (2d and 3d
Will. IV., cap. 68). So lately as the year 1844 the pecu¬
liar restraints of the game law were extended by an act
(7th and 8th Viet., cap. 29) directing many of the penal¬
ties of the trespassing poacher against unqualified per¬
sons pursuing game at night in the highways, and around
the gates of inclosed places. A slight modification of the
game laws, much solicited by farmers, was adopted in 1850,
when the right of killing hares without a qualification was
conceded to those who could do so without trespass or breach
of contract.
As a peculiar feature in modern European jurisprudence,
game laws have arisen out of the desire to preserve, in the
midst of cultivation and civilization, the pursuits by which
in earlier stages of society men sought their immediate
subsistence, or opened the way to civilization by clearing
the wilderness of its dangerous inhabitants. It has hence
been an unfortunate peculiarity of such a code of laws that,
directed to the support of conditions antagonistic to mate¬
rial progress, to produce the desired effect they require to
be rendered more complex and rigid as cultivation and po¬
pulation advance. On the American prairie the most ardent
game-preserver would scarcely dream of any restraint on the
pursuit of the noblest beasts of the chase, while in highly
cultivated England small birds are protected by armed
bands of gamekeepers. In some of the remote parts of
Scotland it has been in the present century deemed meri¬
torious to entrap and kill a fox, while in the hunting dis¬
tricts of England such an act would be counted a deed of
the most atrocious character, as the wanton destruction of
an element of high enjoyment.
The social influence of a game law is so deeply interwoven
with class prejudices and political feelings at the present
day that it cannot be impartially appreciated. On the one
side, it cannot be disputed that a vast amount of that punish¬
ment which should be awarded solely to guard the public
from crime is inflicted for offences against the game laws,
and that there are many afflictive punishments which would
LAWS.
not have been necessary had no such laws existed. It is Game
maintained, that in addition to the direct infliction thus im- Laws,
posed on society, the system is a sort of inclined plane, faci-
litating the progress towards other acts undoubtedly criminal.
It is a necessary peculiarity of a game law that what it
protects is not property but a privilege. The laws for the
protection of game have their peculiar character from the
impossibility of separating and appropriating the wild ani¬
mals to which they apply, as ordinary common possessions are
separated and appropriated. Hares, partridges, and grouse
may be said to belong to the general body who are by law
entitled to slay them, but no member of the class can claim
any of them as his own property. The owner of extensive
preserves can maintain that the birds he shoots within them
are the growth of his property, and have been fed at his
expense; yet he is not entitled to reclaim those which fly
into his neighbour’s preserves, as he might reclaim his sheep,
his dogs, or his domestic fowls. Hence the principle of the
law itself countenances the peasant who denies that game
is property, and who, as a consequence, refuses to brand the
poacher with the infamy of the thief. Thus that love of
sport and adventure so much commended among the supe¬
riors whom he is taught to respect, makes the peasant sud¬
denly find himself a criminal at war with the laws of the
land, who, even if he be not directly contaminated by associa¬
tion in prison with thieves and housebreakers, cannot be ex¬
pected to retain the same horror of the baser crimes which
he may have felt before he was stamped as an offender. It
is another unfortunate peculiarity of these laws, as the pro¬
tection not of property but a privilege, that they cannot be
enforced without arming man against man, and producing
conflict and bloodshed. A piece of property which can be
identified is an enduring silent witness of the crime by which
it may have been removed from its owner. Hence, though
it may be desirable to catch thieves and housebreakers in
the act, it is not indispensable ; but the produce of poaching,
which is no one’s property, is not thus capable of identification.
The evidence of the crime is the capture of the committer
of it in the act, and hence has arisen an armed game police,
acting, not under public responsible authority, but com¬
manded in each instance by their private employers and the
owners of the soil. Farther still, the difficulty of proving
the offence after it has been committed has suggested the
necessity of attacking it in its preparatory steps. The laws
for the protection of property only require to adopt this
alternative in a few classes of crimes accomplished by dis¬
tinct stages, as forgery and coining, where the preliminary
process of preparing plates or instruments is made criminal.
It has not been found necessary to punish persons for making
arrangements to commit a housebreaking, or even starting
on an expedition to accomplish it. But the evidence of
each act of poaching is so fugitive, that a vigilant system of
penal checks guards the progress towards it; and trespasses,
or other actions in themselves even less culpable, become
punishable as taking place with the intent to kill game. It
is a farther aggravation of this necessary defect, that the fact
of intention, so readily believed by a partial judge, but so dif¬
ficult of proof to an impartial one, is decided on and punished^
like all other offences against the game laws by members of
the class whose prejudices, if not their interests, favour a
stringent application of the restrictive provisions of the code.
On the other hand, it is said that the sportsman, in the
pursuit of game, experiences a legitimate enjoyment which
ought to be protected, even at some cost to the commu¬
nity ; that the sports of the field are favourable to health,
strength, and high spirit, and should be encouraged by a
wise legislature, looking beyond the more sordid objects of
human exertion. By persons who have less sympathy with
sportsmen it is sometimes held, that in a country where
there is much superfluous wealth it is a sound arrangement
to find some factitious occupation or exciting recreation for
G A M
Gamelia its owners which may divert them from pursuits more dan-
11 gerous to the peace of the community. It has been sug-
Games. gggte^ that if the principle of a qualification to kill game,
and the consequent penal laws, were entirely abandoned, the
destruction caused by the extensive invasion of landed pro¬
perty which would follow the general license to extirpate
game would render necessary new and stringent laws of
trespass afflicting a more inoffensive class of people than
those checked by the laws which suppress poaching, and
tending to suppress the innocent recreations of the commu¬
nity. It is said farther, that the privilege of following field
sports no longer conveys the stigma of feudal subjec¬
tion to those who do not enjoy it, since virtually it is open
to purchase, and consequently all who by their industry and
prudence succeed in obtaining wealth may procure it like
any other luxury. In answer to those who rail at shooting as
a destructive pursuit, wasteful of the produce of the soil, it
is said that the owners of sporting grounds bring them into
condition for a solid rent from tenants who, after enjoying
the pursuit of the game, sell it in the best market. Should
the force of such reasons be admitted against the entire
abolition of a game law, the question remains, how far the
existing game laws of the British empire are consistent with
the general welfare of the community. (j. h. b.)
GAMELIA, in Grecian Antiquity, the presents given
to a bride on the eve of her marriage, when she was intro¬
duced by her parents or guardians to the members of the
phratria to which her intended husband belonged. The
ceremony of enrolling newly married women in the lists of
their adoptive phratria was also called Gamelia. The object
of this enrolment was to exclude strangers from participating
in those rights of Greek citizenship to which they had no le¬
gal title. It also guaranteed the legitimacy of the children of
persons who went through the necessary ibrms, and the vali¬
dity of their claims to all the rights and privileges of citizens.
GAMELION, the seventh month of the ancient Athen¬
ian year, containing thirty days, and corresponding to our
January ; or, according to some, to the latter part of Jan¬
uary and the begining of February. It was thus named
because it was a favourite time for marriages.
GAMES, Public, in Antiquity, were contests and spec¬
tacles of various kinds, which in the earlier ages at least were
intimately connected with religion. The Grecian games
were very numerous ; and they are traceable by tradition
back to the earliest periods of Grecian civilization. Indeed,
much of the obscurity which rests on their origin is a con¬
sequence and a sign of their high and even mythic antiquity.
Of these, the most celebrated were the Olympic, the
Pythian, the Nemean, and the Isthmian games, which were
distinguished by the appellation of tqoot, “sacred.” The
victors at the Olympic games were accounted the noblest
and happiest of mortals, and all means were taken that could
show the respect in which they were held. These games
were celebrated every five years at Olympia, in Elis, on the
west side of the Peloponnesus. Hence the epoch called
the Olympiads.
The gymnastic exercises were laid down in a well-planned
systematic series, beginning with the easier, and proceeding
to the more difficult. Some of these were specially fitted
to give strength, others agility; some educated the hands,
others the feet. Among the lighter exercises were reckoned
running, leaping, quoiting, and hurling the javelin. When
skill had been obtained in these, and the consequent
strength, then followed a severer course of discipline. This
was twofold—simple, and compound. The simple con¬
sisted of wrestling and boxing; the compound we find in
the Pentathlon (the five contests), and the Pankration (or
general trial of strength). The Pentathlon was made up
of the union of leaping, running, quoiting, wrestling, and
hurling the spear; the Pankration consisted of wrestling
and boxing.
G A M 397
Pacing may be traced back to the earliest periods of Games.
Grecian antiquity, and may be regarded as the first friendly
contest in which men engaged. Accordingly the Olympic
and Pythian, probably also the other games, open with loot-
races. Foot-racing, perfected by systematic practice, was
divided into different kinds. When the distance was merely
to the end of the course (crraStov), it was called stadium ; if
thither and back, it constituted the double course (StouAos).
The longest course was the SbAt^os, which required extra¬
ordinary speed and power of endurance. What it involved
the ancients have left in no small uncertainty. It is some¬
times given as seven times over the stadium; at others,
twelve times; at others again, twenty ; and even the num¬
ber of four-and-twenty times is mentioned. These dis¬
tances will give some idea of the severity of the trial. In¬
deed one Ladas, a victor at the Olympic games, was so ex¬
hausted by his efforts in the long race, that immediately on
gaining the honour and being crowned, he fell dead. In
the preparatory discipline everything was done which could
conduce to swiftness and strength. The exercises were
performed with the body naked and well oiled. Minute
directions were established in order to prevent foul play of
any kind, so that all the competitors might start and run on
terms of entire equality. A passage in the Enchiridion ot
Epictetus will serve to show how rigid was the preparatory
discipline : “ You wish to conquer at the Olympic games ?
so also do I; for it is honourable ; but bethink yourself what
this attempt implies, and then begin the undertaking. You
must subject yourself to a determinate course ; must sub¬
mit to dietetic discipline ; must pursue the established exer¬
cises at fixed hours in heat and cold ; must abstain from all
delicacies in meat and drink; yield yourself unreservedly to
the control of the presiding physician, and even endure
flogging.” It may well be supposed that the competitors
employed all their ability, and displayed the greatest eager¬
ness to gain the prize. The nearer, too, they approached
to the goal, the more did they increase their efforts. Some¬
times the victory depended on a final spring ; happy he that
retained power enough to leap first to the goal. The spec¬
tators also used every encouragement in their power, these
favouring one competitor, those another:—
“ Yerbaque dicentum, nunc, nunc incumbere tempus,
Hippomene, propera. Nunc viribus utere totis.”
Statius (Theb. vi. 587) has given a lively picture of some
of the practices by which the runners endeavoured to give
suppleness and agility to their limbs :
tunc rite citatos
Explorant, acuuntque gradus, variasque per artes
Exstimulant docto languentia membra tumultu.
Poplite nunc flexo sidunt, nunc lubrica forti
Pectora collidunt plausu ; nunc ignea tollunt
Crura, brevemque fugam necopino fine reponunt.
After the competitors had been called into the lists by
the herald, they sometimes tried their strength and exer¬
cised their frames by running out and back on the course.
Virgil ( En. v. 376) represents Dares as displaying the size
and flexibility of his arms prior to his combat with Eryx :
Ostenditque humeros latos, alternaque jactat
Brachia protendens, et verberat ictibus auras.
Corinth was the place where the Isthmian games were
celebrated; and these were so called from being held on
the isthmus which joins northern with southern Greece—a
spot of land most celebrated in Grecian history, alike in
martial and commercial matters. In the narrowest part of
this tongue of land, between Lechseum and Schcenus, stood
the famous temple, sacred to the Isthmian Neptune. It
was shaded by a pine grove. Here began the Isthmian
games. Here also was a splendid theatre, and a race-course
adorned with white marble. Other distinguished works of
art adorned and hallowed the vicinity.
If we attempt to trace these games to their origin we are
398
GAME S.
Games.
lost in the mists which envelope the mythical periods ot the
Greek national life. They were obviously connected with
the worship of Neptune ; the wide diffusion of which tended
greatly to secure for the Isthmian games the great celebrity
which they enjoyed, calling, as they did, competitors and
spectators from all parts. The Persian war gave a new im¬
pulse to the Isthmian games. The Peloponnesian war, on
the contrary—as being a contest of Greek against Greek—
dimmed their glory, and abated their influence. Even when,
at a later period, Corinth became a Roman colony, the
games, so far from losing their importance, were exhibited
under the Caesars with an increased celebrity. They were
held every three years, and comprised three leading divi¬
sions—musical, gymnastical, and equestrian contests. In
the first the tyrant Nero carried off a crown, by destroying
his too highly-gifted antagonist. The gymnastic contests
were of the same kind in all these games. A few words
may here be introduced as to the horse-racing, of which the
same kinds prevailed at the Olympic, the Pythian, and the
other sacred games. Chariot-races seem to have been prac¬
tised in the earliest heroic times, since chariots were as early
as this used in battle, and the notices which have come
down to us refer this kind of sport to the early period now
indicated. It stood pre-eminently before other games. The
skill and outlay which it required prevented any but persons
of distinction—the wealthy, governors, princes, and kings—
from engaging in its enjoyments. The Homeric competi¬
tors made use in their games of their two-horsed war-cha¬
riots, which they occupied each one alone, and drove them¬
selves, though in battle it was not unusual for the reins to
be entrusted to a charioteer. In the heroic ages these con¬
tests opened the games. To them belonged the highest
prizes. In the Olympic games horse and chariot racing
gradually branched out into different kinds. So much im¬
portance was attached to these games that historians have
recorded the exact time when particular kinds were first in¬
troduced, and immortal poets sung the praises alike of the
victors and their horses. The four-horsed chariot-race had
its origin in the 25th Olympiad. In the 93d Olympiad was
held the first contest with^two-horsed chariots. Foals were
now made use of, as well as horses. For a time mules also
were employed. Other varieties, mostly designed for a dis¬
play of skill and splendour, came and went as fashion dic¬
tated. The number of chariots that might appear on the
course at once cannot be accurately determined. Pindar
{Pijth. v. 46) praises Arkesilas of Gyrene for having calmly
brought off his chariot uninjured, in a contest where no
fewer than forty took part. I he course had to be gone
over twelve times. The urgency of the drivers, the speed
and exhaustion of the horses, may easily be imagined. 1 he
greatest skill was needed in turning the pillar which marked
the extremity of the course, especially when the contending
chariots were numerous. How to avoid the danger of col¬
lision, how to turn as near the pillar as possible, so as to
save ground, were points of the greatest consequence, as
Sophocles in his Electro, intimates (West’s I rans.),
Th’ Athenian, with consummate art,
His course obliquely veered, and steering wide
With steady rein, the wild commotion pass d
Of tumbling chariots and tumultuous steeds.
At the Olympic games the prize was simply a chaplet of
wild olive. The crowns were laid on a tripod, and placed
in the middle of the course, so as to be seen of all. On the
same table there were also exposed to view palm-branches,
one of which was given into the hand of each conqueror at
the same time with the chaplet. The victors, having been
summoned by proclamation, were presented with the ensigns
of victory, and conducted along the stadium, preceded by a
herald, who proclaimed their honours, and announced their
name, parentage, and country. The real reward, however,
was in the fame which ensued. A chaplet won in the
chariot-races at Olympia was the highest of earthly honours.
What congratulations from friends ; how was the public eye v
directed to the fortunate conqueror; what honour had he
conferred on his native city, and for what office was such an
one unfit! What intense and deep delight must his bosom
have been filled with when the full acclaim of assembled
Greece fell upon his ear, coming in loud salutations and ap¬
plauses from every part of the crowded course 1 Then came
the more private attentions of individual friends. One
brought a chaplet of flowers ; another bound his head with
ribbons. Afterwards came the triumphal sacrifice made to
the twelve gods, accompanied by sumptuous feasting. The
poet now began his office, gaining, in some cases, both for
himself and the happy victor an unexpected immortality.
Music also lent her aid, and his name was sung wherever
the Greek language was spoken. In order to perpetuate
the memory of these great men, their names and achieve¬
ments were entered in a public register, which was under
the care of suitable officers. A no less privilege was that
of having a statue of themselves placed (either at the ex¬
pense of their country or their friends) in the sacred grove
of Jupiter. A perhaps still greater honour awaited the victor
on his return home. The conquerors at the Isthmian games
were wont to be received in their chariots, superbly attired,
amid thronging and jubilant multitudes. One or two other
privileges belonged to these victors, such as immunity from
public offices, and a certain yearly stipend. If to all this be
added the strict scrutiny which competitors were obliged to
undergo (in the best ages), so that none could enter the
lists but such as were of pure Greek blood and incorrupt
in life, none but such as had undergone the required disci¬
plinary training, and (in the case of the chariot and horse
races), none but those who could afford to possess and train
horses in a country in which, as in Greece, horses, particu¬
larly in the earlier ages, were very scarce and dear—it will
be seen that the distinction of the prize was not over-rated
when it was compared with a Roman triumph, nor that the
description of Horace is too highly coloured—
palmaque nobilis
Terrarum dominos evehit ad Decs.
At the Isthmian games the prize was parsley during the
mythic periods. In later ages the victor was crowned with
a chaplet of pine leaves. Parsley, however, appears to have
been also employed. If the conqueror had come off vic¬
torious in the three great divisions—music, gymnastics, and
racing—he was in the Pythian, as well as in the other sacred^
games, presented also with a palm branch. The names ot
about seventy persons are preserved who gained honours at
the Isthmian games, among which occurs that of the em¬
peror Nero, who is recorded to have gained the victory in
the character of harper and that ot herald.
These games, taken in connection with the early a.nd
long training by which they were preceded, and of which
they were both the natural result and reward, were a grand
educational system, bearing primarily indeed in favour of
the physical development, but also tending directly and
powerfully to advance the intellectual and moral cultuie.
The exercises through which the child, the youth, and t le
man were stage by stage conducted, each in succession be¬
coming more difficult and more complex, as the b° * y
powers came into play and acquired vigour, were admirab y
adapted to give that union of strength and beauty m w nc
physical perfection consists, and in which the Greek nations
probably surpassed every other known people. 1 he exist¬
ence of these exercises and these games in each separate
state secured the development and activity of those feelings
which made his own country to each one dear and yenei-
able ; while a narrow and selfish patriotism was great y pre¬
vented, and emotions which embraced the who e e emc
race wei*e enkindled and fostered by those geneia meet
ings which from time to time called together, especially at
Games.
G A M
Games. Olympia, all who were not aliens from the Greek common-
—^ wealth, marked out by the use of that noble instrument of
speech, the Greek tongue.
Aware of the importance of the training in the gymnasium,
Solon took the business under his special care, laying down
minute regulations as to time, place, and extent, so that
nothing might be left to chance or caprice. Then the
school, in general, had its president—gymnasiarch—and
each separate department a separate head ; as in the case
of the torch-race, which had its lamparchy, or government,
charged with the office of making, in connection with it, all
necessary arrangements. There were, however, two offi¬
cers whose names and functions strikingly serve to show
how greatly these Grecian institutions had a favourable in¬
fluence on character: the first was the kosmetes, whose
name comes from a word (fcdfr/xos) signifying order and
beauty, and whose office consisted in the special superin¬
tendence of everything fitted to further these high quali¬
ties ; the other officer was termed sophronistes; and his
business was still more intimately conducive to inform the
mind, since, as his designation (from o-w^pwv) proves, he
was required to guide the pupils to aox^poavvr], a term for
which we have no English equivalent, but which may per¬
haps be approximately rendered by “ sound-mindedness.”
The elder Athenians were so solicitous to give a right
direction to the influence of the gymnasium, the palaestra,
and the stadium, that they annually elected ten sophronists
(one out of each tribe), and the honour which was attached
to the office may be learnt from the fact that in some in¬
scriptions their name stands before that of the gymnasiarchs
themselves. The usual province of the sophronists extended
beyond the limits of the exercise-grounds, for they exercised
over the youth a general legal oversight. Even their play-
hours were under the eye of the sophronist. When the
young men joined in the solemn procession of the grand
national Panathenaea they were under the guardianship of
the sophronists. Were they present at the nocturnal festi¬
val held in honour of Hebe, they were still attended by and
subject to their sophronist. That something even of a
sacred character belonged to these preparatory exercises
appears from the fact that the kosmetes bore also the
designation of iepevs (priest), having charge of certain sa¬
crifices.
Were there no other consideration in their favour, yet
the severe examination to which candidates for admission
to these contests were compelled to submit, would suffice
to prove that the general tendency of the games was good.
Besides being questioned as to their condition—were they
freemen or slaves ?—and as to their blood—were they really
Greeks ?—they had also to satisfy their judges that their
characters were free from moral stain. In the public sta¬
dium the herald, laying his hand on the head of the candi¬
date, inquired with a loud voice, “ Can any one accuse this
man of any crime ? Is he a robber or a slave ? or wicked
or depraved in his life ?” If he successfully passed this
ordeal, the candidate was then conducted to the altar of
Jupiter, the punisher of the perjured, where with solemn
rites he was required to swear (if he could with truth and
safety) that he had gone through the required preparatory
course of discipline, and would abstain from every breach
of the laws in the contest before him. (On the subject here
treated of see Krause’s Gymnastik und Agonistik der
Hellenen ; and his Die Pythien, Nemeen und Isthmien.
Leipzig, 1841.)
Among the Romans, the amusements of the circus did
not materially differ from the Greek agones or contests
celebrated at Olympia, Delphi, and elsewhere, and were
certainly of a nobler kind than the frightful gladiatorial
fights of the amphitheatres, though sometimes a circus also
was polluted by these inhuman exhibitions. The OgpLopaxM,
or beast-fight, was a favourite species of entertainment with
GAN
399
that people ; and the persons destined to this barbarous Gammon-
kind of amusement were termed bestiarii. They were ing
generally of two classes—1st, voluntary, that is, persons who II
fought either for amusement or for pay : these were clothed ia~ y
and provided with offensive and defensive weapons; 2d,
condemned persons, who were mostly exposed to the fury
of the animals unclothed, unarmed, and sometimes bound.
As none but the vilest of men were in general devoted to
these beast-fights, no punishment could be more ignomini¬
ous and cruel than what was frequently inflicted on the
primitive Christians when they were hurried away “ to the
lions,” as the phrase was.
Of these beast-fights the Romans were passionately fond;
and the number of animals which appear to have been from
time to time engaged in them is extraordinary. Sylla, dur¬
ing his praetorship, sent into the arena no fewer than 100
lions, which were all slain. Pompey caused the destruction
in this way of 600 lions. On the same occasion nearly 20
elephants perished. These numbers, however, are small
compared with the slaughter which took place in later
periods. Under Titus 5000 wild and 4000 tame animals,
and in the reign of Trajan 11,000 animals, are said to have
been destroyed. (See also Amphitheatre, and Circus.)
GAMMONING, among seamen, the lashing by which
the bowsprit is secured to the cut-water
GAMMUT, signifies a musical scale, of which the
lowest sound is G, marked by the Greek T, or gamma.
Such was the scale given by the monk Guido d’Arezzo in
the eleventh century, although he expressly says that it
was used before his time. From gamma we have the
French gamme, a scale in music. (g. f. G.)
GAMONEDA, a mountain-chain of Spain, on the
mutual confines of Castile and Galicia, to the east of the
Sierra de Marabou, from which it is separated by the river
Tuela. It is a continuation of the range which extends to
the E. about 12 miles under the same name, and parallel to
the Sierra Segundera. The Gamoneda is very well known
from its immense elevation, and its entire mass is composed
of loose heaps of stones and solid rocks, interspersed with
seams of slate and other minerals, exactly similar to the
Sierra de Segundera.
GANDESA, a town of Spain in the province of Cata-
luna and bishopric of Tortosa. It is situated in an open
country surrounded with elevated hills, and is encircled by
a wall which is entered by four gates. It is 50 miles
W.S.W. of Tarragona, and contains 2316 inhabitants.
GANDHARBA, or Gandharva, a species of demi¬
gods or angels, the musicians of heaven, inhabiting In-
draloka, the paradise of the Hindu deities, and witnesses
of the actions of men. They are 60,000,000 in number.
In the creation of the second Manwantara they are called
the children of Arishta and Kashyapa (whence they are
sometimes called Mauneyas, children of Muni, namely,
Kashyapa). By them the Nagas, or mythological serpents
in the regions below were despoiled of the jewels which
decorated their heads. They applied to Vishnu, who sent
Purukusta to Patala to destroy the Gandharbas. Ori¬
ginally they belong to the latter Epic period, but figure
more prominently in the purdnas. [No satisfactory ety¬
mology has yet been proposed for this name. One given
in the Vishnu Purana is gan dhayantas, i.e., “ suckling the
goddess of speech;” and another equally ridiculous is that
in Wilson’s Sanscrit Dictionary—ganda, “ smell,” and arb,
“ go,” alluding to the musk-deer for which this word is a
name. Its primitive meaning was probably that of some
singing bird. The sense of Koil, or Indian cuckoo, is at¬
tributed to it in the Medina KoshaJ]—Bhagavad-gitd, by
J. C. Thomson, 1855.
GANDIA, Huerta de, a district of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Valencia, and one of the most valuable not only
in Spain, but in all Europe. It bears the form of a horse-
400 GAN GAN
Gandia shoe, bounded by a chain of beautiful hills, some of which
II attain a considerable elevation ; and opens towards the east
Ganges. Up0n j^jyg waters Gf the Mediterranean. The two ends
—of the horse-shoe are, on the south, the eastern cape of
Mostalla, and on the north, the Hill of Bayreut. In the
immediate neighbourhood of the sea the soil is very sandy,
sterile, and often inundated; but inland it becomes ex¬
tremely fertile, and enjoys the finest climate imaginable,
not cold in winter, and tempered during spring, summer,
and autumn, by refreshing breezes from the Mediterranean.
This rich district contains the city of Gandia, and twenty
smaller towns, some in the plains and others along the skirts
of the hills, all visible from the spire of the principal church,
or the hermitage of Santa Ana.
Gandia, a secular city of Spain, in the province and
archbishopric of Valencia. It is very beautifully situated
in the Huerta de Gandia, and contains nearly 8000 in¬
habitants. It stands near the Mediterranean Sea, and con ¬
tains a fine collegiate church, a college, and a palace of the
duke of Gandia. It is noted for the manufacture of silk,
linen, and sugar.
GANGES. This great river has its rise in the southern
face of the Himalaya Mountains, and after a course of be¬
tween 1500 and 1600 miles falls into the Bay of Bengal
through two principal channels, widely separated from each
other ; the one known as the river Hooghly, which flows by
Calcutta in its passage to the bay of Bengal ; the other,
further to the eastward, termed the Podda, or Ganges, and
subsequently the Megna, which finds its way to the sea
through the Sunderbunds. The remote sources of the
Ganges were long imperfectly known, and afforded a fer¬
tile subject of conjecture and controversy to the geographers
of Europe. Prior to tbe commencement of the nineteenth
century this river, designated the Bhageerettee in the upper
part of its course, had been traced by Hindu pilgrims to
Gangootri, the point at which it issues from the Himalaya
mountains ; but all accounts agreed that its origin was still
more remote. On the side of Thibet it was reported to
have been surveyed by lamas or priests, sent for that pur¬
pose by the Emperor Camhi, whose route terminated at
llentaisse, a range of snowy mountains on the west and
south of Thibet. The most general notion was that it
flowed within the Himalaya chain of snowy mountains for
many hundred miles from the imaginary lake of Mapama
to Gangootri. In 1808 Lieutenant Webb was sent by the
Bengal government to explore the sources of the Ganges.
About 17 miles beyond Gangootri his further progress was
stopped by the difficulties of the country, but the Moonshee
who accompanied the party went forward; and as he pro¬
ceeded upwards after leaving Gangootri, he occasionally
perceived the river among the snow, which, a little higher
up, so completely filled its bed that no trace of it could be
discovered. Five hundred yards farther on it again showed
itself; but in front was a steep mountain rising up like a
huge wall, from an angle of which the Ganges appeared to
issue, whilst all beyond was an impenetrable mass of snow.
I his is the furthest point to which the Ganges could then
be traced. Subsequently, however, it has been clearly es¬
tablished that the most remote feeder of the Bhageerettee,
or Ganges, derives its origin in British territory, and from a
locality situate on the southern instead of the northern base
ot the Himalayas. Ten miles above Gangootri the Bha¬
geerettee, or Ganges, first comes to light at a place called
the Cow’s Mouth. It is a large stone in the middle of the
stream, the water passing it on each side, and leaving only
a small piece above the surface, to which the fancy of
superstition has given the form of a cow’s head, an ani¬
mal held sacred by the Hindus. From Gangootri the
Ganges flows among the mountains from S.E. to N.W. to
Bhairogathi, where it is joined by the Jahnuvi, its most
distant feeder, and to which the title of originating the
waters of the Ganges must now be awarded. The pre- Ganges,
tensions of the Doulee to this distinction have been as- v'—v-*-
serted; but as the distance from the source of that river
to its confluence with the Ganges at Deoprag falls short of
the distance measured from the latter spot to the source of
the Jahnuvi, the grounds upon which its rival claims have
been advanced cannot but be regarded as insufficient.
From Sookie, where it fairly pierces through the Hima¬
laya Proper, the river assumes a course S.W. to Hurdwar.
Here, in the latitude of 29. 57. N., it gushes through an
opening in the mountains and enters the plains of Bengal.
From Hurdwar to its conflux with the Jumna at Allaha¬
bad it is described as a stream of shoals and rapids, but
navigable for river craft. The inland navigation of this
portion of India will be materially improved by the Great
Ganges Canal, now (1855) rapidly advancing to comple¬
tion, and which was undertaken with the twofold object of
affording increased means of irrigation to the north-western
provinces, and adding to the lacilities of water transit.
The canal issuing from the river at Hurdwar traverses the
Doab to Allyghur, whence it diverges in two channels,
one leading to the parent stream at Cavvnpore, and the
other to Humerpore, with several offsets to other districts.
The total length of this canal, with its branches, measures
upwards of 800 miles, and is estimated to cost a million and
a half sterling. (See also Aqueduct.) With the excep¬
tion of the Ilamgunga flowing from Rohilcund, the Jumna
is the first large river that joins the Ganges after it de¬
bouches from the hills. From its arrival in the plains of
Hurdwar, to the conflux with the Jumna, its bed is of un¬
equal depth, and its course, compared with the latter part,
tolerably straight. From hence downwards it becomes
more winding, till having successively received the waters
of the Goggrah, the Soane, and Gunduck, besides numerous
smaller streams, its bed attains its full width, which, though
very unequal, is estimated to average a mile in the dry
season on its whole course through the plains, and two
miles in the freshes. At the height of the inundation the
breadth of the river in some parts of its course is enormous.
Bishop Heber mentions that at Boglipoor, about 600 miles
from the sea, including the turnings of the river, the breadth
in one year at this season was 9 measured miles, and 7 in
the following season. Though the Ganges be fordable in
some places above the conflux of the Jumna, the navigation
is never interrupted for small craft up to Hurdwar, or for
river steamers conveying passengers and treasure as far up
as Ghurmuktesur, a town on the river, situate about 100
miles below Hurdwar. Below the confluence the channel
is increased, the additional streams bringing a greater acces¬
sion ot depth than breadth ; yet so shallow in places is the
stream during the dry season, that, according to the author
ot the work entitled Steam Navigation in British India,
craft should have a draught little exceeding 18 inches to na¬
vigate safely and beneficially between Calcutta and Allaha¬
bad. At about 220 miles from the sea, or 300 reckoning
the windings of the river, commences the head of the Delta
ot the Ganges. The two westermost branches named Cos-
simbazar and Jellinghy rivers unite and form what is after¬
wards denominated the Hooghly, which at Diamond Har¬
bour forms the port of Calcutta. The length of course
ot the Ganges trom its most distant source to the sea by
this channel measures 1514 miles. Below the channel
where the Ganges sends off' these two branches to Calcutta,
the main stream loses not only its name, but the greatest
part of its sanctity in the eyes of the natives. The Cos-
simbazar river is almost dry from October to May, nor is
the Jellinghy navigable during two or three of the driest
months ; consequently, at that period the communication by
water between Calcutta and the Ganges above the Delta
is maintained by a circuitous course termed the Sunder-
bund passage. That part of the Delta called the Sunder-
GAN
Gangootri. bunds consists of a labyrinth of rivers and creeks, measur-
ing about 160 miles in breadth between the Hooghly and
the Megna, the two principal channels of the Ganges, at
their junction with the sea. This tract is covered with
woods, which are infested with tigers, and its numerous
canals form a complete inland navigation across the lower
part of the Delta. The Ganges, like all tropical rivers,
overflows periodically during the season of the rains in
Bengal, on which it depends for its supplies, and not, as
may be supposed, on the melting of the mountain snows.
Its rise commences late in May, and reaches its maximum in
September, at which period it attains the increased height
(independently of the tide) of about 7 feet at Calcutta, and
from 30 to 45 feet at Benares and Allahabad. In October
the waters of the Ganges rapidly subside, after which scarcely
a shower falls in the long dry season of Bengal. Accord¬
ing to Rennell the quantity of water discharged by the
Ganges is calculated in the dry season to amount to
80,000 cubic feet per second, and during the inundation to
405,000 cubic feet, giving a medium for the whole year of
180,000 cubic feet. Results widely differing in the ex¬
tremes of both seasons have been obtained from experi¬
ments made at Benares and Sicrigally, from which it would
appear that the mean discharge throughout the year averages
250,000 cubic feet at Benares, and double that quantity at
Sicrigally. The descent of the river from Allahabad to
Benares has been estimated at 6 inches per mile; from
Benares to Colgong at 5 inches per mile ; from Colgong to
Jellinghy at 4 inches per mile ; from Jellinghy to Calcutta
at 4 inches ; and from Calcutta to the sea at from 1 to
2 inches. In the dry season the current flows at the rate
of 3 miles per hour; it increases during the wet season
to 5 or 6 miles, and in particular situations to 7 or 8 miles.
On the banks of the Ganges, where the soil is loose and the
current rapid, “ such tracts of land,” says Major Rennell,
“ are swept away in one season as would astonish those
who have not been eye-witnesses to the magnitude and
force of the mighty streams occasioned by the periodical
rains of the tropical regions.” Great changes are in this
manner produced in the course of the river; what is lost on
one side being gained on the other by the mere operation
of the stream. In its course through the plains the Ganges
receives eleven rivers, some of which are larger than the
Rhine, besides many others of less importance. The
Jumna, Goggrah, Soane, and Coosy, are the largest of its
tributary streams. The Brahmapootra has its rise near
the source of the Ganges, and from hence the two rivers
diverge widely asunder, but afterwards they intermix their
waters before they fall into the sea, the Ganges having then
performed by this channel a course, including its windings,
of about 1570 miles. (e. T.)
GANGOOTRI, a celebrated place of Hindu pilgrim¬
age, situated among the Himalaya Mountains, in the
native Raj of Gurwhal, on the Ganges, which is here not
above fifteen or twenty yards broad, with a moderate cur¬
rent, and not in general above three feet deep. The
course of the river is here N. by E.; and on the bank
near Gangootri there is a small temple about eight or ten
feet high, in which are two images representing the Ganges
and Bhageerettee rivers. The bed of the river adjoining
the temple is divided off by the Brahmins into three basins,
where the pilgrims bathe. One of these portions is dedi¬
cated to Brahma, the other to Vishnu, and the third to
Seva. The pilgrimage to Gangootri is considered as a
great achievement of Hindu piety, to be efficacious in
washing away all the previous sins of the devotee, and
ensuring him eternal happiness in the world to come. The
water taken from this sacred spot is exported by pilgrims
to India, and sold at a high price. It is drawn under the
inspection of a Brahmin, to whom a trifling sum is paid for
the privilege of taking it; and the vessels are then sealed.
YOL. X.
GAO 4oi
The elevation of the temple above the sea is 10,319 feet. Gangpoor
Long. 78. 59. E., Lat. 30. 59. N. ||
GANGPOOR, a raj or petty native state of Hindustan, Gaons.
province of Gundwana, situate about the 22d degree of north
latitude, and bounded on the N. by the British district of
Chuta Nagpur. Area, 2493 square miles. Pop. 112,000.
It is a barren, mountainous, and unproductive country, in¬
habited by uncivilized tribes of Hindus. The chief river
is the Soank, and the principal town is Gangpur, situate in
Lat. 22. 3., Long. 84. 43. (e. t.)
GANJAM, a town and seaport of Hindustan, in the
Northern Circars, and capital of a cognominal district. It
is situated on the N.E. bank of a river navigable only
during the rainy season, when a great part of the surround¬
ing country is inundated. It possesses a fort, which is a
regular pentagon on plain ground, well fortified, and
capable of making a respectable defence. This port is
much frequented by country vessels. The district of
which this town is the chief place is bounded S.E. by the
Bay of Bengal, and on all other sides by the territory of
Orissa. Areaestimated at 6400 square miles: Pop.926,930.
The whole district is included within the territory called
the Northern Circars, the possession of which was wrested
from the French by Clive in 1759. The town of Ganjam
is in Lat. 19. 23., Long. 85. 7. (e. t.)
GANNAT, a town of France, capital of a cognominal
arrondissement, department of Allier, on the right bank of
the Andelot, an affluent of the Allier, 33 miles S. by W.
of Moulins. It was formerly surrounded by walls, and
w7hat remains of its old castle is now used as a prison. The
vicinity is very pleasant, but the town itself is ill-built. It
has an hospital, a tribunal of primary instance, and some
trade in corn, wine, and cattle. Pop. (1851) 5349.
GANNET. See index to Ornithology.
GANTLET, or Gauntlet (Fr. gantelet, from gant, a
glove), a kind of iron glove, with fingers covered with
small plates ; formerly worn by cavaliers when armed at all
points, and which used to be thrown down as token of
challenge. Gauntlets were introduced about the 13th
century.
GANYMEDES, in Grecian Mythology, a Trojan youth
of surpassing beauty, who was carried off by Jupiter to
supplant Hebe in the office of cup-bearer to the gods.
The king of gods and men presented Tros w ith two divine
horses as a compensation for the loss of his son, who him¬
self wTas honoured with an immortality of youth. Gany¬
mede is generally represented in works of art as a young
man in the first bloom of youth, and wearing the Phrygian
cap. At other times he is in the act of being carried off
by the eagle of Jove, or is feeding that royal bird from a
dish.
GAOL. See Prisons.
GAOL DELIVERY. The administration of justice
having been originally vested in the crown, the king in
former times rode in person through the realm once in
seven years, to judge and determine crimes and offences;
but afterwards justices in eyre were appointed, and since
that time justices of assize and gaol delivery. A commis¬
sion of gaol delivery is a patent in the nature of a letter
from the king to certain persons, appointing them his
justices, or two or three of them, and authorizing them to
deliver his gaol at a particular place of the prisoners in it;
for which purpose it commands them to meet at such a
place, at such time as they themselves shall appoint; and
informs them, that for the same purpose the king has com¬
manded his sheriff of the same county to bring all the
prisoners of the gaol, and their attachments, before them
at the day appointed.
GAONS, an order of Jewish doctors who appeared in
the East after the closing of the Talmud. The word gaons
signifies excellent or sublime; as in the divinity schools w e
3 E
402 G A E
Gap formerly had irrefragable, sublime, resolute, angelic, and
II subtile doctors. The Gaons succeeded the Seburseans,
Garcilaso about the beginning of the sixth century. Chanan Meisch-
de la Vega. tja wag tjie jlea(j 0f tjle « Excellents,” and restored the
academy of Pandebita, which had been shut up for thirty
years.
GAP (the ancient Vapincum), a town of France, capital
of the department of Hautes Alpes, and of a cognominal
arrondissement, on the right bank of the Luie, 46 miles S.E.
of Grenoble. It stands in a wide valley 2390 feet above
the sea, and surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills, over
which tower the snow-covered mountains of the Alps. In
the vicinity are fine walnut avenues and vineyards, but the
town itself is an ill-built miserable-looking place. The
chief public buildings are the Gothic cathedral, containing
the tomb of the celebrated Constable de Lesdiguieres, the
court house, town hall, bishop’s palace, barracks, and
theatre. It is the seat of a court of primary jurisdiction,
and has a communal college, diocesan seminary, public
library, and a museum of natural history. The manufac¬
tures comprise woollen, linen, and silk goods, leather and
dressed skins. In the vicinity are some marble quarries,
which were known to the Romans. It became the seat of
a bishopric in the fourth century, and its bishops were for
a long period styled princes and counts of Gap. Gap in
former times suffered greatly from the devastations of the
Lombards and Saracens, from earthquakes, the plague, &c.,
but more especially from the revocation of the edict of
Nantes. Pop. of town (1851) 7726.
GARACHICO, one of the most important places in the
island of Teneriffe till it was nearly destroyed by a volcanic
eruption in 1705. It now contains about 2600 inhabitants.
GARAMANTES, in Ancient Geography, a Libyan
race of North Africa, inhabiting the oases in the eastern
part of the great desert, and separated from the Gsetuli by
the Mons Usargala. In a more limited sense, the name
Garamantes was applied to the inhabitants of the great
oasis of Phazania or Fezzan, a district of country which,
though well sheltered against the sands of the desert, was
neither well watered nor remarkable for fertility. The
Garamantes were known to the Greeks, though somewhat
vaguely. Herodotus describes their country as lying thirty
days’ journey from that of the Lotophagi, as fruitful in
dates, and notable for its cattle, whose horns were so long
and so bent forward that the animals had to feed walking
backwards. Immediately adjoining the Garamantes, dwelt
in caves a wretched negro race of wonderful swiftness of
foot, whom their more powerful neighbours used to hunt
down in chariots. Nothing new was ascertained about the
Garamantes after the time of Herodotus till the Romans
became masters of North Africa. In the year b.c. 19
Cornelius Balbus, a Roman proconsul, penetrated into
their country, and overawed the towns on his line of march,
which yielded a sort of temporary homage. He was re¬
warded with a triumph for his success, which, however, was
rather nominal and temporary than real and permanent.
GARBE, in Heraldry, a sheaf of any kind of grain.
GARCILASO DE LA VEGA was descended from a
noble family of Toledo, and was born in the year 1503.
According to the romances, his father, who was counsellor
of state to Ferdinand and Isabella, distinguished himself in
single combat with a Moor on the Vega or plain of Gra¬
nada ; and thus was obtained, by royal appointment, the
surname which distinguished the family.
The young Garcilaso gave early evidence of poetic talent,
and had written several pieces in the old Castilian style,
when he formed an acquaintance with Boscan, which soon
ripened into friendship. Hence he was led to entertain
new views of classical poetry, and to study Virgil and Pe¬
trarch wdth a special view to the improvement of pastoral
poetry in his native language. But, though designed by
G A K
his natural tastes for a rural life, it was his lot to follow the
restless profession of arms ; and the wars of Charles V. re¬
moved him from the home of his fathers, and dragged him
from one country to another. In the year 1529 he distin¬
guished himself as a member of the Spanish corps which
repulsed the Turks in Austria. At Vienna he undertook
to promote the marriage of his nephew with one of the la¬
dies of the court, and thus drew on himself the displeasure
of the emperor, whose dignity, it appears, was in some way
compromised. He was, in consequence, banished to one of
the islands of the Danube, and here he composed at least
one of his canciones, bewailing his unhappy lot, but at the
same time celebrating the praises of the majestic river, and
describing the various countries watered by its streams.
We hear of him again in 1535, when he was wounded in
the adventurous expedition of Charles V. against Tunis.
Thence he returned into Italy, and devoted himself, as far
as circumstances permitted, to the composition of pastoral
poetry. Bound by his profession to scenes of war which
he hated, he solaced himself by employing his leisure hours
in framing delightful pictures of Arcadian life, and embody¬
ing them in harmonious verse. Yet he seems to have pos¬
sessed no inconsiderable share of military talent; for we
find him in the command of eleven companies of infantry
at the siege of Provence, when he could not have been
more than thirty-three years of age. Towards the close of
this partially unsuccessful campaign, he was ordered by the
emperor in person to assail a fort, the garrison of which was
harassing the retreat of the Spanish army. Garcilaso exe¬
cuted this commission with more zeal than prudence. De¬
termined to be the first to scale the walls, he attained his
object; but was struck on the head with a stone, and thrown
from the ramparts. Being mortally wounded, he was re¬
moved to Nice, where he died a few weeks afterwards.
It would be difficult to discover from the works of Gar¬
cilaso that the author had spent an active and troubled life,
almost constantly in the camp or the battle-field, and that
he had died in the bed of military honour, the victim of his
courage. He approaches even more closely than Boscan
to the tenderness of Petrarch ; and it is only by occasional
characteristic traits that the Spaniard is recognised. It
must be confessed, however, that when such passages do
occur, the exaggeration is striking enough. Among his
sonnets, which are thirty-seven in number, there are several
in which we remark a sweetness of language and delicacy
of expression which delight the ear, together with a mix¬
ture of sadness and of love, of the fear and yet the desire
of death, betraying the strongest mental agitation. The
translation of one of these sonnets, though it will give but a
faint idea of Garcilaso’s poetry, will yet afford a correct pic¬
ture of Castilian love ; a passion in which the fiercest war¬
riors assumed a languishing tone and an attitude of sub¬
Garcilaso
de la Vega.
mission:—
Si quejas y lamentos pueden tan to.
If lamentations and complaints have power
To rein the rivers in their headlong course,
To bow the trees as with resistless force
In lonely desert, glen, or darksome bower;
If chanted plaints of ills far less than mine
Have charmed the savage tigers to attend,
Have forced the rocks of hell an ear to lend,
And spell-hound Pluto stern and Proserpine;
Will not the miserable life I lead
Move thee to pity—soften thy hard heart,
And cause my humble supplication speed?
If he who loses friend or worldly pelf
Raises unchid his voice beneath the smart,
Oh what his claim, whose loss has been—himself!
But the reputation of Garcilaso rests chiefly on his pas¬
toral poems, in which he has been imitated, but seldom if
ever equalled by subsequent writers. The first of his
eclogues, written at Naples, where he seems to have felt
GAR
Garcilaso the inspiration of Virgil and Sanazzar, is by far the most
de la Vega, beautiful, and has ever been considered as a masterpiece.
The whole composition has the metrical form ol an Italian
canzone, and the plan is exceedingly simple. The author
describes, with all the simplicity characteristic of genuine
pastoral poetry, the meeting of two shepherds, Salicio and
Nemoroso, who alternately pour forth their complaints the
one mourning the infidelity, and the other the death, of his
mistress. In the strains of the former passion appears raised
to the highest pitch, and then lost in an affecting self-sa¬
crifice. In those of the latter there is even greater tender¬
ness. In retracing his recollections, the mourner draws a
series of melancholy pictures which have an indescribable
charm. The beauty of the poem rises with the description
of the beauty of the departed shepherdess. But the finest
passage, and that which is considered to be unequall ed either
in ancient or modern poetry, is that in which Nemoroso
relates how he carries in his bosom a lock of his Eliza’s
hair, with which he never parts for a moment—how, when
alone, he spreads it out, wets it with his tears, dries it with
his sighs, and then examines and counts every single hair.
The poem, as a whole, is evidently the genuine effusion of
the author’s soul; and the glow of enthusiastic feeling, the
happy choice of expression, and the harmony of versifica¬
tion to be found in almost every line of these songs of sor¬
row, cannot fail to gratify the admirers of elegiac poetry.
There is also a purity of pastoral feeling, which appears the
more remarkable, when we remember that the poet was a
warrior, destined to perish in battle at no distant period.
The following are a few stanzas from this celebrated
eclogue :—
Salicio. Through thee the silence of the shaded glen,
Through thee the horror of the lonely mountain
Pleased me no less than the resort of men ;
The breeze, the summer wood, and lucid fountain,
The purple rose, white lily of the lake,
Were sweet for thy sweet sake;
For thee the fragrant primrose, gemm’d with dew,
Was sought when first it blew.
Oh how completely was I by all this
Myself deceiving ! oh the different part
That thou wert acting, covering with a kiss
Of seeming love the traitor in thy heart!
This my severe misfortune long ago
Did the soothsaying raven, sailing by
On the black storm with hoarse sinister cry,
Clearly presage. In gentleness of wo,
Flow forth, my tears—’tis meet that ye should flow !
How oft, when slumbering in the forest brown
(Deeming it fancy’s mystical deceit),
Have I beheld my fate in dreams foreshown !
One day methought that from the noontide heat
I drove my flocks to drink of Tagus’ flood,
And, under curtain of its bordering wood,
Take my cool siesta : but arrived, the stream,
I know not by what magic, changed its track,
And in new channels, by an unused way,
Rolled its warpt waters back :
Whilst I, scorched, melting with the heat extreme,
Went ever following in their flight astray
The wizard waves. In gentleness of wo,
Flow forth, my tears—’tis meet that ye should flow !
*****
But though thou wilt not come for my sad sake,
Leave not the landscape thou hast held so dear;
Thou may’st come freely now without the fear
Of meeting me, for though my heart should break,
Where late forsaken, I will now forsake.
Come then, if this alone detains thee, here
Are meadows full of verdure, myrtles, bays,
Woodlands, and lawns, and running waters clear,
Beloved in other days,
To which, bedewed with many a bitter tear,
I sing my last of lays.
These scenes, perhaps, when I am far removed,
At ease thou wilt frequent
With him who rifled me of all I loved.
Enough! my strength is spent;
GAR
403
And leaving thee in his desired embrace,
It is not much to leave him this sweet place.
*****
Nemoroso. As with the setting sun the shades extend,
And when its circle sinks, that dark obscure
Rises to shroud the world, on which attend
The images that set our hair on end,
Silence and shapes mysterious as the grave
’Till the broad sun sheds once more from the wave
His glorious lustre beautiful and pure;
Such shapes were in the night, and such ill gloom
At thy departure; still tormenting fear
Haunts, and must haunt me, until death shall doom
The so much wished for sun to reappear
Of thine angelic face, my soul to cheer,
Resurgent from the tomb.
*****
Poor lost Eliza ! Of thy locks of gold
One treasured ringlet in white silk I keep
For ever at my heart, and when unrolled,
Fresh grief and pity o’er my spirit creep,
And my insatiate eyes, for hours untold,
O’er the dear pledge will like an infant weep ;
With sighs more warm than fire, anon I dry
The tears from off it; number, one by one,
The radiant hairs, and with a love-knot tie ;
Mine eyes, this duty done,
Give over weeping, and with slight relief
I taste a short forgetfulness of grief.
WlFFEN.
The second eclogue contains a strange mixture of metres
and styles : tercets are interchanged with rhymeless iambics,
and the simple dialogue is suddenly abandoned for the dra¬
matic. In the third, the genuine character of the pastoral
is resumed, and the lyric dialogue in octaves harmonizes
pleasingly with its tender description of amatory sorrow.
But both are considered inferior to the first eclogue.
Garcilaso made essays in other kinds of poetry, but with
less success. One of the most interesting is an elegy w ic
was written at the foot of Mount Jlltna, and addressed to
Boscan. The mythological recollections excited in the
poet by that classic ground, his mournful descriptions of the
miseries of war, and his tender anxieties for a beloved ob¬
ject in his native land, diffuse a considerable charm over this
elegant poem, which is, besides, fraught with comparisons
and images at once novel and truthful.
The poems of Garcilaso, when collected, form only one
small volume ; but these have secured him an immortal
reputation, and obtained for him the highest rank among
the lyric and pastoral poets of his country. _ ,
CARD, a department in the south of France, consisting
of part of the old province of Languedoc, and bounded N.
by the departments of Lozere and Ardeche, E. by ie
Rhone, which separates it from Vaucluse and Bouches-du-
Rhone, S. by Herault and the Mediterranean, and W. by
Aveyron. It lies between 43. 27. and 44. 27. N. Eat., and
between 3.17. and 4. 50. E. Long., being about 75 miles in
length from N. to S. and about 70 in breadth from E. to
W.& Area, 2308 square miles. The mountain range ot
the Cevennes skirts the department on the N.W., and hence
the land gradually declines to the Rhone and Mediterra¬
nean. The southern portion, which extends to the sea, and
was probably at one time covered by it, is a low plain with
numerous lakes and marshes. Besides the Rhone, which
bounds it on the E., and the Ardeche, the lower portion o
which forms part of its boundary on the N., the principal
rivers are the Ceze, Gard, Vidourle, and Herault. Ihe
most northern of these is the Ceze, which rises in the Ce¬
vennes, and after a course of about 50 miles in an E;»-E*
direction, falls into the Rhone below Bagnols. Ihe Gard,
or Gardon, also an affluent of the Rhone, and rising in the
Cevennes from several sources, traverses the centre of the
department, and has a course of about 60 miles in length.
In the early part of its course it flows through a succession
of deep mountain gorges; and from the melting ot the
Gard.
404
Garda
GAR
snows on the Cevennes is subject to inundations, which often
cause great damage. Its waters not unfrequently rise 18
or 20 feet in a few hours, and its bed is sometimes increased
in width to nearly a mile. The Vidourle flows in a S.S.E.
direction from its source near La Yigan, and falls into the
shore-lake of Mauguio after a course of about 50 miles.
Below Sommieres it forms the western boundary of the de¬
partment. The Herault has its source and part of its course
in this department. The Canal de Beaucaire extends from
the Rhone at the town of that name to Aigues Mortes,
which communicates with the Mediterranean by means of
the Grand-Roubine canal. Gard is traversed by railways
from Nimes to Alais, from Nimes to Beaucaire and thence
to Marseilles, and from Nimes to Cette, through Montpel¬
lier. This department is rich in minerals, which constitute
one of the chief sources of its wealth, though the mining is
carried on in an unskilful manner. Iron, coal, and argen¬
tiferous lead mines are extensively worked; and man¬
ganese, zinc, antimony, &c., are found. Great quantities of
salt are obtained from the salt marshes along the coast.
The gypsum and other quarries employ a considerable
number of workmen. The manufactures of this depart¬
ment are extensive and varied. The chief of these are
silk, cotton, and woollen fabrics, hats, gloves, paper, leather,
earthenware, and glass. Agriculture is in a rather back¬
ward state, and the land, though generally fertile, does not
produce corn sufficient for the wants of the inhabitants.
The chief grain crops are wheat, oats, rye, and barley.
Lentils, pease, and potatoes are grown ; and immense quan¬
tities of excellent chesnuts are produced on the slopes of
the Cevennes. The vine is extensively cultivated, and
yields excellent red and white wines. The olive, mulberry,
fig, pomegranate, and other fruit-trees are abundant. Gard
contains 4 arrondissements, 38 cantons, 347 communes,
and 408,163 inhabitants, as follows:—
Cantons. Communes.
Nimes 11 73
Alais  9 97
Uzes  8 98
Le Yigan 10 79
38 347
Pop. 1851.
148,564
102,339
90,011
67,249
408,163
The chief town is Nimes, having (1851) 49,480 inha
bitants.
GARDA, Lago di, the ancient Benacus, the largest of
the Italian lakes, is in Austrian Italy, inclosed by the delega¬
tions of Mantua, Brescia, and Verona, and the circle of Ro-
veredo in the Tyrol. It is about 35 miles in length from
N. to S., and the southern portion, where widest, is 13 miles
across, but it narrows towards the N., where its breadth is
not more than 3 or 4 miles. At its northern extremity it
receives the Sarco and numerous smaller streams; and its
surplus waters are discharged by the Mincio into the Po.
It is inclosed by Alpine ridges, except towards the S., where
it is bounded by the great plain of Lombardy, and where
the peninsula of Sirmio projects into its waters. The eleva¬
tion of its surface is about 320 feet above the sea, and this
is increased by 4 or 5 feet in the beginning of summer from
the melting of the Alpine snows. Its greatest depth is 950
feet. Its waters are of a dark-blue colour, are subject to
violent storms, and abound in fish. Near its E. shore Na¬
poleon defeated the Austrians under Wurmser on 5th July
1796. Garda, the village from which the lake takes its
name, stands on its eastern shore, and was anciently a port
of some importance.
GARD AN 1, or Guard ant, in Heraldry, a term applied
to any beast full-faced, or looking towards the observer.
GARDELEGEN, a town of Prussian Saxony, on the
i ight bank of the Milde, 30 miles N.N.W. of Magdeburg.
Pop. (1849) 5857, chiefly engaged in the linen, woollen,
and cotton manufactures. ^
GAR
GARDENING. See Horticulture, and Landscape- Gardening
Gardening. p 6
GARDINER, a town in the State of Maine, N. America, Gardiner,
on the Kennebec river, 12 miles S. by E. of Augusta. It
has numerous saw-mills, and contains 6486 inhabitants.
GARDINER, Colonel James, a Scottish soldier, re¬
markable alike for valour and piety, was born at Carriden
in Linlithgowshire, Jan. 10, 1687. At the age of fourteen
he entered a Scottish regiment in the Dutch service, and
was afterwards present at the battle of Ramillies, where he
was wounded. While in garrison during the intervals of
his campaigns, he had distinguished himself by the reckless¬
ness with which he plunged into all the dissipation and
excess incident to a military career. In 1719, however, a
wonderful change came over him ; and he was henceforth
as remarkable for piety and Christian worth as he had for¬
merly been for qualities the very opposite of these. The
beautiful story of Colonel Gardiner’s conversion, and the
seemingly supernatural circumstances attending it, have .
been carefully detailed by his biographer, Dr Doddridge.
He fell at the battle of Prestonpans in 1745. The circum¬
stances of his death are described in Waverley with all the
minuteness of historical detail, set off by the legitimate
embellishment of romance.
Gardiner, Stephen, bishop of Wmcnester, and lord
chancellor of England, was born at Bury St Edmunds in
1483. He is believed, on good grounds, to have been the
illegitimate son of Dr Woodville, bishop of Salisbury,
brother of Elizabeth Woodville, wife of Edward IV. After
the usual preliminary studies, he was entered of Trinity
Hall, Cambridge, where he distinguished himself as much
by his knowledge of canon and civil law as by his classi¬
cal attainments. In course of time he became himself
Master of 1 rinity Hall, and made the acquaintance of
Cardinal Wolsey, who introduced him to Henry VIII.
Without much difficulty he gained the good-will of that
monarch, who sent him in 1527 to Italy to gain the pope’s
consent to the divorce of Catherine of Arragon. In this
mission he was not successful, but he showed such zeal
and skill, that on returning home he was entrusted with the
conduct of the case. He was likewise made secretary of
state, and in 1531 was promoted to the bishopric of Win¬
chester. In these high offices he distinguished himself by
his constant and inflexible opposition to everything that
smacked of change or progress, especially in matters of re¬
ligion. Cranmer and the reformers in especial were made
to feel the full weight of his hostility; and the opportune
downfall of Cromwell removed a serious obstacle from the
path of Gardiner’s ambition. He was soon able again to
testify his good-will to his royal benefactor by furthering
the divorce of Anne of Cleves; but his spirit of intrigue
seems to have shaken the confidence of the king, whose
leanings were at this time beginning to pronounce in favour
of Cranmer and the Protestants. It was not long before an
opportunity occurred for Henry to show his real sympathies.
Gardiner, as the representative of the Catholic party, tried
to fix upon Cranmer the charge of heresy, but the attempt
was defeated by the king himself, who secured the acquittal
of the accused. The failure of this design did not much
affect Gardiner’s standing, but he damaged himself and his
cause seriously by a scheme for the impeachment of Cathe¬
rine Parr, which that lady had the good fortune to dis¬
cover, and the skill to counterwork. On the accession of
Edward VI. Gardiner experienced a serious reverse of for¬
tune. Failing to comply with the demands of the now domi¬
nant Protestant party, he was thrown into the Tower, and
kept there in close confinement till the premature death of the
young king and the accession of his sister Mary completely
changed the aspect of affairs. He was immediately set
free, made lord chancellor, reinstated in his lost bishopric,
and entrusted with the conduct of the most important affairs,
GAR
Garnet both of the nation and of the queen’s household. The
|| atrocities that were perpetrated during the short but bloody
Garonne. rejgn of the new sovereign, if not directly chargeable against
him, were certainly aggravated by having his sanction and
countenance. Had he willed he might have prevented
them, as there was no subject of the realm whose power and
influence were comparable to his. He died November 12,
1555, and was buried with a more than royal magnificence.
Gardiner was a man of great practical ability. His am¬
bition was as great as that of his quondam master Wolsey;
and the height of power which he reached was inferior only
to that attained by the great cardinal. In forwarding his
ambitious views he made no scruple of sacrificing any thing
or person that stood in the way ; but as soon as he found
his position secure, he was careful to advance the interests
of the party on whose shoulders he had risen to power.
His knowledge of men, and his tact in dealing with them,
were far more remarkable than his knowledge of divinity,
which, however, was far from commonplace. His cunning,
that treacherous quality which formed so prominent a fea¬
ture in his character, was sometimes so ill concealed as to in¬
jure rather than promote his views. Such a mind as his was
constitutionally vindictive ; and if he did not actually take
pleasure in the sight of human suffering, he proved at least
by his conduct that he did not object to the use of torture as
a means for furthering the interests of the Roman Catholic
Church. It is said that on his deathbed the retrospect of
his life and conduct filled him with horror, and that he often
repeated the words, Erravi cum Petro, sed non JJevi cum
Petro, I have sinned with Peter, but I have not wept with
Peter. His principal works are—De Vera et Falsa Obe-
dientia, 1534; Palinodia dicti libri; A Necessary Doc¬
trine of a Christian Man, set forth by the King's Majestic
of England, 1543 ; An Explanation and Assertion of the
true Catholic Faith, touching the most blessed Sacrament
of the Altar, 1551 ; Confutatio Cavillationum quibus Sa-
crosanctum Eucharistice Sacramentum ab impiis Capernai-
tis impeti solet, 1551.
GARNET, a beautiful gem of a rich red colour, passing
from columbine red to cherry and brown red. Another
species is the common garnet, the colour of which is of
various shades of brown and green. See Mineralogy.
GARNET, a tackle fixed to the mainstay of a ship, for
hoisting cargo.
GAROFALO, Benvenuto, whose family name was
Tisio, a painter of very considerable merit, was born at
Garofalo near Ferrara in 1481. After studying at his na¬
tive city, at Cremona, and afterwards at Mantua, under the
leading artists of these cities, he betook himself to Rome
where Raphael was then at the height of his glory. The
works of that great master, as was natural, affected his style
very materially for the rest of his life. His works in his later
manner placed him among the first painters of his day, and
even now command large prices among connoisseurs. Va¬
sari cites as his masterpieces, a “Massacre of the Innocents,”
a “ Resurrection of Lazarus,” and a “ Capture of Christ.”
The same critic also mentions a “ Martyrdom of St Peter,”
which he describes as nowise inferior to the famous paint¬
ing by Titian on the same subject. Gafofalo died in 1559.
GARONNE, the ancient Garumna, an important river
of France, which rises in the Spanish Pyrenees, passes in
succession through the departments of Haute Garonne,
Tarn-et-Garonne, Lot-et-Garonne, and Gironde, and falls
into the Bay of Biscay by the estuary of the Gironde after
a course of about 300 miles. It has its source in the Vallee
d'Aran, and enters France near the Pont du Roi in Haute
Garonne. Hence it flows N.W. to its junction with the
Neste, then N.E. to Toulouse, and afterwards in a N.W.
direction to its mouth. It is navigable to Cazeres above
Toulouse, and at Toulouse it is connected by the Canal du
Midi with the Rhone and the Mediterranean. Its chief
GAR 405
affluents on the right are the Salat, Ariege, Tarn, Lot, Garonne.
Dropt, and Dordogne ; on the left, the Neste, Louge, Save,
Gimone, Gers, Raise, and Ciron. At Bee d’Ambes, where
it receives the Dordogne, it takes the name of Gironde.
The Gironde presents an almost uninterrupted succession
of islands and banks, which divide it into two nearly equal
branches and render the navigation somewhat difficult. 1 he
valley of the Garonne is noted for its beauty and fertility.
Garonne, Haute, one of the frontier departments in the
south of France, bounded on the N. by the department of
Tarn-et-Garonne, E. by those of Tain, Aude, and Ariege,
S. by the Pyrenees which separate it from Spain, and W.
by the departments of Hautes Pyrenees and Gers. It is
about 88 miles in length by 25 in average breadth ; lying
between 42.40. and 43. 55. N. Lat., and between 0.27. and
2. 3. E. Long. Area, 618,558 hectares, or 2388 English
square miles. The northern portion of this department
is covered by hills of moderate elevation, interspersed by
broad and fertile valleys and plains. Towards the south
the land gradually rises to the Pyrenees, some of the peaks
of which here attain the height of upwards of 10,000 feet,
while Mount Maladetta is 11,168 feet above the level of the
sea. The scenery here is of the most wildly picturesque
description. The mountains raising their lofty summits in¬
to the region of perpetual snow, the immense precipices,
frightful chasms, and the numerous torrents and waterfalls,
render this district, for savage grandeur, almost unrivalled.
The lower slopes of the mountains are covered with thick
forests of oak, fir, pine, &c., or are occupied as sheep walks and
pasture grounds. The principal river of this department is
the Garonne, from which it takes its name. 1 he others,
the principal of which are the Neste, Salat, Lers, Louge,
Touque, Save, Ariege, and Tarn, are either directly or indi¬
rectly feeders of the Garonne. The navigable rivers are the
Garonne, Tarn, Ariege, and Salat. The Canal du Midi tra¬
verses this department for 32 miles. The climate, except
in the elevated region of the south, is temperate. The pre¬
vailing wind is the west; the south wind almost always brings
rain. The mineral wealth of this department is considera¬
ble, and its mines, particularly of iron, are numerous. Cop¬
per, lead, antimony, bismuth, zinc, and coal are among its
other mineral productions, and its marble quarries are ex¬
tensively worked. Mineral springs are found in various
places. In some of the mountain valleys, particularly in
that of Luchon, cretinism is common. The arable land,
which comprises more than a half of the department, is well
adapted for the cultivation of wheat, maize, and other grain
crops; and agriculture is in an advanced state. I he pro¬
duce of corn is generally nearly double what is required for
home consumption. The neighbourhood of doulouse is one
of the most fertile portions of France, as well in corn as in
pasture for cattle. Much fruit is produced, and vineyards
are extensive, yielding wine of a medium quality, most of
which is consumed at home or converted into brandy. The
mountains and valleys afford excellent pasturage for cattle,
which are numerous. Near Toulouse a fine breed of horses
was formerly raised for the dragoon service, but it has been
suffered to degenerate. The mountains abound with wood,
well adapted for ship-building. The manufactures are va¬
rious but not extensive, and include iron and copper uten¬
sils, earthenware, woollen, cotton, and linen goods, leather,
hats, watches, mathematical instruments, &c. Haute Ga¬
ronne is divided into 4 arrondissements as follows :
Cantons. Communes. Pop. in 1851.
Toulouse  12 133 176,487
Villefranche   6 97 65,039
Muret  10 126 92,988
Saint-Gaudens  11 234 147,096
39 590 481,610
The capital, Toulouse, contains 85,554 inhabitants.
406
G A K R I C K.
Garrick. GARRICK, Dayid, the greatest actor of his age, and
v-*--7 the most successful of theatrical managers, was descended
from a French Protestant family (Garrique), that had settled
in England on the revocation of the edict of Nantes. The
father of David, Captain Peter Garrick, was on a recruiting
expedition when his celebrated son was born at Hereford,
and baptized there February 28, 1716-17. The captain
usually resided at Lichfield on half pay, but in order to
benefit his family he accepted an offer to proceed on service
to Gibraltar in place of a brother officer who was desirous
of returning to England. This kept him many years ab¬
sent from his family, and the letters written to him by
“ little Davy,” acquainting him with the doings at Lichfield,
are highly interesting memorials of the future Roscius.1 In
his nineteenth year, after receiving a good education at the
grammar-school of Lichfield, David was sent to the esta¬
blishment at Edial, opened in June or July 1736 by that
greatest of Lichfield men, Samuel Johnson. The Edial
seminary was shut in about six months, and master and
pupil, Johnson and Garrick, proceeded to London, one to
commence the study of the law, and the other to try his
tragedy of Irene. They left Lichfield on the 2d of March
1736-7. Seven days afterwards Garrick was entered of
Lincoln’s Inn, but he resided for some time with the Rev.
Mr Colson, a distinguished teacher at Rochester. His
father, who had returned from Gibraltar, died about a month
after David’s arrival in London, and it is worthy of note,
that in his will, dated 1st January 1736-7, while he left
liberal legacies to his other children, the youngest is only
remembered by this bequest: “ Item, to my son David, one
shilling.”2 Fortunately a rich uncle, a wine merchant at Lis¬
bon, in his will left David a sum of L.1000; and he entered
into partnership with his brother as wine merchants in Lon¬
don and Lichfield. The concern was not prosperous, and
before the end of 1741 David had spent nearly half of his
thousand pounds. His passion for the stage completely en¬
grossed him; and being acquainted with Giffard, manager
of the theatre at Goodman’s Fields, he accompanied that
gentleman, with a party of his players, to Ipswich, where
Garrick made his first essay as an actor under the name of
Lyddal. His success on the provincial boards determined
his future career. On the 19th of October 1741 he made
his appearance at Goodman’s Fields in the character of
Richard III., and gained the most enthusiastic applause.
His staid and sedate brother, and his sisters at Lichfield,
were scandalized at this derogation from the provincial dig¬
nity of the family; and Garrick, greatly distressed at the
shock they had received by the intelligence (which however
he expected), hastened to give up his interest in the wine
company. Each night added to his popularity on the stage.
He was received by the best company in town. Glover
(“ Leonidas”) attended every performance ; Lyttelton, Pitt,
and several other members of parliament, had shown him
the greatest civility. Before next spring he had supped
with “ the great Mr Murray, counsellor,” and hoped to do
so with Mr Pope through Murray’s introduction, while he
was dining with Halifax, Sandwich, and Chesterfield.
“ There are a dozen dukes of anight at Goodman’s Fields,”
writes Horace Walpole; and Garrick’s farce of the Lying
Valet being at this time brought out with success, the ho¬
nours of dramatic author were added to those of the stage.
His fortune was made.
Having very advantageous terms offered him for per¬
forming in Dublin during part of the summer, he went over
to that city, where he found the same homage paid to his Garrick,
merit which he had received from his own countrymen. To
the service of the latter, however, he esteemed himself more
immediately bound; and therefore, in the ensuing winter,
he engaged himself to Fleetwood, manager of Drury Lane.
In this theatre he continued till 1745, when he again went
over to Ireland, and continued there the whole season, as
joint-manager with Sheridan, in the direction and profits of
the theatre-royal in Smock Alley. From Dublin he re¬
turned to England, and was engaged for the season of 1746
with Rich at Covent Garden. This was his last perform¬
ance as a hired actor; for in the close of that season
Fleetwood’s patent for the management of Drury Lane ex¬
pired, and that gentleman having no inclination further to
pursue a design by which, from his want of acquaintance
with the proper conduct of it or some other cause, he had
considerably impaired his fortune, Garrick, in conjunction
with Lacy, purchased the property of the theatre, together
with the renovation of the patent, and in the winter of 1747
opened it with the best actors, and especially with the fa¬
mous prologue written by his old preceptor Johnson, who,
though somewhat splenetic, if not envious, at Garrick’s sud¬
den rise, was glad to see
“ the reign commence
Of rescued nature and reviving sense.”
The naturalness of Garrick’s acting was its great charm.
Booth, Quin, and the old tragedians were remarkable for a
style of stately declamation, sonorous and often graceful and
impressive, but wanting the versatility and rapid changes of
passion that, when exhibited by Garrick, at once captivated
the audience. “ It seemed,” said old Richard Cumberland,
“ as if a whole century had been stepped over in the pas¬
sage of a single scene; old things were done away, and a
new order at once brought forward, bright and luminous,
and clearly destined to dispel the barbarisms of a tasteless
age, too long superstitiously devoted to the illusions of im¬
posing declamation.” In comedy Garrick also excelled,
and the variety of his acting was justly considered one of
his peculiar excellences. As a manager, though he com¬
mitted some grievous blunders, his career was beneficial to
the stage. He purified it of much of its grossness, and in¬
troduced a correctness of costume and decoration unknown
before. In 1749 Garrick was married to Mademoiselle
Violette, a German lady, who had attracted the admiration
of the court of Vienna as a dancer, and was patronized in
England by the Countess of Burlington. The union was
a happy one, and the lady survived, living in great respect,
until 1822. Having sold the moiety of his theatre for
L.37,000, Garrick took leave of the stage in 1 776, but only
enjoyed his opulent and well-earned repose for a period of
less than three years, dying on the 20th of January 1779.
Johnson, whose various and not always consistent criticisms
on Garrick, are scattered through the pages of Boswell,
spoke warmly of the elegance and sprightliness of his friend’s
conversation, as well as of his liberality and kindness of
heart; and his death, which came upon him unexpectedly,
“ eclipsed,” Johnson said, “ the gaiety of nations, and im¬
poverished the public stock of harmless pleasure.” But the
most accurate and discriminating character of Garrick,
slightly tinged with satire, is that drawn by Goldsmith in
his poem of Retaliation. As a literary man Garrick was
happy in his epigrams and slight occasional poems. He had
the good taste to recognise, and the spirit to make public
his recognition of, the excellence of Gray’s Odes at a time
1 Forster’s Life of Goldsmith, 2d edition, 1854.
Cunningham’s edition of Johnson’s Lives. Garrick’s early life may have heen wild, as Mr Cunningham assumes, but we hear nothing
of it while he was with Johnson at Edial; and in Gilbert Walmsley’s letter to Colson, Garrick is mentioned as a very sensible young
man, and a good scholar, whom the captain, his father, hoped to send to the temple and educate for the bar. Yet the captain’s will was
made about this very time. The specification of the “shilling” seems undoubtedly to imply marked displeasure ; but David at this
period received a legacy of L.1000 left him by his uncle at Lisbon, while his brother and sisters received only L.500 each. See Davies's
Life of Garrick, in which work, however, there is some inaccuracy and confusion as to dates.
G A R
Garrison when they were either ridiculed or neglected. His dra-
II matic pieces (the Lying Valet, Lethe, the Guardian, Miss
Garter. -n jier rfeens^ Irish Widoic, &c.), and his alterations and
adaptation of old plays, evinced his knowledge of stage
effect and his appreciation of lively dialogue and action,
but he cannot be said to have added one new or original
character to the drama. His correspondence, in two volumes
quarto, and the notices of him in the Memoirs of Hannah
More, Madame D’Arblay, and above all, in Boswell’s
Life of Johnson, bear testimony to his general worth
and to his many fascinating qualities as a friend and com¬
panion. (K* C 8.)
GARRISON (Fr. garnison, from the low Vat.garmsio,
ammunition, military stores), a body of troops stationed in
a fort or fortified town, either to defend the place against
an enemy, to keep the inhabitants in subjection, or merely
to be subsisted. By military writers the term is applied in¬
differently to a fortress, to the guard of a citadel or fortified
place, and to the soldiers quartered in a town.
GARROTE, the name given in Spain to a mode of ca¬
pital punishment by strangulation. The criminal is seated
on a stool with his back to a stake, and his neck is encircled
with an iron collar, which the executioner suddenly forces
close by means of a screw, so as to cause instantaneous
death.
GARROVILLAS, a secular town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Estremadura. It contains 6000 inhabitants, and
is situated in a district studded with small elevations, of
which the highest is the Santa Cruz de Brozas. It is sup¬
plied with excellent water, though sometimes not in abund¬
ance, and stands about two miles from the Tagus. Wool¬
lens and linens are manufactured here in considerable quan¬
tities.
GARRO W and Cossyah Hills, a mountainous district
of Hindustan, on the N.E. frontier of Bengal, between the
25th and 26th degrees of north latitude. Its boundaries
are Goalpara and Camroop on the north, Jyntea on the
east, Sylhet on the south, and Mymensing on the west.
The area of the whole tract is estimated at 4347 square
miles, of which the Garrows contain one-half, the other
moiety being included within the Cossyah Hills. The po¬
pulation, which amounts to 65,205, is composed of the sub¬
jects of various native chiefs, who, though taken under Bri¬
tish protection, are exempted from the payment of tribute.
The character of the country is wild, as is also that of the
people ; but the liberal policy of the protecting government,
and the interposition of its power only when rendered in¬
dispensable by the refractory chiefs, have succeeded in
maintaining tranquillity. The people are of a stout make,
vigorous and athletic, but ill-looking. They are not so dark
as those in Bengal. They go nearly naked ; and, although
calling themselves Hindus, eat all kinds of food, and drink
spirituous liquors. They worship Mahadeva; and at Ban-
jam, a pass in the hills, they worship the sun and moon.
They are poor and barbarous in their habits. Their houses
are of the rudest description, being raised on piles three or
four feet from the ground. The houses of the better classes
are more neatly executed. They are said to be cheerful
in their dispositions, and mild in their manners. At the foot
of the Garrow Hills reside a tribe of people called Hajins,
who are more like the Hindus, and who will not kill a cow.
GARSTANG, a small market-town of Lancashire, on
the right bank of the Wyre, and on the Preston and Lan¬
caster Railway, 11 miles S. of Lancaster. Pop. (1851) 839.
GARTER, Order of the, one of the most ancient and
illustrious of the military orders of knighthood, was insti¬
tuted by Edward III. of England, and dates from about
the year 1350, though some writers refer its institution to
1344. Its origin is variously related. The common ac¬
count is, that the Countess of Salisbury happened at a ball
to drop her garter, and that the king took it up and pre-
GAR 407
sented it to her, at the same time exclaiming, Honi soil qui Garter.
mal y pense, in reference to the smiles which he observed
the action had excited among some of the bystanders ; add¬
ing, “ that shortly they should see that garter advanced to
so high an honour and renown as to account themselves
happy to wear it.” In the opinion of some authorities, how¬
ever, the motto of the order has reference to Edward’s claim
to the kingdom of France, and means that he retorted shame
and defiance upon those who should dare to think amiss of
the just enterprise he had undertaken for the recovery of
his lawful right to that crown ; and that the bravery of those
knights whom he had elected into this order would enable
him to maintain the quarrel against those who thought ill of
it. Camden, Fern, and others, suppose it to have been in¬
stituted on occasion of the victory obtained by the Black
Prince over the French at Cressy. That prince, say some
historians, ordered his garter to be displayed as a signal of
battle; and in commemoration thereof he made a garter
the principal ornament of the order. In Rastel’s Chronicle
it is stated that this order was devised by Richard I. at the
siege of Acre, when he is said to have caused twenty-six
knights to wear thongs of blue leather about their legs, and
that it was perfected in the 19th year of Edward III.
The number of knights companions was originally twenty-
six, including the sovereign, who is chief of the order; but
in 1 786 a statute was passed to the effect that this number
should be irrespective of princes of the royal family, and
illustrious foreigners on whom the honour might be con¬
ferred. Their total number at present (1855) is thirty-eight.
This order holds the highest rank among the British orders
of knighthood. Its officers are a prelate, chancellor, regis¬
trar, king-at-arms, and usher of the black rod, besides others
of inferior rank. At their head is the prelate, who is always
the Bishop of Winchester ; next is the chancellor, who, till
1837, was the Bishop of Salisbury, but is now the Bishop
of Oxford, in consequence of Berkshire, and of course
Windsor, being transferred to that diocese. The Dean of
Windsor is registrar ex officio. The fourth officer is garter
and king-at-arms, which are two distinct offices united in
one person. The garter carries the rod and sceptre at the
feast of St George (the protector of the order) when the
sovereign is present; he notifies the election of new knights,
attends the solemnity of their installation, carries the garter
to foreign princes and others, and he is the principal officer
of the college of arms and chief of the heralds. (See King-
at-arms.) All these officers, except the prelate, have fees
and pensions. The chapter meet annually on St George s
day (23d April) in St George’s chapel, Windsor, where the
installations take place, and the knights’ banners are sus¬
pended. The habit and insignia are the garter, of blue
velvet, and inscribed with the motto “ Honi soit qui mal y
pense,” worn below the left knee; the mantle, of blue vel¬
vet; the hood and surcoat of crimson velvet; the hat of black
velvet; the collar of gold; the george, or figure of St George,
suspended from a broad dark blue riband; the star of silver.
The Garter challenges pre-eminence over all the other
parts of the dress, for from it the noble order received its
denomination. It is the first part of the habit presented to
foreign princes and absent knights, and that wherewith they
and all other knights elect, are first adorned. The mantle is
the chief of the vestments made use of upon all solemn oc¬
casions. The length of the train of the mantle distinguishes
the sovereign from the knights companions. To the collar
of the mantle is fixed a pair of long strings, anciently woven
with blue silk only, but now twisted round, and made of
Venice gold and silk, of the colour of the robes, with knobs
or buttons, and tassels at the end. The left shoulder of the
mantle has from the institution been adorned with a large
garter, with the device. Within this is the cross of the
order, which was ordained to be worn at all times by Charles
I. At length the star was introduced, which is a sort of
408
GAR
GAS
Garter cross irradiated with beams of silver. The collar is ap-
II pointed to be composed of pieces of gold in fashion of gar*
Garth. terg^ grounc[ enamelled blue, and the motto gold. When
the knights wear not their robes, they are to have a silver
star on the left side: and they commonly bear the picture
of St George, enamelled on gold, and set with diamonds,
suspended by a dark blue riband, crossing the body from
the left shoulder.
The garter, at the time of election, is buckled upon the
left leg by two of the senior companions, who receive it
from the sovereign (to whom it has previously been pre¬
sented upon a velvet cushion by the Garter king-at-arms),
with the usual reverence, whilst the chancellor reads the
admonition enjoined by the statutes. The garter being then
buckled on, and the word of its signification pronounced,
the knight-elect kneels before the sovereign, “ who puts
about his neck a dark blue riband, to which is appended,
wrought in gold within the garter, the image of St George
on horseback, with his sword drawn, encountering the dra¬
gon.” In the mean time, the chancellor reads the following
admonition : “ Wear this ribbon about thy neck, adorned
with the image of the blessed martyr and soldier ot Christ,
St George, by whose imitation provoked, thou mayest so
overpass both prosperous and adverse encounters, that hav¬
ing stoutly vanquished thy enemies both of body and soul,
thou mayest not only receive the praise of this transient
combat, but be crowned with the palm of eternal victory.”
Then the knight elected kisses the sovereign’s hand, and
returns thanks for the great honour done him ; after which
he rises up and salutes all the companions severally, who
return their congratulations.
In the beginning of the present century it was estimated
that eight emperors and twenty-eight foreign kings, besides
numerous sovereign princes, had been enrolled as knights
companions of the Order of the Garter. Ashmole has given
a very elaborate account of this order. See also the splendid
work of Sir H. Nicolas on the Orders of Knighthood.
Gjrter, 'principal King-at-Arms. See King-at-Arms.
Garter is also a term in heraldry, signifying the moiety
or half of a bend.
GARTH, Sir Samuel, a well-known physician and poet
of the Queen Anne and early Georgian period, was a native
of Yorkshire. He studied at Peterhouse, Cambridge, joined
the college of physicians in London, and became a fellow in
1692. He was the leading Whig physician, as Radcliffe
was that of the Tories; and in 1714 he was knighted with
Marlborough’s sword by George I. His social and liberal
spirit made him friends among all parties, and he also en¬
joyed considerable reputation as author of the Dispensary,
a popular poem on a popular subject. This appeared in
1699, and went through seven editions in the author’s life¬
time, each edition being corrected and enlarged. On a copy
at present (1855) in the possession of Mr Rogers, Pope
made some corrections, which were adopted by Garth. The
object of this poem was to ridicule the company of apothe¬
caries and certain medical men who set themselves to thwart
and oppose a benevolent edict issued by the college of phy¬
sicians, that the poor should have advice gratis. The sub¬
ject is treated in a ludicrous allegorical style, in the heroic
couplet, which Pope afterwards carried to such perfection
in his Dape of the Lock and other works. Garth also edited
a translation of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, supplying himself
the fourteenth and part of the fifteenth book. This was
published in 1717, and he died in 1719. In the brilliant
society of that period, as a member of the Kit Kat Club,
and the associate of Halifax, Addison, Congreve, Swift,
and Pope, Garth appears to have been a favourite. He
was unfixed in his religious opinions, but Pope says he was
a good Christian without knowing it, and that he died a
Papist. A more characteristic anecdote is related by Swift’s
friend Alderman Barber, who writes to the Dean, “ You
may remember Mr Garth said he was glad when he was
dying, for he was weary of having his shoes pulled off and
on ! ” The force of pococurante indifference could no fur¬
ther go. But there was little serious feeling among the
wits of that age, save with Addison and Arbuthnot, and
most of them affected a sort of Roman superiority to those
terrors of death which have shaken so many stronger
minds. (r. c—s.)
GARVE, Christian, a distinguished German miscel¬
laneous writer, was born at Breslau in 1742. He lost his
father at an early age, but was very carefully educated un¬
der the superintendence of his mother. He studied mathe¬
matics and philosophy under Baumgarten, at Frankfort-on-
the-Oder; and thence he removed successively to Halle and
Leipzig, where he enjoyed the friendship of Weisse, Gellert,
and other literati. After Gellert’s death in 1769, Garve
was appointed to succeed him, and his lectures on logic and
mathematics were universally approved. His delicate health,
however, compelled him to resign his professorship ; and he
retired to his native city, where he continued to teach pri¬
vately for the remainder of his life. He had long suffered
under a complication of painful diseases, and after much
severe suffering he died in 1798.
Garve first made a name for himself by his translation of
Burke’s essay On the Sublime and Beautiful, and other
works, such as the Ethics, Politics, and Rhetoric of Aris¬
totle. His translations from the Greek, however, though
not without certain literary merits, want that first requisite
of all translations—fidelity. He was more happy in his ren¬
dering of Cicero De Officiis, which he edited and annotated
at the request of the great Fritz of Prussia, who had been
struck with some of his philosophical essays, and had in¬
vited him to Charlottenburg, where he had entertained him
with unusual courtesy. These Philosophische Abhandlun-
gen of Garve’s consist principally of essays on ethical sub¬
jects, or subjects of general import, such as Patience, the
Art of Thinking, Irresolution, the Existence of God, and such
like. They are all treated in a popular style, but, though
popular, are far from commonplace. They often present a
worn-out theme in a guise so fresh and pleasant as to have
all the attractions of novelty.
GAS, a general name for all those elastic fluids that pre¬
serve their aeriform state at ordinary temperatures. See
Chemistry.
GASKET, a cord or piece of plaited stuff by which a
sail, when it is furled, is secured to the yard or boom.
Gasket also denotes yarn of flax or hemp saturated with
tallow. It is used as packing for the stuffing-boxes of en¬
gines, to make tight the joints of iron pipes, &c.
Garve
II
Gas.
409
GAS-LIGHT.
Gas-Light. Light, whether obtained from natural or artificial sources,
is so necessary for the correct and successful execution of
Import- almost every operation of human industry, that whatever
'S ca^cu^a^ec^ t0 simplify the means of procuring it, or to in¬
crease its intensity, cannot fail to be attended with the most
beneficial consequences to civilized society. For every pur¬
pose to which it is applied, it must be admitted that the
light of day, when it can be enjoyed freely and without in¬
terruption, is by far the most suitable; but in large and
crowded cities, as well as in situations less favourable in
point of climate, where the sun is sometimes shrouded for
days together in dense and impenetrable clouds, it becomes
expedient to compensate for the absence of his rays by arti¬
ficial substitutes, which, however inferior in brilliancy and
general usefulness, may nevertheless answer sufficiently well
in those cases where a less ample supply of light is requisite.
Phospho- Some substances, denommuted phosphorescent, have the
substances ProPerty absorbing the solar rays, on being exposed for
a short time to their influence, and of emitting the light
which they thus imbibe when they are afterwards placed in
the dark; but the feeble and transient illumination which
they shed, though sufficient to indicate their luminous con¬
dition, is totally unfit to afford such a supply of light as is
necessary for conducting any of the operations of art, which
require care and precision for their performance,
from wlPch There are, however, a variety of inflammable substances,
artificial* °T animal and vegetable origin, which, during the pro¬
light is ob- cess of combustion, give out light as well as heat; and
tained. hence, from the earliest periods of human society, it has been
customary to burn substances of that description for the
purpose of obtaining artificial light. These substances,
which were generally of a fatty or oleaginous nature, are
composed chiefly of carbon and hydrogen. When they are
exposed to a certain high temperature, they are resolved
into some of the compound gases which result from the
union of these elements, particularly carburetted and bi-
carburetted hydrogen, or olefiant gas, both of which are
highly inflammable, and yield, during their combustion, a
fine white light. In order to facilitate the decomposition,
and to carry on the combustion with due economy, a quan¬
tity of some fibrous substance, in the form of a wick, is con¬
nected with the oleaginous matter, for the purpose of caus¬
ing it to burn slowly and effectually. Accordingly, if the
flame be suddenly extinguished, the inflammable gas which
is formed by the decomposition of the matter in immediate
contact with the wick is observed to escape from it, and
may be again set on fire by the application of a lighted
taper.
When it is required to convey from place to place the
light obtained from these substances, no arrangement is
found to be more convenient for their decomposition than
that which is effected by means of the wick ; but if the
light is to remain in a permanent position, it will frequently
be more advantageous to resolve the oleaginous matter into
gas, and then to transmit it, in that state, through pipes, to
the various points where it is to be consumed.
Although the different substances which have been used
from the earliest times for yielding artificial light have al¬
ways been actually resolved into gas before they underwent
the process of combustion, that fact was entirely unknown
until pneumatic chemistry unfolded the properties of the
aerial bodies, which perform so many important functions in
the economy of nature, as well as in the processes of the
arts. It was then discovered that hydrogen, one of the
component parts of water, was a highly inflammable gas,
capable of being produced under a great variety of circum-
VOL. X.
stances : from vegetable matter decaying in stagnant water, Gas-Light,
forming what is called light carburetted hydrogen, a stream
of which, when ignited, produces the natural phenomenon
known as “ ignis fatuus, or Will-o’-the-Wisp from coal,
oils, and fatty substances, when, in combination with larger
proportions of carbon, it forms gases of high illuminating
powers. The use of gas for the purpose of illumination is
therefore of recent date; but although late in its origin, the
successive improvements which the invention has received,
and continues to receive, from the joint labours of chemists
and practical engineers, have tended greatly to simplify the
processes for producing the gas, and for improving its quality
and means of distribution.
In many parts of the world there are certain deposits of Discovery
petroleum or naphtha which furnish gaseous matter; and of coal-gas.
this issuing from some fissure in the earth, becomes ignited
by lightning or some other cause, and continues to burn for
a long period. Such a flame is regarded by an ignorant
people with superstitious reverence, and has been sufficient
to found a religious sect of fire-worshippers. Deposits of
coal, or of bituminous schist, sometimes furnish the gaseous
matter for such flames. The practical Chinese, about thirty
miles from Pekin, are said to make use of this gas in the
boiling and evaporating of salt brine, and for lighting their
streets and houses. “ Burning fountains,” as they are some¬
times called, are not uncommon, and their origin is the same.
In 1851, in boring for water on Chat Moss, on the line of
railway between Manchester and Liverpool, a stream of
gas suddenly issued up the bore, floated along the surface
of the ground, and caught fire on the application of flame.
A pipe was inserted into the bore, and a flame eight or nine
feet long was thus px-oduced.
In 1667, Mr Shirley describes in the Philosophical Tran¬
sactions of the Royal Society a burning spring in the coal
district of Wigan in Lancashire : he traced its origin to the
underlying beds of coal. In 1726, Dr Hales, in his work
on Vegetable Statics gives an experiment on the distil¬
lation of coal, by which it appears that 158 grains of New¬
castle coal yielded 180 cubic inches of inflammable air. In
1733, Sir James Lowther sent to the Royal Society speci¬
mens of inflammable air from a coal-mine near Whitehaven.
The gas was collected in bladders, and a number of expe¬
riments were tried on it.
It appears, however, that the Rev. John Clayton had per¬
formed some experiments on the distillation of coal some
years previous to the publication of Dr Hales’s book; but
he did not publish an account of them until 1739, and this
account consists of an extract from a letter written by Clay¬
ton to the Hon. Robert Boyle, who died in 1691, and was
probably written some time before this year. It is inserted
in the Transactions of the Royal Society for the year 1739;
and is probably the earliest evidence of the possibility of
extracting from coal, by means of heat, a permanently elas¬
tic fluid of an inflammable nature. We shall therefore give
the account of the discovery in his own words: Having
introduced a quantity of coal into a retort, and placed it
over an open fire, he states that “ at first there came over
only phlegm, afterwards a black oil, and then likewise
a spirit arose which I could noways condense ; but it forced
my lute, or broke my glasses. Once when it had forced
my lute, coming close thereto in order to try to repair it,
I observed that the spirit which issued out caught fire at the
flame of the candle, and continued burning with violence as it
issued out in a stream, which I blew out and lighted again
alternately for several times. I then had a mind to try if
I could save any of this spirit; in order to which I took a
3 F
410
Gas-Light.
Experi¬
ments of
Mr Mur¬
doch.
Progress
of gas¬
lighting.
GAS-LIGHT.
turbinated receiver, and putting a candle to the pipe of the
receiver whilst the spirit arose, I observed that it catched
flame, and continued burning at the end of the pipe, though
you could not discern what fed the flame. I then blew it
out and lighted it again several times ; after which I fixed
a bladder, squeezed and void of air, to the pipe of the re¬
ceiver. The oil and phlegm descended into the receiver, but
the spirit still ascending, blew up the bladder. I then filled
a good many bladders therewith, and might have filled an
inconceivable number more ; for the spirit continued to rise
for several hours, and filled the bladders almost as fast as a
man could have blown them with his mouth ; and yet the
quantity of coals I distilled were inconsiderable.
“ I kept this spirit in the bladders a considerable time,
and endeavoured several ways to condense it, but in vain.
And when I had a mind to divert strangers or friends, I have
frequently taken one of these bladders, and pricking a hole
therein with a pin, and compressing gently the bladder
near the flame of a candle till it once took fire, it would
then continue flaming till all the spirit was compressed out
of the bladder; which was the more surprising, because no
one could discern any difference in the appearance be¬
tween these bladders and those which are filled with common
air.”1
It is evident from this narrative, related with so much
simplicity, that an accident which happened to Mr Clay¬
ton’s apparatus was the means of leading to the discovery
of coal-gas ; but it does not appear that he or any other
individual thought of applying the discovery to any practi¬
cal purpose until the year 1792, when Mr Murdoch, who
then resided at Redruth, in Cornwall, commenced a series
of experiments upon the properties of the gases contained
in different substances. In the course of his researches
he found that the gas obtained by distillation from coal,
peat, wood, and other inflammable substances, yielded a
fine bright light during its combustion; and it occurred
to him, that by confining it in proper vessels, and after¬
wards expelling it through pipes, it might be employed
as a convenient and economical substitute for lamps and
candles.
Mr Murdoch’s attention to the subject having been in¬
terrupted for some time by his professional avocations, he
resumed the consideration of it in 1797, when he exhibited
publicly the results of his more matured plans for the pre¬
paration of coal-gas. The following year (being then con¬
nected with Messrs Boulton and Watt’s engineering work¬
shop), he constructed an apparatus at the Soho foundery for
lighting that establishment, with suitable arrangements for the
purification of the gas ; and these experiments, Dr Henry
states, “ were continued with occasional interruptions until
the epoch of the peace in 1802, when the illumination of
the Soho manufactory afforded an opportunity of making a
public display of the new lights; and they were made to
constitute a principal feature in that exhibition.”
In this brief sketch of the progress of gas-lighting, it may
be noticed that the Lyceum theatre in London was lighted
with gas in the course of the years 1803-4, under the direc¬
tion of Mr Winsor, who is entitled to no small commenda¬
tion for the warm interest which he took in drawing the
public attention to the subject; and in 1804-5 Mr Murdoch
had an opportunity of carrying his plans into effect on a Gas-Light,
still larger scale, by means of the apparatus erected under
his superintendence in the extensive cotton mills of Messrs
Philips and Son of Manchester.
It has been alleged that gas-lights were used in France When first
before they were known in this country ; but as the earliestin
exhibition of these lights, on which the claim of priority ofrance-
discovery is founded, took place at Paris in 1802, it is evi¬
dent, from the foregoing statements, that the exhibition al¬
luded to was ten years subsequent to the first experiments
of Mr Murdoch on the subject.
The practicability of lighting by means of coal-gas hav- Gas-works
ing been demonstrated by Mr Murdoch, a number of scien-in
tifie men applied their talents to the further development
of the art. Dr Henry, the celebrated chemist, lectured on
the subject in 1804 and 1805, and furnished many hints for
the improvement of the manufacture. Mr Clegg, an en¬
gineer in the employment of Boulton and Watt, was a
worthy successor of Murdoch, and for many years was the
most eminent gas-engineer of this country. A good deal
of the machinery of the gas-house in its present form was
contrived by Mr Clegg, and to him also we are indebted
for the ingenious wet gas-metei’. In 1813 Westminster
bridge was first lighted with gas, and in the following year
the streets of Westminster were thus lighted, and in 1816
gas became common in London. So rapid was the progress
of this new mode of illumination, that in the course of a few
years after it was first introduced, it was adopted by all the
principal towns in the kingdom, for lighting sti’eets as well
as shops and public edifices. In pi'ivate houses it found its
way more slowly, partly from an apprehension, not entirely
groundless, of the danger attending the use of it; and partly,
from the annoyance which was experienced in many cases,
through the careless and imperfect manner in which the
service-pipes were at fii’St fitted up. These inconveniences
have been in a great measure, if not wholly, removed by a
more enlax-ged knowledge of the management of gas ; and
at present there are few pi'ivate houses in large towns which
are not either pai'tially or entirely lighted up by it. As the
demand for gas increased, various improvements were from
time to time introduced both in the mechanical arrange¬
ments, and in the chemical operations of the manufacture.
The rapid inci'ease in the population of the metropolis, and
of all lai'ge towns, has naturally led to an increased con¬
sumption of gas, and the application of gas to the purposes
of warming and cooking has also further increased the de¬
mand for it. Hence it has been not only necessary that
new gas-works should be ei'ected for the supply of new dis¬
tricts, but that the resources of old works should be en¬
larged. It is only a few years ago that a gas-holdei', capa¬
ble of storing 250,000 cubic feet of gas was regarded as of
enormous size; at the pi'esent time, gas-holders are made
of double that capacity, and we occasionally hear of them
of the capacity of upwards of a million cubic feet. There
is one such at Philadelphia ; it is 140 feet in diameter and
70 feet in height. Nor will such dimensions as these be
regarded as superfluous when it is stated that some of the
large metropolitan works send out each from a million to a
million and a half cubic feet of gas in one night in mid¬
winter.2 The Westminster gas-works alone are accustomed
1 Mr Clayton also alludes to the discovery of the gas which he obtained from coal, in a letter to the Royal Society, dated May 12, 1688.
2 The manufacture of gas has now become of such vast extent and importance, and so many persons are interested in it commercially,
practically, and theoretically, that a journal devoted to its details has been found necessary. The Journal of Gas-Lighting is published
twice a-month, and reports the progress of the art. It also publishes a share list of gas companies for the United Kingdom, which will
give some idea of the extent of the manufacture. Many of the continental cities are also lighted with gas by English companies. A few
years ago Mr Hume, in the House of Commons, moved for a return, which has been published under the following title :—“ Return or
statement from every gas company established by act of parliament in the United Kingdom, stating the several acts of parliament under
which established, the rates per 1000 cubic feet at which each company or corporation have supplied gas in each of the three years since
1846 to 1849, and the average prices of the coals used by the company in each year for the same period; also stating the amount of
fixed capital invested by each gas company, and the rate per cent, of dividend to the shareholders or proprietors on their shares in each
year since that date (in continuation of Parliamentary Paper No. 734 of Session 1847).” It appears from this document that the fifteen
G A S-L I G H T.
411
Site and
general
arrange¬
ments.
Gas-Light, to supply as much as five millions cubic feet of gas in one
nio-ht from their three stations.
Of the Site and general Arrangement of the Apparatus for
the Production and Purification of Coal-Gas.
In describing the site and general arrangements of a gas
establishment, it is not easy to give directions respecting
points which must be regulated in every case by circum¬
stances of a local nature ; but when a choice of ground is
in our power, a spot ought to be selected having a central
situation with regard to the buildings, streets, &c. which
are to be supplied with light, and standing as nearly as pos¬
sible on a medium level with them. When the manufac¬
tory is placed considerably below that level, the gas is apt
to be propelled with too much velocity through the bur¬
ners ; and when above it, an opposite inconvenience is ex¬
perienced, the gas being in that case necessarily subjected
to an extra pressure, by which the chance of its escape
through any imperfection of the pipes is proportionally in¬
creased. Of the two evils, therefore, the least objection¬
able is that in which the situation of a gas-work is below
the mean level of the streets.
But besides the conditions favourable to an equable and
uniform distribution of the gas at the different points to
which it may be conducted, there are other considerations
scarcely less important, which in selecting a proper site for
the erection of the establishment ought not to be disre¬
garded. Among these may be reckoned a regular supply
of water for the various manipulations of the work; and
facility of access for the delivery of coal and the removal of
the coke, tar, and other products of the distillation. Rail¬
ways are now so common that they are often as valuable to
a gas-work as the vicinity of navigable water. In the Cen¬
tral Gas-consumer’s works at Bow Common, which were laid
out under the skilful scientific direction of Mr Croll, a
branch railway is connected with the lines which supply the
coal, and is actually continued into the retort-house, so that
the coal waggons only arrive at their final destination at the
mouths of the retorts which are to be fed. But in fixing
the situation of an establishment which is professedly erected
for the public benefit, the comfort or the interest of indi¬
viduals ought not to be entirely overlooked ; for although a
gas-work may not prove, under proper management, a nui¬
sance, it can never be considered to be any advantage to the
neighbourhood in which it is placed.
The apparatus for the production and purification of coal
gas consists, in the first place, of suitable vessels for decom¬
posing by heat the coal from which the gas is to be pro¬
cured ; secondly, of a series of pipes for conveying off the
gas, and conducting it into proper receptacles, where it may
be separated from the grosser products, which tend to im¬
pair the brilliancy of the light; thirdly, of the condensing
apparatus, for removing more effectually the tar and other
condensible substances that come over with the gas; fourthly,
of the purifying apparatus, for abstracting the sulphuretted
hydrogen, carbonic acid, &c. by which the gas is contami¬
nated, and which if allowed to remain, would be injurious
to the gas-fittings, to the books and furniture of rooms, or
to the health of the consumer ; and, fifthly, of the gasome¬
ter or gas-holder, with its tank, into which the gas is finally
received in a purified state.
Of the Retorts, or Vessels for decomposing the Coal.
The vessels employed for the decomposition of coal and
other substances capable of yielding carburetted hydrogen,
Apparatus
for the pro¬
duction
and puri¬
fication
of gas.
by their destructive distillation, are formed of cast iron, of Gas-Light,
clay, of brick, or of wrought iron, and are termed retorts, 's—
Various shapes have been adopted in the construction of
these vessels; nor have their forms been more varied than
the modes in which they have been disposed in the furnaces
erected for their reception. In many instances they have
been constructed of a cylindrical shape, varying in length
and diameter. Those first employed were placed with their
axis in a vertical direction , but experience soon showed
that this position was extremely inconvenient, on account
of the difficulty wrhich it occasioned in removing the coke,
and other residuary matters, after the coal had been car¬
bonized. Attempts were made to remedy this inconve¬
nience, by enlarging the size of the retort, and introducing
the coal inclosed in a prop :r grating of iron, having the
form of a cage. The increased dimensions of the retort,
from which the principal ndvantage to be derived from this
arrangement was expected, were found, however, to present
great obstacles to the complete carbonization of the coal;
lor although the disengagement of gas during the first stages
of the process was sufficiently copious, it diminished rapidly
the longer the distillation was continued, in consequence of
a crust of coke being formed next to the healed metal,
which not only opposed the transmission of the heat to
the internal mass of coal, but gradually prevented, by its
accumulation, the extrication of the gas from the unde¬
composed portion of it.
The retorts were, therefore, next placed in a horizontal Modes of
position, as being not only more favourable to the most heating
economical distribution of the heat, but better adapted to t e retorts-
the introduction of the coal, and the subsequent removal
of the coke, after the carbonization was carried to a due
extent. At first the heat was applied directly to the lower
part of the retort, but it was soon observed that the high
temperature to which it was necessary to expose it, for the
perfect decomposition of the coal, proved destructive to it,
and rendered it useless long before the upper part had sus¬
tained much injury. The next improvement was, accord¬
ingly, to interpose an arch of brickwork between it and the
furnace, and to compensate for the diminished intensity of
the heat by a more diffused distribution of it over the sur¬
face of the retort. This was effected by causing the flue of
the furnace to return towards the mouth of the retort, and
again conducting it in an opposite direction, till the heated
air finally escaped into the chimney.
This arrangement continued for a long time in use, and Form of
seemed to admit of little improvement, unless with respect retorts,
to the shape and dimensions of the retorts. The cylindrical
form a, fig. 1, has the advantage of possessing great dura¬
bility, but
it is not so 6
well fitted
for rapid
decompo¬
sition of the coal (on which depends much of the good qua¬
lities of the gas) as the elliptical shape b. Flat-bottomed,
or D-shaped retorts, d, have also been long in use: the
small London D is about 12 inches wide by 12^ inches deep,
while the York D varies from 20 to 30 inches in width, and
from 9 to 14 inches in height. Retorts are also made of a
rectangular section, with the corners rounded and the roof
arched. Elliptical retorts are varied into what are called
ear-shaped or kidney-shaped, c, and it is not unusual to set
retorts of different forms in the same bench, for the conve¬
nience of filling up the haunches of the arch which incloses
them. The length of retorts formerly varied from 6 to 9
feet: they are now in some cases made 19^ feet in length
Fig. 1.
companies in London charged at the rate of 6s. per 1000 cubic feet of gas, with the exception of the City of London Company, which
charged only 4s. with coals at 15s. 9d. per ton. The highest rate is 10s. per 1000 feet, charged at Inverness, with coals at 24s. 4d. per
ton. Bury St Edmunds charged 8s. 4d., with coals at 10s. 6d. Birmingham has rates of 6s. and 3s. 4Jd.. with coals at 15s, per ton.
412
GAS-LIGHT.
Gas-Light, and 121 inches in internal diameter, and are charged at
both ends.
Iron retorts of from 6 to 9 feet in length carry a charge
of from 120 to 200 lb. of coal, which is usually renewed
every six hours. Instead of the old method of charging with
the shovel, which occupied at least half an hour, and en¬
tailed a great loss of gas, the whole charge is now deposited
in an iron scoop, with a cross handle at the end, and it is
lifted by three men, pushed into the retort, turned over, and
the whole charge deposited at once, a contrivance which
does not occupy more than 30 or 40 seconds. Indeed it is
not uncommon for a bench of 7 retorts to be emptied and
recharged in the brief space of 20 minutes. When square-
backed retorts are used, the backs are apt to wear much
more quickly than any other part, in consequence of the
fierce heat which plays upon them; it is therefore sometimes
usual to throw in a few shovels-full of coal to the extreme
end before depositing the charge with the scoop. This oc¬
cupies more time in the charging, but it has the effect of
preserving the backs. The objection does not apply to re¬
torts with circular ends.
Every retort is furnished with a separate mouthpiece,
usually of cast iron, with a socket b, fig. 2, for receiving the
stand-pipe, and there is a moveable lid attached to the mouth,
together with an ear-box cast on each side of the retort for
receiving the ears which support the lid. Fig. 2 shows the
mouthpiece attached to the retort o, and also the method of
screwing the lid to the mouthpiece. The ears hold a cross¬
bar through which is passed a screw which presses on the
lid, and secures it to the mouthpiece. That part of the lid
which comes
Mode of
setting
retorts.
in
contact with the
edgeof the mouth¬
piece has applied
to it a lute of lime
mortar and fire¬
clay, and when the
lid is screwed up, a
portion of this lute
oozes outround the
edges and forms a
gas-tight joint.
In some cases
the screw is got rid
of by a more ex- pig. 2.
peditious contrivance, shown in figs. 4 and 5, in which the
ears support an axis, which carries a lever formed at one
end into a sort of cam, and bearing at the other end a ball
of cast iron about 4 inches in diameter. On lowering this
ball the cam presses with great force against the back of
the lid, and holds it securely ; and if more force be required,
a weight can be attached to the iron ball.
In attaching a mouthpiece to a clay retort, the end is
notched with grooves for the purpose of holding the bind¬
ing cement more securely. The mouthpiece is attached by
means of bolts with "p heads let into the body of the retort.
Iron cement is used, in which fire-clay takes the place of
sulphur; this being spread over the joint, the mouthpiece is
attached and screwed up.
The temperature best suited for the production of gas from
coal, being what the workmen term a bright red, was found to
be very destructive to the retorts when they were exposed to
t le direct action of the fuel; and accordingly means were
employed to protect them from the rapid oxidation which
they suffered under these circumstances, by interposing be¬
tween them and the furnace a partition of fire tiles or arched
bucks, with side flues for the admission of the heated air.
With the view of occupying less room, and saving the
expense of fuel, several retorts are sometimes set together
in an oven of brickwork, and heated by a smaller number
of furnaces than there are retorts. By this arrangement
the fuel is certainly economized; but the plan is liable to Gas-Light
the objection, that when any one of the retorts is worn out,
those connected writh it cannot be used till the faulty one
is replaced; and though various expedients have been pro¬
posed for obviating that inconvenience, none of them can
be said to have effectually answered the purpose. Figs. 4
and 5 represent an arrangement of the oven plan. A is the
retort, g the furnace,// the flues. Mr CrolPs arrangement
is represented in fig. 3.
The fuel required for carbonizing a given quantity of coal Fuel for
may be stated to be, in general, from one-third to one-fourth carboniza-
of its weight for Newcastle coal. It is stated, that under Mrtio11,
Croll’s method of setting, the carbonization is carried on by
the combustion of only 12 per cent, of fuel, or that 100 tons
of coal are carbonized by 12 ions of coke.
Various attempts have been made to render the retorts Varieties
more independent of the labourers. In Mr Brunton’s re- of retorts-
tort, a hopper containing the charge of coal is attached to
the mouthpiece. The charge is introduced by removing a
slide, and a piston is then advanced for the purpose" of
pushing forward the coal, and ejecting the coke, the latter
falling through a shoot at the further end of the retort, and
thence into a cistern of water into which the lower end of
the shoot dips. This retort is not of equal section through¬
out : it is 15 inches in diameter at the mouth, and 21 inches
at the other end, the length being 4£ feet. The advantages
of this arrangement, independently of the saving of labour,
are said to be an increased production of gas, and a conse¬
quent diminution in the amount of tar, naphtha, and ammo-
niacal liquor, this diminution being stated at 50 per cent,
less than the ordinary yield of those secondary products.
Moreover, a good deal of bituminous vapour, and minutely
divided carbon, which, under the usual arrangement, go to
swell the increase of tar, become decomposed under the
higher temperature of Mr Brunton’s retorts by passing over
the red-hot coke, and forming illuminating gas. Indeed, it
is now generally admitted as an axiom in gas-making, that
the most productive yield of gas is under a high tempera¬
ture ; for it is possible under low heats to distil off the vola¬
tile parts of the coal as bituminous vapour only, without any
production of carburetted hydrogen gas. By exposing the
coal in a thin layer to a very high heat, the distillation is
effected most rapidly and most profitably. Mr Clegg de¬
scribes a retort into which the coal is introduced by means of
an endless web formed of iron plates, each 2 feet long, and
14 inches wide, and linked together by iron rods. The
coal, broken small, is placed in a hopper, to which is attached
a feeder with six radial projections. Each of the six parti¬
tions thus formed supplies sufficient coal to cover one plate
of the web, with about 120 cubic inches of coal to the depth
of f ths of an inch. The hopper, which contains 24 hours’
charge of coal, is luted after each charge. The endless web
is moved by passing over drums, one revolution of which
every 15 minutes conveys the web through the retort, and
effects the distillation of the coal. The coal is carried on
the upper surface of the web, and as the web turns over
the second drum the coke is discharged by a pipe into a *
vessel below, and the empty portion of the web returns to
the hopper, and passing over the surface of the first drum
receives another charge. The charge is so regulated, that
about 100 squares inches of heated surface in the retort is
allowed for every pound of coal, which is said to yield 5'36
cubic feet of gas, or 12,000 cubic feet per ton of Wallsend
coal. The charge for each retort is about 18 cwt. of coal
for 24 hours, or about double the quantity under the old
plan in retorts of similar dimensions. The coke is also said
to be in much greater quantity. In the course of time the
plates of the iron web become converted into steel, the value
of which is sufficient for the purchase of a new web. Mr
Lowe has also introduced an arrangement for increasing the
yield of gas by making the products of a new change pass
GAS-LIGHT.
413
Gas-Light, over the portion of the retort which is already at a red heat.
'v—~ For this purpose the reciprocating retort, as it is called, is
made of thrice the usual length, and is charged at both ends;
but the dip pipe at one end is made to enter to a greater
depth into the tar of the hydraulic main than at the other
end; so that supposing both the dip pipes to be open, the
products of distillation will of course be discharged into the
main by the shorter pipe, where there is less pressure to be
overcome. This pipe, however, is furnished with a cup-
valve, which can be closed at pleasure ; and when so closed,
the products of distillation must escape by the longer dip-
pipe. When the charge has been half worked off in one-
half of the retort, a fresh charge is introduced into the other
half, and the products of distillation of the new charge are
made to pass over the incandescent coal, or that which has
been about three or four hours under distillation. This is
readily effected by closing or opening the shorter dip-pipe,
according to the end of the retort last charged. The prin¬
ciple of the reciprocating retort has been adopted at different
works, with variations in the practical details.
Of late years clay retorts have been largely introduced
into gas works, and they are said to be more durable, and
to stand a higher temperature than iron retorts, the latter
working best at a cherry-red heat, and the former at a white
heat, which is more favourable to the increased production
of gas than the lower temperature. It is stated, that where
a clay retort has yielded a million and a half cubic feet of
gas, an iron one has furnished only 800,000 cubic feet.
Clay retorts appear, from their greater porosity, to leak more
than iron ones ; but after working some months, the pores
become clogged with carbon, and the porosity is thus greatly
diminished, and the leakage is even less than in iron re¬
torts working under the same pressure.1 As the demand
for clay retorts increased, the manufacture of them im¬
proved, an example of which improvement is well illustrated
in the case of the retorts in the Great Exhibition of 18.51,
exhibited by Messrs Cowen of Blaydon Burn, near New-
castle-on-Tyne. When this firm first manufactured retorts
about twenty years ago, each retort was made in ten pieces,
which number was reduced to four, then to three, and then
to two; and in 1844 the retort was made complete in one
piece of the dimensions of 10 feet in length, and 3 feet in
internal width. The clay of which these retorts are manu¬
factured is exposed to the weather for some years, and is
frequently turned over, and the fragments of fossils picked
out, by which means most of the iron is got rid of, which
in other fire-clays is so injurious. Some of these retorts
are stated to have continued in active use for 38 months,
thus exhibiting four times the durability of iron ones.
Brick retorts, or rather ovens, have also been introduced,
and are said to be very durable, and to work satisfactorily.
In one case the charge is 5 or 6 cwt. of coal every twelve
hours, and the yield 9000 cubic feet cf gas for one ton of
Welsh coal, and from 10,000 to 12,000 cubic feet from one
ton of Newcastle coal. The fuel required for the carboni¬
zation of the coal is said to be unusually large. Wrought-
iron retorts, made of thick boiler plates firmly riveted to¬
gether, have also been tried to a limited extent.
When clay retorts came into general use, the circum¬
stance that they required a much higher heat than iron re¬
torts suggested the economical plan of heating the clay re¬
torts by the direct action of the furnace, and arranging the
iron retorts in a separate oven, heated by the same furnace, or
within a system of return flues, where they would be submit¬
ted to a less intense heat. By this means Mr Croll has found. Gas-Light,
that with two furnace grates of 252 square inches in each, he
has been able to carbonize in 24 hours five tons of coal in the
clay retorts of one bench, and three tons and a half in the
iron retorts of the same bench, with such an economy of fuel,
that only 12 per cent, of all the coke made is required for the
furnaces; whereas, in most of the London works, nearly one-
third of the coke made is consumed in heating the retorts.
Fig. 3 represents one form of Mr Croll’s method of com¬
bining iron and clay retorts. In this cross section cc are *
the clay retorts; the two uppermost are elliptical in form,
and 16 inches by 12 in dimension; four are circular, each
being 15 inches in inside diameter. Each clay retort is
made in four pieces jointed with fire-clay. The furnaces are
at each end of the retorts, one such furnace being shown at
g, with its ash-pit a, and the retorts are arranged so as to
receive an equal share of the radiated heat; ii are iron re¬
torts in the lower oven, which receives the hot air through
openings 14 inches by 10, in the lower arch, which separates
the two ovens ;/f are openings from the lower oven into the
horizontal flues, which extend along the whole length of the
retorts, and they are furnished with tile-dampers for the
adjustment of the draught.
The quantity of gas produced during the time the coal Quantity
is undergoing decomposition is extremely variable. From°f £as
a small retort, exposed for eighty-five minutes to a bright
red heat, which was kept up with the utmost possible uni¬
formity, the following results were obtained from eight
pounds of the Wemyss coal:—
Cub. Ft. Cub. In.
In 1st ten minutes 6 235
2d do 8 980
3d do  8 1254
4th do 5 784
5th do 4 1450
6th do 3 313
Last twenty-five minutes  6 1660
43 1492
. , Pne greatest sources of loss in the manufacture of gas arises from the leakage, not only of the retorts and other apparatus
within the wmrks, but also of the mains, a loss amounting to from 10 to 30 and upwards per cent. Mr Croll estimates the loss at one-
sixth of the gas sent out. The porosity of cast-iron pipes, not at their joints merely, but throughout their whole length, is evident from
e saturation of the soil with gas in the immediate vicinity of the mains. Not only does the gas escape by exosmose into the air but
y the reverse process of endosmose, air enters the pipes in some cases, as Professor Graham has found, to the extent of 25 per cent!
rofessor Brande thinks that the fetid odour of the soil in contact with the gas mains is due to the exosmose of ammonia, rather than of
tar and naphtha, to which the ill odour is generally attributed.
414
GAS-LIGHT.
Gas-Light. At the time the process was terminated the extraction
' v ' of aeriform matter had nearly ceased, so that the quantity
of gas yielded by a pound of the coal was about five and a
half cubic feet. The same coal carbonized on the large
scale yielded, when the process was carried on for four
hours, at the rate of four and one-third cubic feet of gas
per pound. The weight of the coke in the above experi¬
ment was 32,050 grains; and as the weight of the gas, the
specific gravity of which was ’65, must have been 15,026-
grains, the tar and other residuary products, including the
sulphuretted hydrogen abstracted by the process of puri¬
fication, must have amounted to 8924 grains.
Quantity When the decomposition is effected on the large scale,
of gas the quantity of gas is found to vary with the quality of the
obtained coa^ ant[ the manner in which the operation is conducted,
from diffe- According to Mr Peckston, a chaldron of Newcastle
ofcoal!"18 Wallsend coal yields 10,000 cubic feet, being at the rate
of 370^ cubic feet per hundredweight. The different kinds
of Newcastle coal yield from 8000 to 12,500 cubic feet of
gas per ton; the parrot or cannel coals furnish from 9000
to 15,000 feet per ton, the last-named quantity being ob¬
tained from the Boghead cannel, in which case the specific
gravity of the gas is ’752, and as much as 866 avoirdupois
lb. of gas are obtained from each ton of coal. The Walls-
end Newcastle, known as Berwick and Craister’s, only
yields 449 lb., and of the specific gravity *470. Of the
Derbyshire, Staffordshire, Welsh, and other varieties of
coal, the yield varies from 6500 to about 11,000 cubic
feet of gas per ton of coal. So that under the best methods
of working it is of great importance to obtain a coal that is
rich in bituminous matter.
It must not, however, be supposed that anything like the
above quantities of gas are obtained from coal in the prac¬
tical working of it in the gas-house. The manufacturer is
exposed to losses from a variety of causes, such as leakage,
as already noticed, and also from the tendency of the car¬
bon of the gas, or of the hydro-carburets distilled from the
coal, to form deposits of charcoal which may attain an inch
or more in thickness on the inner surface of the retorts, not
only producing a loss of gas, but causing the retorts to burn
out more quickly, and leading to expense and delay in remov¬
ing the deposit. It was formerly supposed that this deposit
was owing to the overheating of the retort, or to an excess
of heating surface. It was found, however, by Mr Grafton
that the pressure to which the gas is subjected in the
retort is the cause of the deposit. It is scarcely necessary
to remark, that when an elastic body is generated in a close
vessel, the pressure wnich it exerts upon such vessel de¬
pends greatly upon the resistance to which it is exposed in
seeking to escape. In endeavouring to force its way by
the dip-pipe through several inches of tar into the hydrau¬
lic main, the resistance thus offered produces a considerable
pressure on the inner surface of the retorts. The passage
of the gas through the washing vessels and lime purifiers
increases this pressure, thereby promoting the deposit com¬
plained of, and causing an increased production of tar at
the expense of the gas. Mr Grafton found that by working
the retorts under a pressure of 14 inches of water, a de¬
posit of carbon one inch in thickness was formed within the
retorts in one week, and in the course of two months it
filled up nearly one-fourth of the retort. On working the
retorts with no other pressure than that produced by the
insertion of the dip-pipe half an inch into the fluid of the
hydraulic main, little or no deposit took place in the retorts
in four months with the same kind of coal. It is now
common at many gas works to introduce some kind of
pumping apparatus, known under the name of the exhauster
or extractor, between the hydraulic main and the condenser,
or between this and the lime purifiers, bv which means the
pressure of the gas within the retorts can be reduced to any
amount. It is, however, found desirable not to carry this
reduction too far, lest atmospheric air should find its way Gas-Light,
into the retorts, and thus form an explosive mixture with
the gas.
The quality of the gas yielded by coal varies greatly at Quality of
different periods of the carbonizing process. The first ga» during
px-oducts, when the coal has not been previously well dried, different
consist almost entirely of aqueous vapour and carbonic ®^ages °f
acid; these are succeeded by light carburetted hydrogen, nizatfon°"
olefiant gas, and sulphuretted hydrogen, which gradually
diminish in quantity till towards the close of the process,
when almost the only products are carbonic oxide and hy¬
drogen. Hence, if the process be carried on too long, the
gases obtained in the latter stages of it will not only be
useless for the purpose of yielding light, but the fuel em¬
ployed for their pi-oduction will be expended in wasting
the retorts to produce substances which are calculated to
impair the illuminating power of the gases with which they
are mixed. In the case of cannel coal, the interval between
the charges of the retorts should not exceed three and a
half or four hours; nor in the case of the Newcastle coal,
which is not so easily decomposed, ought that interval to
extend beyond six hours.
The Condensing Main and Dip Pipes.
From the retorts the gas, after its production, ascends Use of the
by means of pipes, called starac?-pipes, BB, figs. 4 and 5, condensing
main and
into what is termed the condensing main, HH, which is a
large cast-iron pipe, about twelve or fifteen inches in dia¬
meter, placed in a horizontal position, and supported by
columns in front of the brickwork which contains the re¬
torts, A. Wx-ought-iron hydraulic mains are now coming into
use, and are preferable on account of their superior lightness
and strength. This part of a gas apparatus is intended to
serve a twofold purpose : First, to condense the tar and
grosser products of distillation ; and, secondly, to allow each
of the retorts to be charged singly without permitting the
Gas-Light.
Import¬
ance of the
right con¬
struction
of the tar
apparatus.
G A S-L I G II T.
415
gas produced from the rest, at the time that opeiation is
going on, to make its escape. To accomplish these objects,
Fig. 5.
one end of the condensing main is closed by a flanch ; and
the other, where it is connected with the pipes for conduct¬
ing the gas towards the tar vessel and purifying apparatus,
has, crossing it, in the inside, a semi-flanch or partition, oc¬
cupying the lower half of the area of the section, by which
the condensing vessel is always kept half full of liquid
matter.
The stand-pipes, BB, are connected by a flanch with a
branch-pipe rising from the upper side of the condensing
main HH ; and as the lower end of it dips about two inches
below the level of the liquid matter, it is evident that no
gas can return and escape, when the mouthpiece m of the
retort is removed, until it has forced the liquid matter over
the bend, a result which is easily prevented by making it of
a suitable length. The upper part of the branch of the
dip-pipe is generally furnished with a ground plug to allow
the removal of the tarry matter, which is apt to accumulate
in a concrete state at the lower part of the pipe where it is
nearest the furnace. The dip-pipes vary in diameter from
3^ to 4 inches.
Of the Tar Apparatus.
After emerging from the lower end of the dip-pipe, the
gas, now bereft of a considerable portion of the vapour of
water, tar, and oleaginous matter, which ascends with it from
the retort, is conveyed by pipes, for the purpose of being
completely freed from these impurities, into contrivances
where a more perfect condensation takes place. As the
subsequent purification of the gas depends, in no small de¬
gree, upon the perfect separation of the tar and other con¬
densible products by which it is accompanied, the construc¬
tion of the vessels best calculated for attaining that end is
a matter of the utmost importance ; and indeed it may be
justly affirmed, that unless that separation be effectually ac¬
complished, the action of the chemical agents to which the
gas is afterwards exposed, must be limited and imperfect.
The first contrivances employed for the purpose of con- Gas-Light,
densation were all constructed on the supposition that the ^
object would be best attained by causing the gas to travel
through a great extent of pipes, surrounded by cold water,
and winding through it like the worm of a still, or ascend¬
ing upwards and downwards in a circuitous manner. An
improvement on this form of condenser, and the one now
in general use, is represented in fig. 6. It consists of a
series of upright pipes connected in pairs at the top by
semicircular pipes ee, and terminating at the bottom in a
trough X Y containing water, and divided by means of par¬
titions in such a way that as the gas enters the trough from
one pipe it passes up the next pipe and down into the next par¬
tition, and so on to the end of the condenser. The cooling
powrer of this air-condenser, as it is called, is sometimes
assisted by allowing cold water to trickle over the outer
surface of the pipes. In passing through these pipes the
gas is considerably reduced in temperature, and the tar and
ammoniacal liquor condense, the tar subsiding to the bot¬
tom, and the ammoniacal liquor floating on the surface. In
the course of time the water in the trough is entirely dis¬
placed by these two gaseous products, and as these accu¬
mulate they pass off into a tar-tank, from which either liquor
can be removed by means of a pump adapted to the purpose.
Of the purifying Apparatus for separating the Gases unfit
for the purposes of Illumination.
With the two compounds of hydrogen and carbon, viz., Impurities
olefiant gas and light carburetted hydrogen, which areofcoal'Sas*
yielded by coal during its destructive distillation by heat,
several other products are obtained, which are not only
useless for the purpose of illumination, but are calculated
416
G A S-L I G H T.
Gas-Light.
How sepa¬
rated.
DitFerent
states in
which lime
is used for
the pur¬
pose.
Liquid
lime, or
cream of
lime.
Purifica-
to diminish the brilliancy of the light which is afforded by
these gases, and even to prove a source of serious nuisance
during their combustion. Among these products of a de¬
leterious nature are carbonic acid and sulphuretted hydro¬
gen ; and, in smaller quantity, carbonic oxide, nitrogen, and
hydrogen. The first two are by far the most objectionable
of these impurities; and fortunately their separation can
be effected more easily than that of the others, the presence
of which is of less importance.
Carbonic acid is readily absorbed by any of the alkalies
or earthy bodies in a caustic state; and sulphuretted hy¬
drogen, which possesses many of the properties of an acid,
unites not only with the alkalies and alkaline earths, with
which it forms a species of salts termed hydrosulphurets,
but also with the metallic oxides, most of which it reduces.
The alkalies being too expensive to be used for separating
carbonic acid and sulphuretted hydrogen from coal-gas, a
more economical substitute, and which answers the purpose
almost equally well, is found in quicklime. This substance
is accordingly used in every gas establishment on the large
scale, in some form or another, in purifying the gas. It is
employed in two states; either in the condition of a thin
paste, which the workmen call the cream of lime, or of a
moistened powder, such as lime assumes when it is slaked
with a little more than the usual quantity of water. The
apparatus must therefore be accommodated, in its construc¬
tion and arrangement, to these different conditions of the
purifying material.
When the lime is used in a liquid state, the gas is made
to pass through it so as to be as much as possible exposed
to its action; and it being highly conducive to the success
of the purifying process that a succession of fresh portions
of the liquid lime should be brought in contact with the
gas as it passes through it, the material is kept in a state of
constant agitation by means of machinery. Fig. 7 repre-
Fig. 7.
cylindrical vessel in which the purification is performed,
tne gas entering by the pipe c and escaping by the pipe
d. In the inside of this vessel is another of a similar
form ff, terminating at the bottom in a broad horizontal
flanch or circular plate gg, and having revolving within it
an agitator hh, which works in an air-tight stuffing box.
The gas being forced by the pressure from the retorts or
from the exhauster to descend below g, is more effectually
exposed in its progress to the action of the lime by the com¬
motion produced by the agitator, and finally ascends, in a
purified state, through the pipe d. Fresh portions of the
purifying material are supplied from the vessel k by means
of the connecting pipe b; and the cream of lime, after
being saturated with the impurities, is withdrawn at e. In
large establishments the gas is forced in succession through
several vessels of the kind described, the cream of lime Gas-Light,
being changed in each of them at different times, to render '
its action more uniform and regular.
One of the objections against the method of purifying by Objections
the cream of lime, or lime in a liquid state, is, that unless to the use
the gas be previously freed entirely from tar, that substance of lime in
enveloping it with a thin film of oleaginous matter, which the ll(luicl
has little tendency to unite with water, carries the gas along8 a e-
with it in rolling bubbles, so that the internal parts of it can
thus scarcely ever come into contact with the purifying mate¬
rials. In some arrangements mechanical contrivances are
employed to agitate and disperse the gas, with the view of
exposing every portion of it, more or less, to the action of
the lime ; but these modes of promoting the efficacy of the
process cannot be resorted to without the aid of some moving
power, which, in many cases, must necessarily be attended
with considerable trouble, as well as additional expense.
There is another objection to which this method of purifi¬
cation, even if it required not the assistance of machinery,
must always be liable ; namely, that the olefiant gas, upon
which the illuminating power mainly depends, is largely ab¬
sorbed by water, insomuch that either oil or coal gas, stand¬
ing a few days over that fluid, suffers a great deterioration
of its quality, and becomes in every respect less fit for the
purposes of illumination. When lime is used in the dry
state, or rather in the state of a moistened powder, for pu¬
rifying coal-gas, neither of these objections is applicable ;
and when the arrangements for that mode of purifica¬
tion are contrived with a due regard to the simplicity
and convenience of the manipulations, the separation of the
useless and noxious gases is effected more easily, and not
less effectually, than by the method of liquid lime. The
abstraction of the sulphuretted hydrogen becomes more
perfect by adding to the lime a small portion of the per¬
oxide of manganese, which, being a cheap substance, adds
very little to the expense of the process. This method of
purifying coal-gas having been adopted with success in most
gas establishments, we shall now proceed to explain the na¬
ture of the apparatus by which it is carried into effect.
Fig. 8 represents an elevation in section of a dry lime Apparatus
for dry
lime.
Fig. 8.
purifier. The gas is admitted by the pipe A into the bot¬
tom of a rectangular iron vessel, about three feet deep :
over the mouth of the inlet pipe is a plate of iron B, which
serves to spread the gas, and to prevent the lime from fall¬
ing into the pipe. In some cases this vessel is divided into
two compartments by means of a partition extending nearly
to the top, in which case the gas filters up through one com¬
partment and down through the other, passing each way
through layers of lime, L L, placed on iron gratings or on
perforated shelves, S S, of cast-iron, 7 or 8 inches apart.
The perforations are each fths inch in diameter and fths
inch asunder. The vessel is covered with a light lid of
sheet iron, the border of which dips into a narrow vessel of
G A S-L
Gas-Light, water, thus forming a secure water-joint or water-lute.
y v—; The lime is fresh slaked and slightly moistened, and is
placed on each shelf to the depth of about 3 inches ; it is
then sprinkled with water from a watering-pot. It is stated
that a bushel of quick lime is sufficient for the purification
of 10,000 cubic feet of gas. By slaking and reducing it to
powder its bulk is more than doubled : two bushels of hy¬
drate of lime thus formed cover a surface of 25 square feet
to a depth of 2g inches. At some works a bushel of slaked
lime, or half a bushel of unslaked lime, is allowed for every
ton of coals distilled. Some engineers estimate that 40 lb.
of lime are required for every 10,000 cubic feet of gas from
average Newcastle coal. If more lime is required the coal
must have been damp, or have contained more than the usual
proportion of sulphur. Good Newcastle coal contains about
one per cent, of sulphur ; some kinds of cannel only one-
half per cent. The capacity of dry lime purifiers is calcu¬
lated on the assumption that 25 square feet of surface are
required for 10,000 feet of gas. The purifiers are generally
arranged in a set of lour, three of which are usually at work
while the fourth is being emptied. In fig. 8, D is the exit
pipe, leading to the second purifier. In emptying one of
the purifiers the cover is raised by means of the chain h,
attached to the light rods e e, and the shelves are also
moveable, the upper ones being taken out while the lower
are charged. The spent lime contains hydrosulphuret of
ammonia, and when exposed to the air it evolves sulphur¬
etted hydrogen, carbonic acid taking its place. The poi¬
sonous liberated gas thus becomes a nuisance to the neigh¬
bourhood, but it is sometimes got rid of before the purifier
is emptied, by connecting each purifier with a large hori¬
zontal pipe which opens into the chimney-shaft of the re¬
tort-house, the powerful draught of which draws off all vol¬
atile matter from the lime, air instead of gas being let in at
the bottom. The cover of the purifier can then be raised,
and the lime be removed without annoyance to any one.
The lime is burned in ovens, and is used a second time in
the purifiers, after which it becomes refuse.
An ingenious form of purifier, contrived by Mr Malam,
consists of a central valve and cover, and four vessels, A,
B, C, D, fig. 9, placed around it. The central valve con¬
sists of an ii'on cylinder, 4 feet 6 inches in diameter and 3
VOL. x.
1 G II T.
feet deep, supported on brick piers ; the bottom is perfo¬
rated with ten holes for the reception of pipes leading to
and from the four purifiers, and also for the main inlet and
outlet pipes. Each purifier is 5 feet square and 3 feet 6
inches deep,—it contains seven layers of lime, supported on
sieves of wire, or slitted plates of iron. Each purifier has a
cover with short sides dipping into a water groove, and the
central cylinder has also a cover fitting within it in such a
way as to communicate with the pipe a, and either of the
4 inlet pipes, and also to communicate between one of the*
outlet pipes and the pipe A, which carries off the purified
gas. The inlet pipes, b, d,f admit the gas from the cen¬
tral case to the bottom of the purifiers ; and the outlet pipes,
c, e, g, return the gas from the purifiers back to the case,
after having passed up through the layers of lime, and de¬
scended at the back of a partition plate in each purifier to
the outlet pipes at the bottom, a is the main inlet pipe for
conveying the gas from the scrubber or the condenser, and
h is the main outlet pipe for conveying the gas to the gas¬
holder. The central cylinder contains water to the depth
of 10 inches, and the ten pipes rise up through the bottom
to the height of 12 inches, so that the mouth of each is
2 inches above the surface of the water. The cover which
fits into the cylinder is 4 feet 3 inches in diameter, and is
divided into five pans, the first of which, 1, fits over the in¬
let pipe a, and over either of the inlet pipes leading to the
purifiers. The partitions 2, 3, and 5 fit each over an inlet
and an outlet pipe, while one partition, 4, fits over one out¬
let pipe from one purifier, and over the pipe A, which leads
to the gas-holder. In fig. 9 the arrangement is such as to
open a communication between the inlet pipe a and the
purifier A. Now supposing the gas to have passed from
the scrubber or the condenser into the centre of the cylin¬
der, its only means of escape is to pass down the pipe b
into the purifier A, where it ascends through the layers
of lime, and passing over the top of a dividing plate, de¬
scends and escapes from the bottom of the purifier by the
pipe c back to the cylinder. Here its only means of escape
is by the pipe d, which conducts it to the purifier B, in
which it ascends and descends as before, returning by the
pipe e to the cylinder, whence it proceeds by the pipe /into
the purifier C, then along the pipe g, which is shut off from
communication with any pipe except A, by which it is con¬
veyed away to the gas-holder. By this arrangement the
three purifiers A B C are being worked, while a fourth pu¬
rifier D is being emptied and re-charged with lime. When
it is found, on testing the gas, that the lime is unfit for its
office, the purifier A is thrown out of work, and D is brought
in. The frame is then shifted so as to bring the triangular
division 1 over d, by which means BCD will be the work¬
ing purifiers, and A will be thrown out of use. In this
way, by shifting the frame round its centre over each of the
four outlet pipes, any three of the purifiers can be brought
into action. At the top of the frame is an upright shaft
with a screw cut upon it, which works the frame up, by
turning a lever which has a corresponding thread. The
position of the triangular partition is then ascertained, and
the communication from one purifier to another can be
changed in a few minutes.
The quantity of lime necessary for purifying a given vo- Quantity
lume of coal-gas varies, as already stated, with the quantity of liine
of sulphur contained in the coal from which the gas is pro-
duced. It is proper, however, to examine at intervals, ^ }
during the progress of the purification, the state of the gas b
by such chemical tests as are calculated to detect the pre¬
sence of any of the deleterious substances with which it is
usually contaminated. Thus carbonic acid is readily dis¬
covered by agitating a small portion of the coal-gas with
lime water in a limpid state, the solution being quickly
rendered turbid when the most minute quantity of that gas
is present. Sulphuretted hydrogen is discovered with equal
418 a A S-L
Gas-Light, facility by causing a small current of coal-gas to play against
a slip of paper moistened with a weak solution of acetate of
lead, or nitrate of silver, both of which instantly become
black when they are exposed to the action of sulphuretted
hydrogen.
" Of late years a variety of improvements have been intro¬
duced for purifying gas, which we now proceed briefly to
notice. They are at present only in partial use, but are
likely to lead to important results. Indeed the chemistry
of the manufacture is just now in a transition state, and is
receiving considerable attention from scientific men.
After the tar and ammonia have been for the most part
extracted from the gas by the condenser, a further separa¬
tion of ammonia is now frequently effected by passing the
gas through layers of coke dust, cinder or breeze, or brick-
dust, placed in trays or sieves, six or eight inches apart, in
a vertical hollow shaft, and as the gas streams up through
the porous column the ammonia is retained. T\\\$ scrubber,
as it is called, is sometimes used in conjunction with a wash¬
ing vessel, and sometimes the latter only is employed, with
the advantage of separating a portion of sulphuretted hydro¬
gen and carbonic acid as well as the ammonia; but the
wash-vessel is said to remove much of the olefiant gas, the
illuminating power of which is very high; an objection
which does not apply to the scrubber. Mr Croll has pa¬
tented a method of separating ammonia by means of chlo¬
ride of manganese, which has the effect also of removing
much of the sulphide of carbon, of producing a saving of
one-half or one-third of the lime required in the subsequent
process, while a valuable product is formed by the chlorine
of the manganese uniting with the ammonia, to form sal-
ammoniac. Ammonia has also been separated by passing
the gas through dilute sulphuric acid, the resulting sulphate
of ammonia being also a valuable secondary product. The
ammonia may also be separated by means of sulphate of
manganese, chloride, or sulphate of zinc.
Formerly a good deal of ammonia passed off with the gas
to the consumer, to the great injury of the gas meter, the
gas fittings, and the furniture of houses. After the ammonia
has been separated, the gas is passed into the dry-lime
purifiers, which are preferable to the wet-lime, not only
for the reasons already stated, but on account of the less
amount of pressure required to force the gas through them.
The objection to dry lime is on account of the volatile
nature of the offensive hydrosulphide of ammonia, which is
only mechanically combined with it, so that when the puri¬
fiers are opened, and the spent lime taken out, the oxygen
of the air combines with the hydrosulphide, evolving great
heat, and filling the neighbourhood with noxious odours.
This serious objection is now obviated by getting rid of
the ammonia between the condenser and the purifier : the
salts separated by the dry lime are then no longer vola¬
tile, but, on the contrary, the spent lime becomes in some
cases a valuable manure, consisting, as it does, of sulphate,
carbonate, and cyanide of lime.
A method of purifying the gas, patented by Mr Hills of
Deptford, is now attracting considerable attention. It is
based upon the property of the hydrated oxide of iron to
decompose sulphuretted hydrogen, a portion of the sulphur
forming a sulphide with the iron. Quicklime is also used
to separate carbonic acid, and the oxide of iron is mixed
with sawdust or cinders (breeze) for the purpose of in¬
creasing the surfaces of contact, and this mixture is placed
in the purifiers. When a sufficient quantity of gas has
passed through it the purifiers are opened, and the mixture
is exposed to the air, under which new condition it combines
with oxygen, and again becomes fitted for use in the puri-
I G H T.
fiers. The chemical changes which occur in these opera- Gas-Light,
tions are the following:—The mixture of hydrated oxide
of iron, &c., absorbs sulphuretted hydrogen Fe203 + 3HS
= Fe2 S3 + 3HO. The sulphide of iron, by exposure to
the air, absorbs oxygen, and the sulphur is separated in
an uncombined form Fe2 S3 + 03 = Fe2 03 + S3. The
mixed material can be again employed in the purification
of the gas, and the process may be repeated until the
accumulation of sulphur mechanically impairs the absorb¬
ent powers of the mixture. The sulpho-cyanogen which
accompanies the gas is retained by the oxide of iron, and
gradually accumulates in the mixture.
Chemists have also sought for substitutes for lime, or for
means of diminishing the amount usually required. M.
Penot recommends sulphate of lead for separating sulphide
of hydrogen. Professor Graham proposes to add to the slaked
lime one equivalent of crystallized sulphate of soda, which
would absorb sulphide of hydrogen until two equivalents
thereof were absorbed by one equivalent of lime; the lime is
converted into sulphate, and the soda becomes bi-hydro-
sulphuret, which might be readily washed out of the lime,
and again be converted into soda by roasting, and thus be
used over and over again to mix with the lime. The
secondary product formed in the manufacture of chloride
of lime, viz. the mixture of chloride of manganese with
sulphate of soda, has also been used as an efficient gas-
purifier.
Gasometers for receiving and containing the Gas before it
is consumed.
As many disadvantages would be experienced by attempt- Capacity of
ing to adjust the production of the gas to the rate of its con- gasome-
sumption, it is found to be more convenient, as well as more ters-
economical, to store up such a portion of it during the day
as shall compensate tor the deficiency of the supply that
may be furnished during the time the gas is being con¬
sumed in the course of the evening. The capacity of the
vessels used for this purpose, which are incorrectly called
gasometers (for they do not measure the gas, but only act
as gas-holders), must be regulated by a regard to that con¬
sideration.
The form of the gasometer is generally that of an inverted Best form
cylindrical cup, the diameter of which, when economy is of.
studied, ought to be double of its depth, or at least not more
than two or three inches less. Gasometers were formerly
composed of sheet iron varying in weight from two to three
lb. to the square foot, well rivetted at the joints, and kept
in shape by means of stays and braces formed of cast or bar
iron. The sheet iron was made to overlap at the joints—a
slip of canvas, well besmeared with white lead, being inter¬
posed to secure perfect tightness. The prismatic shape was
also formerly adopted, but it was not found to be so conve¬
nient as the cylindrical, partly on account of the difficulty
of making it retain its form, and partly on account of the
greater quantity of material, compared with the capacity,
that is necessary for its construction.
The gasometer on the old construction was furnished Tank of
with a tank, of the same form with itself, but a little larger gasome-
in dimensions, for containing the water, in which it waster'
suspended at different altitudes, by means of a chain and
counterpoise moving over pulleys. The tank was some¬
times built of stone, but more frequently constructed of
cast-iron plates bolted together by flanches, with an in¬
terval between them of about three-eighths of an inch,
which was afterwards filled up with iron cement.1
As the gasometer, when it is immersed in the water of
1 The following iron cement is recommended by Peckstone :—Take iron turnings or borings, and pound them in a mortar till they are
small enough to pass through a fine sieve; then, with one pound of these borings, so prepared, mix two ounces of sal-ammoniac in powder,
and one ounce of flowers of sulphur, by rubbing them well together in a mortar; and afterwards keep the mixture dry till it may be
wanted for use. When it is so, for every part thereof, by measure, take twenty parts of iron borings, prepared as above mentioned, and
G A S-L I G H T.
419
Gas-Light, the tank, suffers a loss of weight equal to that of the portion
v . of fluid which it displaces, it is evident that unless some
arrangement be made to counteract the varying pressure
which must thus result from the different depths to which
it may be immersed, the gas contained in the gasometer
will be expelled, at different times, with a varying ibrce. If,
however, the weight of the chain of suspension, or rather
the weight of that portion of it whose length is the same as
the height to which the gasometer ascends, be equal to half
the loss of weight which the gasometer sustains by immer¬
sion in water, a perfect compensation will be made, and an
equilibrium will hold between the gasometer and its coun¬
terpoise at all altitudes. Thus, if the weight of the gaso¬
meter were five tons, or 11,200 lb., and it lost by im¬
mersion a seventh part of its weight, or 1600 lb., then the
weight of that portion of the chain equal in length to
the highest ascent of the gasometer would require to be
800 lb., and the weight of the counterpoise 11,200 — 800,
or 10,400 lb.
lb.
For, the gasometer being immersed, its virtual weight is
11,200-1600, or  9,600
Weight of portion of chain now acting with the gasometer 800
Sum is the weight of counterpoise  10,400
Again,
The gasometer being elevated out of the water, its weight is 11,200
Weight of chain now acting in opposition to it  800
Difference is the weight of counterpoise  10,400
Although the compensation, by this adjustment of the
weight of the chain, answers the purpose in the most effec¬
tual manner, the following method is by some deemed pre¬
ferable. Let the counterpoise consist of a long cylindrical
or prismatic body, having the area of its horizontal section
equal to the area of a similar section of the plates of the
gasometer, and be allowed to descend into the water as the
gasometer rises out of it. Also let the chain be of a weight
equal (length for length) to a column of water of equal bulk
with the counterpoise. Then, if the weight of the gaso¬
meter be, as already supposed, 11,200 lb., the weight of the
counterpoise must be the same ; but the weight of that por¬
tion of the chain which, by the above arrangement, was only
equal to half the loss of weight sustained by the gasometer
when immersed, must now be equal to the whole of that
weight.
Then, the weight of the gasometer in the water is, as
before     9,600
Weight of the chain now acting with the gasometer  1,600
Weight of counterpoise, now out of the water    11,200
Again,
The weight of the gasometer, out of the water, is   11,200
Weight of the chain, now acting in opposition to the gaso¬
meter  1,600
Weight of the counterpoise, in -water  9,600
Though we have only shown, in both these modes of
compensation, that an equilibrium between the gasometer
and its counterpoise holds in the extreme cases, it would
be easy to prove that the same thing must subsist at all
the intermediate elevations of the gasometer. At the same¬
time, it must be obvious that these contrivances, however
well calculated they may be to secure the equilibrium alluded
to, can have no effect in expelling the gas ; and therefore,
when it is wished that the contents of the gasometer shall
issue from it under a certain pressure, the weight of the
counterpoise must be diminished to a suitable extent. Thus,
if it were required that the pressure employed for expelling
Pressure
for expel¬
ling the
gas.
the gas should be equal to that produced by a column of Gas-Light,
water three-fourths of an inch deep, then it would be neces-
sary to diminish the weight of the counterpoise by the
weight of a column of water having the same diameter with
the gasometer, and an altitude of three-fourths of an inch.
If the diameter of the gasometer above mentioned were,
for example, 35 feet or 420 inches, the weight of a cylin¬
drical portion of water having that diameter, and a depth of
three-fourths of an inch, would be, in grains,
4202 x -7854 x f x 252-5 = 26236876 grs. or 3748 lb!
Hence it would be necessary to make the counterpoise
3748 lb. lighter than it was supposed to be according to
the above-mentioned arrangements, in order that the gas
might issue from the gasometer under a pressure of three-
fourths of an inch of water. If the calculation were con¬
ducted with extreme accuracy, the specific gravity of the
gas ought also to be taken under consideration; but the
object to be attained is not of so delicate a nature as to re¬
quire an attention to such minute circumstances. Besides,
we shall afterwards find that the value of the arrangements
we have described for obtaining a uniform and equable
pressure is greatly diminished ; and these are even entirely
superseded by a contrivance called the governor, to be after¬
wards explained.
Such is the old method of constructing gasometers. Of
late years, however, a different system has prevailed. In¬
stead of making them of heavy plate iron, strengthened by
angle iron and stays, and of so great a weight as to require
the above-described complex system of equilibrium chains
and counterbalancing weights to relieve the gas from the
great pressure to which it would otherwise be subjected, the
gas-holders are now made so light that they actually require
to be loaded in order to supply the required pressure. The
practice has even been introduced of not suspending the
gas-holders at all, but regulating their rise and fall by means
of guide rods placed round the tank. Fig. 10 represents a
section of a modern gas-holder, in which will be seen a con¬
trivance for getting rid of a large body of water in which
the gasometer was formerly sunk, and which was found in¬
convenient in frosty weather, when, to prevent freezing, it
was necessary to introduce steam. The objections to the
contact of a large body of water with the gas have been
already referred to. By using a central core of masonry,
brickwork, earth, or sheet iron, the large volume of water is
got rid of—the only water required being that contained in
the ring-shaped space or tank, TT, round the core. Small
mix them well together in a mortar or other iron vessel. The compound is to he brought to a proper consistency by pouring water gently
over it as it is mixing; and when used it must he applied between the flanches by means of a blunted caulking iron.
GAS-LIGHT.
420
Gas-Light, gas-holders on this construction may be suspended from the
^ centre by a chain, while to the pillars of the triangular or
polygonal cast-iron frame, ii, guiding rollers are attached
to facilitate the motion of the cylinder, and to keep it hori¬
zontal. In forming the tank, TT, the brick-work and the
mortar joints must be perfect, or the core will soon be inju¬
riously acted on by the water. When the whole of the core
is not built up, but a solid mass of earth is left in the middle,
it is first dressed to the proper shape, and the slope is usually
puddled, as at p. The brick-work, b, is carried up in Roman
cement, or in the best hydraulic mortar, and it is recom¬
mended that the puddle behind the brick-work be clay, with
a portion of sand or silt. The surface of the core is covered
with concrete, cc. On one side of the tank is a well, con¬
taining the inlet and exit pipes, mm. The inlet pipe enters
at the top of the well, and passes to the bottom of the tank,
where there is a vessel for the reception of any tar or mois¬
ture that may by chance be conveyed by the gas : this pipe
then passes horizontally through the brick-work, and rises
up vertically through the water, so that its mouth may be
about two inches above the surface. The outlet pipe stands
by the side of the inlet pipe, and, descending through the
water, passes out through the wall of the tank into the
stand-pipe well, where there is another receptacle for tar
and water: this pipe proceeds up the well either to the
governor or to the main.
Particular 1° situations where a sufficient depth of the tank cannot
forms of be easily obtained, an expedient may be resorted to, such
gasome- as is represented in fig. 11, and known as the telescope
ter.
Fig. 11.
gasometer. It consists of tw o, or even three parts, separable
from each other; the one having the form of the common
gasometer, and the other being open at the top as well as
the bottom, but connected with the other by a channel run¬
ning .around the bottom, which is filled with water. The
lower part has a recurved form at the top ; and this portion
of it entering into the channel becomes water-luted, by
which the entire gasometer is rendered air-tight at the line
of junction. When the gas passes in by the inlet pipe the
inner cylinder rises first, and when its lower edge nearly
reaches the surface of the water its curved flange catches
the flange of the next cylinder, which also rises, and when Gas-Light,
this has risen to the proper height it catches the third cy-
linder if there be one, and raises it also. The water con¬
tained in the lower flange of each cylinder effectually pre¬
vents the escape of the gas or the entrance of atmospheric
air.
The pipes by which the gas is commonly introduced and Pipes for
conducted off' being in many cases considerably below the introdu-
level of the street pipes with which they communicate, are ci.ng and
apt to be filled up in the course of time with the condensed
water which passes off in a vaporous state with the gas. To mS 8 SaS*
remedy this inconvenience, it is necessary to place vessels
for receiving that water in connection with the entrance
and exit pipes, so contrived that the accumulated water may
be easily removed from them when required. One of these
vessels, which are improperly texmedi syphons, is represented
by fig. 12. When the water rises to the
height d, e, it is drawn off by means of
a small suction pump, introduced in¬
to the pipe ac, which reaches within
about an inch of the bottom of the
syphon. To prevent too much water
being removed, and thus allowing the
gas to escape at ac, the lower end of
the pipe of the suction pump should
be perforated with small holes to as
great a distance as the water is to be
left in depth; or, if deemed preferable,
the upper end of the pipe ac may be
rendered air-tight by a screwed cap.
When access to the bottom of the Fig 12
tank is difficult, swivel or flexible-jointed tubes,'disposed so
as to rise and fall with the gasometer, are sometimes resorted-
to. Jointed tubes, connected by means of water-lutes, are
also occasionally employed, and they are found to answer
the purpose in situations where the water is not exposed to
frost. 1
Of the Main and Service Pipes.
The gas being duly purified and prepared for combus¬
tion, the next point to be considered is the transmission of
it horn the gasometer to the various places where it is to be
consumed. As it must sometimes be conveyed, particu¬
larly in the case of large establishments, to the distance of
seveial miles, it is evident that unless the diameters of the
various pipes through which it is to be conducted have a
due relation to the quantity of gas to be transmitted, there
will be a danger either of incurring an unnecessary expense,
by making the pipes too large; or, what is still worse, of
being exposed to a deficiency of supply, by making them
too small. I he first object, therefore, to be ascertained by
the engineer, is the probable number of lights that may be
icquired in the various streets and lanes in which these
pipes are to be laid; and these being known, the corre¬
sponding quantity of gas, according to the quality of it, may
be afterwards computed. With regard to the relative di¬
mensions of the pipes at different distances from the gas-
work, the only general rule to be observed is, that the sum
of the areas of the sections of the main pipes proceeding
immediately from the gasometer should be equal to the
sum of the areas of the sections of the various branch-pipes
which they supply with gas; and this rule, with some little
modification, should be followed in the case of the subordi¬
nate ramifications.
In the case of good coal gas, we may safely reckon that Dimen-
one-fourth of a cubic foot of it will furnish the light of a sions of
moulded candle for an hour, of which one pound will, when pipes,
the candles are burnt in succession, last forty hours. On
this supposition, and assuming that the pressure upon the
gas in the gasometer is equal to three-fourths of an inch of
G A S-L I G H T.
421
Gas-Light, water, the diameters of pipes necessary for conveying va-
rious quantities of gas may be stated as follows :—
Diameters
of main
pipes.
Necessity
of giving
pipes a
proper in¬
clination.
Diameter of Pipe
in Inches.
1
h
f
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Quantity of Gas in
Cubic Feet per Hour.
4
20
50
90
380
880
1.580
2,480
3.580
4,880
6.380
8,090
10,000
Equivalent Number
of Candles.
16
80
200
360
1.520
3.520
6,320
9,920
14,320
19.520
25.520
32,360
40,000
This table has been deduced partly from theoretical con¬
siderations, and partly from the results of experiment.
Peckstone affirms, in his work on Gas-lighting, that a pipe
ten inches in diameter, is capable of transmitting 50,000
cubic feet of gas per hour, under a pressure of one inch of
water ; while, according to the statement of Mr Creighton,
such a pipe would scarcely convey the tenth part of that
quantity, under a pressure of from four-eighths to three-
fourths of an inch of water. It is impossible to reconcile
these discordant statements either by an allowance for the
difference of pressure or the difference of the specific
gravities of the gases ; for it ought to be kept in view that
the discharge of gas is directly proportioned to the square
root of the height of the column of water by which it is
pressed, and inversely as the square root of the specific
gravity of the gas. Both of these propositions, however,
riiust be greatly modified by friction, and consequently by
the length of the pipes through which the gas is conveyed.
In the supply stated to be furnished by pipes of different
dimensions, we have deemed it safest rather to underrate
the quantity than overrate it.
The main-pipes are usually made of cast-iron, joined to¬
gether with socket-joints, in lengths of three yards. The
depths of the sockets vary in pipes of different sizes from
three to six inches, part of them being fitted with gasket
to bring the centres of the pipes into line, and the remain¬
der with lead after the gasket has been driven home with
suitable chisels or caulking irons. The depth of lead to
secure a good joint should not be less than an inch and a
half; the interval between the spigot and socket being
from three-eighths to seven-eighths of an inch, according
to the diameter of the pipe. Joints are now frequently
made without lead. One plan is to caulk into the bottom
of the socket, to the depth of two inches, white rope-
yarn covered with putty, and to nearly fill up with tarred
gaskets, leaving a gate into which is poured a composition
of melted tallow and vegetable oil. Another plan is to
bore the socket of the pipe with a slightly conical opening,
the small end being similarly turned to fit the socket. The
two ends of the pipe are coated with a mixture of white
and red lead, and being brought together, are driven home
by a mallet. Such a joint is said to be quite tight. Rings
of vulcanized India rubber have also been recommended
for the joints of gas and water pipes.
As a considerable quantity of water is carried off by the
gas in the state of vapour, which is afterwards condensed
in the • pipes, some arrangement must be made for its col¬
lection and occasional removal; and accordingly, in laying
the pipes, care must be taken to give them a regularity of
declivity towards one or more points, where proper syphons,
close vessels, and cocks must be placed, to receive and dis¬
charge the collected water. When these precautions are
neglected, or when the levels are inaccurately taken, much
annoyance is experienced ; and as the evil can only be cor¬
rected by lifting and rejoining the pipes, the utmost attention
should be paid to guard against it at first.
For stopping off the gas in
large pipes, valves luted with
water or mercury, according
to the degree of pressure to
be resisted, are usually em¬
ployed. One of the most
simple forms of these valves
is represented in fig. 13, where
aa is the valve, having the
shape of an inverted cylindri¬
cal cup, which is raised and
depressed by a rod c passing
through an air-tight stuffing-
box ; and bb an annular cavity
or interval, partially filled with
water or mercury, into which
the valve descends when it is
shut.
To convey the gas from the
main-pipes, and distribute it
through the various apart¬
ments of dwelling-houses,
pipes made of block-tin are
generally used; these being
more durable and better adapt¬
ed to the purpose than pipes
composed of copper or any Fig. 13.
other metal. In arranging the interior fittings, the same
precautions must be observed as were recommended in the
case of the main-pipes, viz. to give the various branches a
due degree of inclination, so as to cause all the condensed
water to flow to one or more points, where proper cocks
must be placed for its removal. Unless this be done, the
lights will be apt to flicker, or be extinguished at times
altogether. Nor is it of trivial moment to enjoin the work¬
men, when they are soldering the service-pipes, to avoid with
the utmost care allowing any of the melted metal to find its
way into the inside of the pipes ; it being in a great measure
to this circumstance that the deficiency in the supply of gas,
so frequently complained of, is owing.
Gas-Light.
Service
pipes.
Of the Governor or Regulator.
The quantity of gas consumed in large towns varying Use of
greatly at different times, it is evidently a matter of some regulator,
importance to the public, as well as
to the manufacturers of gas, that
the supply of it should be duly ad¬
justed to the consumption ; so that
when the lamps are once regulated
to a proper height of flame, they
may continue afterwards to burn
with the same steady light through¬
out the whole of the evening. Any
contrivance that can accomplish so
desirable an object must save a
great deal of trouble to the con¬
sumer of gas, and much unneces¬
sary waste of it to the manufac¬
turer; and such is the design of the
governor or regulator. Fig. 14 re¬
presents one of these contrivances,
d being the pipe proceeding from Fig-14-
the gasometer, by which the gas is admitted, and e the pipe
by which it escapes; c is a valve of conical form, fitted to
the seat i, and raised and depressed by means of the
weight/attached to a cord passing over a pulley; bb is a
cylindrical vessel formed of sheet iron, which ascends and
descends in the exterior vessel aa, in which water is con-
422
GAS-LIGHT.
Pressure
indicator.
Gas-Light, tained to the level represented. The gas, entenno- at d,
passes through the valve, fills the upper part of the in¬
verted vessel bb, which it thus partially raises, and escapes
by e. If the pressure from the gasometer be unduly in¬
creased or diminished, the buoyancy of bb will be in¬
creased or diminished in like proportion, and the valve
being by this means more or less closed, the quantity of
gas escaping at e will be unaltered. And not only will the
governor accommodate itself to the varying pressure of the
gasometer, but also to the varying quantities of gas required
to escape at e for the supply of the burners. Thus, if it
were necessary that less gas should pass through e, in con¬
sequence of the extinction of a portion of the lights, the
increased pressure which would thus be produced at the
gasometer would raise the governor, and partially shut the
valve, till the state of it was duly adapted to the requisite
supply of gas.
When a large district is supplied by a single gas com¬
pany, and different parts of the same district consume
variable quantities of gas, variable pressures are required.
One part of the district where there are numerous shops
will consume more than another part which consists chiefly
of private houses, so that the pressure for the former must
be greater than that required for
the latter. For example, the
Westminster district has about20
such divisions, comprising nearly
150 miles of main, and the vary¬
ing pressures required for each
division are managed as follows :
—In the superintendent’s room
there are a number of small gaso¬
meters called pressure indicators,
and over each is the name of the
sub-district to be supplied. Each
gasometer (A, fig. 15) is about
12 inches in diameter. It is sup¬
ported in a tank of water in such
a manner that it can rise and
fall with the varying pressure in
the mains with which it is con¬
nected by the pipe B. At the
upper part of the gasometer is a
rod C, carrying a black lead
pencil, which bears upon a
cylinder D, which is covered
with a sheet of paper, along the
top of which are marked the
twenty-four hours of the day.
From these hours perpendicular
lines are drawn to the bottom of
the sheet, and there are also hori¬
zontal lines, and the bottom is
divided into tenths. The cylin¬
der is connected with a time-piece, so as to rotate on its
axis, by which means the pencil draws a line opposite the
hour when it is set going. If the pressure be constant for
a number of hours, the pencil will of course describe a
portion of the circle round the cylinder parallel with the
top and bottom edges of the paper, or a straight line when
the paper is unrolled; if the pressure vary, the line wall be
diagonal or zig-zag. At the end of twenty-four hours the
paper is taken off the cylinder, and replaced by a new one.
A collection of these papers for each district furnishes an
index to the supply of gas at any hour of the day to the
the sub-district to which it refers.
It is often necessary to ascertain the pressure to which
the gas is subjected in the various forms of apparatus used
in the manufacture. For this purpose a simple gauge is
attached thereto, consisting of a bent graduated glass tube,
containing a portion of water or of mercury, as shown in
Gas-Light
Gauge
Fig. 15.
Fig. 16.
fig. 16. If one end of the tube be screwed into a vessel or
an upright pipe as in the figure, containing
gas of the same pressure as that of the ex¬
ternal air, the liquid will stand at the same
height in the two limbs of the gauge. If
the pressure of the gas be greater than that
of the external air, the liquid will rise in
the open limb, and the pressure of the gas
will be 1, 2, or more inches, according to
the height to which the liquid rises. But if
the pressure of the gas be less than that of
the atmosphere, the atmospheric pressure, which alwavs
acts at the open end of the tube, will prevail, and the
liquid will be depressed in the open limb, and rise in the
other.
The Gas-Meter.
1 he gas-meter is a simple but ingenious mechanical con- Design oi
trivance, the design of which is to measure and record the the gaso-
quantity of gas passing through a pipe in any given interval meter.
of time. Experience has proved it to be no less advanta¬
geous to the consumer than to the manfacturer of gas, by
allowing the former to use gas without any unnecessary
waste of it, and securing to the latter a fair and regular price
for the quantity of it actually consumed.
There are two forms of meter in actual use, viz., the wet The wet
and the dry. The former, the invention of Mr Clegg, is meter,
represented in the following figures. In the sections, figs.
rig. 17. Fig. 18.
17, 18, cc represent the outside case, having the form of a
flat cylinder; a is a tube which enters at the centre for
admitting the gas, and b, fig. 17, is another for conveying it
off to the burners ; g, g are two pivots, one supported by the
tube a, and the other by an external water-tight cup, pro^
jecting from the outside casing, and in which is contained
a toothed wheel h, fixed upon the pivot, and connected with
a train of wheel-work (not shown in the figure) to register
its revolutions. The pivots are fixed to and support a cy¬
lindrical drum-shaped vessel ddd, having openings e, e, e, e,
internal partitions ef, ef, ef, ef, and a centre piece Jfff. The
machine is filled with water, which is poured in at h up to
the level of i, and gas being admitted under a small pressure
at a, it enters into the upper part of the centre piece, and
forces its way through such of the openings f as are from
time to time above the surface of the water. By its action
upon the partition which curves over the opening a, a rota¬
tory motion is communicated to the cylinder ; the gas from
the opposite chamber being at the same time expelled by
one of the openings e, and afterwards escaping at b, as al¬
ready mentioned.
As the quantity of gas which passes through the machine
in any given time depends not only upon its internal dimen¬
sions and the number of revolutions which it performs, but
also upon the level of the surface of the water in which the
G A S-L I G H T.
Gas-Light, cylinder revolves, due care must be taken to maintain the
^ ° ; water at the same level, for the regular action of the meter.
This is easily accomplished, by pouring in water when ne¬
cessary, till the superfluous quantity is discharged by an
orifice properly placed for the purpose.
One great objection to the wet meter is, that the water
is liable to freeze in winter, by which means the supply of
gas is stopped : it has been proposed to use a solution of
caustic potash or soda instead of water, as being less liable
to freeze, and exerting a beneficial action on the gas by re¬
moving traces of carbonic acid or sulphide of hydrogen. A
second objection is, that if the water level be lowered so
that one compartment may at the same time communicate
with the central and outer spaces// and d e, more gas will
pass than can be registered, an eflect sometimes produced
by the dishonest consumer tilting forward the meter. In the
The dry dry meter, as its name implies no liquid is used, and the gas^
meter. is measured by the number of times that a certain bulk ot
it will fill a chamber constructed so as to contract and ex¬
pand for the passage of the gas. These alternate contrac¬
tions and expansions give motion to certain valves and
arms, which, with the aid of a train of wheels, turn the hands
of the dials as in the wet meter. The two forms of dry
meter which have attracted most attention are Defries s and
Croll and Glover’s. Defries’s meter consists of three mea¬
suring chambers separated by leathern partitions partially
covered by metal plates, and as they expand by the pres¬
sure of the gas they assume the form of a cone on one side
or other, the motion of which backwards and fbrwaids
drives the measuring machinery, and by an action some¬
what similar to that of a three-throw pump, a continuous
stream of gas is ejected. I his incessant bending of the
leather backwards and forwards causes it to wear rapidly,
while the efficiency of the meter obviously depends on the
soundness of the leather. In Messrs Croll and Glover’s
meter the leather is applied in perhaps a less objectionable
form. This meter consists of two short metal cylinders,
each closed at one end; AA, fig. 19, representing one such
end attached to a fixed central plate BB, by means of broad
bands of leather, which act as hinges, allow ing one side to
swell out with gas. while the other parts with its gas by
being pressed in towards the centre plate. The to-and-fro Gas-Li
motion of the discs which close the short cylinders affords ''—v-
means for measuring the gas. Each disc is kept in place
by a hinge joint S attached to upright rods, HR'. There
are also parallel motions exy attached to each disc, and to
the top plate of the meter. As the gas passes into each
cylinder and distends it, the rods RR', one on each side, are
made to move each through the half of a circle by means
of jointed levers S attached to them. At the top of each
rod are two arms Rad, Rad, fig. 20, each of which partak- *
Fig. 20.
ing of the motion of the rods RR describes alternately the
arc of a circle, and a rotatory motion is obtained by means
of connecting rods attached to these arms, and also to two
other arms rr which work two D valves DD, each of which
is made to slide backwards and forwards over three aper¬
tures, the two outer of which lead to the inside and outside
of the cylinders respectively, and the middle aperture to the
exit pipe E. It is the function of these valves to regulate
the flow of gas into and out of the twro chambers of each
division of the meter. While the gas is flowing into one
cylinder and distending it, the gas on the other side of this
cylinder disc is expelled to the exit pipe E ; as soon as this
is done, the valve is reversed and gas enters on the side of
the disc from whence it was last expelled. The process is
then repeated by the other disc, and in this way a continu¬
ous flow of gas is obtained by means of the two valves DD,
which being placed at right angles to the double-cranked^
shaft, and the two cranks on the shaft being at an angle of
45° to each other, it follows that as one valve closes the
other opens, but the closed valve always begins to open be¬
fore the other is quite shut. In fig. 20, the dotted portion
represents one of the short cylinders A' distended with gas,
and the other cylinder A collapsed.
We will now trace the course of the gas in its passage
through the meter. Suppose a continuous stream of gas
under pressure to be passing down the inlet pipe I. On
arriving at i it meets with a horizontal tube which conducts
it by the aperture o, fig. 20, in the direction of the arrow
into a triangular chamber VV. It then passes down an
open slit of one of the valves, which we will call No. 1, and
entering one of the cylinders, distends it and forces the gas
which was on the outside of the disc to escape through slit
No. 2, and so along a tube k leading to the exit pipe E.
While this action is going on, that is, while the cylinder on
one side is being distended, the cylinder on the other side
is already full, the gas is shut off from it by the sliding valve
D, and is made to pass on the outside, where exerting its
pressure on the disc AA, it forces it inwards, and the gas
escapes along a short pipe attached to either side of the
partition BB into slit No. 2, and so escapes to the exit pipe.
The triangular chamber V V has no connection with the
cylinders, &c. situated below it except through the tubes
already indicated, and the tram of wheels W, fig. 20; and
the dials are also so boxed in as not to be exposed to the
corrosive action of the gas. The rods R R pass into this
% to
424
GAS-LIGHT.
Gas-Light, upper compartment through leather washers and a stuffing
of wool. The cylinders are inclosed in an oblong box of
iron plate or galvanized iron, so as to be completely con¬
cealed from view. The pressure to which the gas is sub¬
jected in order to force it along the mains is amply sufficient
to work this meter. If the gas were subjected to the pres¬
sure of only half an inch of water, this quantity multiplied
into the area of the disc, which in a ten-light meter is ten
inches in diameter, amounts to many pounds.
The circular motion of the double crank is transmitted
by means of an endless screw c, fig. 19, and a spur-wheel b
along a wire b b, fig. 20, to a train of wheels W, which re¬
cord their revolutions on the face of the dials G, also
shown separately in fig. 21, registering the number of cubic
feet of gas consumed, in units, tens, hundreds, thousands,
&c. The top circle marks the units, the left hand circle
hundreds. The motion of the hand from 0 to 1 shows that
100 cubic feet of gas have passed through the meter, while
a whole revolution of this hand registers ten times that
quantity, or 1000 cubic feet. The motion of the hand of
the centre circle from 0 to 1 indicates 1000 feet, and a
whole revolution 10,000 feet. The right hand circle, in a
similar manner, indicates in a whole revolution 100,000 feet.
In reading off the numbers on the circles, we take the num¬
ber at which the hand is pointing, or the lower of the two
numbers that the hand is between. In fig. 21, beginning
with the right-hand dial, the hand is between 9 andO, show¬
ing that nearly a whole revolution has been accomplished ;
we therefore write down,
90,000 for the right-hand dial,
8,000 for the middle dial,
700 for the left-hand dial.
98,700
If the collector, in taking the register three months before,
had recorded the quantity as 73,200, this quantity, deducted
from 98,700, gives 25,500 cubic feet as the consumption of
gas for three months. The top or units dial is not used in
registering, but it serves to indicate to the collector as well
as to the consumer that the dial is acting properly, the more
rapid motion of the hand facilitating this object.
Burners.
Principles
npon which
the light
yielded by
combus¬
tion de¬
pends.
The most economical mode of consuming gas, so as to
obtain from a given volume of it the greatest possible quan¬
tity of light, both in degree and duration, is a problem of no
less importance than that of the most suitable arrangements
for its production and purification. The presence of oxygen,
in some form or another, being essentially necessary to pro¬
duce ordinary combustion, it follows, that from whatever
cause that principle may be deficient in quantity, the com¬
bustion must be imperfect; and when this is the case, the
light yielded by the combustible body is also diminished in
a proportional degree. On the other hand, if the quantity
of oxygen brought into contact with the combustible body
be more than sufficient for its entire combustion, the super- Gas-Lio-ht.
fluous quantity of that gas, instead of augmenting the effect,
can only lower the temperature, and diminish, it may be
presumed, in a corresponding degree, the intensity of the
light. This must be the consequence if the brilliancy of
the light yielded by a combustible body depends at all upon
the temperature to which it is exposed during its combus¬
tion ; and that this is the case may be inferred from the
simple fact of causing the flame of a jet of gas to play, first
against a sheet of ice, and then against a bar of red-hot iron,
when the difference of the light will be such as to leave no
doubt of the influence of temperature upon its intensity.
A similar result is obtained by bringing the flames of two
separate jets into contact, when an obvious increase of light
is perceived. From these simple facts it may be inferred,
that though a certain quantity of common air must be
brought into contact with the inflamed gas to produce the
greatest intensity of light, whatever exceeds that quantity
will not only be useless, but, by diminishing the tempera¬
ture of the flame, must tend to impair the brilliancy of its
light.
But although the immediate cause of the light is proba¬
bly the high temperature to which the carbonaceous por¬
tion of the gas is exposed, the condition in which the carbon
exists at the time it is so exposed is of the utmost impor¬
tance to the effect. According to the opinion of Sir Hum¬
phry Davy, as adopted by Drs Christison and Turner, “ a
white light is emitted only by those gases which contain an
element of so fixed a nature as not to be volatilizable by the
heat caused during the combustion of the gas; and that in
coal-gas this fixed element is charcoal, formed by the gas
undergoing decomposition before it is burnt. The white
light is caused by the charcoal passing into a state, first of
ignition, and then of combustion. Consequently no white
light can be produced by coal or oil gas without previous
decomposition of the gas.”
“ That the gas undergoes decomposition before it burns,
and that the carbonaceous matter is burnt in the white part
of the flame in the form of charcoal, is shown by placing a
piece of wire-gauze horizontally across the white part of
the flame, when a large quantity of charcoal will be seen to
escape from it unburnt. And that this previous change is
necessary to the production of a brilliant white light will
appear, if we consider the kind of flame which is produced
when decomposition does not previously take place. For
example, if the gauze be brought down into the blue part,
which always forms the base of the flame, no charcoal will
be found to escape. Or, if the gauze be held at some dis¬
tance above the burner, and the gas be kindled not below
but above it, by which arrangement the air and the gas are
well mixed previous to combustion, the flame is blue, and
gives hardly any light. The reason is obviously, that in
both cases the air is at once supplied in such quantity in
proportion to the gas that the first effect of the heat is to
burn the gas, not to decompose it.” (Edin. Phil. Journ.
No. xxv.)
lo these statements it may be added, that if a jet of oil Circum-
or coal gas, burning with a fine yellow flame in common stances i11'
air, be suddenly surrounded with an atmosphere of oxygen
gas, the colour instantly changes into a pale blue, yielding gitVof the
the most feeble light; nor does the flame recover its bril- light,
liancy until the oxygen is largely diluted with carbonic acid,
when it burns for a short time with greater splendour than
at first. For although the light is greatly enfeebled when
the combustion of the gas takes place in pure oxygen, it
becomes much more vivid when the combustion is carried
on in air that is more largely charged with oxygen than
common air. Hence the brilliancy of the light appears to
depend upon two conditions; 1st, the perfect combustion
of a portion of the gas in an undecomposed state ; 2(7/y,
the temperature produced by that combustion upon the re-
Gas-Light.
General
principles
to be ob¬
served in
the con¬
struction
of burners.
Experi¬
ments of
Drs Chris-
tison and
Turner.
Forms of
burner.
Argand
burner.
G A S-L
sidual part in a decomposed state. When a large portion
of the gas is consumed in the first condition, the tempera¬
ture is higher; but the undecomposed part is then too small
in quantity to yield an intense light, in consequence of the
attenuated state of the carbon; and, on the other hand, when
a small portion of the gas is consumed in the undecomposed
state, the temperature produced is too feeble to raise the
temperature of the now partially decomposed part to a suffi¬
cient pitch for the full ignition of the carbon.
The conditions which thus seem to be necessary for ob¬
taining the greatest portion of light from the combustion of
a given quantity of gas, while they are perfectly consistent
with the most anomalous facts presented by that process,
so they appear to afford the only sure principles upon which
we can proceed in the construction of gas-burners. One
of the most obvious conclusions deducible from these prin¬
ciples is, that whatever be the form of the gas-burner its
construction should be such that while it admits as much
air as is necessary for the perfect combustion of the gas,
it should never admit more than is barely sufficient for that
purpose.
According to the experiments of Drs Christison and
Turner, the diameter best fitted for single-jet burners ap¬
pears to be about one twenty-eighth of an inch for coal-gas,
and one forty-fifth for oil-gas. As these dimensions, how¬
ever, must vary with the quality of the gas, we consider one
thirty-sixth of an inch to be more applicable to the gas ob¬
tained from cannel coal, if its specific gravity be not less
than "65. Every form of burner composed of separate jets,
in which the gas is made to issue in a horizontal or oblique
direction, gives a consumption which increases in a much
faster ratio than the light which it yields; and consequently,
however beautiful such burners may be in appearance, they
are far from being economical.
One of the most useful forms of a burner with single jets,
is where there are two holes, and their directions are so in¬
clined as to cause the streams of issuing gas to cross, and
exhibit during their combustion a broad continuous flame.
This burner, which is termed a swallow-tail, is well adapt¬
ed for street-lights, as it gives a powerful light, and con¬
sumes a small quantity of gas. When the gas is emitted
by a narrow slit at the top of the burner, the burner receives
the name of a bat-wing. Specimens of common gas flames
are represented in figs. 22, 23, 24.
Fig. 24.
But of all the forms of the burner, that upon the Argand
principle, in which the holes are arranged in a circle, d, fig.
25, so as to allow the air to have access to the flame inter¬
nally as well as externally, is the most economical, and the
best calculated to secure the complete combustion of the
gas. The diameter of the holes should, in this burner, be
about the fortieth part of an inch for coal-gas of an ordinary
good quality, and the distance between them should be such
as to allow the separate flame of the different jets to unite
together and form a continuous hollow cylinder of light.
In fig. 25, a is the pipe which supplies the gas, and b b the
channel up which it passes to the holes shown in the lower
figure.
VOL. X.
I G H T.
The construction of burners, and
mode of consuming gas, having been
philosophical precision by Drs Christi¬
son and Turner, we shall extract from
their elaborate dissertation on the sub¬
ject the most valuable and important
conclusions which they have deduced
from their experiments ; and this we
do with greater confidence, because
the results they obtained coincide
very exactly wjth those which the
writer of this article procured when
engaged in the same inquiry. The
three leading points to which they
directed their attention were, 1 st, the
length of flame most suitable for dif¬
ferent burners ; 2dig, the form, mag¬
nitude, and position of the orifices
through which the gas is discharged ;
and, 3dlg, the modifications of the
light produced by the glass chimney
of the Argand burner.
With regard to the length of flame
which afforded the greatest light com¬
pared with the expenditure of gas,
they found that, in the case of the jet, the best length for coal-
gas was about five inches, and for oil-gas about four inches.
When the flame was kept shorter, the quantity of gas con¬
sumed was greater in comparison of the light which it
yielded ; but no advantage was gained by increasing the
length beyond that mentioned as the most suitable for each
gas ; the combustion becoming less perfect, and beginning
to be accompanied with the escape of the carbon in the
form of smoke. Thus they found that, in the case of coal-
gas having the specific gravity *602, while the lights emitted
from a two-inch and a five-inch flame were as 556 to 1978,
the corresponding expenditures were to each other as 605
to 1437. But the light, in an economical point of view,
must be estimated inversely as the quantity of gas from
which it is obtained ; and hence the ratio of the lights, in
reference to the expenditure, was as fff to }f£f, being as
100 to 150.
In the case of Argand burners, the augmentation of the
light in a ratio greater than the expenditure was exem¬
plified in a still more remarkable degree. Thus the follow¬
ing results were obtained with coal-gas of the specific gravity
*605, by elevating the flame of a five-holed burner, succes¬
sively from half an inch to five inches.
the most economical Gas-Light,
examined with much
Length oi
flame.
Length of Flame.
Half-
Inch.
One-
Inch.
Two-
Inch.
Three-
Inch.
Four-
Inch.
Five-
Inch.
Light  
Expenditure.
18-4
837
92-5
148
2599
203-3
308-9
241*4
332-4
265-7
425-7
318-1
Ratio of light to 1
expenditure J
100
282
560
582 582
604
Hence the light is increased about six times for the same
expenditure by raising the flame from half an inch to
three or four inches ; but very little is gained by any addi¬
tional increase of the flame beyond that length, in the de¬
scription of burners with which the experiments were made.
These facts receive a satisfactory explanation from the
general principles which we have already laid down with
respect to the combustion of the luminiferous gases.
When the flame is short, the supply of oxygen for the
combustion is too great; almost the whole of the gas is
thus consumed before any portion of it can undergo the
decomposition which is necessary for the evolution of light;
while the temperature of the flame being reduced by the
superfluous air which brushes along its surface, the inten¬
sity of ignition, and with it the splendour of the light, is
3 ii
426
G A S - L I G H T.
Gas-Light, proportionally diminished. This explanation is well illus-
trated by partially shutting the central part of the burner,
and thus interrupting the supply of air to the internal sur¬
face of the flame ; the moment this is done, the length of
the flame is increased, and a visible improvement of the
light takes place, thus indicating that more air was pre¬
viously brought in contact with the gas than was requisite
for its perfect combustion.
Magnitude The second point to w'hich Drs Christison and Turner
and posi- directed their attention was the construction of the burner
tion of the itself, particularly the magnitude and position of the ori-
orifices. flces at which the gas is emitted during
gas is emitted during its combustion.
The same principles which explained the relation between
the light and the expenditure in the case of flames of dif¬
ferent lengths, suggested the rule for regulating the di¬
mensions of the orifices; and accordingly they justly in¬
ferred that, in a single jet, the diameter of the aperture
ought to be such as to ensure the complete combustion
of the gas, without rendering it more vivid than is neces¬
sary for that effect. If the orifice be too small, the greater
portion of the gas is liable to be consumed without suf¬
fering a previous decomposition, and thus the light is ex¬
tremely feeble ; and, on the other hand, if the orifice be
too large, the surface of the flame exposed to the action
of the air being too small in comparison of the discharge
of gas, the combustion is imperfect, and the carbon, after
being separated from the hydrogen, either burns at a low
temperature with a dusky flame, or, what is still worse,
a large portion of it passes off in the state of smoke. In
conformity with these views, they recommend, as we have
already stated, a twenty-eighth of an inch for coal-gas, and
a forty-fifth for oil-gas, as the most suitable dimensions for
single jets. They acknowledge, howrever, that their expe¬
riments with coal-gas were too limited to justify them in
using very confident language on the subject; and we have
therefore the less hesitation in stating that we consider an
orifice varying in diameter from a thirty-second to a thirty-
sixth of an inch as better adapted to coal-gas of a specific
gravity between *62 and *70.
In Argand burners the diameter of the orifices ought to
be a little smaller. Drs Christison and Turner state that
the diameter which appeared to answer best for coal-gas
of the specific gravity *6, when the holes are ten in a circle
of three-tenths of an inch radius, was a thirty-second of an
inch. We consider this, however, to be too great for coal-
gas of a better quality, and would recommend, in preference,
apertures varying in diameter from a thirty-sixth to a fortieth
of an inch.
Distance of The distance between the jet-holes of Argand burners
jet-holes. is a matter of no less importance than the diameter of the
orifices, and must be regulated by the same principles.
When they are so far asunder that the flames of the sepa¬
rate jets do not coalesce, no advantage is derived from the
Argand form ; but when they unite, and compose a uni¬
form and unbroken surface of flame, the light is consider¬
ably greater, compared with the expenditure of gas, than
is obtained from detached jets. In order to determine the
most suitable distance at which the orifices of Argand bur¬
ners should be placed, Drs Christison and Turner employed
burners six-tenths of an inch in diameter, which they caused
to be drilled wfith eight, ten, fifteen, twenty, and twenty-five
holes, a fiftieth of an inch in diameter; and having determined
with each of these burners the light and expenditure in the
case of oil-gas, they obtained the following results :—
Orifices of
Argand
burners.
Burners.
Light 
Expenditure ,
Ratio of light to ex¬
penditure ...
360
367
98
360
318
XV.
391
296
113 132
409
289
141
382
275
139
As the standard of comparison was a single jet, burning Gas-Light,
with a four-inch flame, the ratio of the light yielded by
which to the expenditure was expressed by 100, it was
inferred that no advantage is gained by giving the jets the
Argand arrangement with a burner of the dimensions above
mentioned if the holes are only eight in number ; and that
the gain does not increase after the number reaches to
twenty. In the former case the distance of the holes must
have been *2356 inch, or nearly one-fourth of an inch, and,
in the latter, *0945 ; so that the most advantageous distance
for jet-holes of a fiftieth of an inch in diameter would seem
to be about an inc^- , For coal-gas burners, how¬
ever, the distance between the jet-holes ought to be increased
in a ratio varying inversely with the quality of the gas, or
directly as the diameters of the orifices themselves. Hence,
if the coal-gas were of an ordinary quality, the jet-holes
should not be less than one-eighth nor more than one-sixth
of an inch from each other.
The distance between the orifices being once assumed, Diameter
serves to determine the diameter of the circle of holes. of circle
Thus, in a burner of eighteen holes, each a seventh of an of holes*
inch asunder, the circumference ought to be 18 X ^ =
2*57 inches, and consequently the diameter of the circle
2*57
of holes should be „ . „ = *818 inch. If the breadth of
oT4Io
the rim be supposed to be a tenth of an inch, and perhaps it
ought not to exceed that quantity, it may be proper, in
the case of the larger burners, to contract the lower part
of the central air-hole, on account of the supply of air to
the inside surface of the flame increasing in a faster ratio
than the number of jets.
The only remaining point to be considered with respect Glass
to the burner is the glass chimney, which serves at once chimney,
to protect the flame from irregular currents of air, and to
convey to the gas a due supply of it during combustion.
When the interval between the chimney and the external
part of the flame is too great, the tendency of the air to
flow through the air-hole is diminished, and the flame con¬
tracts towards the top, where it yields a dusky light, and
indicates a disposition to smoke. The diameter of the
chimney should therefore be reduced until it is perceived
that the upper part of the flame is enlarged, and acquires
the same diameter as the lower part. When this is the
case, the colour of the flame is improved in brightness, and
none of the carbon is uselessly wasted in the formation of
smoke. On the other hand, if the supply of air to the ex¬
ternal surface of the flame be diminished beyond a certain
extent, either by reducing the diameter of the glass chimney,
or by any other means, the flux of air through the central
air-hole is unduly increased, the flame diverges in the form
of a tulip till it touches the chimney, and the supply of air
to the outside of the flame being thus interrupted, smoke is
again produced. Hence the greatest degree of light, in
relation to the expenditure of gas, may be expected to be
obtained when the supply of air to the external and internal
surface of the flame is so adjusted by the diameter of the
chimney that the flame is perfectly cylindrical, neither
burning with too much vivacity, nor showing any tendency
to smoke. The length of the glass chimney is of much
less importance than its diameter, and may vary from five
to six inches.
A cylindrical chimney, how¬
ever, is the least advantageous
form that can be adopted. If
the chimney be tall and narrow,
and contracted towards the
top, as in a, fig. 26, or suddenly
contracted near the bottom,
as in 5, the draught is increased
and the light improved.
LiJ Lil
Fig. 26.
It is also useful, to contract the
GAS-LIGHT.
427
Gas-Light, diameter of the glass chimney about a couple of inches
i ^ ^ -tV above the burner, as at c, so as to form a shoulder a few
lines in width, the effect of which is to change the direc¬
tion of the draught, and project it on the flame at a certain
angle.
Bude light. In the Bude light proposed by Gurney, oxygen gas in¬
stead of air was passed through the flame, the effect of
which was greatly to increase its brilliancy. In the Bude
light as now constructed, there are two, three, or more
concentric burners with chimneys supplied with common
air, and a dioptric apparatus.
Ventilation Attempts have been made of late years to ventilate gas
of burners, burners so as to get rid of the injurious products of com¬
bustion. One part by weight of good coal-gas produces
nearly three parts by weight of carbonic acid, which pro¬
duces many distressing symptoms when breathed with the
air of the room. Sulphurous acid, and other compounds
which are not entirely removed in the purification of the
gas, form deleterious products during the combustion of the
gas. The sulphurous acid forms sulphuric acid, which exerts
a corrosive action on the walls and furniture, books, pic¬
tures, &c., while the hydrogen of the gas produces vapour
of water which serves as a vehicle for some of the other
products. To get rid of these noxious fumes a bell-shaped
vessel is sometimes suspended over the chimney, and is
connected with a tube leading into the open air. Unless
this tube be judiciously arranged the condensed water of
the gas may accumulate in it, and cause inconvenience.
By a contrivance of Dr Faraday, a copper tube of about
the same diameter as the flame is conducted from its sum¬
mit out of the apartment; the heat of this tube establishes
a rapid current, which serves to convey away the products.
The same distinguished chemist invented another contri¬
vance, by which the ventilating current is made to descend
between two concentric glass chimneys of different heights,
the outer one being the taller, and this is covered with a
disc of talc. When the current reaches the bottom of the
space between the two glasses, it is conveyed away by a
ventilating tube which bends upwards. The descending
current is first established by applying heat to the bend of
the ventilating tube where it begins to ascend; when this
current is established the gas is lighted, and the plate of
talc is put on : the products of combustion are conveyed
into a box, from which proceeds a pipe for conveying the
vapours outside. A globe of ground glass open only at the
bottom is placed over the lamp. The accumulation of con¬
densed water in different parts of this apparatus is said to
have greatly interfered with its successful action.
Ventilation Mr R. Brown of Manchester has a contrivance for ven-
by means tilating by means of gas. Through an opening in the ceiling
of gas- a wide tube is passed, one end of which conveys the foul
air outside, and the other projects a little below the level of
the ceiling. The gas pipe enters on one side, and is bent
so as to hang perpendicularly in the centre of the tube, and
has an annular burner at the lower extremity, surrounded
by a glass chimney, which is supported on the top on a
metal cone piece, secured to the lower extremity of the
tube by screws. This arrangement is surrounded by a he¬
mispherical glass shade with its mouth- uppermost, and a
few inches below the level of the ceiling. The air of the
apartment passes off in the strong draught occasioned by
the burner, and a fresh supply of air is admitted at the lower
part of the room.
Oil-Gas, Resin-Gas, and Water-Gas.
tion oToil When tallow or oleaginous matter of any kind is raised
to a certain temperature, it is resolved into various gases. Gas-Light,
of which the compounds of carbon and hydrogen, viz. ole-
fiant gas or bicarburetted hydrogen, and light carburetted
hydrogen, are the principal, both in point of quantity and
quality, for the purposes ef illumination. As oil contains
in its composition a portion of oxygen, existing most probably
in union with hydrogen in the state of water, that substance
also yields, during its destructive distillation, a considerable
quantity of carbonic oxide, as well as traces of carbonic
acid, hydrogen, and even nitrogen. With these products,
all of which are of a determinate character, is found in
greater or lesser abundance a quantity of a very inflam¬
mable vapour,1 which seems to be a compound of carbon
and hydrogen.
Oil-gas owes its illuminating power chiefly to the pro- Variable
portion of olefiant gas which it contains, and the oleaginous nature of
vapour which is diffused through it; and as both of these 0ll-gas-
ingredients vary in quantity with the temperature at which
the decomposition is effected, the quality of oil-gas is ex¬
tremely fluctuating. When the temperature is too high, a
portion of the olefiant gas and oleaginous vapour is resolved,
by the deposition of carbon, into light carburetted hydro¬
gen ; and though the quantity of gas from a given portion
of oil is thus increased, the quality of it is diminished in
a still higher ratio. On the other hand, if the temperature
be rather too low, a larger quantity of olefiant gas, mixed
with a greater proportion of oleaginous vapour, is obtained ;
but as the latter is gradually and rapidly condensed when
the gas is allowed to stand over water, the higher illuminat¬
ing power of this richer gas is more than counterbalanced
by the deficiency in its quantity, and the deterioration to
which it is liable by keeping.
We are indebted to Dr Henry of Manchester for the first Experi-
analysis of the aeriform compounds obtained by the decom- meats by
position of oil by heat; and though his elaborate researches Dr lIenry-
can scarcely be said to have led to the determination of the
precise products of that decomposition, they furnish data
from which their true nature may be inferred, with a pro¬
bability nearly as great as that which belongs to the results
of direct experiment. The principal difficulty of the analysis
consists in determining the condition in which the elemen¬
tary principles of carbon and hydrogen exist in union with
each other, and reconciling the various suppositions that
may be made respecting the compounds thus formed, with
the specific gravity which belongs to the original gas, sup¬
posed to be produced by their mixture.
The results of Dr Henry’s first experiments were pub¬
lished in 1805; but it was not till about ten years after
that period that an apparatus for decomposing oil, on a large
scale for economical purposes, was constructed. In 1815 a
patent was obtained by Mr Taylor, in which he was after¬
wards joined by Mr Martineau, for producing gas from oil,
by means of an ap¬
paratus which was
employed with lit¬
tle variation in all
the oil - gas esta¬
blishments which
were subsequently
formed in various rig. 27.
parts of the country. The general arrangements adopted
in that apparatus will be readily understood from figs. 27,
28, and 29.
The retort aa has the form of a horse-shoe, being re¬
curved and furnished with two mouth-pieces. The grate
of the furnace is represented by b. The oil, which is
1 The oleaginous vapour alluded to consists, according to the experiments of Mr Faraday, of two distinct compounds of carbon and
hydrogen. One of these he terms bicarburet of hydrogen, which, by his analysis, is composed of six proportions of carbon and three of
hydrogen. The other compound, to which Dr Thomson has given the name of quadro-carburetted hydrogen, consists of four proportions
of carbon and four proportions of hydrogen, existing in a different state of aggregation from that in which they exist in olefiant gas,
the elementary constituents of which are in the same proportion.
GAS-LIGHT.
428
Gas-Light, contained in the cistern c, is conveyed by means of a
tube, furnished with a stop-cock for regulating the dis-
Fig. 28.
charge, and allowed to drop into the retort upon frag¬
ments of brick or coke heated to redness, to promote the
decomposition. The gas, after its production, ascends from
tne retort, at the opposite limb through the upright pipe
ff, by which it is conveyed into a close vessel hh, which is
surrounded with cold water in the cistern ii. From the
bottom of the vessel hh, a worm or spiral tube kk ascends,
and after a few convolutions around hh, terminates in the
pipe /, which descends into the air-tight chest mm. The
gas, leaving the vessel hh, is conducted by the spiral tube
kk, depositing in its progress any portion of the oil that may
have come over with it in a volatilized state, and escapes
from the lower end of the pipe l, into the chest mm, which
contains water to the depth represented. After quitting
the pipe l, the gas is forced to traverse the inclined par¬
tition n, in a zig-zag manner, by means of diagonal ribs
attached to its lower side, till gradually ascending, it escapes
at the upper end, and rising through the water, finally passes
off at g to the gasometer.
Loss in- Oil being decomposed at a loss of nearly fifty per cent.,
convertin<T ^ convers'on °f it into gas, after a protracted but inef-
oiHnto snvs. ^ectua^ comPetition with coal, was gradually abandoned on
the large scale, even in those places where, from the interest
they had in the whale-fisheries, there was the strongest in¬
ducement to foster the prejudices which prevailed for some
time against the use of coal-gas. The exaggerated advan¬
tages which it was pretended wrould be derived from com¬
pressing oil-gas and thus rendering it portable, served to
prolong the delusions on the subject; nor were these de¬
lusions fully removed until a demonstration was given of
the failure of the scheme, in the decay of the costly edifices Gas-Light,
and expensive apparatus which had been constructed for
carrying it into effect. The late Professor Daniell of King’s
College, London, also contrived an ingenious form of appa¬
ratus for making gas from resin; but the plan did not suc¬
ceed on account of the impossibility of competing with the
coal-gas works.
Of late years a new process of gas-making has been much Water-gas.
discussed, and has formed the subject of a variety of patents.
It is known as the hydrocarbon process of gas-making, or
more briefly water-gas. The principle of the manufacture
is to pass steam over red-hot coke, by which it is resolved
into hydrogen and carbonic oxide, and then to supply these
inflammable gases with the carbon required for their illu¬
minating power, by passing them through a retort in which
oil, resin, tar, naphtha, cannel coal, or some other carbona¬
ceous substance, is undergoing decomposition by heat. The
process does not appear to have been successful with resin,
but better results seem to have been attained with cannel
coal.
Methods for determining the Illuminating Power of the
Gases.
Having described the various manipulations by which gas
is prepared, both from coal and oil, we now proceed to ex¬
plain the methods which have been adopted for determining
their respective illuminating powers; it being by these me¬
thods that we acquire a knowledge of one of the most im¬
portant tests by which the comparative value of the gases
can be ascertained.
The first and most obvious of these tests is to determine Determina-
the intensity of the light which the gases are capable of tion of the
diffusing during their combustion, upon a white and smooth intensity
surface directly exposed to its emanations. The determi- °f
nation of that intensity is obtained with a considerable de- nfgtho^ of
gree of accuracy, not by a direct comparison of the degree shadows,
of illumination shed on two separate surfaces, but by means
of a contrivance, first proposed by Count Rumford, which
allows the illuminated surfaces to be contrasted with each
other on the same ground, and so closely adjoining that the
eye can readily detect a slight difference between them.
This contrivance is as follows: Let A and B, fig. 30, be
Fig. 30.
two luminous objects; EF a smooth and white surface,
having the same inclination to the rays of light emitted by
A and B ; and CD an opaque cylindrical rod parallel to the
surface EF ; then it is evident that aa and bb will be the
shadows of CD, in reference to the lights A and B. But
the shadow aa being illuminated by the light B, and the
shadow bb by the light A, it follows that if these shadows
be perfectly the same in point of intensity of shade, the
light yielded by A and B must be the same in degree. If
the shadows, however, be different, one of the lights must
be removed either further from EF or brought nearer to
it, until the shades seem to be exactly alike, when the light
shed upon EF by A and B must, in point of intensity, be,
as before, the same. But the intensity of light, like that of
other emanations proceeding in straight lines from a cen¬
tral point, being inversely as the square of the distance, the
relative degrees of light emitted by A and B must, in con-
Gas-Light.
^, /
Bunsen’s
photome¬
ter.
Applica¬
tion of
chlorine to
determine
the quality
of gas.
GAS-LIGHT.
429
formity with that principle, be proportional to the squares
of their respective distances from the surface on which the
shadows are projected. Thus, if the light A were at the
distance of fifteen feet, and the light B at the distance of
twenty-five feet, their relative illuminating powers would
be as the square of fifteen to the square of twenty-five ;
that is, as 225 to 625, or as 9 to 25. As the quantity of
gas consumed in the same time to yield the supposed lights
might be different, it is evident that a correct estimate of
the absolute value of the gases for the purpose of illumi¬
nation would not be duly determined unless that circum¬
stance were also taken into account. But the economical
value of the gases, yielding equal degrees of light, being
inversely as the quantities consumed, it follows that that
value will be directly as the squares of the distances at
which the shadows are the same, and inversely as the rate
of consumption. Thus, if we now suppose that the gas
yielding the light A consumed three cubic feet in the same
time that the gas yielding the light B consumed five cubic
feet, the value of the former would be to that of the latter
as f is to 255, or as three to five. In obtaining the neces¬
sary data for determining the ratio of the lights, it may be
proper to add that the screen on which the shadows are
projected should be guarded with the utmost care from all
extraneous light. If it be desired to contrast the illumi¬
nating power of a gas-light with that of a candle, the com¬
parison is easily made. If, for example, the gas-light give
a shadow equal to that of a candle placed at one-third the
distance, the light of the gas is equal to the light of nine
candles. If the candle be placed at one-fourth the distance of
the gas-light, the latter is equal to sixteen candles, and so on.
Professor Bunsen of Marburg has contrived a photometer
which is now in common use in gas-works. The principle
of this instrument is not the comparison by shadows, which
forms a delicate experiment, but a comparison of light
transmitted through a translucent surface with light re¬
flected from an opaque surface. For this purpose a disc of
paper, TO, fig. 31, is placed between the two lights to be
compared ; an annular
portion of this paper T
is made translucent by
means of melted sperma¬
ceti, or that substance
dissolved in oil of naphtha,
while a central disc of
the paper O being left
untouched by the com¬
position, remains opaque.
Fine cream-coloured let¬
ter - paper answers the
purpose very well, and
the central opaque disc
may be about the size
of half-a-crown. Now
it is evident that the
translucent ring will be
illuminated by a light
behind the disc, while
the opaque portion is il¬
luminated by a light in front. The frame on which the disc
is mounted is moved backwards and forwards on a graduated
bar BB between the two lights until the transmitted and
reflected lights appear of the same intensity. The pointer P
then shows the division over which the disc stands. Under such
circumstances, the lights are to each other in the ratio of the
squares of their distance from the disc. See Photometer.
The determination of the intensity of light by the above
simple means is capable, under careful management, of all
the precision which the nature of the problem requires ; it
is even preferred by engineers to the more elaborate method
of chemical analysis. The latter method has for its object
to ascertain the relative value of the gases used for illumi- Gas-Light,
nation, by finding the quantity of olefiant gas which they ^
contain under equal volumes; it being assumed that the
illuminating power of the compound combustible gases de¬
rived from the decomposition of oil and pit-coal is directly
proportional to the quantity of that gas existing in their con¬
stitution. Though that supposition is by no means a mat¬
ter of certainty, or even of probability, we shall neverthe¬
less briefly explain the mode of analysis which has been
recommended. According to the experiments of Dr Henry,
chlorine has no action upon any of the gases obtained from
oil or coal when the influence of light is carefully excluded,
with the exception of olefiant gas; and as chlorine and
olefiant gas unite together in equal volumes, this property
affords an easy mode of determining the quantity of the
latter which may exist in any compound gas of which it
forms a constituent part. All that is required for the pur¬
pose is to add somewhat more chlorine than is absolutely
necessary for uniting with the olefiant gas, and to allow the
mixture to remain about fifteen minutes completely ex¬
cluded from light. The extent of the absorption being
thus observed, half the quantity of the gas which has dis¬
appeared of the whole mixture will be olefiant gas. Thus,
it twenty parts of chlorine by measure were added to
twenty-five of coal-gas, and if the mixture, after being al¬
lowed to remain a sufficient length of time in the dark, were
found to occupy thirty-six measures, the absorption would
be nine measures, and consequently the coal-gas must have
contained four and a half measures of olefiant gas, or eigh¬
teen per cent. The quantity per cent, of olefiant gas is de¬
termined without calculation, by adding to fifty measures
of the gas to be analysed an equal volume of chlorine ;
when the diminution of volume, in the graduated jar, is the
quantity which the gas contains per cent, of olefiant gas.
Dr Fyfe states that the illuminating power of the different
specimens of oil and coal gas which he subjected to this
test bore a pretty exact ratio to the quantity of olefiant gas
which they contained. One great advantage to be derived
from this method of testing the quality of any species of
carburetted hydrogen containing olefiant gas in its compo¬
sition, is, that it admits of a comparison being made between
gases in different places and at different times, without the
necessity of transporting them to a distance, and making a
simultaneous examination of their illuminating properties.
Of late years, bromine has been substituted for chlorine The bro-
in the above analysis. The gas is passed up into a eudiometer mine test,
tube, and the carbonic acid is removed by means of caustic
potash : a small portion of bromine is dropped in and shaken
in contact with the gas. Potash is again added to remove
the bromine vapours, and the absorption is then noted. It
is stated that some of the highly illuminating cannel-coal
gases are condensed by this process as much as 12 or 14
per cent.; while some of the poorer gases not more than 4
or 5 per cent.
The specific gravity of oil and coal gas, and the quantity Specific
of oxygen which they require for their perfect combustion, gravity of
have also been proposed as means of ascertaining their il- and .coal
luminating powers. The latter, however, even if it were a perfect^st
correct test, is determined with considerable difficulty; and 0f their
that little reliance can be placed on the former may be in- quality,
ferred from the fact that some of the gases which are com¬
ponent parts of oil and coal gas have a great specific gravity
without possessing any illuminating power. This will readily
be perceived from the subjoined table.
Gases.
Quantity of
Specific Gravity. Oxygen for
100 volumes.
Olefiant gas  '970 300
Carburetted hydrogen 556 300
Hydrogen   '069 50
Carbonic oxide  '972 50
Carbonic acid None.
430 G A S-L
Gas-Light. Of these gases, carbonic oxide and carbonic acid possess
v'-—v-*'' the greatest specific gravity ; while the latter is not only
destitute of illuminating property, but calculated, as we
shall afterwards show, to deteriorate to a great extent the
quality of the luminiferous gases with which it may happen
to be mixed.
Analysis of There are cases, however, in which it is necessary to deter-
coal-gas. mine accurately the composition of a sample of coal-gas, and
the following is the now generally adopted method of con¬
ducting the analysis.1 The ingredients or impurities which
may be present in the gas are—1. Common hydrogen ; 2.
olefiant gas and other hydrocarbons ; 3. light carburetted
hydrogen; 4. carbonic oxide ; 5. carbonic acid; 6. sul¬
phuretted hydrogen ; 7. ammonia ; 8. oxygen and nitrogen
derived from the atmosphere. A qualitative examination is
made thus—the proportion of ammonia and of sulphuretted
hydrogen is usually very minute, and in most cases these
gases must be sought for by placing the tests for their pre¬
sence for some time in a current of the gas. In searching
for ammonia a piece of moistened litmus paper feebly red¬
dened is placed for a minute in a jet of the issuing gas.
If the blue colour be restored, ammonia is present. Paper
soaked in a solution of acetate of lead may be subjected
to a similar trial. If it turn brown, sulphuretted hydro¬
gen is present. The presence of oxygen is detected by
admitting a bubble of the deutoxide of nitrogen into a
tube filled with the gas under trial, and looking through the
tube obliquely upon a sheet of white paper; very small traces
of oxygen may thus be detected by the red tinge pro¬
duced, owing to the formation of peroxide of nitrogen. The
presence of carbonic acid may be readily detected by throw¬
ing up a little lime water, or solution of sub-acetate of lead,
into the gas whilst standing in a tube over mercury. The
existence of the other gases may be assumed, as they are
certain to be present in greater or less quantity. The
sulphuretted hydrogen and ammonia being neglected, and
supposing that oxygen and carbonic acid are found to be
present, seven different gases are therefore supposed to
exist in the mixture. The following method may be adopted
for their quantitative determination :—1. Oxygen.—A vo¬
lume of the gas is confined over mercury, and its bulk is
measured with due attention to temperature and pressure.
A piece of moist phosphorus, which has been melted upon
the end of a long platinum wire to serve as a handle, is in¬
troduced from below through the mercury into the tube.
After twenty-four hours the phosphorus is withdrawn, when
the amount of absorption indicates the proportion of oxygen
which was present. 2. Carbonic Acid.—This gas is de¬
termined in a similar manner, substituting a ball of caustic
potash for the phosphorus; the second diminution in bulk
shows the proportion of carbonic acid. 3. Olefiant Gas
and Heavy Hydrocarbons.—These gases are absorbed by
introducing a third ball, consisting of porous coke, mois¬
tened with fuming sulphuric acid. It is necessary, how¬
ever, before reading off the volume of the gas, to introduce
a ball of potash a second time, to withdraw the vapour of an¬
hydrous sulphuric acid, which possesses sufficient volatility
to introduce a serious error by dilating the bulk of the gas,
unless it be completely removed. The total amount of
absorption will indicate the proportion of olefiant gas, to¬
gether with the vapours of condensible hydrocarbons. 4.
Carbonic Oxide.—The separation of carbonic oxide from
the other gases is not easily done with accuracy. The gas
may be divided into two portions, one of which is to be
carefully measured as it stands over mercury, and a small
quantity of a solution of subchloride of copper in hydro¬
chloric acid is to be added, and the mixture briskly agitated:
the gas is then transferred to a second graduated tube, also
standing over mercury, and a ball of potash is introduced
X G H T.
for the purpose of absorbing the vapours of hydrochloric Gas-Li<rht.
acid with which the gas is saturated; the bulk of the gas . ■- v
may then be read off, and the volume of carbonic acid may
be known by the loss in bulk. 5. Nitrogen, Carburetted
Hydrogen, and Hydrogen.—In determining the proportion
of these gases, that of the carbonic oxide may also be ascer¬
tained, for which purpose a portion of coal-gas, in which the
carbonic oxide is still present, is transferred to a siphon-
eudiometer, and its bulk is measured : it is then mixed
with twice its volume of oxygen, and the bulk of the mixed
gases is again measured: the mixture is then exploded bv
means of the electric spark, and the bulk is a third time
measured : call this diminution in bulk a, next inject a small
quantity of a strong solution of potash, and the resulting
condensation due to the absorption of carbonic acid may
be called b; the remaining gases, c, consist of oxygen in
excess and nitrogen ; the quantity of oxygen in excess is
ascertained by mixing the residual gas with twice its bulk
of pure hydrogen, and a second time causing the electric
spark to pass; one-third of the condensation observed will
be due to the excess of oxygen ; on deducting this excess
from the residue c, the difference gives the quantity of ni¬
trogen. The difference between the amount of the oxygen
thus found to be in excess, and that originally introduced,
will of course represent the quantity of oxygen consumed ;
call this d. We have now all the data for calculating the
proportion of carburetted hydrogen, of hydrogen, and of
carbonic oxide, which are present in the mixture. Let x
represent the quantity of light carburetted hydrogen ; this
gas requires twice its own volume of oxygen for complete
combustion, and furnishes its own volume of carbonic acid,
which requires an equal volume of oxygen for its formation,
or half the amount consumed ; the other half of the oxygen
being required by the hydrogen, which condenses in the
form of water, 2 x will be the diminution in bulk of oxygen
which occurs on detonation. Again, when hydrogen is
converted into water, it requires half its bulk of oxygen,
and both are condensed entirely. If y represent the bulk
3 ?/
of the hydrogen, ~ will be the diminution in bulk of the
mixed gases on detonation, which is occasioned by the hydro¬
gen in the mixture. Let z represent the volume of carbonic
oxide present; carbonic oxide, for conversion into carbonic
acid, requires half its bulk of oxygen, the carbonic acid
produced occupying the same bulk as the carbonic oxide.
— will therefore indicate the condensation which occurs on
firing the mixture. The total condensation in bulk (a)
which occurs on firing a mixture of light carburetted hy¬
drogen, hydrogen, and carbonic oxide, will consequently
admit of thus being represented—
(1.) a = 2x + ~+
Further, the quantity of the carbonic acid formed by de¬
tonation, b, is composed of a volume of carbonic acid equal
in bulk to the light carburetted hydrogen, and a volume
equal to that of the carbonic oxide, so that the quantity of
carbonic acid may be thus indicated :—
(2.) b = x -j- z.
And lastly, the oxygen consumed, d, will be composed
of the following quantities :—Light carburetted hydrogen,
twice its bulk, 2 x; hydrogen, half its bulk, ; carbonic
oxide, half its bulk, ^; or the total quantity of oxygen
consumed will be the following:—
(3.) c = 2a; + ^ + |.
Abridged from Elements of Chemistry, by Professor Miller, of King’s College, London.
GAS-LIGHT.
431
Gas-Light. From these three equations the values of x, y, z, are deter-
mined :—
a + b
Light
yielded by
carburet-
ted hydro¬
gen chiefly
derived
from the
carbon.
Deteriora¬
tion by ad¬
mixture
with hy¬
drogen.
X ~ c —
6
y — a-c
a + 4; b
Hints respecting the Improvement of Coal-Gas.
Of all the combustible bodies having an elementary cha¬
racter, carbon and hydrogen are not only the most widely
and copiously diffused throughout the three kingdoms of
nature, but best adapted for the evolution of light during
their combustion. It is only, however, when they are
united together in due proportion that they answer the
purpose most effectually; and, indeed, in a separate state
their illuminating powers are so feeble, that even when their
combustion is accelerated and rendered more perfect by
the presence of oxygen, the light which they yield is yet
unfit for many of the useful ends to which light is subser¬
vient. The substances in which carbon and hydrogen are
united in the best proportion for the production of light are
pit-coal in the mineral kingdom, and oils and fatty matter
in the animal and vegetable.
The great abundance of coal, and the comparative cheap¬
ness at which it can be obtained, give it a decided advan¬
tage in point of economy over oleaginous matter, whether
of animal or vegetable origin ; while the processes of decom¬
posing it, with the view of converting it into a volatile and
elastic product, have been so much improved as to render
the gas which it yields equally fit for the purpose of illumi¬
nation with the more costly gases obtained from the oils.
The gas produced by the decomposition of coal and olea¬
ginous matter at a high temperature is a compound of car¬
bon and hydrogen, and consists chiefly of two gases, in
which these elementary substances exist in definite propor¬
tions. One of these gases is termed carburetted hydrogen,
and the other olefiant gas or bicarburetted hydrogen. The
former contains one atom of carbon united with two atoms
of hydrogen, and the latter an atom of each of these ele¬
ments.
Of these two compounds of hydrogen and carbon, that
which contains the largest proportion of the latter element
is found to yield during its combustion the most brilliant
light, and that too for a longer period of time. And, in¬
deed, so great is the difference in these respects, that the
hydrogen may not improperly be regarded as the mere sol¬
vent or vehicle of the carbon, acting the part of wick, and
thus presenting that substance in a state sufficiently commi¬
nuted for its more perfect combustion. Accordingly, the
more abundantly the hydrogen is impregnated with carbon
the greater may we expect to be its illuminating power, and
the fitter in every respect for yielding artificial light. These
views are fully supported by experiment; for not only is
the brilliancy of the light modified by the quantity of carbon
held in solution by the hydrogen, but the time which a
given portion of the gas takes to consume away by combus¬
tion is affected by it in a still greater degree.
To determine in what ratio the illuminating power of the
gases obtained both from oil and coal was reduced by dilut¬
ing them in various proportions with hydrogen, we instituted
a series of experiments, the results of which are of impor¬
tance inasmuch as they indicate not only that the mixture
is deteriorated, but that the same quantity of carbonaceous
matter yields less light the more largely it is diluted with
hydrogen.
In the first experiment we took a portion of coal-gas of
the specific gravity '67, which we found to consume at the
rate of 4400 cubic inches per hour, and yielded the light of
eleven candles, being 400 cubic inches per hour for the light Gas-Light,
of one candle. This gas being diluted with a fourth part v—^
of its bulk of pure hydrogen, acquired the specific gravity
*55, and wasted away at the rate of 6545 cubic inches per
hour, yielding the light of ten candles. As a fifth part of
the compound gas was hydrogen, the remaining four-fifths,
amounting to 5236 cubic inches, was the quantity of the
coal-gas which in its diluted state gave the light of ten
candles for an hour ; so that 524 cubic inches of the origi¬
nal coal-gas were requisite to give the light of one candle
for the same time. But, in its unmixed state, 400 cubic
inches were sufficient to give the light of one candle for an
hour; and consequently, the deterioration occasioned by
the dilution was in the ratio of 524 to 400, or of 100 to 76,
being 24 per cent. It must be distinctly kept in view that
the deterioration has been reckoned, not with respect to the
whole volume of the mixture (in which case it would have
been 39 per cent.), but simply in reference to the coal-gas
itself; and therefore the experiment, so far as it goes, justi¬
fies us in adopting the conclusion, that had the hydrogen
existed originally in union with the coal-gas, the latter would
have improved in quality 24 per cent, by its abstraction;
because the residuary portion would not only have lasted
longer, but yielded during its combustion a superior light.
In a second experiment, conducted in a similar manner,
in which the proportion of hydrogen was one-third of the
quantity of the coal-gas, the deterioration was 27 per cent.;
in a third experiment, the proportion of hydrogen being
a half of the volume of the coal-gas, the deterioration
amounted to 31 per cent.; and in a fourth experiment, the
quantity of hydrogen being exactly equal to that of the coal-
gas, the deterioration extended to 36 per cent.
These results indicate a progressive deterioration in the General
quality of coal-gas by the admixture of hydrogen ; and the condu-
important conclusion to which they lead is, that the abstrac- sions-
tion or removal of the latter, though diminishing the entire
volume, would improve the nature of the residuary portion
not only in a higher ratio than the loss which the whole
sustained in its bulk, but render that portion capable of
yielding, for a longer period of time, a greater light than it
could have done in its original state. Hence it may be
inferred that the illuminating power of coal-gas,, whether
considered with respect to the cost of its production or the
intensity of its light, admits of being improved; first, by
impregnating the hydrogenous element more largely with
carbon; secondly, by preventing the disengagement of hy¬
drogen in a free state during the carbonization of the coal;
and lastly, by detaching a portion of that gas from coal-
gas when it already exists in admixture with it.
The first of these modes of improvement seems to be Modes of
practicable, at least to a certain extent, by thoroughly improving
drying the coal before it is introduced into the retorts, and coal-gas.
modifying the pressure under which the gas is generated;
the second, by preventing the gas after its formation from
being exposed to a high temperature by allowing it to pass
over very hot surfaces, the effect of which is to deprive it of
carbon. The second object may also be assisted by arrest¬
ing the process of distillation at an earlier period than is
usually practised, hydrogen and carbonic oxide being the
products which predominate during the last periods of de¬
composition. On this point, however, the interests of the
public and of the manufacturer are at variance. The con¬
sumer pays by measure, and hence it is the interest of
the manufacturer to carry on the process of distillation as
long as possible, for, by so doing, not only does he increase
the quantity of gas but he improves the quality of the
coke. With respect to the third mode of improvement, we
are unfortunately, in the present state of our knowledge,
acquainted with no method of detaching hydrogen from the
gases with which it is mixed in oil or coal gas that would not
impair the illuminating power of these gases to a greater
432
Gas-Light.
Deteriora¬
tion of
coal-gas by
the separa¬
tion of its
particles,
hy nitro¬
gen.
By carbo¬
nic acid.
GAS-LIGHT.
extent perhaps than the benefit that would be derived from
the removal of the hydrogen. A plan has been proposed
by Mr Lowe to increase the quantity of carbon in the gas
by impregnating it with the vapour of coal naphtha; for
which purpose it was proposed to fill the wet gas meter at
the house of the consumer with purified naphtha, and to
maintain it at the same height by means of a reservoir con¬
nected with the meter; by which means the gas would be
measured and saturated with naphtha at the same time. A
more practical plan was to pass the gas through an orna¬
mental vase containing a sponge saturated with naphtha,
and placed at some point between the meter and the
burner.
To determine the diminution of the illuminating power
produced by separating the particles of the inflammable gas
during its combustion, and thus diminishing the temperature
of the flame, it occurred to the writer of the present article
that nitrogen, having neither the property of supporting
combustion nor of adding to the quantity of combustible
matter submitted to that process, was well fitted to answer
the intended purpose; and accordingly, on mixing coal-gas
of ordinary quality (which, when burnt alone, yielded the
light of twelve candles when it consumed 5400 cubic inches
per hour) with varying portions of nitrogen, results were
obtained which implied that the diminution of the intensity
of the light proceeded in a ratio much more rapid than was
observed when the gas was diluted with hydrogen. Thus,
when six volumes of the coal-gas were mixed with one
volume of nitrogen, the expenditure per hour was 6000
cubic inches, and the light equivalent to that of nine candles,
being 667 cubic inches per hour for the light of one candle.
But one-sixth of the whole being nitrogen, the remaining
four-sixths, amounting to 556 cubic inches, was the quan¬
tity of the coal-gas which, in its diluted state, afforded the
light of a candle for an hour. On the other hand, the quan¬
tity of the coal-gas requisite, in its unadulterated state, to
give an equal degree of illumination being if3-, or 450
cubic inches, it follows that the deterioration was in the
ratio of 556 to 450, or 100 to 81 nearly.
By diluting the same coal-gas with other proportions of
nitrogen as subjoined, and afterwards applying to each of
the results the same kind of reduction as that which we
have already made, we have deduced the following table,
which exhibits the gradual deterioration of the illuminating
power of the same quantity of coal-gas, produced by the mere
separation of the atoms of the gas during its combustion.
Volumes of
Coal-gas.
60
60
60
60
60
60
60
Volumes of
Nitrogen.
0
10
12
15
20
30
60
Illuminating
Power
100
81
69
55
37
29
4
When carbonic acid was used instead of nitrogen, similar
results were obtained ; only the deterioration was consider¬
ably greater. Thus, when five volumes of the coal-gas were
mixed with one volume of carbonic acid, the illuminating
power was reduced from 100 to 30, whereas in the case of
the nitrogen it was from 100 to 69. It is therefore a fortu¬
nate circumstance that carbonic acid, which is so apt to be
generated during the production of coal-gas, and has so
debasing an influence upon its illuminating power, is readily
absorbed by a variety of substances; while nitrogen, the
less injurious as well as the less abundant accompaniment,
cannot be separated from the other gases with which it may
exist in mixture by any process yet known.
Deterioration of Gas by keeping it after it is prepared.
Both oil and coal gas suffer, by keeping, a gradual loss
in their power of illumination, which seems to increase in Gas-Light,
a more rapid ratio than the time they are kept. The de- i^ . /
terioration, though greatest when the gases are allowed to Deteriora-
stand over water, takes place in a considerable degree even tion of oil
when they are kept over oil, or in air-tight vessels. Hence and coal
it may be presumed that the carbon held in solution by the §as
hydrogen is separated from that element, partly by its own kePt over
gravity, and partly perhaps by solution in the water, or by " a er‘
condensation in the liquid form.
To whatever cause the deterioration is owing, the fact
itself is undoubted. Thus, an oil-gas which, when newly
prepared, had the specific gravity DOdd, gave the light of
a candle for an hour when it consumed 200 cubic inches;
kept two days, it gave the same light with a consumpt of
215 cubic inches per hour; and kept four days, it required
for the same light 240 cubic inches per hour. In the case
of a portion of coal-gas, which, when newly prepared, re¬
quired 404 cubic inches to yield the light of a candle for an
hour, the same gas kept two days required 430cubic inches;
and kept four days, 460 cubic inches to yield the same light.
These results indicate a progressive deterioration in the
quality of the gases, increasing with the length of time they
are kept; and it is deserving of remark, that in both gases
the diminution of the illuminating power decreases in a
faster ratio than the time increases. After being kept three
weeks, the oil-gas was so much debased in quality that it
required 606 cubic inches of it to yield the light of a candle
for an hour; and hence its illuminating power was reduced
to one-third of what it was when the gas was newly made.
From these experiments it may obviously be inferred that
both oil and coal gas should be used as soon as possible after
they are prepared.
Economy of Coal- Gas.
Among the advantages which have resulted from the in- Oas supe-
troduction of coal-gas, we may reckon, first, its comparative
cheapness; and, secondly, its superiority to all the other of
modes of artificial illumination. iiiumina-
In forming a comparative estimate of the cost of coal- tion, both
gas and that of the other means employed for procuring in point of
artificial light, we may contrast it with the expense of wax, economy
tallow, and oil, the ordinary substances used for the pur- a?d conve‘
pose. It deserves to be remarked, however, that while the
price of coal, in consequence of the regular and abundant
supply of that article, is liable to little fluctuation, the cost
of wax, tallow, and oil, on account of the more precarious
nature of the sources from which they are obtained, varies
exceedingly in different seasons. The very extensive use,
too, into which coal-gas has been brought, has produced a
considerable effect upon the price of oil and tallow, as well
as of wax; so that a comparative estimate of the expense
of procuring the same extent of illumination from coal-gas
and from these substances must appear less favourable to
the former than would have been the case had the compa¬
rison been made when gas was first introduced. But by
way of illustration, the approximative economy of the sub¬
stances commonly employed for illumination may be con¬
trasted as follows :—Supposing that 5 cubic feet of gas per
hour give a light equal to that of 12 candles, then 1000
cubic feet, if burnt at the rate of 5 feet per hour, would give
a light equal to that of 12 candles for 200 hours, at the
cost of 4s. 6d., which is about the average price of gas in
London per 1000 feet at the present time (1855). Sup¬
pose the candles to cost 9d. per lb., then 2 lb. of candles, 6
to the lb., would burn for 6§ hours, at the cost of Is. 6d., or
60 lb. would burn 200 hours, at the cost of L.2, 5s. As¬
suming wax to be three times the price of the candles, the
cost of wax candles for 200 hours would be L.6, 15s.; and
taking sperm oil at 8s. per gallon, 4 gallons would give a
light equal to that of 12 candles for 200 hours, at a cost of
G A S-L
Gas-Light. L.l, 12s. So that, by comparing the cost of these various
sources ot light for equal periods of time, we have—
L. s. d.
For wax candles, the cost of  6 15 0
For tallow candles, „  2 5 0
For sperm oil, ,,  1 12 0
For gas, „  0 4 6
The expense of gas, as compared with that of the other
sources of light, will be—
Gas  10 Candles   10 0
Oil  7-1 Wax   30-0
In the above comparison we have taken London gas as
the standard, which is scarcely fair, seeing that this gas is
inferior in illuminating power to that of most other towns.
But the light obtained from coal-gas is not only procured
at a smaller expense; it is also more convenient for most
purposes than the light yielded by other substances. In the
ordinary mode of lighting by tallow and oil, the light de¬
rived from their combustion cannot be diminished in inten¬
sity without considerable disadvantage and trouble; whereas
in the case ot gas, it may be reduced in an instant from the
most perfect splendour to the feeblest degree of illumina¬
tion by the simple adjustment of the stop-cock. The ad¬
vantages arising from this easy method of regulating the
light of gas, when it is used in the chambers of the sick,
and indeed in all apartments where a variable but uninter¬
rupted supply of light must be kept up, can only be duly
estimated by those who have experienced them. To every
branch of manufacturing industry which requires a steady
and powerful light, the benefits which have resulted from
the introduction of coal-gas are not less important. In many
operations the light may be conveyed by means of flexible
pipes, connected together with ball-and-socket joints, so as
to be almost in contact with the fabric it is intended to illu¬
minate, without the slightest risk of injury ; and it may be
kept in the same state for many hours in succession, or al¬
tered, as circumstances may render necessary.
For lighting churches, theatres, and other public build¬
ings, where a strong and uniform light is required, gas
answers the purpose more effectually than any other mode
of illumination; partly from the facility of its application,
and partly from the diversified and tasteful manner in which
the jets of flame may be exhibited in various kinds of
burners.
As a street light, its superiority is universally admitted;
and from that application of gas it cannot be doubted that
the metropolis, and other large towns, have derived great
additional security against the perpetration of nocturnal
crimes, as well as the means of carrying on the ordinary
business of life during the evening with nearly the same
convenience as during the full light of day.
Secondary Products.
The chemistry of the gas manufacture has been for some
years in a state of mutation, the effect of which has been to
bring about important changes in the nature and amount of
the secondary products. We may, however, refer to the me¬
thods of disposing of the usual secondary products, namely,
the coke, the tar, and the ammoniacal liquor. A ton of
Newcastle coals of the average weight of 2240 lb. yields—
1 Chaldron of coke 
12 Gallons of tar 
10 Gallons of ammoniacal liquor
9000 to 10,000 Cubic feet of gas ...
Loss 
= 1494
= 135
= 100
= 291
= 220
lb.
2240 lb.
It is found, on an average, that 1 cwt. of coals yields
about 2 bushels of coke. About one-fourth of the quantity of
coke produced is used as fuel for heating the retorts, and the
remainder is sold. The tar and ammoniacal liquor or gas-
water separate in the tar cistern, the tar forming the lower
VOL. X.
I G H T.
433
stratum. 1 his is used in the manufacture of patent fuel Gas-Light,
and of creasote, and as a rough paint for out-door work ^ ^ v
100 lb. of tar yield by distillation about 26 lb. of an oily
liquid known as coal-oil. A light product first distils over,
which is called coal-naphtha; the remaining pitch is used
for paying the bottoms of ships, wooden piles, &c. The
coal-naphtha is used for dissolving caoutchouc, and for burn¬
ing in the naphtha-lamp. The ammoniacal liquor is used in
the manufacture of sal-ammoniac, carbonate of ammonia,
and prussian-blue. 1 he presence of cyanogen in the am¬
moniacal liquor has led to its employment in the manufac¬
ture of ferrocyanide of iron or prussian-blue. It is stated
that a gallon of ammoniacal liquor, when saturated with
sulphuric acid, contains enough of cyanogen and cyanates
to form, with a salt of iron, 24 grains of prussian-blue.
I he secondary products of the Edinburgh gas works are
turned to account at the chemical works, situate at a dis¬
tance of about two miles from them, the gas works being on
a lower level. They are, however, connected by a line of
pipes, and the gas liquor is lifted over the shoulder of the
Cal ton Hill by means of a force-pump. The difference of
level is then sufficient to carry it to the chemical works.
I he liquor is left for the tar to subside, but the ammoniacal
liquor, consisting of an impure solution of carbonate and
hydrosulphuret of ammonia, still contains a portion of tar,
which is got rid of by distillation. The larger portion of
the distilled liquid is converted into sal-ammoniac, and a
portion into sulphate of ammonia. In order to obtain the
sal-ammoniac, the liquor is neutralized with hydrochloric
acid, and is then pumped into large cauldrons and evapo¬
rated to the crystallizing point, when it is drawn off into large
vats, and on cooling deposits small feathery crystals; these
are transferred to a stone chest, and are dried by the heat
of a furnace below. The salt then resembles brown sugar ;
it is mixed with charcoal powder for the purpose of reducing
any oxide of iron which may be present, and thus to get rid
of the brown tint in the process of sublimation. The sub¬
liming vessels resemble a man’s hat, and are arranged in the
furnace with the crown downwards ; they are about three feet
in depth, and two and a half in diameter, and they contain
sufficient for a week’s charge. Each pot is covered with a
leaden cupola, luted on with clay, and the salt is at first al¬
lowed to sublime away through a hole in the centre. This
occasions some loss, but it appears to be a necessary precau¬
tion to prevent porosity in the sublimate. The central hole
is then plugged with clay, and the sublimation is continued
for a week. In this way hemispherical cakes of sal-ammo¬
niac are produced; they are rasped on the surface to re¬
move crust or colouring matter, and are broken into wedges,
which are packed in barrels for exportation.
In preparing sulphate of ammonia the distilled ammo¬
niacal liquor is saturated with sulphuric acid, and concen¬
trated until small crystals are formed, which are removed
by perforated ladles, dried, and packed in barrels lined with
paper.
The tar, which contains a considerable portion of water, is
transferred to a still, where crude naphtha and vapour of
water distil over. They separate in consequence of their
different densities, and the naphtha is digested with sulphu¬
ric acid in a leaden trough. This separates ammonia and
other substances; the acid is removed by means of quick¬
lime, the naphtha is washed with water, distilled, and is
ready for the market. The remaining tar is raised to a
higher temperature, and a liquid less volatile than naphtha
is produced; it is termed pitch-oil, and is used for impreg¬
nating wood, &c. The pitch in the still is then run out,
when it settles into a soft solid, for which at Edinburgh no
market has yet been found, but it may probably be turned
to account as a cheap fuel.
Scarcely any market is found for the tar, which was for¬
merly largely consumed at Continental seaports. The in-
3 i
434
GAS
GAS
Gascony
II
Gassendi.
crease of gas-works on the Continent, and the absence of
duty on foreign tar as distinguished from British tar, has
greatly retarded the sale of the latter abroad.
Since the introduction of the Boghead cannel coal, a
new secondary product has been obtained in the form of Gassendi,
paraffine. It is separated at the Westminster gas-works as
paraffine-oil, and is used for lubricating the machinery.
(a. a—n. & c. T.)
GASCONY, Fr. Gascogne, an old province of France,
out of which have been formed the departments of Landes,
Gers, and Hautes Pyrenees, and parts of those of Haute
Garonne and Ariege. Its capital was Audi.
GASSE, a district and county of Lower Canada lying
between the estuary of the St Lav/rence and Chaleur Bay,
having an area of 7296 square miles and a population
(1851) of 10,904. On its eastern coast is Cape Gaspe,
forming the northern boundary of the Bay of Gaspe, an inlet
of the Gulf of St Lawrence about 18 miles in length by
6 in width.
GASSENDI (Pierre Gassend), one of the most dis¬
tinguished philosophers of the seventeenth century, was
born in the last decade of the sixteenth (22d January
1592) at the village of Chantersier, near Digne in Pro¬
vence. His family was humble, but his parents were
virtuous ; and to their instructions and influence Gassendi
seems to have owed a more than usual debt of gratitude.
His childhood exhibited the most astonishing, not to say
incredible, precocity ; and, if the feats told of him are true,
shows (as M. De Gerando observes in his able sketch of this
philosopher in the Biographic Univcrscllc') that the feeling
which is apt to regard unusual precocity as a treacherous
omen is not always to be trusted. At the age of four,
Sorbiere tells us, be sometimes played among his youthful
companions the part of a censor, and imitated the manner
of a preacher. At the same tender age he often crept out
at night to watch the stars—to the great alarm of his parents.
At ten he declaimed in a tiny harangue before the Bishop
of Digne (Antony of Boulogne), on the occasion of a pas¬
toral visitation; which struck that prelate (as it well might)
with such wonder, that he did not hesitate, in spite of the
aforesaid general distrust of precocity, to prophesy the boy-
orator’s future eminence. Either that, or an early grave,
or speedy fatuity, would certainly be a very rational de¬
duction from symptoms of such premature mental activity.
Gassendi was then receiving lessons from the cure of the
village ; but such was his ardour, that when he had learned
the prescribed tasks, he would pursue his solitary studies
by the light of the church lamp. At Digne he studied
rhetoric, and composed certain petites comedies. He then
went to Aix to study philosophy under Fesaye, a professor
who strongly shared and expressed the rising discontent with
the reigning scholastic philosophy. At sixteen our still
beardless philosopher was elected to the chair of rhetoric
at Digne ; but, being destined for the church, speedily
returned to Aix to study theology, and other branches
appropriate to the ecclesiastical profession. At the early
age of twenty-one he was simultaneously elected to the
two chairs of philosophy and theology in the university
of Aix. He chose the latter, and delivered his first course
extemporaneously. He retained this chair for ten years.
Not content with merely fulfilling the duties of his chair,
he indulged in ample excursions into almost every de¬
partment of science and literature, and made large collec¬
tions of notes, which were afterwards of great service
to him as a philosophical critic. His favourite pursuits in
his leisure hours were astronomy and anatomy. He con¬
fesses, too, to a passing penchant for astrology; but it soon
disappeared, and he became one of the most strenuous
opponents of that delusive science. In 1623 he was
presented to a benefice in the cathedral of Digne, and
gave up his chair in order to surrender himself more com¬
pletely to study. In the following year he commenced
author by the publication of a portion of his Exercitationcs
paradoxicce adversus Aristotelem, a work which naturally
called forth, in equal measure, the censures of the servile
lovers of antiquity, and the admiration of the ardent minds
who longed to inaugurate a new era in science and philo¬
sophy. He himself, according to M. De Gerando, seemed
half astonished at the report of his own artillery.1 2 But
being now committed as author, he desired, says the same
writer, “ s’eclairer par des observations et des conseils et
former des relations utiles.” With this view he made ex¬
cursions in Provence and Dauphine, visited the capital, and
took a journey to the Low Countries and Holland—every¬
where forming friendships with the literati of the age, haunt¬
ing learned establishments and consulting public libraries.
With similar views, as a pilgrim of science, he projected, in
common with other learned men, a journey to Italy and
Constantinople, but this design he never executed. Dur¬
ing his stay at Marseilles in 1636 he made some important
astronomical observations ; and, by the aid of lunar eclipses,
ascertained more correctly the limits, in latitude and longi¬
tude, of the Mediterranean, the length of which hydro-
graphers, following Ptolemy, had exaggerated in the cur¬
rent charts by no less than 200 leagues. In 1638 he
found an ardent friend and admirer in Louis de Valois,
afterwards Due d’Angouleme; and if the philosopher, who
ever preferred studious retirement to public life, had been
ambitious, he might have availed himself of this patron’s
aid to secure station and riches. In 1645 there was some
thought of making him tutor to the young prince, after¬
wards Louis XIV., but it came to nothing. He was ap¬
pointed, however, mathematical lecturer in the Royal Col¬
lege of France by the good offices of the Archbishop of
Lyons, brother of Cardinal Richelieu. From that ambitious
minister himself he never received any favour; which, says
De Gerando, is remarkable, considering the affection of the
archbishop and the renown of the philosopher. But, too
often, politicians regard neither affection nor merit where
talents cannot be serviceable to them, and Gassendi’s
modest and retiring spirit was little likely to help the am¬
bitious cardinal. Meantime, his fame gradually spread.
Amongst his ardent admirers appear royal and noble
names:—Christina, Queen of Sweden ; Frederick III. of
Denmark ; a couple of popes ; and several French princes.
1 he Cardinal de Retz also highly esteemed and honoured
him. But he has more legitimate claims to remembrance
than the suffrages of contemporaries illustrious only for
rank and station; and indeed, with the exception of De
Retz, he is himself better known now than any of the
above-mentioned admirers. A more emphatic testimony
to the deserved esteem in which he was held is found in
1 The facts of Gassendi’s life are abridged from this article and Sorhiere’s General Preface to the Opera Omnia. The limits of a work
like the present necessitate brevity, and allow but scanty space even to the writer of six folios. The reader is referred for fuller infor¬
mation to the above preface, entitled Be vitd et moribus Petri Gassendi) to Brucker’s Hist. Crit. Phil., vol. iv., and Appendix; and to De
Gerando’s Histoire comparee des systemes de philosophie ; ample references to other sources will be found in the Biographie Universelle, vol.
xvi., p. 532, 533.
2 “ II parut presque intimide lui-meme de I’avoir tente.”
GASSENDI.
Gassendi, his intimacy with all the great literati and philosophers of
his day, with most of whom he maintained an active cor¬
respondence which forms by no means the least interesting
portion of his works. A formidable list of these illustrious
friends and acquaintances is given in Sorbiere’s “ General
Preface” to Gassendi’s works. Galileo conferred upon him
signal proofs of esteem, and Gassendi consoled Galileo in
his persecutions ; though, like Descartes, he prudently de¬
clined any chance of sharing them. The martyrs of science
have been always scarce.
The lectures of Gassendi at the Royal College were well
attended. To astronomy, which had been too much ne¬
glected, he gave due prominence. Public speaking, how¬
ever, was injurious to his lungs, which were always deli¬
cate, and he was at length compelled to desist. He then
repaired to Digne for the benefit of his native air, and also
spent some pleasant time under the hospitable roof of his
friend and patron Louis de Valois, Earl of Alais. During
this interval he was chiefly occupied in composing his
biographies. He finally returned to Paris, where, after a
long and gradual decay, he died October 14, 1655. His
death is said to have been hastened by the mad phlebo¬
tomy then in vogue. He himself had often condemned the
practice ; somewhat inconsistently, it will be thought, since
he allowed himself to be killed by the Sangrados of his day.
He is said to have reconciled himself to the treatment to
which he submitted, though he could not approve it, by the
thought that the weakness it induced would probably dimi¬
nish the pangs of dissolution. His last words, as he begged
his attendant to feel the feeble pulsation of his heart, were,
“You see what man’s life is!” He was buried in the
church of St Nicholas des Champs, where he is honoured
by a mausoleum and bust.
The countenance of Gassendi is very imposing. The
broad, massive brow, full eye, and expressive contour of
the face, bespeak a mind full of intelligence, vivacity, and
benevolence.1
The character of Gassendi’s intellect is everywhere in¬
dicated by his works ;—it was critical rather than inventive.
Probably no one was ever better qualified to be a gen¬
uine historian of philosophy, possessing as he did keen
analytical skill, in conjunction with profound and accurate
erudition. His Syntagma Philosophicum everywhere
displays these characteristics. It is a vast attempt to ex¬
hibit in one encyclopaedic view the entire circle of science
as then known;—logic, physics, physiology, ethics, all find
a place there. Subjects are discussed with a minuteness,
copiousness, and patience, which remind one of the style
in which questions, equally subtle and intractable, and not
always more profitless, are treated in the Summa Theologies
of Thomas Aquinas. Gassendi’s powers of acquisition
must have been singularly active; nor was his logical
acuteness, or the liveliness of his imagination, much in¬
ferior to the promptness and retentiveness of his memory.
His learning is never mere learning; like that of many of
his erudite contemporaries, it ministers to his intellect, but
does not oppress it. The vivacity of his mind animates
and penetrates the mass; and the acuteness of his reason¬
ing and the exuberance of his illustrations relieve of much
of their tedium discussions in themselves often uninviting
enough.
The intellectual characteristics of Gassendi, as compared
with those of the far more original and profound Descartes,
axe sharply set off in a long and elaborate parallel in the
article by De Gerando in the Biographie Universelle, and
435
it will be well to find space for a translation of a few of its Gassendi,
more discriminating touches. “ There was no less opposi-
tion,” says he, “between the character of their minds
than between the principles of their systems. The genius
of Descartes, full of originality, energy, and audacity, as¬
pired in all things to create ; the understanding of Gas¬
sendi, reserved, prudent, calm, and investigating, contented
itself with a sound judgment of everything; Descartes,
shut up in himself, strove to reconstruct universal science
by the force of meditation alone; Gassendi, observing
nature, studying the writings of all ages, strove to co-ordi¬
nate facts, and to make an enlightened election among
opinions. The former, proceeding in the track of the
geometers, deduced from a few simple principles a long
train of corollaries: the second, imitating the naturalists,
collected a great number of given facts in order to draw
solid deductions from their comparison. The former
evinced admirable ability in the art of forming a system, the
latter excelled in the criticism of other people’s systems.
I he one, an absolute dogmatist, loved to speak in the style
of a master, perhaps because he was conscious of profound
convictions, and did not patiently bear contradiction; the
other, a skilled dialectician, unravelled objections with art,
distrusted himself, and easily entertained doubts which pre¬
sented themselves. The one made great and veritable
discoveries, and at the same time wandered into rash
hypotheses ; the other brought together a great number of
partial truths, and, above all, destroyed a great number of
errors.”
The qualities of Gassendi’s mind are perhaps nowhere
more distinctly marked than in his commentary on the
Tenth Book of Diogenes Laertius, and his tractate on the
life and philosophy of Epicurus. In his attempt to ascer¬
tain, illustrate, and defend the philosophy of his favourite
Epicurus, there was ample scope for his exuberant learn¬
ing, his critical acumen, and his eclectic tendencies. It is
a pity that he should have been so inordinately enamoured
of this Greek philosopher; for his strong expressions have
invited accusations, and even given colour to them, which
seem wdiolly unfounded. Whatever his predilections for
the atomic philosophy, he explicitly repudiates the irreli¬
gious dogmas founded upon it; and acknowledges that a
supreme intelligence alone created and organized matter,
alone imparted and conserves its laws and properties.
“ Metaphysics, morals, and physics,” says M. de Gerando,
“ are conformed to the opinions of Epicurus; yet with the
modifications which the principles of Christianity demand.”
Whether even the eclectic criticism of Gassendi could
quite harmonize such materials, even by the most judicious
selections and rejections, may be a question; but that he
sincerely thought he had advanced nothing contrary to
Christianity, is evident from the entire tenor of his decla¬
rations ; and he must be believed unless we are determined
on a more unpleasant alternative—that of supposing him
at least as great a hypocrite as philosopher.2 If the works
just referred to exhibit as distinctly as any the more marked
features of Gassendi’s intellectual character, it is the Syn¬
tagma Philosophicum, of course, which displays all the
endowments of this great philosopher in their amplest form.
The remarks on the Meditations of Descartes, however
(supplied at the request of Father Mersenne), best present
many of its phases. They are marked by an acuteness and
vivacity which he never surpassed.
As a metaphysician it has been mentioned that, how¬
ever ingenious and learned, he is yet critical rather than
1 The engraving in the folio edition of his works (1728) is in striking contrast with the grim effigies of Tycho Brahe and Copernicus
in the quarto which contains Gassendi’s lives of those philosophers. But it must be confessed the art of engraving had made pro¬
digious progress in the interval.
2 After avowing his orthodoxy very explicitly, he says, in the Proemial Book of his Syntagma, “Et videri quidem potest Epicurus
arridere prae ceteris .... at non idcirco aut probo omnia quaa illius sunt,—etiam Religionis non attinentia placita; aut qme probo
non sic amplector ut indubia certaque habeam . . . .”—Opera, tom. i., p. 25. Edit. Florent.
436 G A S S E N D I.
Gassendi, creative. The same must be said of him as a mathema-
tician and physical philosopher. His attainments in the
mathematics were such as to elicit the praises of Barrow,
no incompetent judge ; and doubtless his fame might have
been yet greater had he not, like Barrow himself, Pascal,
Descartes, and so many other great mathematicians, varied
or combined this study with so many very different pur¬
suits. It seems, if we may judge by the conduct of almost
every great mathematician from the time of those just
mentioned to the present day, that, delightful as is the dis¬
covery and contemplation of mathematical truth, it cannot
alone fill or content the mind. It is hardly possible to
name instances of great mathematicians who are known
only as great mathematicians, or who have not profoundly
studied some branches either of physics or abstract science.
Gassendi, according to Sorbiere, avowedly valued mathe¬
matics chiefly as an indispensable instrument of discovery
in physical science.
Ardently attached to the new philosophy of experiment,
Gassendi was one of the first Frenchmen, if not the first,
who fully appreciated Bacon, and, in introducing him to
his countrymen, paid ungrudging homage to his genius.1
Though such an admirer, however, of the new school of
physics, he himself, as in other departments, made but
moderate contributions to discovery. Here, too, his genius
was critical. But it is not to be forgotten that he was
the first to observe the transit of a planet across the sun’s
disc—verifying the prediction of Galileo—and that, as be¬
fore mentioned, he made some valuable hydrographic correc¬
tions by means of lunar eclipses.
As Gassendi is among the most literary of philosophers,
so is he also among the most voluminous. Six volumes
folio attest the vastness of his industry, no less than his
erudition and versatility. These have been twice printed;
once at Lyons in 1658, under the editorship of Montmort
and Sorbiere, and once at Florence in 1728. The first two
volumes are occupied entirely with his Syntagma Philoso-
phicum ; the third contains his critical writings on Epicurus,
Aristotle, Descartes, Fludd, and Lord Herbert, with some
occasional pieces on certain problems of physics; the
fourth, his Institutio Astronomica, and his Commentarii
de rebus celestibus ; the fifth, his commentary on the Tenth
Book of Diogenes Laertius, the biographies of Epicurus,
Peiresc, Tycho Brahe, Copernicus, Peurbach, and Regio¬
montanus, with some tracts on the value of Ancient Money,
on the Roman Calendar, and on the theory of Music ; to all
which is appended a large and prolix piece, entitled Notitia
Ecclesice Diniensis ;—the sixth volume contains his corre¬
spondence. The Lives, especially of Copernicus, Tycho, and
Peiresc, have been justly admired. That of Peiresc has
been repeatedly printed ; it has also been translated into
English. Gassendi was one of the first, after the revival of
letters, who treated the literature of philosophy in a lively
way. His writings of this kind, though too laudatory and
somewhat diffuse, have great merit; they abound in those
anecdotal details, natural yet not obvious reflections, and
vivacious turns of thought, which made Gibbon style him,
with some extravagance certainly, though it was true
enough up to Gassendi’s time—“ le meilleur philosophe
des litterateurs, et le meilleur litterateur des philosophes.”
Gassendi wrote in Latin ; it is to be regretted that he did
not compose some of his works in French. There is little
doubt that he would have given us another specimen of
that happy philosophical style in which his countrymen have
so signally excelled from Descartes’ time downwards; as
it is, his writings, as might be expected from the quali¬
ties of his mind, are perspicuous and lucid in an eminent Gassendi,
degree; but the style is very diffuse, and, in many cases,
cumbersome, a fault which it may be reasonably supposed
would have been obviated if he had written in his vernacu¬
lar. His illustrations and examples, especially in the
leisurely exposition of the voluminous Syntagma Philoso-
phicum, are often multiplied to tediousness, though generally
apt and well selected. Instances both of the merits and faults
in question may be seen in the parts of the Syntagma
where he treats “ de Sensibus speciatim” and (more
briefly) in the chapter ‘£ de Instinctu Brutorum.”2
The personal character of Gassendi must have been
exceedingly attractive. Of his winning manners, agreeable
social qualities, and modesty, there is a pleasing proof re¬
corded by Sorbiere, and pleasantly repeated by De
Gerando. “ Marivat having travelled from Paris to Gre¬
noble in his company without suspecting his name, desired
on arriving to be presented to the celebrated Gassendi.
He was greatly surprised to recognise him in the amiable
companion with whom he had conversed on the route.
This behaviour reminds us of that of Plato when he re¬
turned from Syracuse into Greece.” His temper and
manners were such as became a philosopher, and a Chris¬
tian philosopher rather than a disciple of Epicurus—whose
precepts, if capable of being harmonized with virtue, are
yet easily perverted to vice. It may be doubted whether
any philosopher ever lived more philosophically than Gas¬
sendi, if we may judge by the testimony of Sorbiere in the
preface to the Opera Omnia. His eulogium records vir¬
tues which make us love the man even more than we revere
the philosopher ; and with a trait or two from it we shall
conclude this notice of his character. “ When I consider
his private life, I seem to see before me some anchorite,
who, in the midst of a crowded city, has set up the severe
rule of the desert; so heartily did he embrace a life of
poverty, chaste celibacy, and obedience, though uncon¬
strained by any vows. Contented with little, he envied none
their riches; none the richer for the patronage of the
wealthy, he dispensed whatever he received with a liberal
hand. He was voluntarily abstemious, rarely touched
flesh, generally subsisted on vegetables, and breakfasted
and supped on oatmeal porridge.” Sorbiere pronounces
a deserved eulogium on his modesty, humility, and bene¬
volence.
The precise character and position of the philosophic
system of Gassendi has, like that of so many other philo¬
sophers, been much debated. It is a topic which there is
no space to discuss here, but which cannot be wholly passed
by, since from misapprehension Gassendi has been treated
with less than justice by eminent philosophical critics, and
among the rest by Dugald Stewart in the “ Preliminary
Dissertation.”
By critics in general, fifty years ago, he would have been
regarded as a genuine precursor of the naked and undis¬
guised sensational French philosophy of the last century ; by
other and later critics, he is represented as having taught a
philosophy not very dissimilar in its main principles from
that of Locke. Locke, indeed, is even supposed by some
to have derived more from the acute Frenchman than he has
allowed the generality of his readers to suspect. Of this a
word or two presently. '
Meantime, the truth with regard to Gassendi seems to
be, that, like many other philosophers who have written
folios, and produced their works at distant intervals and
under very different circumstances, he has not been alto¬
gether consistent in the exhibition of himself. Assuredly
1 “ Is videlicet meditatus attendensque, quam sit exiguum, quod, ex quo tempore homines philosophari casperunt, circa veritatem,
mtimaeque rerum naturae notitiam consecuti sunt; ausu vere Heroico novam tentare viam est ausus . . . .”—Opera, tom. i., p. 55.
Edit. Florent.
Syntag. Phil. Phyncae, part Hi., sect, iii., lib. vii.; viii., cap. v.
GASS
Gassendi, his tone is very different when urging with so much vigour
,^ y all the possible “objections” which ingenuity could dis¬
cover to Descartes’ Meditations, and when systematically
developing his own doctrines in his Syntagma Philoso-
phicum. “ The main scope,” says Dugald Stewart in the
Preliminary Dissertation, “ of Gassendi’s argument against
Descartes is to materialize that class of our ideas which the
Lockists as well as the Cartesians consider as the exclusive
objects of the power of reflection, and to show that these
ideas are all ultimately resolvable into images or concep¬
tions borrowed from things external.” If we look only at
the animadversions on Descartes, there is much to favour
these observations. But then, again, as Hallam justly
observes, if we examine the Syntagma Philosophicum,
even the Proemial Book, even the Logic, but more espe¬
cially the important chapters in the Physics “ De Phan-
tasia” and “ De Intellectu”—we cannot fail to perceive
that this estimate is erroneous, and that Gassendi is very
far indeed from resolving all the phenomena of mind into
sensation. This Hallam has truly remarked, and has sup¬
plied a few extracts from the above chapters of Gassendi
in proof. The explanation of the apparent discrepancies,
this writer says, is difficult. “ Whether he urged some of
his objections against the Cartesian metaphysics with a
regard to victory rather than truth, or, as would be the
more candid and perhaps more reasonable hypothesis, he
was induced by the acuteness of his great antagonist to
review and reform his own opinions, I must leave to the
philosophical reader.”1
It seems highly probable that both explanations are cor¬
rect. In accepting Mersenne’s invitation, issued by Des¬
cartes’ commands, to find as much fault as possible with
the celebrated Meditations (which made such pretensions
to logical rigour), Gassendi would naturally be tempted to
urge every objection to the uttermost; and would probably
challenge the proof of assertions, when he thought it weak,
not less where he agreed with the conclusions themselves
than where he denied them. This seems to have been
obviously his course in some cases.2 In such a controversy
the true position is apt often to be forgotten both by him
who writes and by him who reads. Challenged to show
the invalidity of the reasoning which is employed to sup¬
port a given conclusion, the objector is apt to speak and to
be interpreted as if he contended not only for the validity
of his objections, but for an opposite conclusion from that
of his opponent. This may or not be. In Gassendi’s case
it is sometimes the conclusion as well as the reasoning,
sometimes the reasoning only, to which he is opposed.
From Gassendi’s “objections” his own positive opinions
on the points in question are not always inferrible. We must
look at his dogmatical explanations of his own views as a
safer criterion, and we find these in the Syntagma. It
must be added that a certain degree of personal feeling
evidently gave sharpness to his criticisms on Descartes;
and, philosopher though he was, being still a mortal man,
this could not but exert some influence. On the other
hand, when writing his Syntagma, Gassendi was freed from
all such bias ; he was no longer the advocate but the judge ;
he had to show, not merely that such reasoning on behalf of
such and such conclusions was not valid, but what conclu¬
sions he held himself. He had also had the opportunity of
reading all his great antagonist’s “ criticisms” on his own
E N D I. 437
“ criticisms,” and doubtless profited by them ; and lastly, Gassendi,
though the interval, as Hallam says, between the contro-
versy with Descartes and the commencement of the pon¬
derous Syntagma Philosophicum was but brief—the dates
being 1641 and 1642—yet before its author had reached
the chapters “ De Phantasia” and “ De Intellectu” (nearly
1000 closely-printed folio columns from the commence¬
ment), he would have had abundant time to review any
opinions of an earlier date, and profit by the discussions
with his illustrious opponent.
Be this as it may, the chapter on the “ Human Intellect”
shows incontrovertibly that Gassendi was far removed from
the sensationalists. While he maintains constantly his
favourite maxim “ that there is nothing in the intellect
which has not been in the senses while he contends that
the imaginative faculty, “ phantasia,” is the counterpart of
sense; that like that, as it has to do with material images,
it is itself material, and essentially the same both in men
and brutes,—the chapter “ De Intellectu” plainly proves
that he could consistently mean nothing more than that
“ sensations” are the invariable and indispensable ante¬
cedents and conditions of the evolution of the phenomena
of intellect; for he admits that the intellect, which he affirms
to be “ immaterial” and “immortal”—the most character¬
istic distinction of humanity,—attains notions and truths of
which no effort of sensation or imagination can give us the
slightest apprehension.3 He instances in the capacity of
forming “ general notionsin the very conception of
universality itself,4 to which he says brutes, who partake as
truly as men in the faculty he calls “ phantasia,” never attain ;
in the notion of God, whom he says we may imagine to be
corporeal, but understand to be incorporeal; and lastly', in
the “ reflex actions” by which the mind makes its own
phenomena and operations the objects of attention.5
His remarks on the last point—his very phraseology,
“ actiones reflexivae,” certainly remind one of Locke, and
have suggested that Gassendi’s system was the source of
Locke’s. It was so, exclaims Stewart, of the false system of
Locke into which the sensational schools of France distorted
that of the English philosopher. To this it seems suffi¬
cient to reply, as before, that Gassendi himself, in his more
deliberate exhibition of his philosophy, does not belong to
those schools. At the same time, whether Locke had ever
studied the system of Gassendi is somewhat doubtful.
That he was not, at all events, conscious of any signal obli¬
gations to Gassendi, may be inferred for the following rea¬
sons:—1. Locke’s distinct assertion, to Stillingfleet and
others, that, right or wrong, his system had been the fruit
of his own excogitation. 2. That if he had consciously
borrowed from Gassendi, he, who was a model of honour
and candour as a writer, would not have failed to acknow¬
ledge his obligations. 3. The very name of Gassendi
scarcely occurs in all his writings ;6 and though it may be
said that this silence was natural if conscious that he had
stolen, it is inconsistent with his character that he should
have so acted; the silence would have become a thief, but
not John Locke. 4. He was no helluo librorum, and the
Syntagma extends to two ponderous folios. It is true that
the abridgment by Bernier in 8 vols. (if such an abuse of
the term may be allowed) was published in 1678, and this,
Locke, who was certainly in habits of intercourse with
Bernier at Paris in 1677, might have seen. 5. But, sup-
1 Literature of Europe, vol. iv., p. 203.
2 It must have been so when so severely challenging Descartes’ proof of the immateriality of the soul, or of the existence of the material
world, for Gassendi denied neither.
3 “ Itaque est in nobis intellectionis species qua ratiocinando eo provehimur, ut aliquid intelligamus, quod imaginari seu cujus habere
obversantem imaginem, quantumcunque animi vireis contenderimus, non possimus.”—De Intellectu, cap. ii. Opera, tom. ii., p. 383.
4 “ . . Non modo universalia, universaleisve notiones formamus, sed percipimus quoque ipsam rationem universalitatis.”—/6., p. 384.
6 “ Alterum est genus reflexarum actionum quibus intellectus seipsum, suasque functiones intelligit, ac speciatim se intelligerq ani-
madvertit. Videlicet hoc munus est omni facultate corporea superius.”—Jb., p. 384.
6 He has just introduced his name in the controversy with Stillingfleet, and that is all.
438 GAS
Gastric posing him to have seen it, what then? The utmost that
Juice. can jSj tjiat if js probable that the remarks on the
reflex operations of the mind, and the terms “ actiones re-
flexiva” (used, however, by Gassendi not with a view to a
classification of mental phenomena, but incidentally, in proof
of the mind’s immateriality') may have unconsciously sug¬
gested to Locke his second great division of ideas, and the
phraseology in which he has couched it. But the obser¬
vations themselves are far too scanty to have been of much
service to Locke in constructing his general theory, still
less in that elaborate and minute analysis of the “ ideas of
reflection” which constitutes the bulk of the “ Essay.” The
whole of the twm books on “ Imagination” and “ Intellect”
in the Syntagma would not make above an eighth of
Locke’s “ Essay,” and the greater part of these is occupied
with questions which Locke has expressly renounced as
belonging to a hopeless psychology; as, for example,
whether imagination be material or immaterial (Gassendi
deciding for the former)—of how many kinds, or how, me¬
chanically or physiologically, related to sensation—whether
and in what sense it can be said to possess reason—whether
it be identical with the similar faculty in brutes. Such ques¬
tions, together with the history of opinions, Gassendi is as
prone to discuss as Locke to decline them. The opinion of
De Gerando, however, on the relations of Locke’s philoso¬
phy to Gassendi’s is urell entitled to attention. (h. r.)
GASTRIC JUICE (yao-r^p), the name given to a trans¬
parent and colourless fluid which is the principal agent in
affecting those changes that constitute digestion, that is,
which convert the aliment into chyme. This secretion has
a saline and somewhat bitter taste, occasionally possessing
acid properties, but probably in its natural and healthy
condition being neither acid nor alkaline. It contains a
small proportion of albumen, together with a matter which
is either gelatin or mucus. But while it thus differs to all
appearance in so trifling a degree from many of the other
secretions, it yet possesses very extraordinary solvent powers
over the substances usually employed as food. Even when
made to act upon these substances in vessels out of the body,
provided they are kept in a temperature equal to that of the
human body, it will reduce them in a few hours to the
state of a soft pulp, producing apparently the very same
change which is induced upon the same species of aliment
by the digestive process within the stomach. There are
three ways in which the gastric juice acts on alimentary
matter ; the first is that of coagulation, which is exerted on
all the fluid forms of albumen, whether existing in the serum
of the blood, or the white of the egg, or in different secre¬
tions, more especially milk. It is by means of this property,
indeed, that cheese is obtained from the coagulation of its
albuminous portion by the addition of rennet, which is an in¬
fusion of the digestive stomach of a calf. The object of this
coagulation appears to be to detain th^ substance for a longer
time in the stomach, and subject it more completely to the
solvent power of the same fluid, by its previous reduction to
a solid form, which prevents its escape by the pylorus. The
second kind of action is that of counteracting the tendency
to putrefaction, and even to the acescent fermentation.
This effect takes place in a remarkable degree in many car¬
nivorous animals, which frequently take their food in a half
putrid state, and in which the first operation of the gastric
juice is to remove from it all putrescence ; showing that this
secretion possesses the property not only of preventing pu¬
trefaction from taking place, but also of suspending its fur¬
ther progress when it has actually commenced. The third
species of chemical action exhibited by the gastric juice is
that of solution. That this effect takes place independently
of any concurrent mechanical operation of the muscular
powers of the stomach has been very decisively proved by
the. experiments of Reaumur, of Stevens, and of Spallan¬
zani. Those of Stevens in particular are highly valuable,
GAT
as having been made on a man who was in the habit of Gastro-
swallowing stones, which he could afterwards, by a volun- tomy
tary effort, reject by vomiting from his stomach. Taking jl
advantage of this power, Stevens induced him to swallow v 'ata‘
hollow metallic spheres perforated with holes, and filled with
different alimentary substances, which, after being allowed
to remain a sufficient time in the stomach, were "returned,
and their contents examined. It was invariably found that
the food under these circumstances of exposure to the gas¬
tric fluid alone, with protection from external pressure of a
mechanical nature, was more or less completely dissolved,
and reduced to the state of pulp. He afterwards pursued
a similar train of experiments on dogs, causing them to
swallow the perforated spheres, and after a certain time de¬
stroying the animals, and examining the changes effected
in their contents. Spallanzani has also varied and multi¬
plied experiments of this kind in a manner that leaves no
room to doubt the truth of the conclusion deduced from
them as to the solvent power of the gastric secretion. Dense
membranes and even bones are reduced into a pulpy mass
by this fluid in many animals, while at the same time many
bodies of comparatively delicate textures, such as the skins
of fruits, and the fibres of flax or cotton, are not in the
slightest degree affected by it. This difference of action
on different substances is analogous to the operation of che¬
mical affinity, and corroborates the theory that digestion is
effected principally by chemical agency. The results of
these experiments have been fully confirmed by experi¬
ments made on the stomachs of persons who, in conse¬
quence of a wound, had a permanent opening into that organ
from the exterior of the abdomen.
Portions of the stomach are sometimes found dissolved
after death, more especially when death has occurred sud¬
denly during the act of digestion. This effect can never
take place during life, because the living structures resist
the solvent power of the gastric juice. Acid is frequently
developed during imperfect digestion ; but it appears from
the experiments of Dr Prout and others, that this effect is
also attendant upon healthy digestion, and that it is princi¬
pally the muriatic acid which is thus disengaged from its
combinations, and makes its appearance in a free state. The
lactic acid, which appears to be a modification of the acetic,
is also present in considerable quantity. Tiedemann and
Gmelin found the acetic acid always present in the gastric
juice. They observe that many of the substances employed
as food which are not soluble in water are so in the diluted
muriatic and acetic acids at a high temperature, and they
are inclined to ascribe to a chemical solution of this kind
the principal change effected by digestion. Among the
agents concerned in the digestion of the aliment, the high
temperature at which the contents of the stomach and in¬
testines are retained must be considered as one of the most
important. While digestion is taking place, both orifices
of the stomach are closed, and there often comes on a feel¬
ing of chilliness, especially in a weakly constitution, in con¬
sequence of the demand which the stomach makes upon it
for an additional supply of heat to assist in the process.
I here is also disinclination to exertion, and frequently a
tendency to sleep. Yet the indulgence in this disposition,
as well as violent exercise immediately after a meal, tend
equally to retard the formation of chyme. The circum¬
stances most favourable to perfect digestion are gentle ex¬
ercise, with cheerfulness, and moderate mental exertion.
GASIROTOMY (yao'rryp, and xqurto I cut), the opera¬
tion of cutting open the abdomen, as in the Ccesarian ope¬
ration.
GAT A, a town of Spain, province of Estremadura, 60
miles N. by W. of Caceres, on the right bank of the river
Gata. It is not well built, has narrow crooked streets, three
small squares, a fine parish church with a tall spire; a cha¬
pel, a large town-house built in 1843, with the lower story
GAT
Gata for a prison, an hospital, and several schools. Its manufac-
II tures are linen and woollen fabrics, white wax, wine, oil,
Gataker. an(j hats. Its trade is chiefly in these and in grain
and cattle. The pop. in 1854 was 3762.
Gata, a secular town of Spain, in the province and arch¬
bishopric of Valencia. The district lies between those of
Lliber and Jabea, and is very irregular and mountainous in
surface, especially towards the east, where Mount Mongo
stands. Gata is about 60 miles from Alicante, on the right
bank of the Jalon, and contains nearly 2000 inhabitants.
The surrounding district produces silk, almonds, raisins, figs,
olive-oil, carob-ffuit, wine, wheat and other cereal grains,
maize, and pulse. The chief objects of industry are basket¬
making, and utensils for the cultivation of the dwarf-palm,
which abounds in an indigenous state in this district.
Gata, Rio de, a small river of Spain, in the province of
Estremadura. It rises near the town of the same name
from numerous large springs in the Sierras de Gata, Jalama,
Moncayo, &c., which all unite near a mill called the Infer¬
nal, on the road which passes between the Piezas de la
Moraleja and Perales, afterwards falling into the Arrago,
which joins the Alagon about four miles below the town of
Casillas.
Gata, Sierra de, in Spain, a ridge of mountains between
Leon and Estremadura, commencing east at the termina¬
tion of the Pena Francia, and extending S.S.W. into Por¬
tugal, where it unites with the Serra de Estrella. Two
branches nearly perpendicular to its axis shoot out from it;
one north, forming the watershed between the Aqueda and
the Coa; and the other south, between the Alagon and the
Erjas. The main chain forms part of the watershed be¬
tween the Tagus and the Duero or Douro. This entire
chain is almost wholly composed of granite.
Gata, Cabo de, a headland of Spain, in Andalucia, in the
province and 22 miles S.E. of Almeria, on the east side of
the Gulf of Gata, in Eat. 36.44. N. and Long. 2. 14. W.
In the centre of the promontory of Gata are four hills ; and
a rocky mass about 80 yards from the beach, formed of
crystallized limestone, rises to the height of 215 feet above
the sea, and contains a marble quarry in which corundum
and agates are found, and large masses of carnelian. Its
ancient name was Charidemi Promontorium, the S. point
of Hispania Tarraconensis. It lay directly opposite to the
mouth of the river Malva in Mauretania. (Ptol. ii. 4, 7.)
GATAKER, Thomas, was born in London, in 1574, and
educated at St John’s College, Cambridge. From the year
1601 till 1611 he held the appointment of preacher to the
Society of Lincoln’s Inn, which he resigned on obtaining
the rectory of Rotherhithe. In 1619 he published a curious
treatise, historical and theological, On the Nature and Use
of Lots, which gave rise to much controversy. Gataker, in
order to allow the storm to subside, went on a tour to the
Netherlands, where he confuted some of the English Papists
in Flanders. In 1642 he had the honour of being appointed
one of the Assembly of Divines who met at Westminster,
having obtained much celebrity from his Opera Critica,
and other remarkably able works, chiefly on sacred litera¬
ture. The part of the Assembly’s Annotations upon the
Bible executed by him are those on Isaiah, Jeremiah, and
the Lamentations, which have considerable merit. At
Westminster he disapproved of the introduction of the
Covenant, and declared himself in favour of episcopacy.
He zealously opposed the trial of Charles I; and from ill-
health declined the mastership of Trinity College, Cam¬
bridge. He died in 1654. The best edition of his works
is that published at Utrecht in 1668, folio. Echard says he
was the most celebrated among the divines assembled at
Westminster, being highly esteemed by Salmasius and other
foreigners. He was alike remarkable for exemplary piety,
charity, humility, and modesty; while his acquaintance with
polite literature greatly increased his standing as a scholar.
GAT 439
GATEHOUSE, a burgh of barony and river port of Gate-
Scotland, county of Kirkcudbright, on the Fleet, about a house
mile and a half above its influx into Fleet Bay, and six miles II
N.W. of Kirkcudbright. It stands in a romantic valley, v at ‘ y
surrounded on three sides by well-wooded hills. Brewing ^ v~"'
and tanning are carried on, as well as cotton and soap ma¬
nufactures. The river is navigable for vessels of 180 tons.
Market-day Saturday. Pop. (1851) 1750.
GATES, Horatio, an American general of the war of
independence, was born in England in 1728. After serv¬
ing in the English army and obtaining considerable promo¬
tion, he purchased an estate in Virginia, where he resided
till the commencement of the revolutionary war in 1775.
I he immediate cause of his retirement was a wound which
he had received while accompanying General Braddock in
his unfortunate expedition against the French settlements
on the Ohio in 1755. Having taken the popular side in
the war of independence, Gates was appointed by Congress
adjutant-general; and during the struggle he amply justi¬
fied the high confidence placed in him by rendering many
brilliant services to his adopted country. In 1776 he was
appointed to command the army on Lake Champlain; but
his conduct here not having been approved of, he was su¬
perseded in the following spring; yet in August he was
sent to oppose General Burgoyne, whom he totally defeated
on the 16th of October and compelled to surrender his
whole army, which was justly considered the most impor¬
tant achievement of the war from its having the greatest
effect in procuring the result that followed. After obtaining
the chief command, however, in the southern districts, Gates
was signally defeated at Cambden, in South Carolina, by Lord
Cornwallis, on the 16th of August 1780. He was now su¬
perseded in his command by General Greene ; and it was
intimated to him that Congress had also resolved to submit
his conduct to a court of inquiry. The investigation con¬
tinued till after the close of the war in 1782 ; but it termi¬
nated in acquitting him fully and honourably of any blame,
as his defeat had been unavoidable in the disorganized state
of the army he commanded against Cornwallis. After this
he again retired to his Virginian estate, whence he removed
to New York in 1800. On his arrival he was immediately
admitted to the freedom of the city, and then elected a
member of the State Legislature. We should not omit
to mention that before his departure from Virginia he per¬
formed the noblest act of his life—the emancipation of his
slaves, accompanying their manumission with a provision
for those who needed assistance. He died on the 10th of
April 1806, aged 77 years.
GATESHEAD, a municipal and parliamentary borough
and market-town of England, county of Durham, on the
right bank of the Tyne, opposite Newcastle, with which it
is connected by a handsome stone bridge, as well as by a
magnificent bridge of the York, Newcastle, and Berwick
railway. The town consists of two principal and nearly
parallel streets, from which others diverge in various direc¬
tions. The parish church is an ancient cruciform edifice
surmounted by a lofty tower. Besides the parish church
there are St John’s Church, Gateshead Fell, St Cuthbert’s
Church, St Edmund’s Chapel, and places of worship for
Presbyterians, Independents, Methodists, Roman Catholics,
&c. Gateshead has extensive glass manufactories, iron and
soap works, brick and tile works, rope-works, &c. There
are numerous coal mines in the vicinity. At Gateshead
Fell are large quarries for grindstones, which are much
esteemed, and exported to all parts of the world. Gateshead
is governed by a mayor, 6 aldermen, and 18 councillors, and
returns one member to parliament. Pop. (1851) 25,568.
GATH, one of the five principal cities of the Philistines,
and the birthplace or residence of Goliath. It was conquered
by David, and fortified both by him and by Rehoboam.
Under Jehoash, Hazael king of Syria took Gath, but it
440 G A U
Gatshina was recovered from his successor Benhadad. It must, how-
11 ever, have soon revolted; for Uzziah finding it necessary to
Gauging. war against the Philistines, “broke down the wall of Gath.”
“ Gath,” says Jerome (on Micah i.) “ is one of the five
Philistine cities lying near the confines of Judah, on the
road from Eleutheropolis to Gaza; now it is a very large
village.” On Jerem. xxv. the same authority declares that
Gath was not far from Azotus. Modern travellers give no
description of the place (Reland, Palcest. p. 785, sq.)
GATSHINA, a town of Russia, government of St Peters¬
burg, 30 miles S. by W. of the capital. It has a palace, for¬
merly a favourite residence of the late empress, spouse of
Alexander I., a foundling hospital, school of agriculture, and
a porcelain manufactory. Pop. 7000.
GAUCIN or Gauzin, a secular town of Spain, in the
province of Granada, and bishopric of Malaga, from which
it is distant 48 miles W.S.W. It is situated on the slope
of the Sierra del Hacho; or more accurately on the Ser-
rania de Ronda, over against Gibraltar, between the Sierra
Crestellina and Mount Heaho, on the eastern declivity of
the Serrata. It is well built, its streets are steep, wide,
clean, and well-paved ; it has a chapel, a parish church,
three squares, a handsome town and session-house, a prison,
a granary, three schools, and an ancient strong Moorish
castle occupying the summit of an adjacent rock, in an al¬
most inaccessible position, and garrisoned by infantry and
artillery. It has manufactures of brandy, wine, oil, cotton,
linen, and woollen fabrics, hats, leather, and soap. Its trade
consists chiefly in cloth, lace, silks, baize, fruits, wine, brandy,
and cattle. The pop. in 1855 was nearly 6000.
GAUDEN, John, the reputed author of the “ Icon Ba-
silike,” was born in 1605, at Mayfield in Essex, of which
parish his father was vicar. He was educated at Bury St
Edmunds, and afterwards at St John’s College, Cambridge.
Selecting the church as a profession, he obtained in 1630
the living of Chippenham, and various other valuable pre¬
ferments in rapid succession. His promotion, however,
speedy as it was, did not keep pace with his desires; and
when the civil war broke out, he found himself under the
sad necessity of siding with one or other of the two parties.
Though probably a royalist at heart, he had the tact to
seem favourable to the parliamentarians, and was rewarded
for some supposed services with the valuable living of Book¬
ing in Essex. He here outwardly conformed with all the
requirements of the law; but judiciously resolving to be pro¬
vided against the chances of fortune, wrote secretly a “ pro¬
testation” against the king’s trial, and a “Just Invective
against those who murdered King Charles I.,” besides other
loyal effusions. None of these, however, appeared till two
years after the Restoration. The most remarkable of them
by far was the Icon Basilike, or Portraiture of his Sacred
Majesty in his Solitude and Sufferings, which, in the course
of one year, passed through fifty editions. The evidence on
which Gauden’s claims to the authorship of this work rest
is very fully canvassed by Sir James Mackintosh, Edinburgh
Revieiv, vol. xliv., and by him pronounced satisfactory. For
his service to the royal cause Gauden was made Bishop of
Exeter, and afterwards of Worcester. He died in 1662; and
it is said that his death was hastened by his poignant grief for
losing the rich see ofWinchester on which he had sethis heart.
GAUDENS, St, a town of France, capital of a cogno-
minal arrondissement in the department of Haute Garonne,
on a hill near the left bank of the Garonne, 45 miles S.W.
of Toulouse. It has tribunals of primary jurisdiction and
commerce ; a communal college ; manufactures of serge and
tape; sawing, paper, and other mills; and a brisk trade in
agricultural produce. Pop. (1851) of town 4905, of arron¬
dissement, 147,096.
GAUGING, the art of measuring the contents of casks
or vessels of any form. Gauging forms a part of mensura¬
tion, but is frequently practised by persons unacquainted
G A V
with its theoretical principles, who work by certain rules, Gaul
with the aid of a gauging-rod, and by the sliding rule. The II
ordinary gauging-rod consists of four rules made of box- Gavia-
wood, each a foot long, and united by brass joints, so that
it may be folded together. See Mensuration.
The term gauge or gage is applied in various ways, but
always with reference to measure or proportion; or, in the
literal sense of the word, to that which bounds or confines
something else. Thus in physics it is applied to several
instruments or apparatus for measuring the state of a pheno¬
menon ; such as the wind-gage, the rain-gage, the baro¬
meter-gage for measuring the degree of pressure of the air
within the receiver of an air-pump, &c.: in architecture, to
the length of a slate below the lap : in railway engineering,
to the space between the rails; and the like.
GAUL. See Gallia, and France.
GAUSS, Karl Friedrich, an eminent German mathe¬
matician, was born of humble parents at Brunswick, April
23, 1777. He distinguished himself greatly while a student,
and in his twenty-fifth year made his name widely known
by his Disquisitiones Mathematicce, a work full of the
most subtle matbematical speculation applied to the higher
branches of arithmetical science. In 1809 he published
at Hamburg his Theoria Motus Corporum Ccelestium, which
gave a powerful impulse to the true methods of astrono¬
mical observation, towards which much care was at this
period directed. Two years before this time he had been
chosen director of the Gottingen Observatory, an office
which he retained till his death, despite the many tempting
offers he received of more honourable and lucrative posi¬
tions elsewhere. So attached was he to his university, and
so closely bent on his studies, that he never but on one
occasion slept away from under the roof of his own obser¬
vatory. In that solitary instance he had accepted an urgent
invitation from Humboldt to attend a meeting of natural
philosophers at Berlin. His only other acknowledged work,
Theoria Combinationis Observationum Minime Erroribus
Obnoxice, appeared at Gottingen in 1823, and conferred a
lasting boon on the cause of science ; and many of his papers
read before the society of Gottingen are hardly less valuable.
Gauss was well versed in general literature and the chief
languages of modern Europe, and was a member of nearly
all the leading scientific societies of Europe. It is related
that Laplace, when asked who was the greatest mathema¬
tician of Germany, replied, “ PfafF” (the teacher of Gauss).
His questioner said he had thought Gauss even more pro¬
found. “ Ah,” said Laplace, “ I esteem Pfaff the greatest
mathematician in Germany ; but Gauss the greatest mathe¬
matician in Europe.” Gauss died at Gottingen early in the
spring of 1855.
GAUZE, a very hgnt transparent textile fabric, made
sometimes of silk and sometimes of linen thread. It is said to
have been invented at Gaza in Palestine, and hence the name.
Gauze Wire-cloth, a textile fabric of wire, more or lessfine.
It is used for safety-lamps, sieves, framed window-blinds, &c.
GAVIA-GRANDE, a secular town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince and archbishopric of Granada. It is situated in a plain
on the left bank of the Genii, and surrounded with beau¬
tiful gardens and fields of the richest verdure, teeming with
grain and fruits in their season. It contains a parish church,
a primary school, and-has manufactures of linen, several oil-
mills, gypsum and stone quarries, as well as a good trade
in flax, hemp, and corn. It is three miles distant from Gra¬
nada, and has a population of nearly 5000.
GAVIA, Gabia, or Gavea, in Brazil, a group of moun¬
tains in the Tijuco range, in the province of Rio de Janeiro,
near the coast. It is about 16 miles S.E. of Rio de Janeiro,
in Lat. 23. N. The highest peak, named from its appear¬
ance “ Topsail mountain,” is designated by English mari¬
ners “ Lord Flood’s Nose.” It is flat on the top, and com¬
posed mostly of granite, rising almost perpendicularly from
Gaviao
GAY
the sea to the height of 2100 feet. At its base are the bar
and roadstead of the Rio Tijuco.
Gay- GAVIAO, a town of Portugal, in the province of Alen-
tejo, on an elevated situation near the left bank of the Tagus
(Tejo). It is 22 miles N.W. of Crato, and contains a po¬
pulation of nearly 2000. An annual fair of three days is
held here.
GAVEL-KIND, in English law, a species of tenure of
lands, which previous to the Norman conquest is supposed
to have been the general custom of the realm, and which
exists to this day in Kent, in consequence, it is said, of the
success that attended the struggles of the Kentish men to
preserve their ancient liberties. The chief distinguishing
properties of gavel-kind are—that the lands descend not to
the eldest, youngest, or any one son only, but to all the sons
together; that the tenant may aliene his estate at fifteen
years of age by means of a feoffment; and that the estate
does not escheat in case of an attainder and execution for
felony, the maxim being, “ the father to the bough, the son
to the plough.” In most places the tenant had the power
of devising lands by will, before the statute for that purpose
was made. Though the lands in Kent have now for the
most part been disgavelled by particular statutes, the pre¬
sumption is still in favour of this species of tenure until the
contrary be shown.
The term gavel-kind is said by Lambard to be com¬
pounded of three Saxon words, gyfe, eal, kyn, or omnibus
cognatione proximis data. Verstegan calls it gavel-kind,
or give all kind, that is, to each child his part; and Taylor,
in his history of gavel-kind, derives it from the British gavel,
a hold or tenure, and cenned, generatio or familia; and
so gavel cenned might signify tenura generationis.
GAVOTTA (Italian), a lively dance-tune in two-fourth
time, consisting of two sections, each containing eight mea¬
sures.
GAWELGUR, a strong fortress of Hindustan, in the
dominions of the Nizam or ruler of Hyderabad. It stands
on a high and rocky hill between the Poornah and Taptee
rivers, in one of the provinces recently alienated by the
Nizam to the British in aid of the funds required for the
maintenance of his military contingent. The fortress con¬
sists of a citadel with an inner fort, which fronts the north,
where the rock is most inaccessible ; the citadel is defended
by an outer fort, and both are very strongly fortified; and the
ascent by the road is very long and steep, and well defended.
Notwithstanding these strong defences, it was taken by the
army under General Wellesley, December 14, 1803, after
a siege of only two days. It was restored to the rajah on
the conclusion of the peace. Gawelguris 15 miles N.N.W.
from Ellichpoor. E. Long. Y7. 23., N. Eat. 21. 20.
GAY, John, one of the most eminent of the secondary Eng¬
lish poets, was a native of Devonshire, born in 1688 at Fri-
thelstock, near Torrington, where his family had been long
settled. His father dyingwhen thefuture poet was onlyabout
six years of age, and leaving four children, the prospects of
the family were unpromising; and John, after receiving his
education at the grammar-school of Barnstaple, was put ap¬
prentice to a silk mercer in London. He disliked the em¬
ployment, obtained his discharge, and embarked on a literary
life, varied only by incessant efforts to obtain the patronage
of the great. How he lived up to his twenty-second year
is not stated. In 1710 he published his poem of Wine,
an enumeration of the charms of the “ enlivening grape,”
written in the grave, mock-heroic, and minutely descriptive
style, which he afterwards displayed with greater power in
his Trivia. In 1712 he was received into the household of
the Duchess of Monmouth in the capacity of secretary to
her Grace. Next year he published his Rural Sports, in¬
scribed to Pope; and this seems to have led to a friendship
between the poets uninterrupted and sincere. The supe¬
riority of Pope was freely conceded. There could be no
VOL. x.
GAY 441
rivalry on the part of Gay, and Pope appears to have exerted Gay.
himself on every occasion to serve his friend. Gay’s ambi-
tion was limited to a life of ease, fine dressing, and a luxu¬
rious table, in all of which he had marvellous success, but
little contentment. In the years 1713 and 1714, besides
the Rural Sports, he produced a comedy, The Wife of
Bath, which was acted only three nights, The Fan, a poem,
and the The Shepherd’s Week, a series of six pastorals drawn
from English rustic life. Pope is believed to have incited
his friend to this task in order to cast ridicule on the arca¬
dian pastorals of Ambrose Philips, who had been lavishly
praised in the Guardian (ignoring the claims of Pope) as
the first pastoral writer of the age, and the true English
Theocritus. The malicious wit was completely successful,
but Gay’s ludicrous pictures of the English swains and their
loves were found to be interesting and amusing without
reference to their sarcastic origin. The poem was popular,
and the author’s reputation considerably advanced. In this
fortunate year Gay was appointed secretary to the Earl of
Clarendon, ambassador to the court of Hanover; but the
death of Queen Anne, August 1, 1714, soon put an end to
his hopes of permanent official employment. He then tried
the drama, and produced his farce of What d’ye Call it ?
which was acted with little success in February 1714-15.
In 1716 appeared his Trivia, or the Art of Walking the
Streets of London, a poem in three books, for which he
acknowledged having received several hints from Swift. It
is an excellent toivn poem, containing graphic and humor¬
ous descriptions of the London of that period. In January
1716-17 the comedy of Three Hours after Marriage was
brought on the stage, and emphatically condemned. In this
piece Gay was assisted by Pope and Arbuthnot. Pope is dis¬
tinctly visible in his allusions to Dennis the critic; and it is
remarkable that three such men should have produced a
play so dull, unnatural, and gross. In 1720 Gay collected
his poems and published them by subscription, by which he
is said to have realized L.1000. Secretary Graggs also pre¬
sented him with some South Sea Stock ; and Gay called in
his friends to advise as to the investment of his riches.
Erasmus Lewis, according to Johnson, advised him to in¬
trust his money to the funds, and live upon the interest.
Arbuthnot bade him intrust it to Providence, and live upon
the principal; while Pope directed him, and was seconded
by Swift, to purchase an annuity. This was Pope’s own
prudent system ; but Gay, like many others who ask advice,
followed none, but took his own way. He embarked all in
South Sea Stock ; and refusing to sell out before the bubble
burst, he lost the actual principal as well as the anticipated
profit. The calamity overwhelmed him; his life was de¬
spaired of; but his friends exerted themselves to cheer and
succour the desponding bard. Lord Burlington entertained
him for months in his princely house at Chiswick; and
Pope, Arbuthnot, and the other members of the circle, were
unceasing in their attentions. By the beginning of 1724
he had a new play ready, a tragedy called the Captives,
which was patronized by the Princess (afterwards Queen)
Caroline and the Prince of Wales. His next performance
was the Beggar’s Opera, written in ridicule of the Italian
Opera, which for a time it drove off the English stage.
Swift suggested the subject, and Pope is believed to have
added some poignancy to the satirical songs ; but Gay’s own
bonhomie and voluptuous style colour the whole. The play
ran to the end of the season, sixty-two nights, four of which
were for the benefit of the author, and produced to him the
handsome sum of L.693, 13s. 6d. The same year he sold
his copyright of the Opera, with Fifty Fables in verse, for
ninety guineas. The success of The Beggar’s Opera in¬
duced Gay to attempt a continuation of the operatic style.
He wrote another piece, Polly, with no satirical design, as
he states ; but the lord chamberlain prohibited its represen¬
tation. The poet then resorted to publication by subscrip-
3 K
442 GAY
Gayah tion ; his friends were again active—the Duchess of Queens-
II berry even bearding royalty in resentment of the refusal of
Gayatri. ]icense; and Gay must have cleared above L.1000 by
v'—what was deemed his oppression. The Duke of Queens-
berry received Gay into his house, and the duchess treated
him with equal respect for his talents and character. This
clever, beautiful, and eccentric woman—the idol of the
poets—appears nowhere to more advantage than in her
affectionate patronage of Gay, and her long-cherished re¬
gret for his loss. The poet died, after a short illness, De¬
cember 4, 1732, and the Duke and Duchess of Queens-
berry honoured his remains with a splendid Tuneral and
monument in Westminster Abbey. A second volume of
Fables, and another opera, Achilles, had been written by
Gay, and they were published after his death, the profits
going to his sisters, two widow ladies, who inherited by the
poet’s death no less than L.6000. Pope and Swift—always
ready to blame the court and courtiers, though far from
averse to their society—have censured Mrs Howard, after¬
wards Countess of Suffolk, for not more zealously promot¬
ing the interests of Gay by her supposed influence with the
king. One offer was made to the poet—the situation of
gentleman-usher to the Princess Louisa, a child—but he
declined it on account of his being, as he writes to Swift, so
far advanced in life. He was only thirty-nine ; but all Gay’s
friends seem to have treated the offer as an indignity.
When the queen’s establishment was made up in 1727, they
expected some more important office for their favourite
associate, though it is not easy to discover what appointment
about the court could have been better adapted to one so
easy, so natural, and helpless. Mrs Howard, it is now
known, had very little influence with her royal master.
The real power was in the hands of the queen, and the phi¬
losophical Caroline was content that his Majesty (who hated
hhoetry and bhainting, and looked upon poets as mechanics)
should possess what mistresses he pleased, provided that the
state power and patronage continued with herself and Wal¬
pole. But it may be safely said, that no man could have
acquired such a body of great and accomplished friends as
those which rallied round Gay, and mourned his loss, with¬
out the possession of many valuable and endearing qualities.
His poetry is neither high nor pure; but he had humour, a
fine vein of fancy, and powers of observation and local
painting which bespeak the close poetical student and the
happy literary artist. (k. C—s.)
GAYAH, or Boodh Gayah, a town of Hindustan, in
the British district of Behar, under the jurisdiction of the
lieutenant-governor of Bengal. It was one of the most cele¬
brated places of Hindu pilgrimage, having been the birth¬
place of Boodh or Buddha, one of the supposed incarnations
of the Deity. Many extraordinary ceremonies are per¬
formed here by those who frequent the sacred spot. Among
these many of the female pilgrims, especially widows, are
in the practice of shaving their hair, and devoting them¬
selves from that time to a life of sanctity. The whole
business is under the superintendence of Brahmins, who
permit any person to enter the temple and approach the idol,
which is that of a man sitting cross-legged, and so very
rudely carved as to indicate a very remote antiquity. The
town consists of two divisions, one of which is appropriated
to the priests and their attendants. The number of pil¬
grims resorting annually to Gayah has been estimated at
100,000, though in some years this amount has been doubled.
According to a recent return, the number of houses amounts
to 9165, and the population to 43,451. Distant N.W. of
Calcutta 265 miles. E. Long. 85. 5., N. Lat. 24.49.
GAYATRI, the holiest verse of the Vedas, not to be
uttered to ears profane, but to be recited only mentally. It
is a short prayer to the sun, identified with the supreme
being, and occurs in the 10th hymn of the 4th section of
the 3d ashtaka of the Sanhita of the Rigveda—Tat savi-
G A Y
tur varenyam bhargo devasya dhtmahi dhiyo yo nah pra- Gay-
chodaydt, i.e. “ We meditate on that excellent light of the Lussac.
divine sun; may he illuminate our minds.”—Rigveda, iii.
4, 10. Such is the fear of profaning this text, that copyists
of the Vedas often refrain from transcribing it both in the
Sanhita and the Bhashya.—Wilson, Vishnu Parana, p.
122, note 13. This hymn, ascribed to Vishwamitra, is pro¬
perly the only Gayatrf; though, according to a system of
the Tantrikas, a number of mystical verses bear the same
name. It is usually personified as a goddess, wife of
Brahma, and metaphorical mother of the first three castes.—
Rosen’s Rigvedce Specimen, p, 13, London, 1830. [It ap¬
pears to be the feminine of some obsolete word, gdyatra,
derivable from gai, “ to sing.”]
GAY-LUSSAC, Nicolas Francois, is justly reckoned
among the most distinguished of the chemists and natural
philosophers of the age. He was born at St Leonard
(Haute-Vienne), December 6, 1778, and was educated at
L’jficole Polytechnique, where he attracted the attention of
Berthollet; and from thence he passed to L’lilcole des
Fonts et Chaussees.
The expansion of gases had long been a subject of inves¬
tigation among the savans of his day ; and though the young
Gay-Lussac was as yet but on the threshold of the temple
of science, he set his heart upon resolving the important
problem. The result of his experiments was, that the dif¬
ference of the proportions hitherto obtained was owing to
the presence of water in the gases, and that when perfectly
free from moisture they all dilate uniformly with every de¬
gree of increased heat. By further experiments on mercury
he ascertained that it dilates equably from the temperature
of ice (32° Fahr.) to that of boiling water (212° Fahr.), and
that at the same time it increases one-third in volume.
Intimately connected with the expansion of gases was
that of balloons, to which Gay-Lussac’s attention was par¬
ticularly directed by some observations of the natural phi¬
losopher Charles, who remarked what important experi¬
ments in magnetism, electricity, and atmospheric phenomena
might be made in the higher regions of the atmosphere by
means of balloons. See Aeronautics, vol. ii., p. 181.
The services which Gay-Lussac had thus rendered to
science were rewarded by the general esteem of the emi¬
nent men of the day, and especially by the friendship of
Alexander von Humboldt, in company with whom he made
a tour through France, Switzerland, Italy, and Germany, in
the years 1805 and 1806, taking magnetic observations at
various stations between the latitudes of Naples and Berlin,
with a view to determine the position of the magnetic equa¬
tor, and its intersection with the terrestrial equator. One
result, among other important discoveries, was that the great
chains of mountains, and even volcanoes, have no perceptible
influence on the magnetic force, and that it diminishes in
proportion to the distance from the terrestrial equator.
Another important class of Gay-Lussac’s experiments
was in connection with the voltaic or galvanic pile. He
missed, indeed, the reward promised by Napoleon for the
most important discoveries obtained by means of this appa¬
ratus, the French Institute having decreed it to Sir Hum¬
phry Davy, who by its use discovered potassium and so¬
dium, demonstrating that the two substances called potass
and soda are not simple bodies, but combinations of oxygen,
with a metallic base. These researches, however, the
French philosopher had the merit of following up. Ihe In¬
stitute having provided the means of constructing a battery
for operations on a great scale, appointed Gay-Lussac and
Thenard to preside over the experiments for which the bat¬
tery was designed. In 1811 these able chemists published,
in two 8vo volumes, and under the title of Recherches
physico-chimiques, the experiments of several years. I he
results appear chiefly to have been the obtaining of potas¬
sium and sodium in greater proportions than those men-
GAY
Gaza, tioned by Sir H. Davy; the decomposition of alkalies by
fire at a high temperature; the separation of boron from
boracic acid ; the analysis of organic products by their com¬
bustion by means of chlorate of potass; and, finally, they
demonstrated that sugar, starch, and wood contain nearly
the same proportions of hydrogen and oxygen as water.
Gay-Lussac published his curious researches on the theory
of vapours and capillary attraction; on the expansion of
gases ; on the nature of chloric and hydrosulphuric acids :
his observations on the number and nature of metallic
oxides ; and his experiments on cyanogen and iodine in the
Annales de Chimie et de Physique, which he edited in con¬
cert with Arago ; Le Bulletin de la Societe Philomathique ;
and Les Memoires de la Societe d’Arcueil, which was partly
edited by Humboldt.
Few men have led such a life of scientific industry as
Gay-Lussac. There is scarcely a branch of chemical or
physical science to which he did not contribute some im¬
portant discovery. Among these, his discovery of the gene¬
ral laws in the composition of bodies, particularly in the
animal and vegetable kingdoms, may be considered the
most distinguished. He was an able and ingenious mani¬
pulator, and it would be impossible to recapitulate in a brief
memoir a tithe of his philosophical labours, and their im¬
portant bearings on the progress of natural science. In
1808 he became a member of the Academic des Sciences ;
in 1816, professor of chemistry at the Jardin du Roi and
L’l^cole Polytechnique ; and there were few learned socie¬
ties in France or elsewhere of which he was not a member.
In 1831, being elected deputy for his native department,
La Haute-Vienne, Gay-Lussac was called to a new sphere
of duty. It would seem that he had never studied the
higher questions of legislation and government, or attached
himself to any political creed; but he took part in discus¬
sions relative to industrial matters, to commerce, to public
instruction, and to various educational establishments. After
the dissolution of the government in 1837, he was re-elected
to the same office, but missed his election in 1839. Imme¬
diately after this disappointment he was elevated to the dig¬
nity of a peer of France, by an ordonnance of the king,
dated March 1839.
After a long life thus devoted to the interests of science,
Gay-Lussac died at his residence in the Jardin des Plantes
of Paris, May 9, 1850, in the 72d year of his age. (a. p. p.)
GAZA, an ancient city of Palestine, mentioned in Gen.
x. 19 as one of the border cities of the Canaanites. In the
division of the land Gaza fell to the lot of Judah, and was
taken by him, with the coast thereof; but its inhabitants
were not exterminated, and it always appears in Scripture
history as a Philistine city. Gaza occurs several times in
the history of Samson, being the city of which he carried
away the doors of the gate, and that in which he pulled
down the temple of Dagon. It was one of the five Philis¬
tine cities which gave each a golden emerod as a trespass
offering to the Lord, on account of the ark. Solomon’s
kingdom extended as far as Gaza; and Hezekiah smote the
Philistines as far as Gaza. It was besieged by Alexan¬
der the Great after the destruction of Tyre, and taken after
an obstinate defence of several months. Jonathan Macca-
baeus destroyed its suburbs, and Simon Maccabaeus took the
city itself, though not without extraordinary efforts. Alex¬
ander Jannaeus besieged it in vain for twelve months, when
it was betrayed into his hands. It was among the cities
given by Augustus to Herod, after whose death it was
united to the province of Syria. It was near Gaza, on the
road from Jerusalem to that place, that Philip baptized the
ennuch “ of great authority under Candace queen of the
Ethiopians.” It lies on the road leading from Akabah to
Hebron, which passes along nearly the whole length of the
great Wady-el-Arabah ; in N. Lat. 31. 29., E. Long. 34.
29. The port of Gaza, called Majuma Gazce, was situated
G A Z 443
about 20 stadia from the city- The emperor Constantine Gazelle
conferred important privileges upon it, and gave it the II
name of Constantia. Julian took away its name and privi- azc ce‘
leges, which, however, were restored by subsequent empe-
rors. The modern town, called by the Arabs Ghuzzeh, is
situated partly on a hill about 60 feet above the plain, and
partly on the plain below. Including the suburbs, the mo¬
dern town contains about 10,000 inhabitants.
GAZELLE. See index to Mammalia.
GAZETTE, a newspaper containing an account of such
transactions and events, whether of a public or private na¬
ture, as are deemed important and interesting. The word
is said to be derived from gazzeta, the name of a Venetian
coin, which was the price of the first newspaper printed at
Venice, and came to be applied to the newspaper itself.
The London Gazette was, first printed at Oxford in 1665
by the university printer, and the first twenty-three numbers
were called The Oxford Gazette. These numbers were re¬
printed in London, and the publication was then continued
in the metropolis. The London Gazette was originally pub¬
lished twice a-week, and comprized two pages of small folio,
containing scraps of foreign intelligence, shipping news, ap¬
pointments of sheriffs, circuits of the judges, orders in coun¬
cil, notices of non-payment of duties, and such like. At
the end of two years a few advertisements crept in of goods
lost, run-away servants, offenders, and then of lotteries of
books, books for sale, and books published, and later the
puffs of quack medicines. For the first twenty years the
publication continued with little change in matter or form;
but in the beginning of the eighteenth century we find extra
numbers, the origin of the “ Gazette extraordinary,” pub¬
lished on the arrival of mails from Holland, and the gazettes
extended in size to contain in extenso the despatches from
our military and naval officers.
The original use of the gazette is continued to this day.
It is the means by which the government formally promul¬
gates all state intelligence, all matters of public interest
affecting the royal family, orders in council, proclamations,
addresses to the throne, offers of pardon, and military de¬
spatches. In it the ecclesiastical, civil, and military appoint¬
ments are also published, or as it is called “ gazettedbut
this does not appear to be governed by any uniform rule,
for the appointment of a judge of the superior courts is not
gazetted, while the mere nomination of a country solicitor
to administer an oath, or to do some other formal act, does
not fail to be fully recorded.
The gazette, which so long filled only two pages, now
usually extends to thirty or forty. This great addition of
space chiefly arises from the number of notices connected
with trade and commerce, and required by enactments passed
from time to time rendering insertion in the London Gazette
a legal formality. All fiats, meetings of creditors, dividends,
and certificates are inserted under the bankruptcy law, and
under the insolvency law all declarations of insolvency, and
applications for protection to the insolvency court; dissolutions
of partnership, returns of the prices of corn, sugar, &c. are
also gazetted. Further insertion is required of notices and
decrees of the courts of chancery and exchequer, legal notices
of sales under orders of the law courts, notices to the heirs of
deceased persons, of the meetings of public companies, &c.
The office of gazette writer was formerly an appointment
of some importance, but it has recently been placed upon
an altered footing, and an officer who is jointly “ editor,
manager, and publisher,” is now solely responsible for the
conduct of the publication. He is appointed by the home
and foreign secretaries alternately.
In 1831 the receipts for advertising notices and sale of
gazettes was L. 15,083, and the cost of publishing L.7807,
the balance or profit being divided between the home office
and the foreign office, and applied towards the expenses of
those departments. In 1848 the receipts were L.17,182,
444 G E D
Gaztelu- and the expenses L.6195, the balance being divided as al-
gache ready described But from this year a new arrangement
| commenced, and the receipts were paid into the exchequer
e es’ to the public account, and the expenses defrayed by an
annual parliamentary grant. The advertisements are paid
for on a fixed scale; and the charge to the public for the
gazette is—not exceeding four pages 4d., for every additional
eight pages 8d., for thirty-two or more pages 2s. 8d. The
gazette is subjected to the same postal regulations as an
ordinary newspaper.
A gazette, called the Edinburgh Gazette, is published in
Edinburgh upon precisely the same principles as the Lon¬
don Gazette. In 1853 it was proposed to combine these
two publications, to prevent the necessity of inserting cer¬
tain notices and advertisements in both, and a bill was in¬
troduced in the House of Commons to effect this, but was
not proceeded with. Up to 1848 the profits of the Edin¬
burgh Gazette were in the hands of private persons. Since
then, by an arrangement with these interests, the proceeds
have been paid into the exchequer, by which the charge is
now borne. In 1849 the receipts of the publication were
L.3190, and the expenses L.1325.
At Dublin a similar publication—the Dublin Gazette—
exists. It does not appear that the receipts of this publi¬
cation have been sufficient to cover the expenses. In 1849
they were L.1256, and the outlay L.1519.
Government publish also twice a-week a Police Gazette,
under the superintendence of the chief police magistrate
(Bow Street Court). This publication contains informa¬
tion upon aggravated offences, stolen property, escaped
thieves and suspected persons, and lists of deserters from
the army, navy, and militia. It is circulated gratuitously
to the police, and passed free of postage. It may be pur¬
chased at Id. per number. (s. it.)
GAZTELUGACHE, an island of Spain, on the coast
of Biscaya, to which it is united by two verv elevated bridges
to the S.W. of Cape Machichaco, in 43. 29. N. Eat. It is
a rugged hill, or rather an extraordinary huge rock, appear¬
ing as if in the act of falling into the sea. On its summit
stands the church of the Decapitation of St John the Bap¬
tist, one of the two parish churches of the village of San
Pelayo de Baquio, in the jurisdiction of Bermeo. In ear¬
lier times it was a monastery of the Templars. It is reached
by a flight of 370 steps, and has long been a celebrated
sanctuary for the Biscayans, as well as for sailors in distress.
GED, William, the inventor of the art of stereotyping,
was born at Edinburgh about the beginning of the eighteenth
century. In 1725 he first put in practice the art which he
had discovered; and some years later he entered into a part¬
nership with a London capitalist, with a view to employing
it on a great scale. The partnership, however, turned out
very ill; and Ged, broken-hearted at his want of success,
died at London in 1749. The only books which he pro¬
duced on the plan of stereotyping were two prayer-books
for the university of Cambridge, and an edition of Sallust.
GEDDES, Alexander, an eminent Catholic divine, was
born in 1737 at lluthven, in Banffshire, in the north of
Scotland. His parents were of humble rank, and unable
out of their own resources to educate their son. The kind¬
ness of a rich neighbour supplied the means; and young
Geddes, after a seven years’ course at the Roman Catholic
seminary of Scalan, was sent to the Scottish College at
Paris, where he made great progress in theology, and mas¬
tered the most important of the modern tongues. On his
return to Scotland he became private chaplain to Lord Tra-
quair, a Catholic nobleman in Peeblesshire, and in 1769
priest to the congregation of Auchinhalrig in his native
county. He here gained a very strong hold over the affec¬
tions of his people, by the completeness of his self-devotion
to their welfare. Now it was that the idea of a new trans¬
lation of the Bible adapted for the Catholics of England oc-
GED
curred to him; but during his whole stay at Auchinhalrig, Geddes.
his straitened means prevented him from procuring the
needful books. In 1779 he went to settle in London, with
a view to carrying out this design, taking with him the good
opinion of his people, and the degree of LL.D. from the
university of Aberdeen, which, since the Reformation, had
never bestowed a similar honour on any Catholic. He had
there the good fortune to make the acquaintance of Lord
Petre, who supplied him with the necessary books, and a
handsome allowance till his task should be completed. With
this assistance he began his work; and in 1780 published a
prospectus of it, which bore that the Vulgate was to be the
basis of the new version. Finding, however, that the Vul¬
gate was in many places inaccurate, he changed his plan,
and resolved to translate directly from the Hebrew and
Greek originals. Everything that hard toil could do to
make this great undertaking as complete as possible was
done; and in 1786 Geddes published a conspectus of his
new plan, with a specimen of the work, and afterwards a
“General Answer to the Queries, Counsels, and Criticisms”
which these called forth. Despite his indefatigable exer¬
tions, he was not able to publish the results of his labours
till the year 1792, when he gave to the world the first vo¬
lume of his version under the title of “ The Holy Bible, or
the Books accounted sacred by the Jews and Christians,
otherwise called the Books of the Old and New Covenants,
faithfully translated from corrected texts of the originals,
with various readings, explanatory notes, and critical re¬
marks.” Next year appeared the second volume, which
brought down the work to the end of the historical books;
and in 1800 the third, which contained his critique on the
Pentateuch. This was the last volume that he was destined
to publish. In 1802, while engaged on a translation of the
Psalms, he was cut off rather suddenly in the sixty-fifth year
of his age. His version of the Psalms, which he completed
as far as the 118th, was published in 1807.
Geddes’s theological opinions were on many points so dif¬
ferent from those then current in England, that for some
time he stood quite alone, an object of equal alarm and hos¬
tility to his own church and all the Protestant denomina¬
tions. The former, indeed, set the example of the perse¬
cution, to which he was for a considerable period subjected.
His independence of thought and action was the cause of
his leaving Auchinhalrig; and after he published his version
of the Bible, a majority of the Catholic bishops in England
forbade its use in their sees, while the apostolic vicar of the
London district interdicted him from officiating as priest.
This is hardly to be wondered at, as Geddes denied not only
many of the tenets of the Romish Church, but even the au¬
thority of the pope. He denied the inspiration of the Scrip¬
tures, the divine legation of Moses (whose miracles he either
rejected altogether, or tried to explain away according to
natural laws), and pronounced the Mosaic account of the
creation “ A most beautiful mythos or philosophical fiction,
contrived with great wisdom, and dressed up in the garb
of real history.” This view will be seen at a glance to iden¬
tify Geddes with the school of German Rationalists, the
leaders of which, Paulus and Eichhorn, were his personal
friends. It is no wonder that accusations of infidelity, and
an ill-masked desire to destroy the authority of Scripture,
were heaped upon him from all quarters. To dissipate these
charges, he published an “ Address,” in which he proclaimed
himself “ a sincere though unworthy disciple of Christ,” and
denounced those as the real enemies of religion “ who seek
to support her on rotten props, which moulder away at the
first touch of reason and leave the fabric in the dust.”
Despite these assurances, however, Geddes continued to be
looked upon as a dangerous champion of infidelity: and his
works, if they did nothing more, at least directed tne thoughts
of men to establishing the principles of Christianity on a
surer basis than before. The credit refused to his honesty
GEL
Geelong and ability at home was readily conceded by his German
II friends, Paulus and Eichhorn, the latter of whom declared
^el°- Geddes to be the only English theological writer of that
day by whose opinion he would consent to be judged. The
foregoing facts have been taken from the “ Life of Geddes,”
by Dr Mason Good, London, 1803. The biographer gives
a very detailed list, with specimens of Geddes’s compositions
in all the languages with which he was acquainted, and a
full analysis of his translation of the Bible. This work he
criticises as “ for the most part plain and perspicuous, con¬
veying the sense of the original in its native simplicity.
But his language is occasionally unequal, and strongly par¬
takes of the alternations of his own physical constitution;
in consequence of which, in the midst of a passage most
exquisitely rendered in the main, we are at times surprised
with scholastic and extraneous expressions, or disgusted
with intolerable vulgarisms.” The “ Life of Geddes” also
contains some interesting specimens of the Latin corre¬
spondence carried on for many years between the Scottish
philosopher and his most eminent friends and fellow-la¬
bourers in the same field in Germany.
GEELONG, a town of South Australia, Victoria colony,
Grant county, at the head of Geelong harbour, the western
arm of the bay of Port Philip, 40 miles S.W. of Melbourne.
Since the discovery in 1851 of the gold fields at Ballarat,
40 miles N.N.W. of Geelong, this town has rapidly risen
into importance. It is situated in a very pleasant and fer¬
tile district, adorned with numerous cottages and gardens,
and the climate is mild and salubrious. The town is built
on the harbour of Corio, by means of which a great trade is
carried on. Large vessels discharge their cargoes into
lighters six miles below the town. Pop. (1853) about 20,000.
GEFLE, a seaport-town of Sweden, capital of the lan
or province of Gefleborg, situated at the mouth of the Gefle
river in the gulf of Bothnia, 92 miles N.N.W. of Stock¬
holm. The river is here separated into three branches,
forming two islands, on which, as well as on either bank,
the town is built. It is the seat of a governor-general, and
has a castle, a town-hall, one of the finest in the country, a
gymnasium, hospital, orphan asylum, &c. The chief manu¬
factures are tobacco, linen, sailcloth, leather, and sugar. It
has a good harbour, defended by a long jetty, and carries
on an extensive export trade in iron, timber, pitch, tar, &c.
Pop. 9000. The province of Gefleborg has an area of 7531
square miles, and a population (1850) of 120,158.
GEHENNA, a term used in the New Testament to sig¬
nify hell, and which is derived from the Hebrew Ge-hin-
nom, i.e. the valley of Hinnom. In this valley, which lies
on the north side of Jerusalem, below Mount Zion, there
was a place named Tophet, where, under idolatrous kings,
children were immolated in honour of the god Moloch.
When king Josiah overthrew that idolatry, he made this
valley the receptacle for all the filth and carcasses in the
city, and a fire was kept constantly burning to consume the
combustible portions of the refuse deposited there; on which
account the Jews, as they had no proper word in their lan¬
guage to signify “ hell,” made use of gehinnom as an equi¬
valent term.
GELA, a city on a river of the same name on the south
coast of Sicily, founded by the Rhodians from Lindus in
conjunction with a colony of Cretans, about the year 690
b.c., very near the site of the modern Terranuova on the
Fiume di Terranuova, betweeen Agrigentum and Camarina.
Gela soon rose to great wealth and power, and sent out a
colony in 582 b.c. to found Agrigentum, which soon rose to
greater eminence than the mother city. The most impor¬
tant of its rulers were Cleander, who subverted the oligar¬
chical form of government, and raised himself to despotic
power (505-498 b.c.) ; Hippocrates, his brother, who re¬
ceived the sovereign authority from him, and raised Gela to
its highest pitch of eminence (498-491 B.c.i Gek->-. who
GEL 445
immediately succeeded Hippocrates, and rapidly pursued Gelasius
the same career of aggrandisement, till in 485 b.c. he sue- || _
ceeded in making himself master of Syracuse itself, to which Gelatine,
he transferred the seat of government, and thus caused the
commencement of the decline of his native Gela; and
Hiero, brother of Gelon, whom he succeeded in the sove¬
reignty (478 b.c.) After this time the place gradually fell
into decay, and in the time of Augustus was uninhabited.
Gela was the birthplace of Apollodorus, a comic poet of
note; and was the place of TEschylus’s death, 456 b.c.
GELASIUS, the name of two Roman pontiffs, the first
of whom came to the papal throne in 492. He took part
in the conflict then going on between the Greek and Latin
Churches, but with no particular result. He also wrote some
theological works, which have been partly preserved in the
Bibliotheca Maxima Patrium of Lyons.
The second Gelasius became pope in 1118. After suf¬
fering many hardships and indignities from the partizans of
the emperors of Germany, then at war with the popes, he
fled from Rome, and finally retired to Rheims in France,
where he maintained a sort of semblance of his ancient au¬
thority. He died in 1119.
GELATINE, or Jelly, an animal product which is ex¬
tracted by long-continued boiling in water from all the hard
and solid parts, such as the skin, cartilages, bones, liga¬
ments, tendons, membranes, and muscles. By the slow
evaporation of the water which thus holds it in solution, the
gelatine maybe obtained in a state of purity, when it appears
as a hard, brittle, semi-transparent substance, which breaks
with a glassy fracture. One of the most striking charac¬
teristics of gelatine is the property of forming a tremulous
jelly when its solution in boiling water cools, with that of
liquefying again on the application of heat. These alternate
solutions and desiccations may be repeated for any number
of times without changing its chemical constitution. Isin¬
glass, glue, and size are various forms of gelatine, the first
being this substance in a state of comparative purity. Solid
gelatine undergoes no change if it be kept perfectly dry;
but in the form of solution or of jelly it putrefies rapidly.
Tannin added to a solution of gelatine occasions a copious
white precipitate. This is a compound of tannin and gela¬
tine, which collects into an elastic adhesive mass, that soon
dries in the air, and forms a brittle resinous-like substance,
which is perfectly insoluble in w'ater, and not susceptible ot
putrefaction. It is this action of tannin upon gelatine that
is the foundation of the art of tanning leather. The ulti¬
mate components of gelatine are 47‘8 carbon, 7'9 hydrogen,
16‘9 nitrogen, 27"4 oxygen.
Gelatine is insoluble in alcohol, but when already in so¬
lution in water it is not precipitated by that fluid. Acids
dissolve it with great facility, even when much diluted,
especially when aided by heat. The nitric acid effects its
decomposition, during which nitrogen, and then nitrous gas,
are disengaged in considerable quantities; and oxalic and
malic acids are evolved, and may be obtained from the re¬
siduum. Sulphuric acid, with the assistance of heat, partly
converts it into a substance resembling sugar. Chlorine
combines with gelatine, forming a white substance, which
assumes the form of filaments. The pure liquid alkalies dis¬
solve gelatine very readily. The solution is a brown viscid
substance, which possesses none of the properties of soap,
and is not precipitated by acids. This property of remain¬
ing dissolved after acids are added to the alkaline solution,
distinguishes gelatine from albumen, fibrin, and other ani¬
mal products, and is therefore a valuable mode of discrimi¬
nating its presence, and of separating it from them in ana¬
lysis. It is precipitated by several of the metallic salts and
oxides, but not so unequivocally as to afford satisfactory
tests of its presence.
Gelatine is a nutritious article of food, and is very largely
used as such; but as it cannot yield albumen, fibrin, or
446 GEL
Gelderland caseine, animals fed solely on gelatine rapidly lose flesh. It
II, is much employed in confectionary, for jellies, jujubes, &c.;
Gelhus. an(j jn form 0f thjn sheets richly coloured with beet-juice,
" spinach-juice, or other substances, it is applied, as an elegant
substitute for paper, to a variety of ornamental purposes.
GELDERLAND. See Guelderland.
GELL, Sir William, a distinguished classical scholar
and antiquarian, was born in 1777. After the usual pre¬
liminary education, he was entered of Emmanuel College,
Cambridge, of which he afterwards became a fellow. About
the beginning of the present century he was sent on a di¬
plomatic mission to Greece; on his return from which, in
1803, he was knighted. In the following year he published
his Topography of Troy and its Vicinity, illustrated and
explained by drawings and descriptions. He had only
spent three days in the actual survey of this classic spot; but
the critics were at first loud in praise of the ability, re¬
search, and correctness of his work. A more careful scru¬
tiny, however, caused them to modify their verdicts con¬
siderably. Lord Byron who had at first praised the book,
afterwards felt more inclined to condemn it. In his English
Bards that poet had said—
Of Dardan tours let dilettanti tell;
I leave topography to rapid Gell.
The term rapid was a substitute for classic, which had been
the original epithet. Some of his other works were per¬
haps chargeable with the same fault, such as his Geography
and Antiquities of Ithaca. An exception, however, must
be made in favour of his interesting Pompeiana, or Obser¬
vations on the Topography, Edifices, and Ornaments of
Pompeii ; in which he was assisted by Mr J. P. Gandy.
Cell’s noble and disinterested behaviour during the trial
of Queen Caroline, and his manly courage in facing and
braving the frowns of the great who took part with the
regent at that time, exhibit his moral character in a very
favourable light. The queen showed her sense of his co¬
operation in her defence by appointing him one of her cham¬
berlains in 1820. He suffered severely from gout during
the latter years of his life ; and died at Naples in 1836.
GELLERT, Christian Furchtegott, a distinguished
German author, was born in 1715, at Haynichen, near
Freiberg in Saxony. He was educated at the university of
Leipsic, where, in his thirtieth year, he was appointed to
the chair of belles-lettres,—a position which he occupied till
his death in 1769. His principal works are his Fabeln and
Erzdhlung, and Sacred Odes and Songs, both of which
were immensely popular in Germany during their author’s
lifetime; while the former, till a recent period, held its place
as a text-book in nearly all the primary schools of Germany.
Not a little of Gellert’s fame is due to the time when he
lived and wrote. Such a German literature as there was at
the time of his appearance, was groaning under the yoke of
the pedant Gottsched and his school. A band of high-
spirited youths, of whom Gellert was one, resolved to free
themselves from these hereditary and conventional tram¬
mels, and began that revolution which was finally consum¬
mated by Schiller and Goethe. Gellert’s share in the at¬
tempt was enhanced by the excellence of his personal cha¬
racter, his gentle piety, and his singular knack of gaining
the reverence and love of young people. Part of his influ¬
ence was also doubtless attributable to his position as a pro¬
fessor, and to his eloquent lectures on the poetry of Ger¬
many. His collective works form part of the Karlsruher
Deutscher Classiker, 1823-26. There are some interest¬
ing notices of Gellert in Goethe’s Dichtung and Wahrheit.
His life has been twice written; first by J. A. Cramer,
Leipzig 1774; and more recently by Doring, Leipzig, 1833.
GELLIUS, Aulus (sometimes, though incorrectly,
called Agellius), author of the Nodes Atticce, was born in
the course of the second century of the Christian era, and
died about a.d. 180. Little or nothing is known of his per-
G E M
sonal history beyond incidental notices in his own book.
From these he seems to have been born of a good family
at Rome ; to have travelled much, especially in Greece ; to
have enjoyed the tuition and personal friendship of the
most eminent philosophers of that day; and, being pos¬
sessed of independent means, to have spent his life in a sort
of literary dilettanteism. His only work, the Nodes Atticce,
takes its name from the fact of its having been composed
during the long nights of a winter which the author spent
in Attica. In the preface he states that he had no other
object in view in writing it than to while away the time in
amusing his children. He had been in the habit of keeping
an “ Adversaria,” or commonplace-book, in which he jotted
down everything of unusual interest that he heard in con¬
versation or read in books. The contents of this scrap-book
he redacted with some slight changes of form into the work
through which his name has been preserved. This fact
sufficiently accounts for the very miscellaneous nature of
the topics embraced in the book, which comprise essays on
grammar, geometry, and philosophy, besides scraps of his¬
tory and poetry, anecdotes, and a good deal of discussional
matter. The work, which is utterly devoid of sequence or
arrangement, is divided into twenty books. All these have
come down to us except the eighth, of which nothing re¬
mains but the index. The work is on the whole a very
useful one, as it throws light on many subjects which must
otherwise have remained for ever a mystery. The style,
though for the most part sufficiently clear, is disfigured by
that affectation of archaism which was carried to such ridicu¬
lous extremes by Apuleius. The editio principo of Aulus
Gellius appeared at Rome in 1469, and was speedily followed
by many others in various cities of Italy, especially Venice.
The best edition that has yet appeared is that of James
Gronovius, Leyden, 1706; which is unquestionably supe¬
rior to the recent edition of Lion, Gottingen, 1824-25.
Aulus Gellius has been translated into English by Beloe,
Lond., 1795 ; into French by the Abbe de Verteuil, Paris,
1776-89; and by Victor Verger, Paris, 1820-30; and
partly into German by Walterstern, Lemg., 1785.
GELNHAUSEN, a town of Hesse-Cassel, province of
Hanau, on the right bank of the Kinzig, 12 miles E.N.E.
of the town of Hanau. It was formerly an imperial
city, and was for some time the residence of the emperor
Frederick Barbarossa. The ruins of his palace still exist
on an island in the river. Being on the highroad from
Frankfort to Fulda and Eisenach, it is a place of consider¬
able trade. Pop. 4000.
GELON, tyrant of Gela and afterwards of Syracuse,
raised himself to the supreme power in his native city of
Gela by his military talents. The quarrels between the
aristocracy and the plebs of Syracuse gave him an oppor¬
tunity of interfering in the affairs of that city, and he so
managed among the disputants that he ended by be¬
coming its “ tyrannus.” He used his power so discreetly
that Syracuse attained a degree of wealth, influence, and
prosperity which reconciled the people to their bondage.
The great event in Gelon’s subsequent history was his de¬
feat of the Carthaginians under Hamilcar at Panormus, on
the same day that the Greeks defeated Xerxes at Salamis,
b.c. 480. After Gelon had thus established his power, he
made a show of resigning it; but his proposal was rejected
by the multitude, and he reigned without opposition till his
death, 478 b.c. His memory was held in such respect
that, 150 years after his death, when Timoleon was erasing
from Sicily every vestige of the tyrants that had once
reigned there, he spared the statues of Gelon. (See Syra¬
cuse, and Carthage.)
GEM, a common appellation for all precious stones, and
particularly for those which are employed in jewellery.
Brilliancy of lustre, richness of hue, and the most perfect
transparency, are the desiderata of this class of minerals;
Gelnhau-
sen
II
Gem.
GEM
Gemara and the value of those specimens in which such characters
II. . are combined is enhanced according to their size, in an ex-
Gemini. treme]y rapid ratio. At the head of the gems stands the
diamond, which, for brilliancy of lustre, or water, as it is
termed, has not a rival. It is chiefly found in certain parts
of Hindustan and Brazil, where it occurs in alluvial soil, or
in conglomerate of the most recent formation. (See Dia¬
mond.) The oriental ruby, when perfect in transparency
and colour, and of considerable size, vies with the diamond
in value. Its most noted locality is the Capellan Moun¬
tains, near Syrian, in the kingdom of Ava. Next in order
is the sapphire, which varies from a rich dark blue to a
very slight tinge of the same colour, sometimes presents
distinct colours in the same specimen, and is frequently
transparent and colourless. It is met with in considerably
larger masses than the preceding, and is found in Ava and
Ceylon. The peculiar rich green colour of the emerald is
well known. No gem is more frequently made mention
of in sacred history, and none even at the present day
stands in higher estimation among the crowned heads of
the East. The aquamarine of lapidaries is, mineralogically
speaking, a pale-blue variety of the same species, though
one of very inferior value- Topazes occur under an infinity
of forms, and are found in most quarters of the globe. From
the changes which they undergo when exposed to heat, be¬
sides the fine colours they present naturally, topazes are
peculiarly adapted to the purposes of the lapidary. The
richest-coloured garnets are the production of Ceylon and
Greenland. Chrysolites of a brilliant pale-green colour are
brought to Great Britain from Constantinople; hyacinths
of a deep red from Ceylon ; and tourmalines of a great va¬
riety of hues from all parts of the world. The opal, and
many varieties of quartz, as the amethyst, onyx, sarde, cats-
eye, and agate, are also occasionally included under the
general denomination of gem.
Generally speaking, the different species of precious
stones occur in small masses. All of them are found in a
crystalline state, and present the peculiar forms which na¬
ture has assigned them. Many of these forms are singu¬
larly beautiful; and their variety, particularly in the dia¬
mond and topaz species, is as great as any other class of
the mineral kingdom affords. It is not, however, under
these symmetrical forms that gems are most commonly
found. Most of them are the productions of India, Ceylon,
Pegu, and Brazil, where, having been washed from their ma¬
trix in some of the primitive ranges, they are collected, in
a rolled and rubbed state, in the channels of the rivers.
Every trace of their original form is thus frequently lost;
and, indeed, fine stones rarely come through the hands of
Indian lapidaries without receiving further abrasion or cut¬
ting. This circumstance of their so rarely presenting dis¬
tinct forms renders the peculiar hardness of this class of
stones a most important characteristic, and one, whatever
be their external shape or appearance, which can never be
mistaken. By this means, too, the real stone is easily distin¬
guished from the factitious, which is occasionally made to bear
so close a similitude that an unpractised eye finds it almost
impossible to detect the difference. See Mineralogy.
GEMARA, the second part of the Talmud. It is a
‘ commentary’ on the mishna or text. See Talmud.
GEMINI (the Twins), the third constellation in the
zodiac. It is referred by the Greeks not only to the fable
of Castor and Pollux, but also to those of Hercules and
Apollo, Triptolemus and lasion, Amphion and Zethus,
&c. The constellation derives its name from two re¬
markable stars to which the names Castor (or a2 Gemi-
norum) and Pollux (or /3 Geminorum) are given. These
two stars may be easily found by drawing a straight line
through the belt of Orion and the two bright stars the line
of which cuts through the belt. This line protracted up¬
wards very nearly passes through the two stars of Gemini.
GEN 447
They may also be recognised by being about midway be- Geminiani
tween Aldebaran and Regulus; and should Orion and Ursa II
Major be seen at the same time, then Castor and Pollux on Gen&lgua-
the one side, and Capella on the other, are conspicuous v }
boundaries of the intermediate space. On Jan. 1, 1856, “
the right ascension of Castor was 7h 25“ 24*,357, with an
annual variation of + 3S,8433; and his declination was
32° 11' 58",73 N., with an annual variation of — 7"'38.
On the same day the right ascension of Pollux was 7h 36m
29s’9()7, with an annual variation of + 3S,6822; and his
declination was 28° 22' 11"’59 N., with an annual variation
of—8"'258. Their respective magnitudes were 2T and P2,
GEMINIANI, Francesco, a celebrated violinist, born
at Lucca about 1666. He received lessons in music from
Alessandro Scarlatti, and studied the violin under Lunati,
and lastly under Corelli. In 1714 he arrived in London,
where his performance and compositions attracted much
attention. He was taken under the special protection of
the Earl of Essex. After visiting Paris, and residing there
for some time, he returned to England in 1755. In 1761
he went to Dublin, where he was by a servant robbed of a
musical manuscript on which he had bestowed much time
and labour. His vexation at this loss is said to have has¬
tened his death, which took place at Dublin on 17th Sep¬
tember 1762. He appears to have been a first-rate violinist,
but most of his compositions are dry, and deficient in me¬
lody. His Art of Playing the Violin is a good work of its
kind, but his Guida Armonica is a miserable production.
He published a number of solos for the violin ; three sets of
violin concertos ; twelve violin trios; The Art of Accom¬
paniment on the Harpsichord, Organ, fyc.; Lessons for the
Harpsichord; and some other works. His musical opi¬
nions had no foundation in truth or principle. “ One day
he would set up French music against all other; the next,
English, Scotch, Irish—anything but the best compositions
of Italy or Handel.” He then became a dishonest dealer
in pictures—“ imposing upon grosser ignorance with false
names, and passing off copies for originals.” (g. f. g.)
GEMISTUS, or Georgius Pletho, one of the later
and most celebrated Byzantine writers, lived during the
end of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth century.
His native place was probably Constantinople, though he
spent most of his time in the Peloponnesus. In 1426 he
held a high office under Manuel Palseologus the emperor ;
and was one of the deputies of the Greek Church that were
present at the Council of Florence held in 1438 for the
purpose of effecting a union between the Latin and the
Greek Churches. Gemistus was still more famous as a
philosopher than as a theologian. Being disgusted with
scholastic philosophy he made Plato the subject of earnest
study; and henceforth the propagation of the Platonic phi¬
losophy became his chief aim. Having been introduced to
Cosmo de’ Medici during his stay at Florence, he persuaded
this distinguished man of the superiority of the system of
Plato over that of Aristotle, and became the leader of a new
school of philosophy in the West. Gemistus wrote an im¬
mense number of scientific works, dissertations, treatises,
compilations on divinity, history, geography, philosophy,
and miscellaneous subjects. Several of them have been
printed.
GEMONI-E ScalvE, or Gemonii Gradus, in ancient
Rome, steps on the Aventine Hill, leading to the Tiber, to
which the bodies of criminals were dragged with hooks after
execution, to be cast into the river
GENALGUACIL, a secular town of Spain, in tne pro¬
vince of Granada, and bishopric of Malaga. It is situated
south of Ronda and of Benestepar, on the right bank of
the Genal, eight miles from Casares, four from Jubrique,
and is surrounded with hills and vineyards. The site is
cheerful and picturesque, but the town is not well built, the
houses being generally small, and the streets ill-paved,
448 GEN
Gendar- uneven, and dirty. The parish church is modern, handsome,
menc ancj COnsists of three naves; besides, there are a town-house,
Geneal a Pr*mary school, and a miserable prison. There are also
i mineral springs; brick and tile works; many distilleries;
several flour and oil mills; and a good trade in wine. The
population is nearly 2000.
GENDARMERIE, or men-at-arms, have existed in
France, with various modifications, since the days of chivalry.
At that time they were furnished by the fiefs, and, armed
cap-a-pie, marched in the train of the knights and esquires.
When the English were driven out of France by Charles
VIE, companies of gendarmes were distributed throughout
the whole extent of the kingdom, and contributed power¬
fully to the re-establishment of internal order and tran¬
quillity. At this time they enjoyed much consideration and
many privileges, of which they were gradually deprived by
the successive changes in the regular army, until in the
time of the Grand Monarque they came to be looked upon as
nothing but an unusually fine cavalry corps. Shortly before
the French revolution, the gendarmerie had ceased to exist
as a separate organization, having been merged in the
marechaussee. I he Constituent Assembly again changed
their name into “ gendarmerie nationale.” The history of
the gendarmerie, which, up to this date, is a very difficult
and complicated one, is fully treated by a French writer M.
1 enaille-Champton. In modern parlance the term is em¬
ployed to denote a military police, whose duties are to watch
over the public safety, maintain order, and enforce the exe¬
cution of the laws. The gendarmes also furnish patrols,
examine the passports of travellers, arrest criminals, and
otherwise ensure the general tranquillity. They consist of
two classes, horse and foot, which are called respectively
gendarmes-^-cheval and gendarmes-a-pied. The men
themselves consist for the most part of deserving soldiers of
the regular army, who for good conduct have been drafted
into this service, where they enjoy certain privileges, and a
much higher rate of pay than the soldiers of the line. They
are held, however, to form part of the army, and in cases of
extreme necessity are liable to be called into active service.
The gendarmerie have always been noted for their faithful
adherence to the government under which they have served;
and in the revolutions and tumults of which Paris has been
the theatre during the last twenty-five years, they have al¬
ways signalized themselves by their heroic devotion to the
cause they had sworn to defend. During that period their
numbers have varied from 12,000 to 25,000.
GENDER. See Grammar, § Of the Noun.
GENEALOGY (yeyeoAoyia: yevos race, and \6yos ac¬
count), an enumeration of a series of ancestors, or a sum¬
mary account of the relations and alliances of a person or
family, both in the direct and collateral lines. A genealogy
or lineage is frequently drawn out under the figure of a tree,
with its root, stem, and branches, and the genealogical de¬
grees are usually represented in circles or parallelograms,
ranged over, under, and beside each other.
No nation was more careful to frame and preserve its
genealogical tables than Israel. Their sacred writings con¬
tain genealogies which extend through a period of more than
3500 years, from the creation of Adam to the captivity of
Judah. Indeed, it appears from the books of Ezra and
Nehemiah that the same carefulness in this matter was ob¬
served after the captivity; see Ezra, ii. 62. The division
of the whole Hebrew nation into tribes, and the allotment
to each tribe of a specified portion of the land of Canaan as
an inalienable possession, rendered it indispensable that
they should keep genealogical tables. But it was not this
alone that made the Jews so anxious to preserve their pedi¬
grees ; for the voice of prophecy had declared that the pro¬
mised Messiah should be of the seed of Abraham, of the pos¬
terity of Isaac, of the sons of Jacob, of the tribe of Judah,
and of the family of David.
GEN
The Rabbins affirm that after the Captivity the Jews were General
most careful in keeping their pedigrees {Bahyl. Gemar. il
Gloss, fol. xiv. 2). Josephus {Be Vita sua, p. 998, D) Genethli-
states that he traced his own descent from the tribe of Levi aci‘
by public registers. And he informs us, that however dis- V>—
persed and depressed his nation were, they never neglected
to have exact genealogical tables prepared from the authen¬
tic documents which were kept at Jerusalem ; and that in
all their sufferings they were careful to preserve those tables,
and to have them renewed from time to time. Since, how¬
ever, the period of their destruction as a nation by the Ro¬
mans, all their tables of descent seem to be lost, and now
they are utterly unable to trace the pedigree of any one Is¬
raelite who might lay claim to be of that line from which
their still expected Messiah is to arise.
GENERAL, in the British army, the highest ordinary
rank—he who commands a brigade, a division, a corps, or
an army. See Army.
General is also used for the chief of an order of monks,
or of all the houses and congregations established under the
same rule.
GENERAL ASSEMBLY. See Presbyterianism.
GENERALISSIMO, a military title, more especially
among the French, equivalent to that of commander-in¬
chief. We are told by Balzac that the title of generalissimo
was first assumed by Cardinal Richelieu, on the occasion of
his leading a French army into Italy.
GENERATING Line, or Figure, in Geometry, a line
or figure which by its motion of revolution produces any
other figure, plane, or solid.
GENERATOR, in Music, signifies the principal or
fundamental sound by which certain harmonic sounds are
produced. See Music.
GENESIS, the first book of the Old Testament, con¬
taining the history of the creation, and the lives of the first
patriarchs. See Pentateuch ; Scripture ; Bible ; and
Dissertation Third, vol. i. of this work.
Genesis, in Geometry, the formation of a line, plane, or
solid by the motion of a point, line, or surface.
GENESIUS, Josephus, or Josephus Byzantinus, a
Byzantine writer who lived in the middle of the tenth cen¬
tury, is the author of a Greek history which he wrote by
order of the emperor Constantine VII. This history be¬
gins with the year 813 a.d., is entitled Bao-Aeioiv Bt/SAta A,
and embraces the reigns of Leo V. the Armenian, Michael
II. the Stammerer, Theophilus, Michael III., and Basil I.
the Macedonian, who died in 886. The work of Genesius
is considered of importance as containing the events of a
period of Byzantine history which is elsewhere very scantily
found, though it is but a poor compilation. At Leipzig, a
MS. of this work was discovered in the sixteenth century,
and attracted the attention of scholars. The first edition of
Genesius was published at Venice in 1733, folio, with the
title, Josephi Genesii de Rebus Constantinopolitanis, &c.
Libri IV., with a Latin translation by Bergler. The best
edition, however, is by Lachmann, in the Bonn edition of
the Byzantines, 8vo, 1834.
Cave, Hist. Lit.; Fabric., Bibl. Grcec., vol, vii.; Ham-
berger, Nachrichten von den vornehmsten Schriftstellern,
vol. iii.
GENETHLIACI {yeviOXg, birth), a name given by the
ancients to those who pretended to foretell what should be¬
fall a man by means of the stars which presided at his na¬
tivity. They were also called Chaldaei or Babylonii, from
the country where their science was first developed ; some¬
times astronomi, astrologi, or planetarii, because they ob¬
served the stars ; and likewise mathematici, from their em¬
ploying diagrams such as were used by geometricians. Edicts
at various times were issued against the astrologers of an¬
cient Rome ; yet notwithstanding the rigour of the penal
enactments by which they were denounced, they continued
GEN
Geneva, to maintain their popularity, and were never altogether ex-
pelled from the eity. Hence Tacitus speaks of them as
'•'‘genus hominum quod in civitate nostra et vetabitur semper
et retinebitur.”
GENEVA (Fr. Geneve, Ger. Genf Ital. Ginevra), the
most populous and industrious city of Switzerland, capital
of the canton of the same name, stands on the Rhone, at the
western extremity of the Lake of Geneva, in Lat. 46. 12.
N., Long. 6. 9. 30. E. It is divided into three portions by
the river, part being on an island and part on either bank.
The largest portion stands on the left bank of the river,
and is built partly on an eminence rising to nearly 100 feet
above the level of the lake. It consists almost entirely of
the large and handsome mansions of the burgher aristo¬
cracy. On the right bank is the Quartier St Gervais, or
lower town, the seat of the trade and commerce. The
streets are here narrow and the houses lofty, something in
the style of the old town of Edinburgh. The island is up¬
wards of a furlong in length by about 200 feet in breadth,
and is connected with the other portions of the town by
several bridges. Geneva has been much improved within
the last quarter of a century. An entirely new quarter lias
started up on the right bank of the Rhone, called Quarter
ties Bergues, displaying a handsome front of tall houses,
among which is the Hotel ties Bergues, and lined with a
broad quay towards the lake. On the opposite bank the
unsightly houses that lined the margin of the lake have been
repaired and beautified, and a broad belt of land has been
gained from the water and formed into a quay. This is
connected with the Quai ties Bergues by means of two
bridges thrown across the river, and united with a small
island planted with trees, and containing a bronze statue
of Rousseau. Geneva is surrounded landward by ramparts
and bastions, erected in the middle of the last century, but
of little use as fortifications, the city being commanded by
some adjacent heights. The principal public building is
the cathedral or church of St Pierre, an interesting specimen
of Gothic architecture of the eleventh century. Its effect,
however, has been injured by the addition of a fine Corin¬
thian portico. This church contains monuments of Agrippa
d’Aubigny, the friend of Henri IV., and of the Count Henri
de Rohan, a leader of the French revolution in the reign
of Louis XIII. I he town-hall is an old and massive-look¬
ing building. Ihe Musee Rath, so named from its founder
General Rath, is a neat edifice, containing a collection of
paintings and other works of art, chiefly by native artists.
The museum of natural history contains principally native
productions of Switzerland, and is chiefly interesting as
having the geological collections of Saussure, Brongniart,
and Decandolle, and the collections of M, Neckfer. The
house in which Calvin is said to have lived an| died is
still pointed out in the Rue des Chanoines, and also the
house in which J. J. Rousseau was born. The general
hospital is an extensive and spacious building. The aca¬
demy or university founded by Calvin has faculties of theo¬
logy, law, science, and belles lettres, and forty professors.
The public library attached to it contains about 60,000
volumes, including many valuable MSS. Geneva has nu¬
merous literary and scientific societies, an observatory, bo¬
tanic garden, lunatic and deaf-mute asylums, and other
charitable institutions. The town is supplied with water
from the Rhone by means of a hydraulic machine. The
chief manufactures of Geneva are watches and jewellery:
about 100,000 watches, chiefly gold, are made annually,
employing about 3000 workmen. Its other industrial pro¬
ducts are musical boxes, chronometers, mathematical and
musical instruments, cutlery, fire-arms, &c. It also carries
on an active transit trade by means of steamers with the
various towns on the lake. Geneva was in the time of
Caesar one of the chief towns of the Allobroges, and it con¬
tinued subject to the Romans till the beginning of the fifth
VOL. x.
GEN 4J9
century, when it was taken by the Burgundians, and made Geneva
their capital. Towards the end of the fifth century it be- II ^
came the seat of a bishop; and in 534 came into the pos- Genevieye-
session of the Franks. Charlemagne conferred upon it cer-
tain important privileges, subordinate however to the
bishop, who was styled Prince of Geneva, and was an im¬
mediate feudatory of the empire. It afterwards came to
form a part oi the second kingdom of Burgundy ; on the fall
of which it became entirely subject to its bishops, between
whom and the counts of Genevois in Savoy there existed
incessant contests for its possession. The line of the counts
of Genevois becoming extinct in the fourteenth century,
their inheritance reverted to the house of Savoy, and hence
are derived the claims of the dukes of Savov over Geneva ;
claims, however, never completely enforced. At the Re¬
formation the bishop was expelled, and the town, with its
territory, became an independent republic. Calvin was in
1536 induced to settle here, and was soon afterwards raised
to the highest rank in the state; and Geneva became the
metropolis of Protestantism. The dukes of Savoy made
several fruitless attempts to possess Geneva by force or
by fraud ; but, in 1603, by the mediation of Berne, Zurich,
and Henri IV. of France, acknowledged its independence.
In the eighteenth century the peace of the town was fre¬
quently disturbed by internal feuds. In 1798 it was taken
by the French revolutionary forces, and became the capital
of the department of Leman. In 1814 it was restored by
the allied powers to its independence as a canton of the
Swiss Confederation. Among the many eminent men that
Geneva has produced may be mentioned Isaac Casaubon,
Rousseau, Lefort the friend of Peter the Great, Necker
the father of Madame de Stael, the naturalists Saussure,
Bonnet, and De Luc, Decandolle, Huber, Dumont, the
friend and editor of some of the works of Jeremy Bentham,
and Sismondi the historian. In the beginning of the fif¬
teenth century Geneva contained about 10,000 inhabitants,
and in 1550 they had increased to about 20,000. In 1715
they numbered only 18,500, but in 1789 they had risen to
26,140. In 1830 the population was 27,000,^ancl'in 1850
31,238. The Canton of Geneva is, with the exception of
Zug, the smallest of the Swiss Cantons, having an area of
only 91 English square miles. It is bounded on the N. by
the Canton of Vaud and the Lake of Geneva, E. and S.
by Savoy, and W. by France. More than one-fourth of
the canton is arable, about one-fifth is meadow land, one-
tenth in wood, and one-twentieth in vineyards. The agri¬
cultural products of the canton are not equal to the wants
of the inhabitants, so that considerable quantities are im¬
ported. The language of the city and canton is the French.
Pop. of the canton (1850) 63,932, of whom 34,212 were
Protestants and 29,764 Roman Catholics.
Geneva, Lake of. See Switzerland.
Geneva, a town in Ontario county, state of New York,
North America, beautifully situated at the north end of
Seneca Lake, on the Auburn and Rochester railway, 50
miles E.S.E. of Rochester. It is handsomely built, and
has several fine churches and a medical college. Steam¬
boats ply daily between it and Jefferson at the head of the
lake. Pop. 6000. There are several other towns and vil¬
lages of this name in the United States.
Geneva, or Gin, a malt spirit, distilled a second time,
with the addition of juniper berries. The name geneva
is a corruption of the French genievre, a juniper berry.
The method of making this kind of spirit is described under
Distillation, vol. viii. p. 51.
GENEVIEVE, Sainte, in Latin Genovefa, the patron
saint of Paris, was born at Nanterre about the year a.d.
424. She early took the veil, and distinguished herself by
her active benevolence, as much as by the austere sanctity of
her personal character. Twice she saved Paris, first from
Attila, who with his Huns was marching to sack the town.
3 L
450 GEN
Genevre Ste Genevieve offered up the most earnest prayers for the
II . safety of the city, and, according to the old tradition, a thick
Case" ® c'oul^ ascended, rendering it utterly invisible to its barbaric
v ^ , foes, who immediately marched off in the opposite direc-
tion. At another time, when Paris, after a long siege, was
on the point of yielding under the horrors of famine, Ste
Genevieve ascended the riverto Troyes, whence she brought
back eleven boats filled with provisions, and thus inspirited
her countrymen to hold out till the enemy withdrew. Nei¬
ther the date nor details of this second siege of Paris are
known. Ste Genevieve died in 512 at the age of eighty-
eight, and was buried in the Church of St Peter and St
Paul, which, in the ninth century, came to be called by
her name. This church stood till 1807, and its tower is
still to be seen close to the Pantheon in the Latin Quarter
of Paris.
GENEVRE, Mont, one of the principal summits of the
Cottian Alps, rising to the height of 11,788 feet. It is
crossed by a carriage-way, constructed by Napoleon L, at
an elevation of 6353 feet. It is one of the contested routes
by which Hannibal is said to have crossed the Alps.
GENII, a race of imaginary beings who, according to
Mohammedan belief' were created from fire, and hold an
intermediate place between men and angels. They are
supposed to eat, drink, and propagate their species, to be
either good or evil, to exercise a most important influence
on human affairs, and to be capable, like men, of future sal¬
vation or damnation. The orientals assert that the genii
inhabited this world thousands of years before the birth of
Adam, under many successive kings, who all bore the name
' of Solomon ; that at length their depravity became such
that Eblis was sent to drive them into a remote part of the
earth, there to be confined; and that some of that genera¬
tion still remaining, they were by Tahmorath, one of the
ancient kings of Persia, forced to retreat into the famous
mountain of Kaph. There are also several ranks and de¬
grees among this kind of beings, some being called abso¬
lutely Djm, others Peri or fairies; some I)iv or giants,
others Tucwin or fates. See Mohammedanism.
GENIE, a river of Spain, which rises in a chasm called
Corral de Veleta, on the N.W. slope of the Sierra Nevada,
in Andalucia, province of Granada. It flows N.W. through
the town of Granada, then W.S.W. till it reaches Loja, where
it turns W .N.W., passes the town of Ecija, and joins the left
bank of the Guadalquivir, at Palma del Rio, 32 miles below
Cordova, after a course of nearly 160 miles. It is nowhere
navigable; but it furnishes much valuable water-power, and
is extensively used in irrigation.
GENITIVE CASE, sometimes called the elative case,
is a term applied to one of the case-forms of nouns and pro¬
nouns. One thing with another, or its predicate beginning
or begotten of it, is in the genitive case. It may be called
the “ whereof” case : as “ the fear of death,” “ the love of
home,” “ the works of God,” “ the cup is full of wine.”
I he natural possessive and genitive cases are clearly diffe¬
rent, though in most languages they are both classed under
the same case-form; for one thing may be the begetter of
another which it may not possess, or may be the possessor
of a thing which it may not have begotten. “ William’s
field,” means the field of which William is the possessor but
not the begetter, while “ the love of money,” or “ the fear of
death, ’ does not mean the love or fear which money or
death possesses, as neither money nor death can possess love
or fear; but this love and fear are, in the mind of man,
begotten by money and by death ; and in the sentence
“ the cup is full of wine,” the wine is the begetter of the pre¬
dicate “ full. Since one thing with another, or its predi¬
cate beginning or begotten by it, is in the genitive case, it
follows that a thing may have two genitive relations—one
thing to another thing itself, and another to its predicate, as
5 the stab of a dagger,’ in which the dagger ” is the be-
G E N
getter or generator of the stab “the cup is full of wine,” Genius,
where the “ wine ” is not the begetter of the “ cup,” but of
its predicate “ full.” It is idle to object that to make so
nice a distinction as that between the relation of the thing
A to the thing B, and the relation of the thing A to the
predicate of the thing B, is to make case needlessly per¬
plexing ; for some nations, as the Finnic, have shown such
discriminations in the case-forms of their languages, and we
could not understand any language in which such discri¬
minations might be made without the distinction first exist¬
ing in the mind. The “genitive” is distinguished from
the “ possessive ” by Etiren in his Finsk Sprakldra, in which
he calls the latter the “genitive-possessive.” From the
want of this distinction in the Greek and Latin languages
arises much of the perplexity in treating of the syntax of
the genitive case in their grammars. A clear example of
the ambiguity arising from the same case-ending answer¬
ing for both relations may be seen in 2 Cor. v. 14, 19 ayaTrr]
tov Xpicrrov crwe^et ryp.as. If rov Xpurrov is possessive, it
means “ the love of Christ for us whereas if it is genitive,
it means “ our love for him.” See Bloomfield on the pas¬
sage ; and Barnes’s Philological Grammar, London, 1854.
GENIUS, in Antiquity, the tutelary spirit that watched
over the destinies of nations, and of each individual.
The idea of the genius, or Salgwr, is first met with in the
mythology of the Greeks. Homer makes no mention of
these deemones; but Hesiod accounts for their origin by
describing them as the souls of good men who lived in the
golden age. According to him, they are 30,000 in num¬
ber : their functions are to watch over the human race
and carry out the will of Jove, unseen by mortal eye. This
conception was taken up by the Platonists, who assigned to
every man at his birth a good and an evil daemon. Ac¬
cording as either of these was in the ascendant, the life of
the individual was influenced for good or evil. The beau¬
tiful conversations of Socrates on his good and evil genius
are familiar to all who have read the works of Plato.
Like the deemones of the Greeks, the genii of the Romans
were tutelary or guardian spirits ; but their functions began
at a still earlier period. They were in fact (as the etymo¬
logy of their name implies) the producing or life-giving
powers which organized the being whom it was their duty
to protect till death. On this account also the nuptial bed
was called the lectus genialis. By every Roman citizen
the genius was worshipped with especial honour, and a
birthday was celebrated with offerings of the finest flowers
and wine to them. Every one thought it at once a duty
and a privilege to “indulge his genius” (indulgere genioj,
t.e. to enjoy to the utmost the merriment allowed on these
occasions.
In the Roman mythology genii were not confined to the
human race alone. Every living being, and even every
place, had a guardian spirit of its own. These local genii
were symbolized under the form of a serpent (the type of
renovation) eating fruit placed before him. (Plutarch, Pe
Gemo Socratis ; Hartung, Die Pelig. der Pom.; Smith’s
Diet, of Gr. and Pom. Antiq., &c.)
Genius, in its modern use, signifies generally the bent
of national or individual disposition. In a more limited
sense it denotes those endowments and powers of mind
which one has received from nature. To define or illus¬
trate the term, when employed in this sense, is difficult
if not impossible. Fuseli described it as “ that power which
enlarges the circle of human knowledge, or combines the
known with novelty.” A better, though far from perfect,
definition is that of the poet Crabbe : “ I recognize genius
wherever there is power to stimulate the thoughts of men
and command their feelings.” Better than either of these
is that of Coleridge, which we extract from his Table
Talk: “ To carry on the feelings of childhood into the
powers of manhood, to combine tbe child’s sense of wonder
1
GEN
Genghis and novelty with the appearances which every day for per-
Khan haps forty years had rendered familiar—
„ 'L ‘ With sun and moon and stars throughout the year,
oenllS- And man and woman ; ’
” v~"- ting ig the character and privilege of genius, and one of the
marks which distinguish genius from talent.” Genius is in
tact a quality so subtle and impalpable that though we are
awareof its presence, and recognise it when it manifests itself,
we cannot tell exactly in what it consists. It has been called
by Diderot, “ L’etendue de 1’esprit, la force de 1’imagina-
tion, et 1’activite de fame.” That this definition is not cor¬
rect is plain, because these qualities are often found sepa¬
rately or collectively in men to whom “ the vision and the
faculty divine ” have been denied. In general terms, genius
may be considered as that power which either creates ideas
wholly new, or combines old ideas in new and unexpected
forms. It is to be found in every department of thought in
which the human mind has been exercised ; and no work
is fairly entitled to be called great which does not exhibit
traces of this quality. Genius, like art, is of no country,
and is not restricted to any form of thought. Galileo and
Newton were as undoubtedly men of genius as Dante and
Shakspeare; and if we deny the title to Tacitus we must
also withhold it from Sir Walter Scott. Genius, like talent,
is of various degrees ; but its presence is an indispensable
element in all greatness.
GENGHIS KHAN, or Zinghis Khan, a celebrated
Tartar chief, in the early part of the thirteenth century,
who with his barbarian hordes overran and desolated Asia.
See Asia, vol. Hi. p. 745, and general index.
GENLIS, Etiennette, or Stephanie Felicite Du-
Crest de St Adbin, Comtesse de, a voluminous French
writer, was born in 1746, of a noble but impoverished fa¬
mily, at the chateau of Champcery, near Autun. At the
early age of fifteen she married the Comte de Genlis, who
had been attracted to her as much by her wit and skill in
music as by her beauty. A few years later the marriage
of her aunt, the Comtesse de Montesson, with the Duke of
Orleans, opened up to her the best society of Paris—a pri¬
vilege which she turned to good account in her works. She
was afterwards made governess to the duke’s children, one
of whom, Louis Philippe, finally succeeded to the throne of
France. The better to carry out her theory of education,
she wrote several works for the use of her royal pupils, such
as the Theatre a Vusage des jeunespersonnes, Les Annales
de la Vertu, Les veillees du Chateau, and several others.
Some of these works were in a high degree useful and po¬
pular, and earned large sums of money for their author.
When the French Revolution broke out, Madame de Gen¬
lis, though at first well disposed to the movement, was ob¬
liged to emigrate. Visiting successively Switzerland, Bel¬
gium, England, and Germany, and supporting herself by
writing and painting, she settled in Hamburg, where she
wrote her novel entitled Les Chevaliers des Cygnes, a story
of the court of Charlemagne, ill-conceived, ill-executed,
and, to judge from its results, ill-intentioned. This work
gave a sort of colour to the slanderous aspersions of the
royalist emigres, who were exasperated at her connection
with some of the extreme revolutionists. She felt her posi¬
tion so uncomfortable that she attempted to justify herself
in a pamphlet entitled Precis de la conduite de Madame
de Genlis. A clue to her real political opinions is only to
be got from her actions, which at this time were decided
enough, especially her marrying her adopted daughter, Pa¬
mela, to the unfortunate Lord Edward Fitzgerald, whose
political creed was destined to bring him to an untimely
and ignominious death. After the 18th Brumaire she ap¬
plied to the first consul for leave to return home ; and de¬
based herself by adulations so slavish as to be only surpassed
in meanness by her subsequent retractation of them. Be¬
sides the pensions and privileges which she procured from
GEN 451
Napoleon, she realized large sums of money by hack-work Genoa,
for booksellers ; but her utmost efforts failed to procure her
admittance into the highest ranks of French literary society.
She wrote a little for the Biographic LJniverselle, and out
of a number of rejected articles concocted a book which
she published under the title of Be Vinfluence des Femmes
sur la htterature. This work is distinguished by a mean
spirit of detraction, envy, and spitefulness towards the
leading French authoresses of that day, such as Madame de
Stael, Madame Cottin, and others. About this time also
she sadly befooled herself in a literary contest with Gin-
guene and some of the principal contributors to the Bio-
graphie Universelle. Indeed there was hardly a month of
her literary career in which she was not engaged in one
squabble or another, not seldom of a nature very dis¬
creditable to her: witness her quarrel with the publisher
Roret. Of her later works, that which made the most
noise in its day was her Biners du Baron d?Holbach, in
which she set forth with a good deal of cleverness the pre¬
judices, the intolerance, the fanaticism, and the eccentrici¬
ties of the philosophers of the last century. This work,
as was natural, was severely censured by the free-thinking
party in France ; but the author’s replies to their attacks
were marked by a bitterness and malignity to which they
could offer nothing parallel. Madame de Genlis attained
the age of eighty-four, and died Dec. 31, 1830. Before
her death she had the satisfaction of seeing her quondam
pupil Louis Philippe seated on the throne of France.
To give a list of the separate works of Madame de Gen¬
lis, eighty in all, is manifestly impossible within our limits.
They comprise prose and poetical compositions on a vast
variety of subjects, and of every grade of merit. The
swiftness with which they were written, their diffuse'ness,
and their somewhat fugitive and transitory interest, forbid
us to look in them for thought of perennial value or literary
art of the highest or indeed of a high order. Posterity seems
to have confirmed the verdict of Palissot, who declared that
Madame de Genlis’ fame would rest solely on her Theatre
d'Education. This judgment may seem rather harsh ; but
it is true that that work is the only one which still continues
to stand the test of time, if we except perhaps some of the
Contes Moraux, La, Buchesse de La Valliere, and Made¬
moiselle de Clermont. Madame de Genlis owed much of
her literary success to her social tact. She turned her po¬
sition in the Orleans family to such good account as to
make it react on her literary standing, and gain for her an
eminence to which she was by no means justly entitled.
Her appearance was good, and her manners in a high degree
attractive and fascinating. To these qualities, and her
inordinate ambition, she owed her extraordinary success in
life, which she never allowed a regard for consistency or
honour to interfere with. No woman of her day had a finer
knack of disentangling herself from humble friends who
were no longer likely to be useful, or of more delicately
making herself necessary to those who stood on the higher
grades of the social ladder, whose heights it was her chief
ambition to climb. After she fairly reached the top, she is
not known to have actively assisted or befriended any but
her own nearest relations. (Fora complete list of Madame
de Genlis’ works see supplement to the Biographic Uni¬
verselle, vol. Ixv.)
GENOA (more accurately Genova), Duchv of, one of
the administrative divisions of the kingdom of Sardinia,
occupies that portion of the Ligurian Apennines which lies
at the head of the Gulf of Genoa. Its extreme Lat. is 44. Bound-
2. and 44. 49. N., and its Long. 8. 20. and 10. 6. E. It is aries.
bounded on the N. by the administrative division of Ales¬
sandria, on the E. by the Duchy of Massa, on the S. by
the Mediterranean, and on the W. by the administrative
division of Savona. The area is 1258 square miles Eng¬
lish, occupied by a population (1855) of 580,000.
452 GENOA.
Genoa. The greatest length of Genoa is about 130 miles, and
v/-—' greatest breadth 46. The Apennines traverse this duchy
Dimen- from N.E. to S. W., in directions nearly parallel to the shore,
sions, sur- from which their central ridge is seldom more than 16 miles
face, and distant. The coast line does not exceed 100 miles; but it
coast-line. varied by numerous indentations, which form several good
harbours and two spacious bays—llapallo, and the beau¬
tiful Bay of Spezzia (the Portus Lunce of the Romans).
The surface presents a succession of mountain slopes and
terraces, intersected and diversified by valleys and ravines.
The greater part of it is covered by the Apennines, which
curve round the Gulf, and form two slopes, from the north¬
ern of which descend the Trebbia, the StafFora, the Seri via,
the Orba, and the Bormida, all affluents of the Po ; while
from the southern slope descend into the Gulf of Genoa
the Magra, the Vara, the Sturla, the Besagno, and the Pol-
cevera, all streams of minor importance, besides numerous
mountain torrents, which so much heighten the beauty of
Geology, the landscape. The prevailing rocks belong to the carbo¬
niferous and magnesian limestone systems. Statuary marble
and other kinds, as well as alabaster, limestone, slate, coal,
Soil, and asbestos are easily obtained. The soil is not naturally
climate, very productive, being, from its very rugged nature, for the
and vege- most part rocky and unfit for agricultural purposes ; but the
ductions°" *n^ustry an(^ skill of the inhabitants have turned to advan-
ons‘ tage every spot capable of cultivation. The climate is in
general temperate and salubrious, and the air is remarkably
pure. In winter, however, the winds in the elevated ravines
are bitterly cold, giving a tendency among the inhabitants
to pulmonary complaints; and the influence of the sirocco
is sometimes severely felt. The chief vegetable productions
are citrons, lemons, oranges ; light wines ; chestnuts, olives,
silk, cotton, hemp, figs, pomegranates, almonds, and other
excellent fruits. On the mountain slopes there are fine
Manufac- pastures and extensive forests. The manufactures have
tures and made great progress in large towns, especially in Genoa,
commerce, where, in particular tissues, it still excels the rest of the
world. (See Genoa, City of). But the great passion of the
Genoese is for the sea, whence they have in all ages been
well adapted for commercial pursuits. Though they have
in recent times been far surpassed by other nations, they
still carry on a very important trade, both foreign and coast¬
ing. The best seamen in the Mediterranean are furnished
by the Rivieras, or maritime districts, and the Sardinian
navy is manned chiefly from them. Their vessels trade to
the Levant, the Black Sea, the Baltic, to America, and the
coasts of the Pacific. The principal articles of export are
silk, paper, rice, oil, and hemp.
Roads. From the nature of the surface of this duchy there is only
one main line of road traversing the length of the country.
This excellent road runs along the western shore from the
city of Genoa to Savona, and along the eastern shore from
Genoa to Sarzana, disclosing views of the most picturesque
and enchanting beauty. The transverse roads which run
into this main line are the terminations of those from Lom¬
bardy and Piedmont. The only railways in the duchy are
the southern portion of the Turin and Genoa Railway,
opened throughout its whole extent in December 1853, and
one between Voltri and Genoa, opened in 1855.
The Duchy of Genoa is divided into four provinces—
Genova, Chiavari, Levante, and Novi.
People. 1 he Genoese are a robust and handsome people ; they are
active, shrewd, frugal, industrious, and parsimonious. From
the time of Virgil to that of Dante, the Ligurians or Genoese
have Den the subject of great vituperation.1 The dialect of
Italian spoken by them is one of the most difficult to strangers,
and there are only a few books of poetry printed in it.
Genoa, City of (in Italian Genova, and anciently Genua,
misnamed in the middle ages Janua), belongs to the king¬
dom of Sardinia, and is situated in a recess of the Gulf of Genoa.
Genoa, on the coast of the Mediterranean, at the foot of the
Ligurian Apennines, in Lat. 44. 24. 20. N., and Long. 8.
52. 55. E. It is 75 miles S.E. of Turin, 73 S. of Milan, and
90 N.W. of Leghorn. Exclusive of the garrison and sea- Population,
men, the population (in 1855) was nearly 105,000 within
the city walls. The garrison on an average amounts to
8000, and the merchant seamen to about 10,000. Genoa
is surrounded on the land side by a double wall, of which
the inner (550 yards from the sea) incloses the town, and
is 6 miles in length. The outer, called Nuove Thura,
erected between 1630 and 1632 a.d., encompasses several
hills with the fortresses of the Sperone and the Begato,
which formerly commanded the town. When viewed from Aspect,
the sea, Genoa and its environs rise in a compact mass like
a marble amphitheatre from the harbour, which is flanked
by its two gigantic moles and lighthouses. The aspect is
thus truly magnificent. A succession of fine buildings, more
than two miles in length, stretch along the shore ; the white
edifices in successive terraces ; numerous churches and con¬
vents ; palaces and gardens on the steep sides of the hills
that rear their dark, bold, bleak, and barren summits above,
crowned with formidable ramparts, forts, and batteries, give
the city an air of great magnificence worthy of the ancient
epithet “ La Superba.” On entering the town, however, Streets,
some disappointment is naturally felt by the visitor; the
houses are indeed well built, but the streets are steep, nar¬
row, crooked, and irregular, yet clean and well paved. The
buildings are square and lofty, affording a pleasant shade in
the scorching months of summer, and the roofs are covered
with a light-coloured slate, which has a pleasing effect on
viewing the city from a distance. Such streets as the Strada
Balbi and Strada Nuova, which are entirely lined with mar¬
ble palaces belonging to the Genoese nobles ; and the Strada
Nuovissima, Carlo Alberto, and Carlo Felice, which are also
magnificent, must be excepted from the character of nar¬
rowness, inconvenience, and irregularity. The few squares Squares,
(or piazze) open towards the principal churches and the private
theatre of Carlo Felice. The palaces of the Genoese pa- Palaces,and
tricians display not only the attractions of architecture, but Sardens-
of painting and sculpture : marble columns, rich friezes, ba¬
lustrades, statues, arcades, galleries, fountains, all formed of
the same costly materials, are here interspersed with ter¬
raced gardens, in which the myrtle, orange, and oleander
bloom in rich luxuriance. The principal of these sumptuous
mansions are those of Balbi, Brignole, Durazzo, Doria, Serra,
Negro, Reale, Cattaldi, Rosso, Cambraso, Pallavacini, Ca-
rega, and Lercari. The marble of which these princely
edifices are constructed abounds in the vicinity of Genoa,
yet the modern palaces are nearly all faced with stucco.
Genoa has many handsome churches: among the finest Public
are the Cathedral L’Annunziata, built by Sauli a citizen, buildings,
and the church of Carignano; about one-half of the churches,
however, and among them some of the finest, were destroyed
by the French during their occupation of the city at the
end ol the last century and beginning of the present. Be¬
sides these there are many public edifices, of which the most
interesting and important are—the Palazzo della Signoria, Palace of
the ancient residence of the doge, and the place of meeting the doges,
tor the public bodies. The great and little council rooms
still occupy their place in this palace, though the interior
was destroyed by fire; whence the fine ceilings and wains¬
coting have all disappeared. There are three theatres ;
and the hospitals vie with the palaces in magnificence.
The private dwellings are neat and durable, generally Private
high, with flat roofs; and the Exchange, where the mer- houses,
chant princes formerly carried on their mighty trade, is
now occupied by fruiterers. The Loggia de’ Banchi, where
the exchange is, the Ponti or quays, the Porto Franco, the
1 Dante, Inferno, xxxiii., 151-154, Carlisle's edition.
G E N 0 A.
453
Genoa.
Commerce.
Manufac¬
tures.
Imports.
Transit
trade.
lighthouse, the promenade of L’Acquasola, the Albergo de’
Povei’i, or great hospital, the Ospedale del Pammatone, the
Banco di San Georgio, and the Strada degli Orefici (Gold¬
smith’s Street), are also all worthy of special notice.
Genoa is still an important commercial city, though vastly
inferior to what it was in the 14th and 15th centuries.
The “ superb merchant princes” of the olden time of the re¬
public are now no more. This inferiority has been mainly
brought about by the expensive wars in which the republic
engaged. Still the exports amount to about two millions
and a half sterling, while the imports are about four millions.
Of exports, the principal articles are cheese, rice, hemp,
fruits, olive oil, and hides; and of her own manufacture,
paper, soap, works in alabaster and marble, jewellery, and
bijoux in coral, silks and fancy goods, damasks and velvets,
for the last of which Genoa has long been highly celebrated.
The annual value of the silk and satin manufactures averages
L.250,000; and the raw material is partly raised at home
and partly imported from Sicily, Calabria, and the Levant.
Gold and silver filigree manufactures of Genoa have long
held a first place in the estimation of connoisseurs in such
work. Other less important articles of manufacture are
artificial flowers, white-lead, candied fruits, chocolate, mac-
caroni, and hats. The chief articles of import are corn from
Sicily, and sometimes from Barbary ; raw silk from Sicily
and Calabria; naval stores and iron from the Baltic; sail¬
cloth and linens from Germany; cottons, tin, lead, sugar,
hardware, and coals from Great Britain; wood from Spain,
cotton and wax from the Levant; and various articles of
colonial produce from British North America and the United
States. Many of these imports are again exported to Swit¬
zerland, France, and Spain. Two laws, passed in 1751 and
1815 respectively, which enabled merchants to deposit goods
in the Porto-Franco without paying duty unless taken out
for home consumption, have very much facilitated the tran¬
sit trade, which is now very considerable. Genoese vessels
trade to the Euxine, the Levant, the Baltic, and North and
South America; while steamers regularly ply between Mar¬
seilles, Barcelona, Leghorn, Civita Vecchia, &c. All this
vast trade is much facilitated by the fine harbour of Genoa,
and the liberal encouragement to trade given by the Sardi¬
nian government. The harbour is bounded at its two ex¬
tremities by the Molo Vecchio and the Molo Nuovo, 595
yards apart, and above the latter stands the noble fanale or
lighthouse, 385 feet above sea level. The harbour, exposed
to the S.W. wind and its heavy swells, is in the form of a
semicircle, whose diameter is about 2000 yards, with the
Old Mole on the E. side and the New Mole on the W.
The water at the New Mole is deepest, and the bottom is
clay, and holds well. The Darsena, or state dock and ar¬
senal, on the N. side of the large harbour, was established
in 1276 a.d., and is used for refitting and preserving the
national galleys. With it is connected the Bagne or prison
for convicts. Two towers are erected on the moles, one as
a lighthouse, the other as a defence of the harbour. A strong
thick wall runs along the quays between the harbour and the
houses, which completely conceals the former from view.
Genoa is a garrison town, the residence of a governor-ge¬
neral, and of a high court of justiciary or senate for the whole
duchy. In the practice of these courts the French codes,
civil and commercial, have been retained. The govern¬
ment of the city is vested in the great town-council of 40
members, 20 of whom are merchants and 20 nobles, a lower
council, two syndics, with various subordinate officers. For
Education, public instruction there are the university, attended by
about 500 students, a royal college, a naval school, and six
commercial schools, one for each district of the city, a deaf
and dumb school, an academy of fine arts, public libraries,
one of which contains 50,000 volumes, besides several learned
Harbour.
Govern-
mentand
laws.
societies of very old standing; yet education is not generally Genoa,
diffused, nor has Genoa produced many men who rank high
in the republic of letters. Among her poets, Chiabrera the Eminent
lyrist stands alone eminent. The most celebrated character citizens,
of which she can boast is Andrea Doria; and Columbus who
was born in the duchy, but not in the city. Oderico was a
famous philologer, and Lomellini first ventured to use light¬
ning rods. And though Genoa bears ample proofs of her
liberal tastes, neither has she been distinguished as the
birthplace of eminent artists. Besides all the institutions
already mentioned, Genoa has 15 female asylums or conser¬
vatories as well as various convents and benevolent institu¬
tions. ri he established religion is Roman Catholic; but Religion,
other creeds are tolerated, even the Jewish.
Few states in Europe have experienced so many political History,
revolutions as Genoa. Old traditions would assign to it an
antiquity greater than that of Rome. At the beginning of
the second Punic war (218 b.c.) it is mentioned by Livy as
a town in friendly relations with Rome. Shortly after this,
in order to effect a diversion in favour of Hannibal, Mago,
the Carthaginian general, sailed with an army on board his
fleet, took Genoa by surprise and partly destroyed it; but,
by order of the Roman senate, it was restored a few years
after.1 From that time Genoa continued in alliance with
Rome, but was not one of her colonies. She is also men¬
tioned by Strabo as an emporium for the sale of honey,
cattle, and hides, brought from the interior by the Ligu¬
rians, who received wine and oil from the other parts of
the peninsula in exchange. Involved in all the vicissitudes
of the Roman empire, Genoa suffered first from the inva¬
sions of the Goths and Lombards, and afterwards from the
ravages of the Saracens. Such, however, were the resources
of its commerce and the advantages of its situation that it
always emerged from oppression ; and during the tenth cen¬
tury succeeded in establishing a free constitution, having
rid itself of the dominion of the Frank counts imposed upon
it by Charlemagne. After the fall of the Carlovingian dy¬
nasty, and during the contests about the crown of Italy, the
Genoese seized the opportunity of regaining their independ¬
ence, and established an aristocratic republic under elective
magistrates styled consuls. From the end of the 11th cen¬
tury the names of the consuls were recorded. By sea the
Genoese merchants had already rendered themselves for¬
midable, having strengthened their navy in self-defence
against the Saracens, from whom they had suffered severely.
In alliance with the Pisans they succeeded in expelling
these infidels from Capraja, Corsica, and Sardinia, between
1016 and 1021 a.d. From this time dates the domination
of Genoa over Corsica and Capraja. During the great cru¬
sade under Godfrey de Bouillon, the Genoese obtained set¬
tlements along the coast of the Holy Land, especially at
Acre; and in 1146 a.d. they took Minorca Island from the
Moors, and the next year succeeded in storming Almeria
in Granada, whence they carried off immense booty. All
this time the Genoese fleet consisted of 63 galleys with 163
transports, on board of which they carried 12,000 land forces.
In 1148 a.d., in company with the Catalonians, they took
Tortosa, which was defended by a Moorish garrison. These
conquests roused the jealousy of the rival cities Pisa and pisa as a
Venice, also great naval and commercial powers. Two cen- rival
turies of almost uninterrupted war between Genoa and Pisa power,
succeeded, terminating in the complete defeat of the latter
in a naval engagement near the rocks of Meloria in sight of
their own coast. In this decisive and desperate battle, 3000
Pisans were killed and 13,000 taken prisoners to Genoa,
where they mostly died in chains. The Pisans never re¬
covered from this blow; and nine years afterwards (1290
a.d.) the Genoese, under Conrad Doria, destroyed Porto
Pisano, and filled up the mouth of the harbour.
1 Livii, lib. xxi. 32; xxviii. 46; xxx. 1.
454
GEN
GEN
Genoa. Soon after the conquest of Constantinople by the Franks
v'—^ in 1244 a.d., the rivalry between Venice and Genoa began
Venice as to manifest itself. Michael Palseologus, having been con-
a rival siderably assisted by the Genoese in recovering his capital,
power. granted them the important suburbs of Pera and Galata,
and the port of Smyrna, with full jurisdiction over them all;
and thus virtually granted them the command of the com¬
merce of the Levant. This brought them into collision
with the best interests of the Venetians, who disputed with
them the supremacy of these seas. After several naval
engagements, however, the two hostile republics concluded
a truce in 1271 a.d. But after the decisive conquest of
the Pisans the Genoese felt themselves more free to renew
the contest with their other great rivals the Venetians ; and
putting to sea a large fleet and sailing up the Adriatic, they
defeated the Venetians near the island of Curzola, destroy¬
ing 84 galleys, and making 7000 prisoners, including the
Venetian Admiral Dandolo. In 1299 a peace was con¬
cluded between these fierce rivals, by which the Venetians
were entirely excluded from the trade of the Euxine, where
the Genoese had studded the coast with a chain of forts,
lactories, and colonies, by means of which they pushed their
trade far into the interior of Asia. Their commerce had now
reached its greatest height. The markets of Constantinople
were now wholly supplied by the enterprising and warlike
merchants of Genoa; and under their auspices Kaffa, now
and anciently Theodosia, became one of the finest commer¬
cial towns in Europe. At this time the Genoese not only
commanded the Euxine, but had a communication with the
Caspian, by which they received the costly merchandise of
India. When Mohammed II. conquered Constantinople
(1453 a.d.) he seized the Genoese colonies in the Euxine,
which fell an easy prey to him while internal dissensions
agitated the parent city at home. But long before this, in
1346, the Genoese had again come into collision with the
Venetians, whom they defeated in sight of Constantinople,
but were themselves afterwards totally routed on the coast
of Sardinia. After this disheartening defeat the Genoese
submitted to Visconti Duke of Milan, and from 1381 a.d.
Venice and Genoa remained at peace. The rule of the
podesta had succeeded that of the consuls about 1190 a.d.
With some interruptions this lasted till 1270 a.d., when
Spinola and Dona, two eminent citizens, usurped the su¬
preme power, calling themselves “ Captains of Liberty,”
and they retained it till 1291 a.d. The lower classes were
reconciled to their rule by their appointing a magistrate
called Abbate del Popolo, who vindicated the rights of the
people against the nobles. Next were appointed “ foreign
captains” chosen from among the natives of places at least
100 miles distant from Genoa. Next was instituted a coun¬
cil, consisting first of 12, then of 24 members, of equal
numbers of nobles and plebeians. Endless feuds arose
within the city between these classes, who rendered the city
with its territory almost a desert, so that in 1339 a.d. the
citizens, disgusted and weary of discord, appointed a magis¬
trate called doge, elected for life, excluding by law all the
nobles of every faction from ever filling the office. This
mode of government, with frequent contests between the
chief citizen families, lasted two centuries. Taking advan¬
tage of these feuds, the Visconti of Milan and the kings of
France at different times got possession of Genoa. But at
length Andrea Doria delivered his country from the French,
and changed the form of government by establishing bien¬
nial doges, with councils to assist and control them. This
form of government lasted from 1528 till the invasion of
Italy by Napoleon, when the democratic party overpowered
the aristocracy after a dreadful contest, and received the
protection of a French garrison. In 1 799, the trench under
Massena were besieged within Genoa by the English and
the Austrians, to whom they capitulated; but the city was
again given up to the French after the battle of Marengo. A
new form of government was then imposed upon Genoa by
Napoleon as consul, leaving it only a nominal independence
under the name of republic. When he became emperor,
however, he compelled the doge and senate to submit to the
annexation of Genoa to France. In 1814 Genoa surren¬
dered to the English ; and in 1815, by a decision of the Con¬
gress of Vienna, it was united to the Sardinian monarchy,
and since that time the spirit of commercial enterprise
among her citizens has greatly revived, and a large amount
of prosperity has been regained by the city. In 1850 the
city was seized by insurgents, who drove out the garrison
and proclaimed a republic, April 1850 ; but before the end
of the same month these insurgents surrendered to General
Marmora.
Genoa
Genovesi.
Foglietta and Caffaro, the old chroniclers; Istoria dei Liguri e
dei Genovesi, by Serra ; Dr William Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and
Roman Geography ; Storia d’Italia, by Botta ; Annali di Genova,
Giustiniano, in folio, Genoa, 1537) La Chronique de Gennes, 8vo,
Paris, 1507; Histoire da Consulat et de VEmpire, by Thiers; Hur¬
ray’s Hand-Book of Northern Italy, &c.
Genoa, Guf of, anciently called Sinus Ligusticus, is
a large bay in the Mediterranean, lying N. of the island of
Corsica, and washing the southern shores of the Sardinian
provinces in Italy. No precise points can be named as
marking its limits, for it opens widely and imperceptibly
from the main body of the Mediterranean. It may, how¬
ever, be said to comprise the whole space north of the pa¬
rallel of 43. 40. N., though it is more usual to confine the
appellation to that portion of this large bight which lies to
the north of the parallel of San Remo, 43. 48. 44. N. Lat.,
and 7. 50. 0. E. Long. Thus defined, its entrance is about
140 miles in width, and its extreme breadth 54 miles. Its
outline embraces the beautiful minor bays of Spezzia and Ra-
pallo, as well as the capes of La Mele, Chiapa, and Venere.
Genoa, a township in the Cayuga county, State of New
York, United States, situated on Big Salmon Creek, 162
miles W. of Albany. The post-village of the same name
is pleasantly situated on the creek in this township, and
contains two churches, an academy, two mills, and an iron
foundry. The Auburn and Ithaca Railway passes through
the village. Pop. (1850) 2503.
GENOVESI, Anthony, an eminent Italian writer, born
November 1712, at Castiglione, near Salerno. After re¬
ceiving a preliminary education in his native village, at his
father’s desire he commenced the study of scholastic theo¬
logy, with a view' to the ecclesiastical profession. He soon
distinguished himself as a proficient in dialectics; but in
consequence of his having formed an attachment to a young
woman, he was removed by his father to another village,
where he found a priest who diverted his attention to different
objects. Having been afterwards excommunicated by the
archbishop of Conza for acting a part in a comedy, he re¬
turned to Castiglione; and finding his mistress married, he
re-assumed the cassock, and took priest’s orders at Salerno
in 1736. Here he soon distinguished himself so much by
his talents, that the archbishop of this town promoted him
to the chair of eloquence. At this period Genovesi was a
mere school theologian ; but he now began to perceive that
there W'ere sources of knowledge beyond the scholastic
sphere, more extensive, more interesting, and more real
than those to which he had hitherto applied. Genovesi
entered into this new intellectual world by the perusal of
some romances; from these he proceeded to the study of
history ; and finally applied himself to the study of modern
philosophy, particularly the works of Leibnitz and Locke.
He then wrent to the capital, where he endeavoured to main¬
tain himself as an advocate ; but becoming disgusted with
the details of practice, he soon abandoned it, and devoted
himself to study. He improved his know ledge of the Greek,
and of several of the modern languages, attended all the
most celebrated professors of the university of Naples, and
GEN
Genovesi. SOon perceived the imperfections of the system of public
instruction. He accordingly resolved to effect its reform,
with a view to the amelioration of the condition of his
countrymen. Although there existed at Naples a univer¬
sity celebrated for the learning of several of its professors,
the pupils had long been accustomed to carry on their studies
in private schools. Genovesi having conceived the design
of opening one of these seminaries, he procured the appoint¬
ment of extraordinary professor of metaphysics in the uni¬
versity, in order that he might appear before the public in
a known character. He had formed peculiar methods of
his own in all the faculties which constitute the philosophi¬
cal course ; and his first essays induced him to publish his
Elements of Metaphysics, of which the first volume appeared
in 1743, and afterwards, in 1745, his System of Logic. In
these two works he made ample use of the doctrines of
Bacon, Descartes, Leibnitz, and Locke ; and having sub¬
stituted philosophical doubt for implicit belief, the observa¬
tion of nature for the speculations of the schools, and reason
for authority, he was denounced as an infidel, or at least as
an irreligious person, by those who still adhered to the
scholastic methods. He was supported, however, by Galiani,
archbishop of Tarentum, grand almoner of the king, and
grand master of the university ; yet notwithstanding this
protection he experienced some trouble and difficulty in
obtaining the professorship of moral philosophy; and was
disappointed in an attempt to procure the chair of theology.
The unjust and obstinate hostility he suffered on account
of his theological works diverted him for a time from this
path of inquiry, and brought him back to that of philosophy.
He published a continuation of his Elements of Metaphy¬
sics ; but with every new volume he continued to expe¬
rience the censures and opposition of the partizans of the
scholastic routine. Among these were the Cardinal Spinelli,
archbishop of Naples, and an Abbe Magli, whom Genovesi
covered with ridicule in his work entitled L,ettere a un
Amico Provinciate. In spite of these continual jarrings,
Genovesi obtained the approbation and esteem of Pope
Benedict XIV., of several cardinals, and of most of the
learned men who at that period flourished in Italy. Of this
number was Intieri, a Florentine, alike distinguished for
his philanthropical qualities and the extent and solidity of
his acquirements. It is to him that Italy is indebted for
her first chair of political economy, which he founded at his
own expense in the university of Naples, under three con¬
ditions, namely, that the lectures should be in Italian, that
Genovesi should be the first professor, and that, after his
death, no ecclesiastic should succeed him.
Genovesi opened his first course of lectures on the 5th
of November 1 754, with great success. The novelty and
the interest of the subject, the eloquent style and agreeable
manner of the professor, attracted a crowd of auditors, and
made a deep and lively impression. Nothing, indeed, was
talked of but agriculture and commerce. Genovesi after¬
wards published his Lectures on Commerce, and Carey’s
Account of the Trade of England translated into Italian by
his brother, with notes by himself. The great success of
these lectures, which were delivered in Italian, induced
Genovesi to draw up a complete code of philosophy in that
language, so as to render the work accessible to those classes
to whom the Latin tongue was not familiar. He had pub¬
lished in Italian his Meditazioni Filosojiche, on religion
and morals ; and his T^ettere Accademiche, on the utility of
the arts and sciences—a treatise written in opposition to the
well-known work of Rousseau on that subject. Following
out his plan, he began to recast all his Latin works, and to
improve their form, so as to render them more generally in¬
teresting. The first of these was his treatise on Logic,
which went through several editions. Then his Metaphy¬
sics appeared, in three parts, viz., on cosmology, theology,
and anthropology. In 1767 he published part of a work on
GEN 455
the Science of the Tights and Duties of Man ; but this was Gens
never completed. In all his writings the style is somewhat II
affected; at the sametime they present us with a good ex- Genser'c-
position of the ideas and systems of the most celebrated
philosophers.
After the suppression of the order of the Jesuits, when
it became a question with the government whether they
ought to be reinstated in their superintendence of public
instruction, Genovesi was consulted, and his advice was to
replace the scholastic chairs by schools of mathematics,
physics, and history; and he proposed one chair for the
illustration of Cicero Be Officiis.
From the commencement of 1763 Genovesi had felt the
symptoms of a dangerous malady ; but he continued to
teach and to write to the last day of his life; and he had
the satisfaction of witnessing the great success of his labours.
Since the days of Telesius and Campanella no school had
attained more credit and celebrity at Naples than that
of Genovesi. Pupils of all ranks flocked to his lectures;
and those who heard him generally adopted his ideas. He
handled the most abstruse subjects in the most agreeable
manner, and thus secured a great command over the atten¬
tion as well as over the judgment of his pupils. Indeed all
that Italy has since produced in philosophical and econo¬
mical science may be said to have originated in the school
which he founded. Genovesi died of a dropsical disorder,
September 22, 1769, aged fifty-seven.
The following list of his works is taken from Fabroni, Vitce
Italorum doctrina excellentium :—1. Disciplinarum metaphysicarum
Elementa Mathematicum in inorem adornata, 1744-1751, 4 vols.
8vo ; 2. Elementorum Artis logico-criticse libri quinque, Neapolis,
1745 ; 3. Discorso sopra alcuni trattati d’Agricoltura, ibid. 1753;
4. Lettere Accademiche, ibid. 1764 ; 5. Storia del Commercio della
Gran Brettagna, &c., 1757 ; 6. Delle Lezioni di Commercio; 7. Dis¬
corso sopra I’Agricoltura, with a translation of Tull’s Husbandry;
8. Discorso sul volgarizzamento del Saggio Francese sull’Economia
de’ grani, Naples, 1765 ; 9. Meditazioni Filosoficbe sulla Keligione
e sulla Morale,ibid. 1766; 10. Della Filosofia del giusto e dell’ onesto,
1766-1776, 3 vols.; 11. Universae Christianse Theologias elementa
dogmatica, historica, critica, a posthumous work, Venice, 1771, 2
vols. 4to. (j. c.)
GENS, in Toman Antiquity, a clan, embracing several
families, whose bond of alliance was a common name and
certain religious rites performed in common. The Gens
Cornelia, for instance, comprised the families of the Len-
tuli, Cethegi, Scipiones, and many others. Persons of the
same gens were called Gentiles, while those of the same
family were designated Agnati. At first patricians only
were considered to have a gens ; but after the plebeians ob¬
tained the right of intermarriage with the patricians, and
access to the honours of the state, they likewise received
the rights of gentes. Hence there were both patrician and
plebeian gentes; and sometimes in the same gens there
were both patrician and plebeian families. (See Niebuhr’s
Tom. Gesch., vol. i., p. 339; Adam’s Toman Antiquities;
Freund’s Lexicon, &c.)
GENSERIC, king of the Vandals, was the most for¬
midable of the Gothic invaders of the Roman empire. In
429 a.d. he became king of the Vandal settlers in Spain,
and in that same year crossed over into Africa, where he
subjugated the Roman provinces of the north, and com¬
mitted the most frightful devastations. His next exploit
was to fit out a fleet, in which he sailed to Ostia, whence
he marched to Rome, which he stormed, and gave up to his
soldiers to be pillaged during fourteen days (a. d. 455). Two
attempts were made by the Romans to avenge themselves
on the barbarians ; the first by Majorian, emperor of the
west, in 457 ; the second by Leo, emperor of the east, in
468. Both of these attempts, however, signally failed. Gen-
seric spent the remainder of his life in consolidating his
conquests, and died at a great age in 477. He was cruel
to bloodthirstiness, cunning, unscrupulous, and grasping;
but he possessed great military talents, and his manner ot
456 GEN GEN
Gentian life was austere. Though the effect of his victories was
ll_ neutralized by the subsequent successes of Belisarius, his
Gentilis. name jong remained the glory of the Vandal tribes. (Comp.
Procopius’ De Beil. Vandal. ; Gibbon’s Decline and Fall,
chap. 33-36.)
GENTIAN, a genus of plants belonging to the nat. ord.
Gentianacece. It includes about a hundred species, many
of them remarkable for the beauty of their flowers, which
are usually of different shades of blue, but sometimes red,
purple, yellow, or rose-coloured. See Botany, vol. v.,
p. 200. The officinal gentian is the dried root of Gentiana
lutea, a native of the Alps, which has a stem about three
feet high, broad ovate leaves, and numerous yellow flowers.
It has an intensely bitter taste, and is in general use as a
tonic in diseases of debility. Its febrifuge virtues have been
celebrated from antiquity, and it was a much-valued remedy
in intermittents before the introduction of cinchona, for which
it is still sometimes substituted. All the species contain
the bitter principle in abundance.
GENTILE (Eat. Gentilis, from gens, a nation) is used
in Scripture to denote a pagan, or worshipper of false gods.
The Hebrew's included all the inhabitants of the earth ex¬
cept the Israelites under the common name of D’ij (goini),
i.e. ‘nations;’ in the Greek rendered to. eOvrj,'and in the
Latin by gentes. By degrees this appellation came to be
used by the Hebrews in a reproachful sense, on account of
the idolatry of the surrounding nations. It was afterwards
used by the Jewish converts to the gospel as a common
designation for such as were neither Jews nor Christians.
St Paul is styled emphatically the apostle of the Gentiles,
because the sphere of his labours lay chiefly among the
foreign pagans.
In the Roman law and history the word gentile is used
as equivalent to barbarian, which was applied to all who
were not Romans.
GENTILESCHI, Horatio, an Italian painter, born at
Pisa in 1563. After having made himself famous at Flo¬
rence, Rome, Genoa, and in other parts of Italy, he re¬
moved to Savoy, from thence to France; and at last,
on the invitation of Charles I., came over to England.
He was appointed lodgings at court, with a considerable sa¬
lary, and employed to decorate the palace at Greenwich
and other public places. His best performances in Eng¬
land were the ceilings of Greenwich and York House.
He also executed a Madonna, a Magdalen, and Lot with
his two daughters, for the king. His attempts in portrait
were feeble, his talent lying altogether in the historical
style, with figures the size of life. After twelve years’ resi¬
dence in England, he died at the age of eighty-four, and
was buried in the Queen’s Chapel at Somerset House.
GENTILIS, Albericus, a laborious jurisconsult of the
sixteenth century, with more erudition than taste or judg¬
ment, was born in 1551 at Castello-di-San-Genesio, in the
March of Ancona, and studied at Perugia, wdiere he took
the degree of doctor in civil law at the age of twenty-one.
Soon afterwards he was appointed a judge at Ascoli; but
not having it in his power to profess there in security the
Protestant religion, of which he was an ardent follower, he
went to seek an asylum in Carniola, and ultimately in Eng¬
land. During his stay in London, where he continued for
several years, he lived entirely on the bounty of some gene¬
rous friends of the sciences. At length the Earl of Leices¬
ter procured him, in 1587, the chair of law in the university
of Oxford, which, with other lucrative appointments, he
held till his death in 1611. The labours of Albericus Gen¬
tilis in jurisprudence give him but small claims to cur
esteem. His views are often erroneous, and the sound doc¬
trines which may be found in his works are buried in a
mass of citations without end, from the philosophers, fathers,
poets, historians, and jurisconsults. But his treatises on
the law of nations have rendered his name worthy of a place
in the history of jurisprudence. His book De Jure Delli Gentleman,
contains excellent views on a science which Aristotle and
Cicero have not even touched on ; and if the author has
not sufficiently fathomed his subject, he has at least the
merit of having furnished abundant materials to Grotius,
who knew better how to use them.
An exact list of the works of Gentilis may be found in the Me-
moires of Niceron (tomes xv. and xx.); but it may be sufficient here
to indicate the following : Liber Conditionum, Wittemberg, 1580,
8vo; De Juris Interpretibus Dialoyi Sex, London, 4to ; De injustitia
bellica Romanorum actio, Oxford, 1590, 8vo ; De Jure Belli libri tree,
llanau, 1598, 8vo ; Disputationes duce, prima de actoribus et specta-
toribus fabularum non notandis, secunda de abusu mendacii, llanau,
1599, 8vo; Ad Joannem Rainoldum de Ludis Scenicis epistolce ducc,
Middelburg, 1699, 4to; Disputationes tres, prima de libris Juris
Canonici, secunda de libris Juris Oivilis, tertia de Latinitate vo¬
ter is Bibliorum versionis male accusata, llanau, 1604 and 1605,
8vo; De Linguarum mixtura disputatio parergica, Hanau, 1604,
8vo. (J. B—E.)
GENTLEMAN (from the root of gens, a family), a
designation which in its most extended sense comprehends
every man (whether titled or untitled) whose condition is
above that of a yeoman. In a more limited sense it denotes
one without a title who bears a coat of arms, or whose an¬
cestors have been freemen. By courtesy, however, .this
title is generally accorded to all persons above the rank of
common tradesmen when their manners and deportment are
indicative of a certain amount of refinement and intelligence.
But in its best and highest sense, this word is used to denote
one who not only does what is right and just, but whose con¬
duct is regulated by a true principle of honour, which springs
from that self-respect and intellectual refinement which
manifest themselves in unconstrained yet delicate manners.
The word is a synonym of the French gentilhomme,
with the substitution of the Saxon man for the correspond¬
ing term of the Norman French. This again is from the
Latin gentilis homo, which was used by the Romans to sig¬
nify one who belonged to a gens or family. The meaning
of this term is explained by Cicero {Top. vi.) as follows
Gentiles sunt, qui inter se eodem sunt nomine, ab ingenuis
oriundi, quorum majorum nemo servitutem servivit, qui
capite non sunt diminuti. The word gentleman, as con¬
nected with gentilis, has its equivalent in most of the lan¬
guages of western Europe that are derived from the Latin.
Thus in Italian it is gentilubmo ; and the Spanish hasgentil-
hombre, though the equivalent term in that language is
rather hidalgo, or hi jo dddlgo, i.e. the son of somebody, or a
person of note. Some have maintained that the word is de¬
rived from gentilis in the sense'of pagan.; and that the
ancient Franks when they conquered Gaul, which had been
converted to Christianity, were called by the natives gentiles
as being yet heathens. Others state, that in the decline of
the Roman empire, as recorded by Ammianus Marcellinus,
there were two companies of soldiers distinguished for their
valour, the gentiles and the scutarii,—and that hence we de¬
rive the terms gentleman and esquire : to which opinion Pas-
quier inclines, especially as it was to these brave soldiers
that the principal portions of land were assigned.
Gentleman-Usher to the Black Bod, an officer belong¬
ing to the Garter, and chief usher to the sovereign. It is
his duty to attend the House of Peers during the sitting oi
parliament, to regulate the ceremonial forms of the house,
and to carry messages to the Commons. He has no fixed
salary, but derives his emoluments from fees regulated by
the house. He has also the appointment of the doorkeepers,
messengers, and other servants of the house.
Gentlemen-Pensioners, a band of forty gentlemen,
instituted by Henry VIII. in 1509, to form a guard to
the royal person to and from the chapel-royal, and on
other occasions of solemnity. In 1834 this corps resumed,
by royal command, its ancient title of “ The Honourable
Corps of Gentlemen - a t- /\ r ms ; ” and it was further ordered,
that the appointments should be made exclusively by the
GEO
GEO
Gentoos
sovereign, from lists kept by the commander-in-chief, and
ij, on his recommendation, and that none should be eligible but
eo rey. 0g5cers of the army or marines, who should also be allowed
to enjoy their half-pay along with their salaries. These ap¬
pointments are placed on the same footing with respect to
purchase, and vacancies by death, as commissions in the
army. The corps consists of the captain with a salary of
L.1000 a-year, the lieutenant with L.500, the standard-
bearer with L.310, the clerk of the cheque with L.120, and
of forty gentlemen who are entitled esquires and receive
L.70 each per annum. They form a body-guard to the
sovereign ; but their duty is now chiefly confined to an
attendance at drawing-rooms, levees, coronations, and other
state ceremonies. {Official Handbook, Lond., 1855.)
GENTOOS. See Hindustan.
GENUS, in a general sense, is an assemblage of objects,
whether persons, animals, plants, inanimate or abstract things,
related by some common resemblance in natural qualities.
In logic it signifies that which has several species under it;
or it may be defined as a universal which is predicable of
several things of different species.
In natural history it is used to denote an assemblage of
species which possess certain common characters by which
they are distinguished from all others. It is subordinate to
class and order, and, in some arrangements, to tribe and
family. Sometimes a single species, possessing certain pe¬
culiar characters distinct from all other species, constitutes
a genus.
Genus, in Music, signified a particular arrangement of
the sounds forming the ancient Greek scales, diatonic, or
chromatic, or enharmonic. (See the Musical Histories of
Burney, Martini, and Forkel.) (g. f. g.)
GEOCENTRIC, having the earth for its centre, or the
same centre as the earth; a term applied in astronomy to
the place of a planet as seen from the centre of the earth,
in opposition to its heliocentric place, or that point in the
ecliptic in which the planet would appear if viewed from
the centre of the sun.
GEODESY (yi), and Satw I divide), that part of practical
geometry which relates especially to the measurement and
division of surfaces. In its more extended signification
geodesy embraces all the trigonometrical and astronomical
operations necessary for the construction of maps, for mea¬
suring the length of a terrestrial degree, &c.; and includes,
in short, all those operations which relate to the measure¬
ment of the earth’s surface. See Figure op the Earth,
Geography, and Trigonometrical Survey.
GEOFFREY of Monmouth, an ancient English chro¬
nicler, was born about the beginning of the twelfth cen¬
tury, in the town from which he took his name. A room
in the Benedictine monastery of Monmouth is still pointed
out as the place where he studied. He entered the church,
became archdeacon of Monmouth in 1152, was promoted in
1152 to the see of St Asaph, and is supposed to have died
in 1154. Geoffrey’s Chronicon, sive Historia Britonum
professes to be, and probably is, a translation from the
Welsh. The Welsh original fell into his hands through
Walter, archdeacon of Oxford (a different person from
Walter Mapes, who has been very often confounded with
him), who got possession of it in the course of a tour through
Armorica or Brittany. Geoffrey, who undertook to trans¬
late it, executed his task with great fidelity. The work it¬
self is a history in nine books of the Welsh from the time
of their leader Brut, the great-grandson of Tineas! to the
death, in 688, of Cadvvallader, whom the Saxon chroniclers
name Ceadwalla, and describe as king of Wessex. This
work does probably not possess much historical value, but
it is important as containing the legends and traditions of
the Kymri in a better form than they are to be found else¬
where. The outline of Geoffrey’s history is all to be found
111 Nennius, who preceded him by at least three centuries.
VOL. x.
457
But the splendid tale of Arthur and his knights had fallen
into complete oblivion, till revived by the monk of Glouces¬
ter into fresh life and universal and enduring popularity. For
this service alone does Geoffrey deserve to be gratefully re¬
membered by us, and to be forgiven the many fabulous and
trifling stories which he has grafted on historical outline in
such numbers as to make some critics, Buchanan among
the rest, regard his entire work as a fiction. The style of
the Chronicon is lively and agreeable, and the Latinity,
though far from perfect, is greatly superior to that of most
contemporary chroniclers.
I here are several editions of Geoffrey’s history. The
oldest is that printed by Ascensius at Paris in 1508, and
again in 1517. It is also contained in Commeline’s Collec¬
tion, Heidelberg, 1587. It was translated into English in
1718 by Aaron Thompson of Queen’s College, Oxford.
( lanner, Bibl. Britan. Hib. ; Chalmers, Btog. Bict.; Craik,
History of Learning and Literature, &c. &c.)
GEOFFROY SAINT-HILAIRE, IiItienne, one of the
most eminent naturalists of modern times, was a native of
Etampes (Seine-et-Oise), where he was born, April 15,1772.
By his genius, energy, and skilful investigations, during a
long career as professor of zoology to the faculty of sciences
of the Academic de Paris, and at the Jardin du Roi, he con¬
tributed more than any other naturalist, except his great
contemporary and friend Cuvier, to the progress of the
science and philosophy of natural history. Destined by his
parents for the clerical profession, he was entered at the
college of Navarre, in Paris, in order to study philosophy
and the other branches reckoned necessary as preparatory
to a theological course. At this time Brisson was professor
of experimental philosophy in that college, and gained im¬
mense influence over the mind of the young student, who
felt instilled into him an enthusiastic love of nature in all
its wonderful variety. This inclination greatly strengthened
the sympathy between Geoftfoy and his teacher. Having
completed the term of his literary studies, he left the college
of Navarre, and obtained his father’s permission to enter
the college of Cardinal Lemoine. Notwithstanding the high
and honourable position in the church held out to him
through powerful patronage, Geoffroy wished to pursue
studies more in harmony with his peculiar tastes and sym¬
pathies; and while hesitating about which department of
natural science he should devote his attention to, he was
much assisted in coming to a decision by making the ac¬
quaintance of the celebrated Haiiy, then one of the profes¬
sors in the Cardinal’s college. Haiiy became his warm,
steady, and attached friend, and by his example and coun¬
sels greatly assisted him in developing the tastes which the
lectures of Brisson had aroused. The consequence was,
that from this moment Geoffroy enthusiastically devoted
himself solely to the study of the natural sciences. In pur¬
suance of his determination, he first, in company with Haiiy,
took the mineralogical course at the College de France.
Daubenton, who filled this chair, was not slow to perceive
the decided bent and talent of his pupil. At the conclu¬
sion of his lectures, being in the habit of entering into con¬
versation with his pupils, for the purpose of affording expla¬
nations to his auditors on points which might to them seem
obscure, Daubenton was struck with the depth of the re¬
marks and questions elicited from the young Geoffroy on
such occasions; and even then he predicted the distin¬
guished rank which his pupil would one day occupy in the
scientific world.
The labours of Geoffroy and his friend Haiiy, however
were interrupted by the revolution of 1789. During the
massacre of September 1792, Geoffroy, at the risk of his
own life, was the means of saving several priests; and among
them Haiiy, who had been imprisoned for recusancy. This
act of devotion so endeared him to his teachers, especially
to Daubenton, that through his instrumentality he was ap-
3 M
458 G E O F
Geoffrey, pointed, in 1793, to an office in the Jardin des Plantes,
where he founded the vast zoological collections which
form one of the true glories of Paris. By the law of June
10, 1793, the Jardin du Roi was constituted a school for
advanced instruction in all branches of natural history, con¬
ducted by twelve eminent professors, each distinguished in
his own branch. Scarcely entered on his twenty-fourth year,
and very recently having applied himself to the study of
mineralogy, Geoffroy was judicially selected by Daubenton
for the chair of zoology (section, vertebrate animals), an
appointment which he more recently shared with Lacepede.
Having thus become the colleague of Daubenton, Four-
croy, Jussieu, Lacepede, Lamarck, Vauquelin, and Latreille,
Geoffroy devoted himself with enthusiastic energy to the
study of zoology exclusively. For the purpose of extend¬
ing the sphere of this science, he earnestly and cordially
encouraged the efforts of all those who attempted to assist
in its progress; and to this zeal it is that Europe owes one
of the men who have rendered her pre-eminently illus¬
trious in the science of natural history—the celebrated Cu¬
vier. During the years 1795 and 1796, Geoffroy and
Cuvier resided together, sharing with each other everything
that could strengthen the already strong natural sympathy
of their natures. Soon after this Cuvier was appointed joint
professor of comparative anatomy with his bosom friend—
an honour which justified the presage that called him to
Paris, “ pour remplir le role d’un nouveau Linne.”
In 1798, Geoffroy was selected as one of the great scien¬
tific expedition to Egypt; and in the execution of his func¬
tions he displayed great firmness in preserving to his be¬
loved Paris immense treasures of precious materials collected
and prepared with infinite pains during that memorable
expedition in behalf of science and art. After the capitu¬
lation of Alexandria, these treasures were only saved by
Geoffroy threatening to destroy them wffien the English gene¬
ral wished to retain them: “We ourselves shall burn our
treasures,” said he, “ and history will not fail to record that
you have burned another library in Alexandria.” From
Egypt Geoffroy transferred to Paris a curious and most in¬
teresting collection of ancient animals ; and he inserted in
the great work upon Egypt learned observations on the
natural history, as well as on the civil history and theogony
of that interesting and inexhaustible country. On his re¬
turn to France he continued his course of lectures on na¬
tural history. He was one of the first men of science and
literature on whom Napoleon bestowed the cross of honour,
and in 1807 he became a member of the institute, and soon
afterwards associate of the Academic de Medecine, as well
as of most of the scientific institutions of Europe; then pro¬
fessor of zoology to the faculty of sciences (1809), still hold¬
ing at the museum the chair created in 1793.
In 1810 a mission into Portugal for the re-organization of
public instruction held out to his courage, his love of science,
and his benevolence, a new occasion of manifesting them¬
selves in all their comprehensiveness. Once more, we are told,
did the English wish to despoil him of his rich choice col¬
lections ; but these were saved to him by the intervention
of the conservators of Ajuda, who attested to the English
commissaries that these collections had been granted to the
French naturalist in exchange for minerals brought from
Paris, and that the classification of the Cabinet of Ajuda
was the fruit of this philosopher’s labour. This declaration,
with the sacrifice which Geoffroy made of several cases con-
F R O Y.
taining his own property abandoned to the exigencies of the Geoffroy.
people, allowed him to enrich the museum of Paris with a v„-
complete collection of the productions of Brazil.
The works of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire do not constitute a
regular system ; they are composed of detached Memoirs
in which are contained some new and bold ideas of which
no one disputes the originality and depth, though in their
application they often lose much of their justness and value.
The limits of a brief notice permit only a very brief analy¬
sis of the systems he developed in order to arrive at the
solution of philosophical and physiological questions of the
highest interest.
In psychology, Geoffrey Saint-Hilaire enunciated some
negative ideas only. The soul, which he calls a psycholo¬
gical element, is not an entity any more than a metaphysi¬
cal abstraction, according to his theory. This being, com¬
posed at once of a spiritual and a material principle {spiritus
corporeus) cannot represent the intelligent, since no part of
matter can belong to intellectual functions. In this manner
he tells us what the soul is not; but what it is he nowhere
informs us, nor does he even attempt a solution of the ques¬
tion so often earnestly asked—What is the soul ?
In his physiological views, however, Geoffroy is explicit
and positive. In formal and direct opposition to the philo¬
sophy of final causes, he has exerted all his efforts to de¬
monstrate that it was not with any view to their results that
the organs of animated beings have been created. This
miserable and arid system, which would prohibit us from
contemplating with gratitude the boundless intelligence of
the Author of nature, has been too successfully refuted ever
to be mooted again with the faintest hope of success.
It was imputed to Geoffroy that his doctrine necessarily
led to atheism ; because if all the existing species of organic
beings could have descended from one antediluvian species,
the intervention of creative power was useless ; and that if
both unorganized matter and organic matter are eternal, the
intervention of a creator was impossible. This imputation
Geoffroy indignantly scouted and disavowed as necessarily
arising out of his doctrines. In his Notions de Philosophic
Naturelle (1838), he complains that he has been misunder¬
stood ; that his doctrine does not suppose the existence of
such an antediluvian species ; and that by the term “ Typal
Unity,” he means unity of organic composition, which means
quite a different thing.
The most important of the published works of Geoffroy
Saint-Hilaire are:—Philosophic Anatomique, 1823; Systeme
dentaire des Manirniferes et des oiseaux, 1824; Histoire Na¬
turelle desMammiferes, in concert with Cuvier, 1819, second
edition, 1828, et seq., 4 vols. 4to; Cours d?Histoire Naturelle
des Mammiferes, 1828; Des Considerations sur les Singes
qui se rapprochent leplus de VEspece Humaine, 1836 ; No¬
tions de Philosophic Naturelle, and some biographical frag¬
ments, 1838. Besides all these, there are numerous contri¬
butions by him in several literary journals; and he was one of
the collaborateurs of the Dictionnaire des Sciences Naturelles
and of the Dictionnaire Classique d’Histoire Naturelle, in
which he was chiefly aided by his son, Isidore Geoffroy Saint-
Hilaire, M.D., and Member of the Academie des Sciences.
Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire died June 19,1844; and his Life,
Works, and Theories, have since been published by his son.
The title is: Vie, Travaux, et Doctrine Scientifique DEti-
enne Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire; par son fils, M. Isidore
Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Paris, 1847. (A* F- F>)
459
GEOGRAPHY.
INTRODUCTION.
Introduc- ^HE term Geography, derived from two Greek words,
tion. yioc, the earth, and ygapu, I write, signifies a description of
-Y''-'' the earth. The description to which this title is applied
may be more or less general; either embracing such truths
only as belong to the earth considered as one whole, or
extending to particulars which belong to and distinguish
the several countries spread over its surface. In which¬
soever of these two aspects the subject be regarded, a vast
field opens to the view of the observer. In order to give
a full and accurate description of the earth, it would be re¬
quisite to consider it in reference to its motion, figure, and
magnitude ; in reference to its relation to the other bodies
of the universe, and more especially to the planetary sys¬
tem of which it forms a part; in reference to its surface,
as diversified by land and sea, mountains and valleys, lakes
and rivers ; in reference to the materials which compose
its crust, and to its internal structure; in reference to the
constitution of the atmosphere with which it is surrounded,
and the effects arising from the variations in atmospheri¬
cal pressure, temperature, and humidity. Nor would it be
enough to consider the earth only as a mass of inert and
unorganized matter ; it would be necessary to regard it in
its relations to vegetable and animal life; and to trace the
phenomena which these, in their endless variety, present
in its various divisions and provinces. It would still fur¬
ther be necessary to view it as the abode of man himself,
and as modified by his existence ; divided into states and
kingdoms; adorned with cities, and all the noble monu¬
ments of civilized life.
Such is an outline of the picture which geography, in
the most unlimited meaning of the term, should exhibit of
the globe. To fill up this picture in all its parts, it would
evidently be necessary to call in the aid of the whole circle
of the sciences. But the description is usually of a less
extended character, being confined chiefly to the more ob¬
vious and striking features of the various regions and coun¬
tries of the earth.
In the wide range which the subject presents, several
divisions and subdivisions are suggested by the different
views in which the earth may be considered. The three Introduo
following divisions are the most important: tion.
1. Mathematical Geography, which illustrates, on astro-
nomical principles, the figure, magnitude, and motion of
the earth ; teaches how to determine the positions of places
on its surface; explains the construction of globes, with
their application to the solution of problems; and shows
how the whole or any portion of the earth’s surface may,
on the principles of projection, be delineated on a map or
chart.
2. Physical Geography, which treats of the mutual re¬
lations of the diversified objects found on the surface of the
earth, including the atmosphere by which it is surrounded ;
and explains the causes, whether of a chemical or mechani¬
cal description, that produce the modifications and changes
which are continually taking place in them.
3. Political or Historical Geography, which describes
the earth as divided into countries, occupied by various
nations, and improved by human art and industry. It
traces the circumstances and character of the different
races and tribes of mankind, explaining their social insti¬
tutions, and ascertaining the place which each occupies in
the scale of civilization.
From this general arrangement of the subject, it is evi¬
dent that geography depends for its rank as a science on
its intimate connection with various branches of knowledge,
which, taking their rise from investigations instituted in re¬
ference to the nature and mutual relations of the objects on
the earth, or connected with it, furnish those accurate views
which must be obtained before any thing like a precise de¬
scription can be given of the globe we inhabit, or of any
portion of it. With regard to what belongs to Physical
Geography, we must refer the reader to the articles Physi¬
cal Geography, Mineralogy, Meteorology, &c. in
this work. What belongs to Political or Historical Geogra¬
phy w ill be found under the names of the respective coun¬
tries. The following article will be limited to a view of
the progress of Geographical Discovery, and to a brief ex¬
planation of the principles of Mathematical Geography.
I.—VIEW OF THE PROGRESS OF GEOGRAPHICAL DISCOVERY.
There are many circumstances in the condition of man
which connect him so closely with the globe which he in¬
habits, as to render absolutely necessary to his existence
a knowledge of at least the neighbourhood of the spot
where his lot is cast. It is from the earth that he must
derive the means of subsistence and accommodation, the
materials on which his industry is to be exerted, and those
objects in the exchange of which commerce consists. In
every stage of his progress, therefore, from barbarism to
civilization, he must employ some attention and observa¬
tion, in order to discover in what respects the objects with
which he is surrounded are qualified to contribute to the
supply of his wants, and to his comfort and convenience.
Even while he roams the forest in the savage state, he
must make himself acquainted with many circumstances, a
knowledge of which is necessary either to give him success
in the chase, or to direct him in retracing his steps to the
place where he has fixed his dwelling. But it is not until
men have united in society, and that neighbouring com¬
munities have begun to hold mutual intercourse, that those
feelings and passions are effectually aroused which stimu¬
late to the arduous pursuits of geographical discovery.
Commerce and war, with the spirit of adventure which
usually accompany them, have without doubt been among
the first causes of geographical research. In the train of
these have followed the workings of avarice and the aims
of ambition. As the human mind has advanced in its ca¬
reer of improvement, curiosity, with an enlargement of
views and desires, have been called into action; and voy¬
ages have been undertaken for the express purpose of dis¬
covering new countries and exploring unknown seas.
In tracing the effects which these causes have produced
in the gradual increase of geographical knowledge, it will
contribute to distinctness to keep in view a threefold divi¬
sion, which the subject naturally assumes, namely, ancient
geography, extending from the earliest period of history
down to the time when, the Roman empire having been
overrun by barbarous nations from several quarters, Europe
was overwhelmed in the darkness which preceded the re¬
vival of learning ; the geography of the middle ages, ex¬
tending from the revival of letters to the fifteenth century,
when the discoveries of the Portuguese began to lay a
460
GEOGRAPHY.
History, wider foundation for the science ; and modern geography,
's—' which embraces the most recent discoveries, and is pro¬
gressively improving by the accessions which it is receiv¬
ing from the labours and science of modern travellers and
navigators.
The Phoenicians are the earliest commercial people of
whose discoveries we have any correct accounts. This
people seem first to have explored the coasts of the Medi¬
terranean. Their navigators at length extending their
voyages through the Straits of Gades, now called the Straits
of Gibraltar, entered the Atlantic Ocean, and visited the
western coasts of Spain and Africa. In many places to
which they resorted they planted colonies ; and sought, by
instructing the inhabitants, in some measure, in their arts
and improvements, to open a wider sphere for their com¬
merce. The learned Bochart, led by the analogy between
the Phoenician tongue and the oriental languages, has en¬
deavoured to follow the tracks of the Phoenicians, both
along the shores of the Mediterranean and those of the
Atlantic. These analogies are not always sure guides ;
but there seems no reason to doubt that Cadiz was origi¬
nally a Phoenician colony, and it is not likely that this was
the only one formed by that enterprising people.
The Arabian Gulf, or Red Sea, offered to the Phoeni¬
cians another field of naval and commercial exertion, to
the improvement of which the distance of Tyre, the empo¬
rium of their trade, was the only obstacle. This induced
them to make themselves masters of Rhinocrura or Rhino-
colura, the port in the Mediterranean nearest to the Red
Sea. Commodities purchased in Arabia, Ethiopia, and In¬
dia were landed at Elah, the safest harbour in the Red Sea
towards the north ; thence they were conveyed over land
to Rhinocolura ; and being there reshipped, they were car¬
ried to Tyre, whence they were distributed over the world.
The wealth and power which accrued to the Phoenicians
from their being in the sole possession of the lucrative
trade of the East, incited the Jews, their neighbours, un¬
der the prosperous reigns of David and Solomon, to desire
a participation in its advantages. Their conquest of Idu¬
mea, which stretches along the Red Sea, put it in the
power of Solomon to fit out a fleet; while his alliance with
Hiram, king of Tyre, enabled him to command the skill of
the Phoenicians for the conducting of the voyage. Passing
through the Straits of Babelmandel, they carried on com¬
merce in the Indian Ocean ; and so distant were the coun¬
tries to which they traded, that the voyage occupied no
less than three years. But though the Jews thus for a
time engaged in the pursuits of trade, yet the tendency of
their institutions, which were expressly designed to pre¬
serve them a separate people, was unfavourable to the de¬
velopment of the commercial spirit which their monarchs
wished to foster among them. This, joined with the divi¬
sion of the kingdom on the death of Solomon, proved fatal
to their rising greatness as a commercial people, and ex¬
cluded them from ranking among the nations who have History,
contributed to the advancement of geographical knowledge.
It is perhaps impossible to fix with certainty the limits
which bounded the geographical researches of the Phoeni¬
cians, on account of the difficulty there is of assigning the
precise places marked out by the names then given to the
countries to which they traded. The length of time occu¬
pied in the voyage, and the nature of the cargoes brought
home, with a few other circumstances of the same vague kind,
are the only particulars afforded to direct us in the deter¬
mination. Thus the country of Ophir, to which the Phoe¬
nicians navigated the ships of Solomon, must be ascertain¬
ed by the facts that the voyage thither and homeward oc¬
cupied three years, and that the cargo consisted of “ gold
and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks.” Among the
various opinions which have been entertained respecting
the position of this distant country, the most probable ap¬
pears to be that it was situated on the eastern coast of
Africa, as far south as Sofala. To this quarter every indica¬
tion seems clearly to point; and whatever objections may
appear to stand in the way, in consideration of the remote¬
ness of the region, and the difficulties to be encountered,
these admit of being answered by a reference to the length
of time required for the voyage, and to the wealth, naval
skill, and ample resources, at the command of the monarchs
engaged in the traffic.1
The Carthaginians, a Phoenician colony, retained in full
vigour the commercial spirit of the parent state. They
did not, however, attempt to divide with Tyre the wealth
and power which she derived from the monopoly of the
trade carried on in the Arabian Gulf. They directed their
efforts to the opposite quarter, and sailing through the
Straits of Gades, pushed their researches far beyond the
bounds which had been reached by the mother country in
this part of the globe. They visited not only all the coast
of Spain, but likewise that of Gaul, and penetrated at
length as far as the south-western coast of Britain, where
they obtained tin from the mines of Cornwall or in traffic
with the natives. Nor was it only towards the northward
that they directed their efforts ; they explored also the re¬
gions southward of the straits, and sailing along the west¬
ern coast of Africa almost as far as the northern tropic,
they planted colonies, as the Phoenicians of Tyre had for¬
merly done, with a view to prepare the natives for carry¬
ing on commercial intercourse. The Atlantic Ocean was
destined to conceal for ages from the inhabitants of the old
world the immense regions which lie beyond it. But the
Carthaginians extended the boundary of navigation west¬
ward by the discovery of the Fortunate Islands, now known
by the name of the Canaries.
I he enlargement of views gradually generated by this
spirit of commercial enterprise led at length to voyages of
which discovery was the special object. The circumnavi¬
gation of Africa was one of the earliest attempts of this
Tn r®f f1?8 sP°^n of m Scripture as the most remote with which the Hebrews and Phoenicians were acquainted are,
i arshish, Ophir, the Isles, Sheba, and Dedan, the River, Gog, Magog, and the North. Without entering into any discussion, we
may give what appear to be the most probable conclusions with regard to the positions of the countries to which these names were an-
Prnn 1 ls Rom which two voyages are spoken of in Scripture as being made; one by the Mediterranean, bringing
of trnninQi^A ^ n1’ t ie Pro^uce Spam and Britain ; the other by the Bed Sea, bringing gold, ivory, and other productions
mav hp uSe tW.° VTgeS’ th°ugh. at,first sight, the>T aPPear incongruous if supposed to be made to the same country,
and RritM'C°nC1^ suPPosin?? that 1 arshish is fundamentally Carthage, which monopolized almost entirely the commerce of Spain
Afriran rr,Tt,vandrWaS the through which the commodities of the west were distributed; and that the name of this great
sisrino* pith v°Pc 18 " ^ ex!:enc ec ^ le wi1°ie continent of Africa. The Isles are the whole southern coasts of Europe, con-
thp T?prl ° 18 ands or peninsular tracts. Sheba is the southern portion of that part of the coast of Arabia which borders on
nnrtnncp in Z Ue ^ ^ h,eS Upon the °PPosite coast’ that borders on the Persian Gulf. These countries rose to commercial im-
fprfrnm °f the ,valuable commodities which were imported into the former from the African coast, and into the lat-
Viprlnnim ” aru Y-61™6 ar0Se, the traffic carried 011 b7 “ the companies of Sheba,” or caravans, and by “ the travelling companies of
laPd in Php intpl: !?/ always applied to the Euphrates. Gog, Magog, and the North, appear to be the high table-
the neculiarlv rnrip nnH V! 4'sul Minor, Phrygia, Galatia, Cappadocia, and Paphlagonia, regions in which maybe recognised
nliei? fSpp ~Fnr i Ur?1A ^ e asPect which belonged to the countries to which in ancient times the names in question were ap¬
plied. (See Encyclopedia of Geography, by H. Murray, Esq.) 1
GEOGRAPHY.
History, kind made by the ancients. The direction which the coast
takes beyond the Mediterranean on the one hand, and the
Red Sea on the other, suggested the idea of a peninsula
which it might be possible to sail round. This voyage was
first undertaken by the Egyptians; a people exceedingly
averse to engage in naval affairs, but who at this time were
ruled over by Necho, a monarch whose active spirit prompt¬
ed him to engage some Phoenicians to descend the Arabian
Gulf, and, coasting along Africa, to endeavour to return by
the Straits of Gades. Herodotus narrates in a few words
the result of this enterprise, which was undertaken about
six hundred and four years before the Christian era. He
says, “ the Phoenicians, setting sail from the Red Sea, made
their way into the southern sea; and when autumn ap¬
proached they drew their vessels to land, sowed a crop,
and waited till it was grown ; when they reaped it, and
again put to sea. Having spent two years in this manner,
in the third year they reached the pillars of Hercules, and
returned to Egypt, reporting what does not find belief with
me, but may perhaps with some other person; for they
said that in passing Africa they had the sun on their right
hand. In this manner Lybia was first known.”
This passage has given rise to much controversy among
the learned. But the voyage here so briefly described
does not seem to involve any impossibility, notwithstanding
the then infant state of navigation ; and the circumstance
which the historian objects to as incredible is the very point
which, from its coincidence with what we know should have
happened, renders the story more worthy of belief.
Xerxes king of Persia, according to Herodotus, gave a
similar commission, about four hundred and eighty years
before the Christian era, to one of his satraps, named Sa-
taspes, who, for a heinous offence, had been condemned to
die. If successful in the accomplishment of this voyage,
Sataspes was to escape a cruel death ; but the difficulties
were too great to be surmounted by a navigator brought
up amidst the luxury and indulgence of the Persian court.
Having procured from Egypt a vessel and crew, he passed
through the Straits of Gades, entered the Atlantic Ocean,
and, bending his course towards the south, coasted the con¬
tinent of Africa, until, after several months, he probably
reached the coast of Sahara. The frightful and desolate
shores along which he sailed, and the tempestuous ocean
which beat against them, combined to fill his mind with
alarm, and to shake his resolution. He retraced his course
to the straits ; and hoping perhaps that the labours he had
undergone in the partial accomplishment of the task im¬
posed on him would be accepted by his royal master as a
sufficient atonement for his offence, or that the offence itself
might in a great measure be forgotten, he returned home
and presented himself before Xerxes. The cause which he
assigned for the failure of the ultimate object of his mis¬
sion was, that he had encountered a sea so full of herbage
that his passage was completely obstructed. This reason
(the grounds of which have never been satisfactorily ex¬
plained, though it has been alleged that obstacles of this
description occur in that part of the sea which lies between
the Cape Verd Islands, the Canaries, and the coast of Afri¬
ca) appeared so ridiculous to Xerxes, that he ordered the
sentence of death by crucifixion, which had been pronoun¬
ced upon Sataspes, to be immediately executed.
But the most celebrated voyage of antiquity undertaken
for the purpose of discovery was the expedition under Han-
no, fitted out by the authority of the senate of Carthage, and
at the public expense, and that with the view of attempting
a complete survey of the western coast of Africa. Of all
the voyages performed by the Phoenicians and Carthagi¬
nians, this is the only one of which we have an authentic
narrative. Mercantile jealousy prevented these two great
commercial states from communicating to other nations the
knowledge which they acquired of the remote regions of
461
the earth ; and from this cause, when the maritime power History,
of the former was annihilated by Alexander’s conquest of
Tyre, and the empire of the latter was overthrown by the
Roman arms, all monuments of their great skill in naval
affairs appear in a great measure to have perished. Even
the account of the voyage of Hanno (Periplus Hannonis)
has been considered by its learned editor Mr Dodwell as
a spurious work. But the arguments of M. de Montes¬
quieu and of M. de Bougainville appear fully to establish its
authenticity, which the learned world now generally admit.
Hanno set sail with a fleet of sixty vessels, so construct¬
ed that, according to the mode of ancient navigation, he
could keep close in with the coast. We are told that, in
twelve days after leaving the Straits of Gades, he reached
the island of Cerne ; that proceeding thence, and follow¬
ing the direction of the coast, he arrived, in seventeen
days, at a bay, which he called The West Horn. From
this he advanced to another bay, which he named The
South Horn. The objects which are described as having
been seen by Hanno in his progress belong to tropical
Africa. But in attempting to ascertain the places which
he visited, or the utmost distance which he sailed south¬
ward, much difficulty and uncertainty are experienced.
Bougainville supposes Hanno to have reached the Gulf
of Benin, and contends that this limit, distant as it is, can¬
not be regarded as beyond wrhat may be conceived to have
been accomplished by the most skilful navigator of antiqui¬
ty. Major Rennell shortens the distance considerably by
conceiving the voyage to have been extended no further
southward than Sherbro Sound, a little beyond Sierra Leone.
He thus obtains the advantage of avoiding a difficulty in¬
volved in the hypothesis of M. de Bougainville; namely,
the supposition of ancient ships having sailed upwards of
seventy geographical miles in a day. At the same time,
the arguments which support the one hypothesis are equal¬
ly applicable to the other.
According to the views of M. Gosselin, however, the
voyage must be confined to much narrower limits south¬
ward than even those assigned by Major Rennell. He sup¬
poses it to have terminated about the river Nun ; an opi¬
nion which he supports by alleging that, in such a voyage,
the progress must necessarily have been slow. The Car¬
thaginian navigator had to encounter all the obstacles and
dangers incident to a course held along a shore, and in a
sea, which were equally unknown. He must have found
himself impeded by the requisite examination of every part
of the coast, as well as by the many precautions which the
safety of the fleet under his command must have rendered
constantly necessary. With regard to the circumstances
given in the narrative which appear to point to tropical
Africa, M. Gosselin supposes that the same aspect of life
and nature may, at that distant period, have belonged to
Morocco, then thinly peopled by the rude native tribes,
which is now specially characteristic of more southern re¬
gions.
Amidst such diversity of opinion among the learned, it
is not easy to decide in reference to a subject beset with
so many difficulties. If we assume either of the more re¬
mote distances assigned for the termination of the voyage,
Cerne must be identified with the isle of Arguin ; and, on
Major Rennell’s hypothesis, the Gulfs of Bissago and Sher¬
bro present those numerous islands described by Hanno,
to which there are no islands corresponding on any other
part of the coast. On the whole, however, the most li¬
mited distance seems preferable, if we admit that part of
M. Gosselin’s hypothesis which assigns to Morocco fea¬
tures of man and of nature that are usually held to be cha¬
racteristic of tropical Africa.
The circumnavigation of Africa was an enterprise which
in ancient times not only called forth the naval efforts of
the most powerful maritime states, but which also awaken-
GEOGRAPHY.
462
History, ed the ambition of private adventurers. Eudoxus, a na-
tive of Cyzicus, being sent on a mission to Alexandria, at
that time the seat of naval enterprise and geographical
knowledge, his ardent mind, naturally biassed to these pur¬
suits, was aroused to action by the spirit which prevailed
in that city. He began his career under the auspices of
Ptolemy Euergetes, the reigning Egyptian monarch, who
fitted out a fleet, and placed it under his command. Ac¬
cording to the destination assigned him, Eudoxus descend¬
ed the Arabian Gulf, and proceeded probably as far as the
southern shore of Arabia. Thence he appears to have re¬
turned, after a prosperous voyage, with a valuable cargo of
aromatics and precious stones. But of this wealth he ap¬
pears to have been deprived by Euergetes. After the death
of this monarch, which in a short time took place, his widow
Cleopatra sent Eudoxus on another voyage, in the course of
which he was driven by unfavourable winds on the coast of
Ethiopia, where he was kindly received by the inhabitants,
and carried on with them an advantageous traffic. After
other vicissitudes of fortune, he was induced by circumstan¬
ces which occurred in his adventurous life to leave the court
of Egypt, and repair to the commercial city of Cadiz, in
Spain, and there to fit out an expedition for the purpose
of African discovery. At Massilia (Marseilles), and other
maritime places through which he passed on his way to
Cadiz, he took care to make known his views and hopes of
success, and to invite all who were actuated by any spirit
of enterprise to accompany him. He succeeded in fitting
out a ship and two large boats; on board of which he car¬
ried not only goods and provisions, but artisans, medical
men, and even players on musical instruments. This was
no doubt proceeding on a magnificent scale. But his crew
was ill calculated to second his bold undertaking. To
avoid the danger of stranding, Eudoxus was anxious to
keep the open sea. His companions, however, alarmed at
the swell, forced him to adopt the usual mode then follow¬
ed of sailing along the shore ; a measure which led to the
disaster which he had anticipated. With one vessel of a
lighter construction, on board of which was put the more
valuable part of the cargo, Eudoxus pursued his voyage
until he reached a part of the coast inhabited by a race
of people that appeared to him to speak the same language
with those whom he had found on the opposite side of the
continent. Judging from this circumstance that he had
ascertained the main object of his voyage, he returned and
endeavoured to obtain the assistance of Bocchus, king of
Mauritania. Suspecting, however, treachery on the part
of that monarch, he again had recourse to Spain. Here he
was again successful in equipping another expedition, con •
sisting of one large vessel fitted for the open sea, and an¬
other of smaller size for the examination of the coast. This
was a judicious preparation for the accomplishment of the
object in view ; but with regard to the issue of the voyage
no accounts of any authority have been preserved.
Such are the leading circumstances connected with the
voyages of Eudoxus, which are narrated by Strabo ; and,
notwithstanding the scepticism and severe criticisms of
that geographer, there is really nothing to which the candid
reader can reasonably refuse his belief. Prejudices, found¬
ed, for the most part, on his own want of information, led
Strabo to treat likewise as fabulous the relation of the only
ancient voyage having Europe, and more particularly the
British isles, for its object, of which we have any detailed
account.
Pytheas, a Massilian navigator, undertook an expedition
about three hundred and twenty years before the Christian
era. He steered northward; and after examining the
coasts of Spain and Gaul, he sailed round the island of
Albion ; and, stretching still farther to the north, he dis¬
covered an island, the Ultima Thule of the ancients. What
island this was the learned are not agreed. It has been sup¬
posed to be the modern Iceland; but this implies too great History,
an extent of open sea for an ancient navigator to traverse;
and besides, six days, the period during which he is said to
have navigated to the northward of Albion before he made
his discovery, are too short a time to admit of his reaching
Iceland. Others, amongst whom is Malte-Brun, have con¬
sidered Jutland as Ultima Thule. But it should be kept
in view that Pytheas uniformly regarded Thule as British,
a character which he could scarcely conceive to belong to
Jutland, seeing he could have reached that peninsula only
by a long course along the coasts of Germany, which must
have imnressed on his mind the idea that he had left far
behind him every thing belonging to Britain. On the whole,
Shetland seems best entitled to be considered as the an¬
cient Thule, and suits well with the appellation which Py¬
theas gives it, when he expressly calls it the “ furthest of
the Britains."’
Strabo endeavours to throw discredit on the statements
of Pytheas, by starting objections long known to be of the
most groundless description; and it is an advantage which
the traveller and navigator possess who describe faithfully
the grand features of nature, that, however prejudice may
dim their reputation for a time, yet will their accuracy as
well as veracity at length, in the progress of knowledge,
appear, and secure for them the respect and applause of
mankind. At the same time, it must be admitted that, in
describing what he saw beyond his Ultima Thule, the
statement given by Pytheas, as reported by Strabo, assumes
a somewhat fabulous character. He asserted, it seems,
that beyond Thule there commenced what was neither
earth, sea, nor air, but a confused blending of all the three.
But even here some allowance is to be made for the work¬
ings of imagination under very peculiar circumstances, and
a readiness, not unnatural, to believe reports which repre¬
sented him to have reached the extremity of the habitable
globe. If his language is not too literally interpreted, it
will be found to convey a strongly figurative, but not altoge¬
ther imperfect, description of the state of the sea and sky in
these climes, which have been so little favoured by nature.
The conquests of Alexander the Great, by making known
the East, enlarged the bounds of geographical knowledge.
Though the course of his expedition was for the most part
by land, his mind was equally intent on commerce and ma¬
ritime discovery. Checked as he had so long been in the
career of his victories by the opposition and efforts of the
republic of Tyre, he had an opportunity afforded him of
observing the vast resources of a maritime power, and at
the same time of forming a judgment respecting the im¬
mense wealth to be derived from commerce, especially from
that carried on with India, which he found to be wholly in
the hands of the Tyrians. With a view to secure this com¬
merce, as soon as he had completed the conquest of Egypt,
he founded the city of Alexandria, and thus established for
it a station preferable in many respects to Tyre. After
his final victory over the Persians, his march in pursuit of
Bessus, who had carried oft' Darius into Bactriana, often led
him near to India, and among people accustomed to much
intercourse with it, from whom he learned many things con¬
cerning the state of the country, that served so to confirm
and inflame a desire which he had long cherished of extend¬
ing his dominion over those regions, that he was induced to
conduct his army from Bactria, for the purpose of invasion,
across that ridge of mountains which form the northern
barrier of India. After passing the Indus, Alexander di¬
rected his march to the Ganges, which, from the accounts
he heard of it, and of the countries through which it flows,
he was eager to reach. The route which he found it neces¬
sary to follow, in consequence of being successively engag¬
ed in hostilities with various native princes, led him through
one of the richest and best peopled countries in India, now
called Punjab. In his ultimate object, however, he failed.
GEOGRAPHY.
History. His march being performed during the rainy season, his
troops had already suffered so much, that notwithstanding
the high degree in which he possessed all those qualities
that secure an ascendency over the minds of soldiers, he
was unable to persuade them to advance beyond the banks
of the Hyphasis, the modern Beyah, which was according¬
ly the utmost limit of Alexander’s progress in India.
By this expedition, Alexander first opened the knowr-
ledge of India to the people of Europe ; and as he was ac¬
companied, wherever he went, by skilful surveyors, Diog-
netes and Baeton, who measured the length and determin¬
ed the direction of every route taken by the army, he fur¬
nished a survey of an extensive district of it, more accurate
than could have been expected from the short time he re¬
mained in that country. The memoirs drawn up by his
officers likewise afforded to Europeans their first authentic
information respecting the climate, the soil, the produc¬
tions, and the inhabitants of India.
Though Alexander did not penetrate to the Ganges, his
expedition prepared the way to the knowledge of that mag¬
nificent stream. For soon after, Seleucus, one of his suc¬
cessors, sent Megasthenes as his ambassador to Palibothra,
the capital of a powerful nation on the banks of the Gan¬
ges. The site of Palibothra was probably the same as that
of the modern city of Allahabad, at the junction of the
river Jumna with the Ganges. This embassy brought new
and opulent pi’ovinces of India into view, an acquaintance
with wrhich served to raise still higher the idea generally
entertained of the value and importance of the country.
The island Taprobane, so celebrated among the ancients,
which appears, notwithstanding some great mistakes with
respect both to extent and position, to be the modern
Ceylon, seems not to have been known in Europe even by
name before the age of Alexander. In consequence, how¬
ever, of the enlightened and active curiosity with which
he explored every country which he subdued or visited,
some knowdedge of it was at length obtained; and, after
his time, it is mentioned by almost every ancient geogra¬
pher.
Whilst Alexander was attempting to penetrate into In¬
dia, a numerous fleet was assembled by officers whom he
had left on the banks of the Hydaspes, the modern Behat
or Chelum, with orders to build and collect as many ships
as they could. The destination of this fleet was to sail
down the Indus to the ocean, and from its mouth to pro¬
ceed to the Persian Gulf, with a view of opening a com¬
munication between India and the centre of his dominions.
When Alexander reached the banks of the Hydaspes
on his return, he committed the conduct of this expedi¬
tion to Nearchus. The voyage down the Indus derived
splendour from the greatness and magnificence of the ar¬
mament, which consisted of an army of a hundred and
twenty thousand men, and two hundred elephants, and of
a fleet of nearly two thousand vessels. Alexander him¬
self accompanied Nearchus in his navigation down the
river, with one third of the troops on board; whilst the
remainder, in two divisions, one on the right and the other
on the left of the river, accompanied them in their pro¬
gress. Having reached the ocean after the lapse of nine
months, Alexander left Nearchus and his crew to pursue
their voyage, and conducted his army back by land to
Persia. A coasting voyage of seven months brought
Nearchus, with the fleet, in safety, up the Persian Gulf
into the Euphrates. It was at the mouth of the Indus
that the Greeks witnessed for the first time, and that with
astonishment and terror, the ebb and flow of the sea; a
phenomenon scarcely perceptible in the Mediterranean, to
which their navigation had formerly been confined. In
the progress of the voyage they were also struck with sur¬
prise on observing phenomena belonging to the midsum¬
mer of the tropics. At noon objects were observed to
463
project no shadows, or to project small shadows declining History,
to the south. Their attention was still further attracted
by the new appearance of the sky. Stars which they
had been accustomed to see high in the heavens were
now seen near the horizon. Some stars to the north dis¬
appeared, while other stars formerly invisible were seen
in the south.
The opening of a communication between the Red Sea
and the Persian Gulf was with Alexander another great
object of ambition. But though with this view he seems
to have sent expeditions down both seas, he failed in his
attempts to accomplish this project.
Among the Romans, navigation and commerce, the
handmaids of geographical science, were never made ob¬
jects of pursuit, except in so far as they were found to be
necessary to forward their schemes of universal dominion.
I heir conquests opened indeed the west, as those of
Alexander had made known the east; and it might be
truly said of that great people, that as they were the con¬
querors, so they were the surveyors of the world. Every
new war produced a new survey and itinerary of the coun¬
tries which were the scenes of action; so that the mate¬
rials of geography were accumulated by every additional
conquest. Some fragments of the itineraries thus com¬
posed still remain. The most memorable is that which
bears the name of Antoninus, and which may be described
as a mere skeleton road-book, exhibiting nothing more
than the names of places, and their distances from each
other. The Jerusalem Itinerary, which details minutely
the route from Bordeaux to that holy city, is of the
same description.
A more remarkable monument, however, is the Peu-
tingerian Table, which forms a map of the wrorld, con¬
structed on the most singular principles. The map is
twenty feet long and only one foot broad, so that we can
easily conceive how incorrectly the proportion of the dif¬
ferent parts is exhibited. Along the high road which
traverses the Roman empire in the general direction of
east and west, objects are minutely and accurately repre¬
sented; but of those objects which lie to the north and
south of it, only some general notion is conveyed. The
Peutingerian Table serves as a specimen of what were
called Itinera Picla, the “ painted roads” of the ancients,
intended for the clearer direction of the march of their
armies.
While the Romans by their surveys contributed much
to increase the mass of materials out of which the struc¬
ture of geographical science was to be reared, they never
attempted themselves to combine these materials into
one harmonious system. They imbibed in no degree the
commercial spirit of the great maritime states of the an¬
cient world, Carthage, Greece, and Egypt, which their
valour and discipline obliged to submit to their dominion.
But whilst the trade of the conquered countries continued
to be carried on through nearly the former channels after
they were reduced to the form of Roman provinces, the
wealth accumulated in the capital of the world gave rise
to a demand for luxuries of every description. This, com
bined with the comparative peace and security which for
a long time prevailed after the complete establishment of
the Roman dominion, gave new vigour to commercial en¬
terprise. Alexandria continued the great centre of na¬
val affairs. Obstacles which in the time of Alexander
were deemed insurmountable, were completely overcome.
Trade with India through Egypt acquired new energy,
and was carried on to a greater extent. Continued in¬
tercourse with the shores of India at length made known
to navigators the periodical winds which prevail in the
Indian Ocean ; and taking advantage of these, pilots were
emboldened to abandon the slow and dangerous course
along the coasts, and to make the open sea their high-
GEOGRAPHY.
464
History, way. Their course was from Ocelis, at the mouth of the
Arabian Gulf, to Nelkunda (Nelisuram), on the western
shores of the Indian continent (the coast of Malabar),
which seems to have been the utmost limit of the ancient
navigation in that quarter of the globe. The extensive
regions which stretch beyond this to the east were very
imperfectly known by the reports obtained from a few
adventurers who visited them by land.
If we now bring into one view the amount of informa¬
tion possessed by the ancients respecting the habitable
globe, we shall find that it was extremely limited. It
was at those places on the earth where the human mind
displayed greatest activity and enterprise that this know¬
ledge was naturally accumulated. Proceeding from these
stations, the boundary which separated the known from
the unknown part of the world was gradually enlarged ;
but the regions comprehended within it constituted still
but a small portion of the whole. In Europe the exten¬
sive provinces in the eastern part of Germany were but
little known, while the whole of that vast territory which
now forms the countries of Denmark, Sweden, Prussia,
Poland, and Russia, was buried in the deepest obscurity.
The inhospitable and dreary climes within the arctic circle
were yet unexplored. In Africa little w'as known beyond
the countries stretching along the Mediterranean Sea,
and those bordering on the western shore of the Arabian
Gulf. In Asia the rich and fertile countries beyond the
Ganges, whence the commerce of modern times has
drawn the most valuable commodities for the comfort and
embellishment of civilized society, were known, if known
at all, only by the most vague and uncertain reports.
The immense regions on the north occupied by the wan¬
dering tribes called in ancient times by the general names
of Sarmatians or Scythians, and which are now inhabited
by various tribes of Tartars, and by the Asiatic subjects
of Russia, seem never to have been penetrated. Add to
this, that the fertile and populous regions within the tor¬
rid zone were imagined to be uninhabitable ; and we have
ample proof that the geography of the ancients was very
imperfect.
Having thus far given a succinct view of the progressive
steps by which the earth’s surface, considered merely as
tracts of territory inhabited by men, gradually became
known, it will be proper next to trace briefly the advances
made towards arranging into a systematic form the mate¬
rials accumulated. Science required that the relative po¬
sitions of places, with their distances from each other,
should be ascertained in such a manner as to furnish fixed
principles on which the whole, or any portion, of the sur¬
face of the earth might be represented or delineated with
due regard to its figure and dimensions.
The first rude attempt made by the early geographers
to determine the position of places appears to have de¬
pended on the division of the earth into climates, distin¬
guished by the species of animals and plants produced in
each. Thus the appearance of the negro, the rhinoceros,
and the elephant, suggested to them the line of division
where the torrid zone began towards the north, and end¬
ed towards the south. But instead of this very vague me¬
thod, another was soon adopted, which consisted in observ¬
ing at places the length of the longest and shortest day.
This was determined with some accuracy by means of a
gnomon, a method of observation much used by the an¬
cients. An upright pillar of a known height being erect¬
ed on a level pavement, by observing the lengths of the
meridian shadows, they were enabled to trace the pro¬
gress of the sun from tropic to tropic. The most ancient
observation with the gnomon which we meet with is that
of Pytheas, in the days of Alexander the Great. Pytheas
observed at the summer solstice at Marseilles, that the
length of the meridian shadow was to the height of the
gnomon as 213^ to 600; an observation which makes the History,
meridian altitude of the sun at Marseilles on that day
70° 27'. The merit of the invention of the gnomon in
Greece is ascribed to the astronomical school of Miletus,
and particularly to Anaximander and Anaximenes. There
is reason, however, to believe that this method of obser¬
vation was originally invented by the Egyptians ; and
that Thales, who travelled into Egypt, carried thence the
knowledge of it into Greece. It has even been conjec¬
tured that the Egyptian pyramids and obelisks were in¬
tended for the same purpose with the gnomon; and,
though it would be extravagant to imagine that this was
their sole use, this opinion appears to be countenanced by
the fact of their being placed in the direction of the four
cardinal points.
The determination of the length of the meridian shadow
at the solstices for different parts of the earth, by obser¬
vations made with the gnomon, is important as being the
first step towards connecting geography with astronomy;
and, when combined with just conceptions of the globular
figure of the earth, leads, by a simple train of thought, to
the notion of latitude by which the position of a place
is fixed relatively to north and south. The position with
regard to east and west is the only other element neces¬
sary for fixing the absolute situation of the place on the
surface of the earth. It might have been supposed not
to be more than a reflecting mind could easily accomplish,
to reach the conception of both these elements, and to
apply them to use. Yet so slow was the progress towards
the apprehension of the principles on which an accurate
system of geography might be founded, that from the
days of Thales and his immediate successors, who flou¬
rished in the sixth century before the Christian era, there
appears to have been little done for the improvement of
geography, as a science, until the establishment of the
famous astronomical school of Alexandria. Pythagoras
had indeed maintained the true system of the world, by
placing the sun in the centre, and giving the earth both
a diurnal and annual revolution; but this doctrine was so
much in advance of the age in which he promulgated it,
that it was soon lost sight of.
Eratosthenes wras the first who reduced geography to
a regular system, and laid its foundations on clear and so¬
lid principles. Under the patronage of the Ptolemies, he
had access to the materials collected by Alexander, his
generals and successors, as well as to the immense mass
of documents accumulated in the Alexandrian library.
At an early period of the history of astronomical science,
the vulgar opinion that the earth is a flat surface, with
the heavens resting upon it as a canopy, was rejected ;
but it was not at once that distinct conceptions of its glo¬
bular figure were acquired. It was only as astronomical
observations increased that the doctrine of its sphericity
was fully established. This point had been gained when
Eratosthenes began his labours ; and what he endeavoured
to accomplish was to delineate, in strict conformity with
this principle, the known parts of the earth’s surface.
With this view, founding his system on the use of the
gnomon, he supposed a line to be traced through certain
places, in all of which the longest day was known to be
exactly of the-same length. This line would evidently
be a parallel to the equator. But though his method was
correct in principle, the want of accurate observations ren¬
dered it uncertain in practice. The line was supposed
to comprise all the leading positions which lay near it,
though they did not actually come within its range. Its
western extremity was the Sacred Promontory of Iberia
(Cape St Vincent); thence it passed through the Straits
of Gades. Proceeding eastward, it passed through the
Sicilian Sea, and near the southern extremity of the
Peloponnesus, and was continued through the island of
GEOGRAPHY.
^'story. Rhodes, and the Ray of Issus; whence entering Cilicia,
-j—and ciossing the Euphrates and the Tigris, it was extend¬
ed to the mountains of India, and terminated at the remote
city of Ehinae, situated on the Eastern Ocean. The pa¬
rallel thus drawn was understood to pass through all those
places where the longest day was fourteen hours and a half.
induced M. Gosselin to conclude that they were to be at¬
tributed, not to the imperfection of independent observa¬
tions, but to some general cause, which he endeavoured
to assign by imagining that Eratosthenes had access to
some early map, found probably by Alexander or his ge¬
nerals in some country in the East, where astronomy had
hppn  li.* i i .n . J .
465
History.
It stretched the whole length of what was supposed to be been successfully cultivated^ ^ p161’6. astronomy had
the habitable world, ant, measured about 70^00 stadia; respectiur^'^^!^^debutU™
a distance corresponding, according to the estimate of
Eratosthenes, to about 140 degrees, which is rather more
than one third of the circuit of the globe.
Ibis first parallel drawn through Rhodes was ever af¬
terwards preferred as the basis of ancient maps; inas¬
much as it was traced through the middle of the Medi¬
terranean, along the coasts of which were situated the
principal nations of antiquity. Following out the same
happy thought which he had thus successfully made the
groundwork of his system, Eratosthenes was induced not
only to trace other parallels at certain intervals from the
first, as one through Alexandria, another through Syene,
and a third through Meroe; but also to trace, at right
angles to these, a meridian, passing through Rhodes and
Alexandria southward to Syene and Meroe. As the progress
which he thus made towards the completion of what he
had so skilfully conceived, naturally tended to enlarge
his ideas concerning geographical science, he attempted
vvhat seemed a still more difficult undertaking, namely,
to determine the circumference of the globe by the actual
measurement of a segment of one of its great circles.
1 he method he pursued has already been pointed out in
the article Astronomy, page 790. There is a differ¬
ence among ancient authors respecting the result ob¬
tained by Eratosthenes. The great majority, however,
state it to be 252,000 stadia, which give exactly 700 sta¬
dia for a degree of the equator, and 555 stadia for the
degree of longitude upon the parallel drawn through
Rhodes.
The knowledge of the circumference of the earth is a
necessary element in the construction of maps ; and hence
the most eminent of the ancient astronomical geogra¬
phers made repeated endeavours to determine it with ac¬
curacy. Possidonius, by an astronomical observation, de¬
termined the arc of the meridian between Rhodes and
Alexandria to be a forty-eighth part of the whole circum¬
ference. With regard to the distance between these two
places, 5000 stadia were the reputed distance ; but Eratos¬
thenes had made it only 3750 stadia upwards of 170 years
before, and betwixt these two Possidonius had to make
choice. The former number gives 240,000 stadia for the
whole circumference, the latter 180,000 stadia. Of this
last result, which gives 500 stadia for a degree of the equa¬
tor, Possidonius is reported by Strabo to have approved.
For want of the knowledge of the true length of the sta¬
dium, it is now impossible to judge of the actual quantity
assigned either by Eratosthenes or Possidonius as the mea¬
sure of the earth’s circumference; but the great uncer¬
tainty about the distance between the points of observa¬
tion in the case of the determination of the latter astro¬
nomer renders his conclusion of no value.
Notwithstanding the soundness of the principles which
had now been laid down for the delineation of the globe,
much remained to be done, in the way of observation, be¬
fore an accurate representation of the whole, or a portion
of the earth’s surface, could be given. Both the latitudes
and longitudes of the ancients are erroneous ; more espe¬
cially the latter. This is what might be expected at that
early period. But in setting out from the Sacred Promon¬
tory of Iberia, the meridian of which the ancients made
their first meridian, the errors in longitude accumulate, as
we advance eastward, with a regularity, as well as rapidity,
which is very surprising. The regularity of their increase
VOL. X.
i . Gossehn. supposes to have been that on which the
p ane chart is constructed, had led him into a regular sys-
tem of errors. In the plane map the length of a degree
o longitude is supposed to be the same at all distances
from the equator. By taking for granted that Eratosthe¬
nes took his distances from a map of this kind, on which
the parts of the globe had been accurately laid down,
but that he divided the stadia expressing these distances,
not by /00, the number of stadia in a degree at the equa¬
tor, as he ought to have done, but by 555, the number
corresponding to the parallel of Rhodes, M. Gosselin ob¬
tains lesults which have a wonderful coincidence with the
positions actually given by Eratosthenes. These results,
however, are deduced from a hypothesis which is unsup¬
ported by any evidence, exceptVhat may be supposed to
arise from this coincidence. A more probable solution
seems to be that Eratosthenes determined his longitudes
10m the itinerary measures, which he reduced to degrees
ar cc6/816 700 stadia t0 a degree at the equator, and
of 5o5 to a degree at the parallel of Rhodes; and that
t ie enois are the consequences of the exaggerated ac¬
counts which merchants and travellers of that age gave
of the distances over which they passed their exagge¬
rations, of course, bearing some proportion to the length
and hardships of the journeys undertaken.
The knowledge as yet possessed by geographers with
i egai d to the outline of the habitable globe was far from
being such as to enable them to delineate it with any de¬
gree of precision. This circumstance, combined with the
unavoidable errors in latitude and longitude, produced
very great distortions in the representations given of the
countiies on the surface of the globe. Under the guid¬
ance of sound principles of science, however, it was now
certain that these imperfections would gradually disappear.
The improvements introduced into geography by Era¬
tosthenes were perfected in principle by Hipparchus. This
celebrated astronomer, who flourished between a hundred
and sixty and a hundred and thirty-five years before the
Christian era, was the first who undertook the arduous
task of forming a catalogue of the stars, and fixing their
relative positions. His object was to transmit to pos¬
terity a knowledge of the state of the heavens at the
period of his observations. The extremities of the ima¬
ginary axis round which the heavens perform their di¬
urnal revolution suggest two fixed points by which the
position of the great circle of the celestial sphere called
the equator is determined. If a great circle be supposed
to pass through these points and any star, the position of
the star will be ascertained if we measure in degrees and
parts of a degree the arc of the meridian circle inter¬
cepted between the star and the equator, and also the
arc of the equator intercepted between a given point in
it, and the meridian circle passing through the star.
Upon this principle did Hipparchus arrange the stars ac¬
cording to their places in the heavens, a work in which
he appears, however, to have been in some measure anti¬
cipated by Timocharis and Aristillus, who began to ob¬
serve about two hundred and ninety-five years before the
Christian era. The great improvement which he intro¬
duced into geography consisted in this, that he applied to
the determining of the position of any point on the sur¬
face of the earth the same artifice which he had already
so happily introduced in the arrangement of the constel-
3 N
466
GEOGRAPHY.
History. Jations ; and thus furnished the means of ascertaining the
relative situations of places with a precision which no
itinerary measurements could possibly attain. If we sup¬
pose the earth to be a globe concentric with the celestial
sphere, and intersected by tbe planes of the celestial equa¬
tor and meridian, the principle on which the application
of this artifice to the terrestrial sphere depends becomes at
once obvious. Hipparchus made a considerable number
of observations of latitude, and pointed out how longitudes
might be determined by observing the eclipses of the sun
and moon. Great as this improvement was, its import¬
ance seems not to have been duly estimated until the days
of Ptolemy ; for none of the intermediate authors, such as
Strabo, Vetruvius, and Pliny, have given the least hint of
the latitude and longitude of any one place in degrees
and minutes, though all of them have given minutely the
geographical position of places according to the length and
shadows of the gnomon. Strabo, indeed, even justifies
his neglect of the astronomical principles introduced by
Hipparchus. “ A geographer,” says he, “ is to pay no at¬
tention to what is out of the earth ; nor will men engaged
in conducting the affairs of that part of the earth which is
inhabited, deem the distinction and divisions of Plippar-
chus worthy of notice.”
The true principles of geography being pointed out
by the application of latitude and longitude to places on
the earth, tbe way was opened for the improvement of
maps, which, with the single exception of the map drawn
by Eratosthenes, had hitherto been little more than rude
outlines and topographical sketches of the different coun¬
tries.
No maps more ancient than those formed to illustrate
Ptolemy’s geography have reached modern times; but
the earliest of which there is any account are those of
Sesostris, of whom it is said, that having traversed great
part of the earth, be caused his marches to be recorded
in maps; and that he gave copies of these maps not only
to the Egyptians, but to the Scythians, whose astonish¬
ment he thus greatly excited.
Some have imagined that the Jews made a map of the
Holy Land when they gave the different portions to the
nine tribes at Shiloh. For on that occasion, as we are
informed by the sacred historian, men were sent “ to
walk through the land, and to describe itand when
they had accomplished the object of their mission, by de¬
scribing “ it by cities into seven parts, in a book,” they
returned unto Joshua. What is here said, however, does
not fully determine whether their mensuration of the
land was only recorded in numbers, or regularly projected
and digested into tbe form of a map.
The first Grecian map on record is that of Anaximan¬
der, mentioned by Strabo, which some have conjectured
to have been a general map of the then known world.
It has further been imagined to be the same with that
referred to by Hipparchus under the designation of T/te
Ancient Map, and which in some few particulars he pre¬
ferred to that of Eratosthenes.
But some idea of the nature of the maps of those early
days will be best obtained from the map of Aristagoras, king
of Miletus, which is minutely described by Herodotus. The
historian tells us that this map, which was traced on brass or
copper, Aristagoras showed to Cleomenes, king of Sparta, in
order to induce him to attack the king of Persia, even in his
palace at Susa, for the purpose of restoring the lonians to their
ancient freedom. It contained the intermediate countries
to be traversed in that march. We must not interpret,
however, the words of Herodotus too literally, when he
describes it as containing “ the whole circumference of
the earth, the whole sea or ocean, and all the rivers.”
Keeping in view the state of geography at that period, it
may justly be concluded, that notwithstanding this pomp¬
ous form of expression, the sea meant only the Mediterra- History,
nean, and therefore the earth or land the coasts of that sea,
and more particularly Asia Minor, extended towards the
middle of Persia: by the rivers must be meant the Halys,
the Euphrates, and the Tigris, which Herodotus mentions
as necessary to be crossed in the expedition in question.
The map contained one straight line, called the royal high¬
way, embracing all the stations or places of encampment be¬
tween Sardis and Susa, so that it was properly an itinerary.
The principle on which Eratosthenes constructed his
map we have already considered. With regard to its ex¬
tent, it seems to have contained little more than the states
of Greece, and the dominions of the successors of Alex¬
ander, digested from the surveys of the marches of that
great general. He had some faint idea respecting the wes¬
tern parts of Europe, which he had acquired from the voy¬
age of Pytheas; but not such a conception as to enable
him to delineate their outline on a chart. According to
the report of Strabo, he was quite unacquainted with Spain,
Gaul, Germany, and Britain, he was equally ignorant of
Italy, the coasts of the Adriatic, Pontus, and of all the coun¬
tries toward the north. His errors with regard to the dis¬
tances of places were in some instances enormous. The
distance of Carthage from Alexandria he represents at
15,000 stadia, instead of 9000.
It was not until Ptolemy commenced his labours that
the improvements pointed out by Hipparchus were effec¬
tually applied to perfect the system which Eratosthenes
had so happily begun. Ptolemy composed his system of
geography, which escaped amidst the general wreck that
consumed so many other ancient books of science, in
the reign of Antoninus Pius, about 150 years after the
opening of the Christian era. At this period the Roman
empire had reached its utmost extent, and all the provin¬
ces had been surveyed, and were well known. The mate¬
rials then in existence, and in the possession of Ptolemy
for completing his great work, were the proportions of the
height of the gnomon and its shadow, at the time of the
equinoxes and solstices, taken by different astronomers;
calculations founded on the length of the longest days;
the measures or computed distances of the principal roads
contained in the surveys and itineraries ; and the various
reports of travellers and navigators, whose determinations
of the distances of places often rested, however, on no better
foundation than hearsay and conjecture. Among these va¬
rious particulars, there evidently existed considerable differ¬
ences in point of authority. But Ptolemy undertook the
difficult and laborious task of comparing, and reducing into
one system, which should possess the order and beauty of
science, this apparently incongruous mass. He converted
and translated the whole into a new mathematical language,
expressing in degrees and minutes the latitude and longi¬
tude of each place, according to the principles laid down
by Hipparchus, but which had been allowed by geogra¬
phers to lie useless for upwards of two hundred and fifty
years. It is in Ptolemy’s work, which consists of eight
books, that we find for the first time the mathematical prin¬
ciples of the construction of maps, both general and par¬
ticular, as well as of several projections of the sphere.
Notwithstanding that the light of accurate science thus
directed the steps of the first geographer of antiquity, he
was far from reaching the precision at which he aimed.
This arose from the imperfection of the original materials
upon which his work is based in reference to its details.
With regard to the remoter boundaries of the then known
■world, in all its quarters, a wonderful advancement in know¬
ledge had been made since the days of Eratosthenes and
of Strabo. But still that additional information was not
fitted to make up for the want of astronomical observations,
by which alone accuracy could be secured. Besides, in
relation to places situated beyond the limits of the Roman
GEOGRAPHY.
467
History, empire, and therefore out of the range alike of astrono-
mers and surveyors, it was almost impossible for Ptolemy
not to commit mistakes. Thus his errors arose from the
ignorance of the age ; and are of such a character as to
admit of being removed only as opportunities are afforded
of obtaining the requisite data by the strict application
of the principles derived from mathematical and astrono¬
mical science.
Ptolemy adopted the measure of a degree at 500 stadia,
according to the standard of Possidonius, instead of follow¬
ing the measurement of Eratosthenes, which gives 700 sta¬
dia to a degree. But M. Gosselin has accused him of an
error of a more serious kind ; because, if really committed,
it would have indicated a strange neglect of what a geo¬
grapher should make his first care. This error consists in
assuming one measure for the degree of latitude (the mea¬
sure of Eratosthenes, 700 stadia) and another for the degree
of longitude at the equator. Such a hypothesis would evi¬
dently be inconsistent with the globular figure of the earth.
It may reasonably be doubted, however, whether M. Gos-
selin’s accusation is well founded ; for, though it seems sup¬
ported by the fact, that while Ptolemy has changed mate¬
rially all the longitudes of Eratosthenes, the latitudes along
the great line remain the same, and are in general correct,
this circumstance may be accounted for sufficiently from
other causes. Rhodes, and several other points of this
great line, were fixed with regard to latitude by observa¬
tions approximating to the truth, while the elements for
determining the longitudes were derived entirely from the
itineraries. To the north and south of the great central
line, which alone was fixed upon sound data, errors in lati¬
tude accumulate as rapidly as those in longitude are found
to do in proceeding eastward.
One of the most remarkable errors in the geographical
work of Ptolemy is the great length assigned to the
Mediterranean. Reckoning from the Straits of Gades to
the bottom of the Bay of Issus, where Alexandretta, or
Scanderoon, now stands, he makes the difference of lon¬
gitude no less than sixty-two degrees, which is upwards
of twenty and a half degrees above the truth. This amaz¬
ing error, which affected all our maps more or less until
the beginning of the last century, was produced in conse¬
quence of his having put too much confidence in the sup¬
posed surveys of different persons of reputation recorded
by Strabo, and who appeared to confirm the accuracy of
each other’s computation. According to their united tes¬
timony, the whole length of the Mediterranean was about
26,500 stadia, which, being converted into degrees of lon¬
gitude according to the method of Ptolemy, of allowing
400 stadia to a degree of longitude on the parallel of
Rhodes, give about 66° 15'. This is 4° 15' more than
what are given by Marinus, whom in this particular Pto¬
lemy strictly follows.
Pliny quotes from Agrippa a computation of the length
of the Mediterranean, which makes it 3440 Roman miles;
but in quoting it he adds a suspicion that there is an error
in the numbers. When converted into degrees of longi¬
tude, the result of this computation gives 58° 20’. As,
however, the length given by Strabo amounted, as we have
seen, to 66° 15', Ptolemy seems to have chosen a middle
path between these two erroneous computations, and to
have adopted 62° for the difference of longitude in ques¬
tion. But there is another ancient computation quoted
also by Pliny from Polybius, according to which the length
of the Mediterranean is stated to be 2440 Roman miles.
Had Ptolemy followed this estimate, he would have ob¬
tained for a result 41° 4', which is not far from the truth.
Thus we see that the circumstances under which Pto¬
lemy wrote rendered it impossible for him to avoid mis¬
takes, and that he might be misled even when more accu¬
rate results were within his reach.
The great obstacle with which the ancients had to con- History,
tend was the finding of the longitude with accuracy, a pro-
blem for the solution of which it was long before there
was discovered any method sufficiently exact. This ac¬
counts for the erroneous longitudes of Ptolemy, and more
especially for the length of time, even many centuries, du¬
ring which the remarkable error with regard to the length
of the Mediterranean remained undiscovei’ed and uncor¬
rected.
We have now traced the history of geography from the
earliest period of which we have any information, to the
time when it assumes a scientific character. We shall
conclude our account of ancient geography by shortly no¬
ticing the principal geographers of antiquity, some of whom
have not yet been mentioned, while others have only been
quoted in tracing the rise and progress of the science.
The intimate connection between geography and the
sciences of geometry and astronomy, rendered the former
an object of attention to many who anciently cultivated
the latter. We have already mentioned Anaximander and
Anaximenes, of the school of Miletus. Democritus, Eu¬
doxus of Cnidus, and Parmenides, are also reported to have
improved geography ; and to the last is attributed the divi¬
sion of the earth into zones. These were followed by Era¬
tosthenes, who lived about two hundred and forty years
before the Christian era; by Hipparchus about eighty years
afterwards ; by Polybius, Geminus, and Possidonius. Era¬
tosthenes wrote three books on geography, some passages
of which Strabo criticises, though he frequently defends
him against Hipparchus, who appears to oppose his opinions
with some degree of affectation. Polybius also wrote on
geography ; as did likewise Geminus and Possidonius, who
are frequently quoted by Strabo. Polybius, according to
Geminus, argued with considerable acuteness for the pos¬
sibility of the torrid zone being inhabited; and he even
adduced plausible arguments to prove that the countries
under the equator enjoy a more temperate climate than the
countries do that are situated near the tropics.
We must not here omit a geographer and geometer
who lived about the time of Alexander the Great. I his
was Dicearchus of Messina, a disciple oi Iheophrastus,
who wrote a description of Greece in iambic verses, of
which some fragments yet remain. But what chiefly
renders him remarkable is, that he measured geometri¬
cally several mountains, to which an excessive height
had been before assigned.
With Dicearchus we may notice another geometer,
Xenagoras, a disciple of Aristotle, mentioned by Plutarch
in his life of Paulus JEmilius, who occupied himself in the
measurement of mountains. He found the height of
Mount Olympus to be fifteen stadia.
In some of the latter periods which preceded the Chris¬
tian era there were several writers on geography, as Ar-
temidorus of Ephesus, who wrote a geographical work of
eleven books, of which nothing remains ; Scymnus of Chio,
author of a description of the earth in iambic verses, which
remain in a very mutilated state ; Isidores of Charax, who
gave a description of the Parthian empire , and 8cylax of
Caryades, author of a voyage round the Mediteiianean,
which is still extant.
The works of all these geographers are, however, but
small in comparison with the Geography of Strabo ; a work
in seventeen books, which has come down to us entire.
This is one of the most valuable works of antiquity, both
from the spirit of discussion which runs through it, and
the number of curious particulars which the author has
collected from different geographers and navigators who
preceded him, and of whose works nothing remains ex¬
cept these extracts. Strabo lived in the reigns of Augus¬
tus and Tiberius, and was nearly contemporary witli Pom-
ponius Mela. This latter geographer wrote a work Be Situ
468 GEOGRAPHY.
History. Orbis, which, though little more than a bare summary, is
valuable as it gives us a sketch of what was known in his
time respecting the state of the habitable globe. Besides
Mela, Rome produced in the most flourishing era of its
literature another eminent geographer, Pliny. He devot¬
ed two books of his extensive work on natural history to a
system of geography. His intimate connection with the
imperial family, and with many of the most eminent com¬
manders of the time, appears to have given him access to
all the military measurements, as well as to the general
survey of the Roman empire. Thus furnished with a
greater store of authentic materials than any former wri¬
ter, he has introduced a great number of itinerary details,
which are for the most part accurate and valuable. Ju¬
lius Solenus has also treated of geography in his Polyhis-
tor, a compilation sufficiently valuable from the number of
curious particulars which are there collected. Marin us
of Tyre was another geographer who appears to have
been distinguished, though his works have perished. Even
under the Roman empire Tyre continued to be the seat
of an extensive commerce; indeed the commercial rela¬
tions of her citizens appear to have extended over a wider
portion of the earth’s surface than ever. The enlarged
materials furnished by the lengthened journeys of his
countrymen, which brought them even to the confines of
China, Marinus collected, and sought to apply to them
the astronomical principles of Hipparchus, so that he
might give to geography a new and more accurate form.
Ptolemy, whom Marinus preceded by a short time, em¬
ploys a great part of his first book in discussing the means
employed by the Tyrian geographer for fixing the rela¬
tive position of places ; and from the references and ex¬
tracts it appears that the system of Marinus partook large¬
ly of the imperfections of a first effort.
The enlarged and scientific views of Ptolemy we have
already considered. Some time after Ptolemy lived Diony¬
sius, commonly called the Periegetic, from the title of a
work in verse composed by him, namely, his Periegesis, or
Survey of the World. This work was translated into La¬
tin verse by Priscianus, and afterwards by Avienus. There
is, besides, a description by Avienus, of the maritime
coasts, in iambic verses, of which there remain about
seven hundred.
The difficulty of procuring the small and scattered pieces
of most of these authors, with those of a few others not
here enumerated, induced the learned Hudson to collect
them into one work, consisting of four volumes octavo,
which were published in the years 1698,1702,1712, under
the title of Geographies veteris '"Scriptores Greed minores.
The originals are accompanied with Latin translations,
and notes and dissertations on each by Dodwell. This is
a very valuable collection.
We now proceed to consider the progress of geography
during the middles ages. From the days of Ptolemy until
the revival of letters in Europe, little was done for its solid
improvement. The calamities that ere long overwhelmed
the Roman empire, were followed by a general intellectual
darkness which settled down on the world and extinguished
even the imperfect knowledge possessed by the ancient
geographers. While barbarous nations poured in from
several quarters, art and science ceased to be cultivated.
The union by which the Roman power had bound to¬
gether mankind being now dissolved, Europe was divided
into small and independent, and, for the most part, hos¬
tile communities, which had but vague conceptions re¬
specting the situation of each other, while no intercourse
subsisted between their members. With regard to remote
regions all knowledge was lost; their situations, their com¬
modities, and almost their names, were unknown.
Amidst this ignorance there were but few channels open
through which knowledge could be obtained. One cir¬
cumstance, however, prevented commercial intercourse History,
with foreign nations from being altogether suspended.
The opulence and luxury of imperial Rome had long given
life and energy to commercial enterprise: that stimulus
was now withdrawn; but Constantinople still remained,
the last refuge of ancient arts, and taste, and elegance,
when the rest of Europe was overspread with barbarism.
Fortunately that city had escaped the destructive rage
of the fierce invaders ; and there, under the cherishing
influence of a demand for foreign productions and luxu¬
ries, commerce continued to flourish. Alexandria con¬
tinued to be the emporium whence were imported the
commodities of the East Indies, until Egypt, falling under
the power of the Arabians, ceased to be a province of the
Roman empire. After this event the industry of the
Greeks succeeded in discovering a new channel by which
Constantinople might still be supplied with the produc¬
tions of India. These were first conveyed up the Indus
as far as that river is navigable, thence by land-carriage
they were brought to the Oxus, and were carried down
that river to the Caspian Sea. Entering there the Volga,
they were conveyed up it, and thence were again trans¬
ported by land until they reached the Tanais, down which
they were conveyed to the Euxine Sea, where vessels
from Constantinople awaited their arrival. By this cir¬
cuitous route was a channel of intercourse kept open with
the most distant countries of the East; and an extensive
knowledge of remote regions was still preserved in the
capital of the Greek empire, while the rest of Europe was
sunk in the grossest ignorance.
The missions sent for the conversion of the northern
pagans to Christianity served somewhat to illustrate the
geography of Europe; though there is sufficient proof
that the monks employed were, in many instances, them¬
selves grossly ignorant, some not even knowing the capi¬
tal of their own country, or the cities nearest to their own.
Something was also done by the great sovereigns of Eu¬
rope towards dispelling the prevailing ignorance of the age
on matters connected with geography. Nor did the pi¬
ratical exploits of the Danes and Norwegians under their
great sea-kings fail to make them acquainted with the
seas and maritime coasts where they carried on their de¬
vastations. But it was in the East that a gleam of light
and knowledge began now to appear, which was the har¬
binger of the noon-day splendour of science that was des¬
tined to succeed the darkness of ignorance which had so long
oppressed the human mind. Under the influence of a fa¬
naticism which prompted them to own no law but the
Koran and the sword, the followers of Mohammed had
rushed from the heart of Arabia, and had carried their con¬
quests over half the world. At length, however, under a
race of humane and polished princes, having contracted a
relish for the sciences of the people whose empire they
had contributed to overturn, they stood for some time
distinguished as the most learned of nations. They trans¬
lated into their own language the books of several of the
Greek philosophers. The valuable wmrk of Ptolemy was
one of the first; and hence the study of geography became
an early object of their attention. But the advancement
which the science made in their hands towards precision
was slow ; for they copied and retailed all Ptolemy’s prin¬
cipal errors. ' Still, in all the countries that were under
Mohammedan dominion numerous observations were made,
which, though not always strictly correct, were entitled
to be considered as a step beyond the calculations made
merely from the itineraries by the Alexandrian geogra¬
phers. In the beginning of the ninth century, under their
caliph Ahnamon, who may rank among the most distin¬
guished patrons of science that ever filled a throne, they
measured a degree of latitude on the plains of Sinjar, or
Shinar, near Babylon, with a view to determine the cir-
GEOGRAPH Y.
History, cumference of the earth. The tables of Abulfeda and neration for the law of Moses, and by a desire of visiting-
v—-v^ Ulug Beg, and of Nazir Eddin, edited by Graevius, and his countrymen in the East, whom he honed to find pos“
republished by Hudson, furnish materials that are still of sessed of wealth and power, Benjamin, a Jew of Tudela,
use in the construction of the maps of the interior of Asia, in the kingdom of Navarre, set out from Spain in the year
The progress and success of the Moslem arms removed 1160, and travelling by land to Constantinople, proceeded
the obscurity in which many countries had until then been through the countries to the north of the Euxine and
concealed, as well as the barbarism in which they had been Caspian Seas. He then journeyed towards the south, and
sunk. And even beyond the limits of the Mahommedan traversed various provinces of the further India, until,’hav-
world they pushed their researches, by sending missions ing reached the Indian Ocean, he embarked and visited
both to the east and to the west, which they explored several of its islands; and at length, after thirteen years,
to their remotest limits. At that time Europe remained returned by the way of Egypt to Europe. In his progress he
ignorant of the improvements made by the Arabians, had acquired much information respecting a large portion
though she was destined in subsequent ages to perfect of the globe, until then altogether unknown to Europeans,
their discoveries. Various missions were sent by the pope and by Chris-
At length the long period of barbarism which accom- tian princes, for purposes which led them to traverse the
panied and followed the fall of the Roman empire, du- remote provinces of Asia. Father John de Plano Carpini,
ring which the traces of whatever had embellished so- at the head of a mission of Franciscan monks, and Father
ciety, or contributed to the comfort and convenience of Ascolino, at the head of another mission of Dominicans,
life, were almost entirely effaced, drew to a close. In- were in the year 1246 sent by Innocent IV. to enjoin
dustry began again to shed its blessings on mankind, Kayuk Khan, the grandson of Zengis, who was then at the
and Italy was the country where its benign influences head of the Tartar empire, to embrace Christianity, and to
were first perceptible. Having from the operation of va- cease from desolating the world by his arms. In fulfilling
rious causes again obtained liberty and independence, the the commands laid upon them by the head of the Chris-
Italians soon began to feel the impulse of those passions tian church, the mendicants had an opportunity of visiting
which serve most powerfully to arouse men to activity and a great part of Asia. Carpini, having taken his route
enterprise. The reviving demand for the comforts and through Poland and Russia, travelled through the northern
luxuries of life led to the revival of foreign commerce, provinces as far as the extremities of Thibet ; whilst Asco-
The valuable commodities of the East were at first ob- lino, who appears to have landed somewhere in Syria, ad-
tained at Constantinople. But the exorbitant price de- vanced through the southern provinces into the interior
manded at that mart, in consequence of the circuitous parts of Persia.
route by which they were conveyed thither, induced the Father William de Rubruquis, a Franciscan monk, hav-
Italians to resort to other ports, as Aleppo and Tripoli, ing been sent in the year 1253 on a mission by St Louis of
on the Syrian coast, and at length to Egypt itself. After France, in search of an imaginary personage, a powerful
the Soldans had revived the commerce with India in its khan of the Tartars, who was reported to have embraced
ancient channel by the Arabian Gulf, Venice, Genoa, the Christian faith, made a circuit through the interior
Pisa, rose from inconsiderable towns to wealthy and po- parts of Asia more extensive than that of any European
pulous cities. Their trade extended to all the ports in who had hitherto explored them. He had the merit of
the Mediterranean, and even beyond the straits to the being the first modern traveller that gave a true account
towns on the coasts of Spain, France, the Low Countries, of the Caspian, which had been correctly described by the
and England ; and from these points they diffused through early Greeks as an inland separate sea; but a notion after-
Europe a taste for the luxuries and enjoyments of civi- wards prevailed that it was connected with the Northern
lized life, which they at the same time furnished the Ocean. Rubruquis ascertained that it had no connection
means of gratifying. with the ocean or any other sea. The account of hisjour-
It was not long ere an event occurred, the most extra- ney was so little read, however, that the old error was re¬
ordinary perhaps in the history of human society, which peated in books of geography long after his time,
gave a new impulse to the European mind, and forcibly While the republics of Italy, and, above all, the state of
directed its view eastward to the regions of Asia. Under Venice, were engaged in distributing the jewels, the spices,
the influence of a high-wrought enthusiasm, the martial and the fine cloths of India over the western world, it was
spirit of the Europeans was aroused, and vast armies, impossible that motives of curiosity, as well as a desire of
composed of all the nations of Christendom, marched to- commercial advantage, should not be awakened to such a
wards Asia on the wild enterprise of delivering the Holy degree as to impel some to brave all the obstacles and
Land from the dominion of Infidels. The crusades, how- dangers to be encountered in visiting those remote coun-
ever blind the zeal from which they took their rise, had a tries where these precious and profitable commodities were
very favourable influence on the intellectual state of Eu- produced. A considerable number of persons accordingly are
rope, and prepared it for receiving the light of science recorded as having penetrated a greater or less depth’into
which was soon to dawn upon it. Interesting regions, the interior of Asia. But the fame of all the other old tra-
known hitherto only by the scanty reports of ignorant and vellers is eclipsed by that of Marco Polo, who has always
credulous pilgrims, were now made the object of atten- ranked among the greatest discoverers of any age. This
tion and research. Not only was the way opened for the extraordinary man was a noble Venetian, whose family, ac-
European nations acquiring a correct knowledge of the cording to the custom of his country, engaged in extensive
Floly Land, with the kingdoms of Jerusalem and Edessa, commerce. Nicolo Polo, and Maffeo Polo, the father and
founded by the victorious crusaders ; but the extensive uncle of Marco, were merchants, who, in partnership, traded
regions over which the Saracens and the Turks had ex- chiefly with the East; and in pursuit of their mercantile
tended their empire began to be explored. Search was speculations had already visited Tartary. The recital of their
now made in the writings of the ancient geographers; nor travels on their return fired the youthful imagination of
is it improbable that some light was derived even from Marco, then between seventeen and eighteen years old. Hav-
the Arabian writers. Religious zeal, the hope of gain, ing, when in the East, gained the confidence of Kubali Klaan,
combined with motives of mere curiosity, induced seve- the great conqueror of China, at whose court they had re¬
nd persons to travel by land into remote regions of the sided for a long time, they were sent back by him to Italy,
East, far beyond the countries to which the operations of accompanied by an officer of his court, that they might repair
the crusaders extended. Prompted by superstitious ve- to Rome as his ambassadors to the pope, of whom, and
469
History.
470
GEOGRAPHY.
History, the potentates of the western world, they had given him an
ample account. After many delays they were now, about
the year 1265, to set out on their return to the court of
Kublai, bearing the papal letters and benediction; and it
was resolved that young Marco should accompany them.
After a journey that occupied no less than three and a half
years, and in the progress of which they passed through
the chief cities in the more cultivated parts of Asia, they
reached Yen-king, near the spot wdiere Pekin now stands,
where they were honourably and graciously received by
the grand khan. Struck with the appearance of young
Marco, the khan condescended to take him under his pro¬
tection, and caused him immediately to be enrolled among
his attendants of honour. By prudence and fidelity Marco
gained so high a place in the esteem and confidence of his
protector, that for seventeen years, during which he re¬
mained in his service, he was employed in confidential mis¬
sions to every part of the empire and its dependencies.
He made more than one voyage on the Indian Ocean, and
traded with many of the islands. Besides what he learned
from his own observation, he collected from others many
things concerning countries which he did not visit. Con¬
sidering the very favourable circumstances in which he
was placed for geographical research, as well as his passion
for travelling, which seems to have increased with his op¬
portunities of gratifying it, it is not surprising that, after
the long period of his wanderings in Asia, he should have
returned to Europe possessed of the knowledge of many
particulars, until his time unknown, respecting the eastern
parts of the world. Marco, being afterwards made a pri¬
soner by the Genoese, was induced, with a view to beguile
the tediousness of his confinement, to dictate a narrative of
his travels. His information was so far in advance of the
age, that his veracity was exposed to the most injurious
suspicions. But, if we make allowance for some tincture
of credulity, characteristic of the times in which he lived,
his narrative is supported in all its essential points by mo¬
dern information.
While great accessions were thus made to the stock of
knowledge possessed by the nations of Europe respecting
the habitable globe, their ideas were at the same time gra¬
dually enlarged; and an adventurous spirit was generated,
which prepared them for attempting further discoveries.
Still their efforts were limited by certain bounds, in conse¬
quence of the imperfect state of navigation. Whatever
conceptions a daring mind might venture to form respect¬
ing the existence of unknown regions, separated from the
known continents by the mighty expanse of the Atlantic
Ocean, mankind had not yet so obtained the dominion of
the sea as to be able to bring such conceptions to the
test of experiment. It was not until the fortunate disco¬
very of the polarity of the magnetic needle, and the conse¬
quent construction of the mariner’s compass, that man was
enabled to visit every part of the globe which he inhabits.
This important discovery was made by Flavio Gioia, a ci¬
tizen of Amalfi, a town of considerable trade in the king¬
dom of Naples, about the year 1302. Encouraged by the
possession of this sure guide, by which at all times and in
all places he could with certainty steer his course, the na-^
vigator gradually abandoned the timid and slow method of
sailing along the shore, and boldly committed his bark to
the open sea. At the commencement of the fifteenth cen¬
tury, however, navigation appears to have advanced very
little beyond the state which it had reached before the
downfall of the Roman empire. But it was now destined
to make rapid progress. The growing spirit of enterprise,
combined with the increasing light of science, had prepared
the states of Europe for entering upon that great career of
discovery, of which the details constitute the materials for
the history of modern geography.
Portugal took the lead in this new and brilliant path.
Her first attempt was to discover the unknown countries History,
situated along the western coast of Africa. Notwithstand-
ing the vicinity of that great continent, and the strong in¬
ducement afforded, in the fertility of the countries already
known in it, to its further exploration, Cape Non had hi¬
therto limited the researches of the Portuguese, and had
been regarded as an impassable barrier. In the year 1412,
however, ships sent out for discovery doubled this formid¬
able promontory, and reached Cape Bojador, a hundred and
sixty miles to the southward, which became in its turn the
boundary of Portuguese navigation ; and it continued to be
so for upwards of twenty years. Under the coasting system,
which still continued to be practised, it was not likely that
the obstacles presented by its rocky cliffs, which stretch a
considerable way into the Atlantic, would soon have been
overcome. But a sudden squall of wind having driven out to
sea the vessel next dispatched, this event fortunately led to
the discovery of the small island Porto Santo ; whence in a
little time Madeira was discovered, being first mistaken for
a small black cloud in the horizon ; and at length, when the
Portuguese by their voyages thither had gradually become
accustomed to a bolder navigation, Cape Bojador was doubled.
Thus, by repeated efforts, the Portuguese navigators gra¬
dually approached the northern boundary of the torrid zone.
Here their progress was for some time arrested, not by any
physical difficulties, but in consequence of the influence
which the opinion of the ancient mathematicians and geo¬
graphers, whom they had hitherto followed as their guides,
had upon their minds, by leading them to believe that ex¬
cessive heat rendered the middle regions of the earth un¬
inhabitable. Experience, however, at length enabled them
t) triumph over ignorance and prejudice. A powerful
fleet, fitted out in 1484, after discovering the kingdoms of
Benin and Congo, advanced above 1500 miles beyond the
equator. Their intercourse with the natives enabled them
to obtain information concerning those parts of the country
which they had not visited. Not only had they detected
the error of the ancients in reference to the torrid zone, but
they found also that the direction of the coast was very dif¬
ferent from what the description given by Ptolemy had led
them to expect. They saw reason to conclude that the
continent gradually became narrower as they proceeded
southward ; so that there was room to believe that the
ancient accounts respecting the circumnavigation of Africa
were really founded in truth. New and more extensive
prospects were thus opened to them; and the finding of a
passage to India by sailing round the southern extremity of
Africa became a favourite project. In the year 1488 the
lofty promontory which terminates that continent was de¬
scried by Bartholomew Diaz ; but it was not until about
ten years afterwards that it was doubled, and the coast of
Malabar reached, by Vasco de Gama.
Meanwhile the Cape de Verd Islands, which are said to
have been known to the ancients, but afterwards lost sight
of, had been discovered in 1446 ; and soon after the Azores
Isles. When we consider the distances at which these two
groups of islands lie from the land, the former being up¬
wards of 300 miles from the coast of Africa, and the latter
distant 900 miles from any continent, it may be concluded
that the Portuguese when they entered so boldly into the
open seas,, had made no inconsiderable progress in the art
of navigation.
But brilliant as is the lustre which these discoveries shed
around the Portuguese name, their glory would have been
still more dazzling had they seconded the profound views
of Christopher Columbus, which led him to the discovery
of the New World. That illustrious man and skilful navi¬
gator, by revolving in his mind the principles on which the
Portuguese had founded their schemes of discovery and
carried them into execution, was led to conceive that he
could improve on their plan, and accomplish discoveries
GEOGRAPHY.
History, which they had hitherto attempted in vain. From the time
that they had doubled Cape Verd, the great object at which
the Portuguese aimed was to find a passage by sea to the East
Indies. The direction in which their efforts were made im¬
plied necessarily a long and hazardous voyage, should they
even be successful in accomplishing their design. But as
the Atlantic Ocean stretched westward to an unknown dis¬
tance, was it not possible that it might reach the shores of
those very countries to which it was thought so desirable
to find a naval route ? This supposition was perfectly con¬
sistent with the known globular figure of the earth; and it
was evident, on the same principle, that the farther India
stretched to the east, the nearer it must approach to the
western shores of Europe and Africa. Such was the idea
suggested to the mind of Columbus, by the knowledge
which he possessed of navigation and geography, both in
theory and practice. While he found his views confirmed
by a careful comparison of the observations of modern
pilots with the hints and conjectures of ancient authors, he
became thoroughly convinced that the navigator who should
have the boldness to cross the Atlantic Ocean would have
his toils rewarded by the most important discoveries.
These ideas had presented themselves to the mind of
Columbus as early as the year 1474 ; but it was not until
the year 1492, after several years of fruitless solicitation,
and of discouragements and disappointments of the most
vexatious kind, that he obtained the patronage of Ferdi¬
nand and Isabella, who then governed the united king¬
doms of Castile and Arragon, and was by them put in pos¬
session of the means of carrying his schemes of discovery
into execution. With no more suitable an armament for
his great enterprise than three small vessels, having ninety
men, mostly sailors, on boai’d, and victualled for twelve
months, he sailed from the port of Palos in Andalusia
on the 3d day of August, and steered for the Canaries.
Taking then his departure from Gomera, one of the most
westerly of these islands, he stretched into unknown seas;
and holding his course due west, reached Guanahani,
one of the Bahama Islands, on the 12th day of October.
After employing some time in making further discoveries,
he returned to Spain to announce the success of his under¬
taking, the fame of which soon spread over Europe, and
excited general attention. It was no easy matter to deter¬
mine what relation the newly-discovered countries bore to
the regions formerly known. Columbus’s own views on
the subject were in strict conformity with the idea which
had taken so firm a hold of his mind, namely, that India
might be reached by sailing towards the west. He ima¬
gined that the islands he had visited were some of those
which were said to lie contiguous to the remote shores of
Asia. In this opinion he was confirmed by the coincidence
which he thought he could trace between certain names
given to places by the natives and the appellations known
to belong to countries situated in India. He thought he
could recognise, in the answer given to his inquiries after
the situation of the mines which yielded gold, the name Ci-
pango, by which Marco Polo and other travellers in the
471
East designated the island Japan. Ignorant of their lan- History,
guage, and unaccustomed to their pronunciation, he even
supposed that they spoke of the great khan ; and hence
concluded that the kingdom of Cathay or China, described
by Marco Polo, was not far off. The same erroneous opi¬
nion was still further riveted in his mind, by what he sup¬
posed an identity between the animal and vegetable pro¬
ductions of the East Indies and those of the countries which
he had discovered.
His second voyage led to the discovery of several more
of the group of islands now called the West Indies, a name
given them in conformity with the original notions of the
discoverer. It was on his third voyage that he discovered
the vast continent of America. Flaving unexpectedly found
the island of Trinidad, with the neighbouring land, he en¬
countered, before hewasawareof danger, theadverse currents
and tumultuous waves occasioned by the resistance which
the waters of the Orinoco oppose to the tides in the ocean.
His attention was thus forcibly called to the immense body
of water which is here poured into the Atlantic. This he was
convinced was vastly too great to be supplied by any island ;
and hence he concluded that he had nowr reached the con¬
tinent which he had sought through so many dangers.1
The tenacity with which an ingenious and enterprising
mind adheres to a scheme which it has once proposed to
itself as an object of pursuit, was strikingly evinced by Co¬
lumbus, whose thoughts still dwelt with’ eagerness on his
original and favourite plan of opening a new passage to
India. It was not enough that he had astonished mankind
by finding a new continent; he conceived the idea that
beyond it there might lie a sea extending to the coasts of
Asia, and that by diligent search some strait might be found
which would conduct him into this sea, or some narrow
neck of land, by crossing which it might be reached. To
determine this important point, though hitherto his services
had met with the most unw orthy returns, though years crept
upon him, though worn out by fatigue and broken with in¬
firmities, he still undertook with alacrity another voyage.
By a lucky conjecture he directed his efforts towards the
east of the gulf of Darien; but he searched in vain for a
strait; and though he frequently went on shore and ad¬
vanced into the country, he never penetrated so far as to
enable him to descry the great Southern Ocean.
After the first steps had been taken, the progress of dis¬
covery over the globe was astonishingly rapid. No expense
or danger deterred even private adventurers from fitting
out fleets, crossing oceans, and encountering the rage of
savage nations in the most distant parts of the earth. Be¬
fore Columbus had reached the continent at the mouth of
the Orinoco, Newfoundland had been discovered by Cabot,
a Venetian by descent, but sailing under the auspices of
England. He had also coasted along the present territory
of the United States, perhaps as far as Virginia. In the
next two or three years, the Cortereals, a daring family of
Portuguese navigators, began the long and unavailing search
of a passage round the northern extremity of America.
They sailed along the coast of Labrador, and entered the
1 The American continent in its northern portions had been discovered in or before the eleventh century. Towards the close of the
ninth century a Norwegian pirate, while attempting to reach the Faroe Islands, which had already been visited by the Irish, was driven
by storms to the coast of Iceland. This led to the first settlement of the Norwegians in Iceland in 875. From that time the Faroe
Islands and Iceland may be regarded as intermediate stations and starting points for attempts to reach the northern shores of America.
Greenland was early seen ; but it was not until 983 that it was peopled from Iceland. Colonization was carried through Greenland in
a south-western direction to the new continent, and for some length of time an inconsiderable intercourse was maintained with the newly
colonized countries. But a strong line of separation must be drawn between this early discovery of some parts of the high northern
latitudes of America, and the discovery of its tropical regions by Columbus in the close of the fifteenth century. In consequence of the
uncivilized condition of the people by whom the former discovery was made, as well as the nature of the countries to which it was limited,
it produced no important or permanent results in relation either to commerce or science ; the latter, on the other hand, has been attended
with events of the utmost importance to mankind, as it has proved the opening of a new source of wealth, glory, and knowledge. The
discovery of the new continent in the west, like the original discovery of its northern regions, may be said to be accidental, inasmuch as
the object which Columbus had in view was to find a western passage to India. But the expedition under Columbus possessed this dis¬
tinguishing feature, that it manifested the perfect character of being the following out of a plan sketched in accordance with the principles
of science, and intelligently conducted to a successful issue.
472
GEOGRAPHY.
History, spacious inlet of Hudson’s Bay. Two of them unfortunately
perished in this enterprise. In the year 1501 Alvarez Ca¬
bral, a Portuguese navigator, destined for India, having
stood out to sea in order to avoid the variable breezes and
frequent calms which he was sure to meet with on the
African coast, to his surprise, came upon the shores of an
unknown country, the coast of Brazil, which he claimed for
Portugal. Amerigo Vespucci, a Florentine gentleman, who
had already sailed along a great part of Terra Firma and
Guyana, now made two extensive voyages along the Bra¬
zilian coast. Soon after his return he drew up and trans¬
mitted to one of his countrymen an account of his adven¬
tures and discoveries, in which he insinuated that to him
belonged the honour of having first discovered the conti¬
nent in the New World. His performance, which was the
first description published of the newly-discovered countries,
circulated rapidly, was read with admiration, and became
the means of procuring for its author the high honour of
giving his name to the whole continent. Not many years
elapsed before the conjecture of Columbus respecting the
existence of an ocean beyond the continent which he had
discovered was found to be true; and his favourite project
of opening a passage to India by steering westward was ac¬
tually accomplished. By crossing the narrow isthmus of
Panama, Nunez Balboa reached the Pacific Ocean in the
year 1513; and in 1521 Magellan discovered and sailed
through the famous straits which bear his name. After
twenty days occupied in navigating this dangerous channel,
he beheld spread out before him the boundless expanse of
the great Southern Ocean. Directing his course to the
N.W., he continued his voyage for nearly four months with¬
out discovering land. From want of provisions and from
sickness, he and his crew suffered dreadful distress. But
when about to sink under their sufferings, they fell in with
the Ladrone Islands, where they found refreshments in
abundance. From these isles he proceeded on his voyage,
and was not long of discovering the Philippines. Here, in
an unfortunate quarrel with the natives, he was slain, with
several of his principal officers. But his surviving com¬
panions, pursuing their voyage, and returning to Europe by
the Cape of Good Hope, solved the great problem of the
circumnavigation of the earth.
After the discovery of the Pacific Ocean by Balboa, the
investigation of the western coasts of America went speedily
forward. Expeditions were soon sent out both northward
and southward; so that nearly a full view was obtained of
the immense range of coast which the American continent
presents to the Pacific Ocean, and at the same time of its
great interior breadth.
On the other hand, discovery in the Eastern World was no
less rapid. Within twenty years from the time that Gama
reached India by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, all
the coasts of Hindustan, those of Eastern Africa, of Arabia,
and Persia, had been explored. Navigators had penetrated
to Malacca and the Spice Islands. They had learned the
existence of Siam and Pegu; and it was only the charac¬
teristic jealousy of the rulers of the Celestial Empire that
prevented them from entering the ports of China.
The scientific geographer had now abundance of mate¬
rials to arrange and digest into one systematic whole. He
was now called upon to give such a delineation of the earth’s
surface as should connect together the ranges of eastern
and western discovery, and should exhibit the true outline
and relative positions of countries, as these had been de¬
monstrated by the astronomer and navigator. The ancient
system of geography, to which the Arabs seem closely to
have adhered, was founded on the idea of the whole earth
being surrounded by an ocean as by a great zone. This
the Arabians characterized as the “ Sea of Darkness,” an
appellation most usually given to the Atlantic; while the
northern sea of Europe and Asia, as inspiring still more
gloomy and mysterious ideas, was styled the “ Sea of Pitchy
Darkness.” Such notions could not now keep possession of
the human mind, though it was only by degrees that man¬
kind could be expected to be enlightened by doctrines
which were not only new, but seemed likewise to be con¬
tradicted by the evidence of sense. The fundamental prin¬
ciples of a systematic arrangement had, as we have already
seen, been known from the time of Hipparchus, and had
been reduced to practice by Ptolemy. But the want of as¬
tronomical observations, or even of accurate surveys, which
navigators seldom furnished, and for which science had not
indeed yet provided suitable instruments, placed it still be¬
yond the resources of modern geography to give anything
like a just representation of the two hemispheres. The Ve¬
netian geographers were the first who attempted a system¬
atic arrangementof the immense regions recently discovered,
adjusting them to each other, and to the mass of informa¬
tion previously possessed. But a series of Venetian maps,
preserved in the king’s library, show how much their skill
was counteracted by the difficulties with which they had to
contend. Instead of exhibiting the vast ocean which sepa¬
rates the east coast of Asia from the west coast of America,
the two continents are represented either as meeting, or as
separated only by a narrow strait. The voyage of Magellan
across the Southern Ocean had not shown with sufficient
distinctness the presentation of the opposite coasts, to en¬
able the geographers of the time to avoid this error. When
maps of different dates are compared, we find, as we descend
towards modern times, a gradual progress towards accuracy
in the representations given of the earth’s surface. This is
what might be expected ; for all maps should be considered
as unfinished works, in which there will always be some¬
thing to be corrected, or something new to be inserted.
At the period of the revival of letters in Europe, the lati¬
tudes and longitudes as given by Ptolemy were universally
received with implicit confidence. When checked, how¬
ever, by actual observation, they were found to differ mate¬
rially from the truth. The latitudes in many instances were
found very erroneous; that of Byzantium, for example,
exceeded the truth by two degrees. As nearly the same
excess was found to exist in some other cases, many geo¬
graphers, unwilling to renounce the authority of Ptolemy,
concluded that this difference had arisen from a change
having taken place in the position of the earth’s axis, in con¬
sequence of which the latitudes of all the places in Europe
were increased. The progress of observation showed that
this opinion was untenable, and that before geography could
rest on a sure basis, a general revision of ancient graduation
was indispenably necessary. The only observations em¬
ployed by the ancients for determining longitudes were
those of the eclipses of the moon ; but it was found that the
results derived from this source could not be depended on.
In the year 1610, Galileo, having discovered three of Jupi¬
ter’s satellites, pointed out the use which might be made of
their eclipses for finding longitudes. But this method, which
gives the greatest degree of accuracy, was turned to little
account, until 1668, when Cassini published his tables of
the revolutions and eclipses of these satellites. Three years
afterwards, by means of simultaneous observations made
by him and Picard at Paris, and by Tycho Brahe at
Copenhagen, the difference of longitude of these two im¬
portant points, which had been long a matter of dispute,
was finally determined. Since that time, other accurate
methods of finding the longitude have been discovered;
and the instruments employed in observation have been
brought to a high degree of perfection. The refinements and
improvements of modern science have been brought to bear
upon the great problem of determining the figure of the
earth, which, though nearly, is not exactly spherical. (See
Figure of the Earth.) The labours of scientific men to
obtain accurate results on this subject, have contributed
History.
GEOGRAPHY.
History, much to the improvement of geography. The expeditions
sent out under Maupertuis to the arctic circle, and under
Condamine to the equator, afforded an opportunity of mak¬
ing various observations of latitude and longitude in regions
of which no delineation resting upon proper data had hitherto
been given. Within the last fifty years, trigonometrical sur¬
veys ot France and England have been executed, which
have nearly completed the delineation of these countries.
Much advantage has accrued to geographical science, in
point of accuracy and precision, from the application in
modern times of a sound and judicious criticism to the im¬
mense mass of materials which had been accumulating for
ages. The labours of M. d’Anville, in the eighteenth cen¬
tury, were employed with great success in this department.
He undertook the revision of the whole system on which
the delineation of the world, and of the countries into which
it is divided, had hitherto been made ; and by unhesitatingly
rejecting every particular that did not rest on positive au¬
thority, he removed many false or uncertain features, and
clearly distinguished the known from the unknown parts of
the globe. Major Rennell has skilfully arranged and illus¬
trated the important materials collected respecting India.
Various authors have in modern times cultivated another
interesting field of inquiry, the comparison between ancient
and modem geography, and the tracing of the rise and pro¬
gress of early discovery. These researches were diligently
pursued by Vossius, Bochart, and other learned men of the
seventeenth century, and with still more success by Rennell,
Vincent, and Mannert, who appear to have pushed them as
far as they admit, though much darkness still rests on some
parts of the inquiry. Gosselin, notwithstanding that he has
applied to the subject a great extent of investigation, as well
as much skill and force of criticism, has failed, on account
of the peculiar views in which he indulged, to make any
solid addition to the science.
The discoveries made by the Spaniards and Portuguese
had greatly increased the stock of geographical information.
Still much remained to be done. The desire of finding a
short and convenient route to India continued to supply a
stimulus to exertion in the way of discovery. The English
and Dutch made extraordinary efforts, and encountered
fearful dangers and disasters, with the expectation of effect¬
ing a passage by the north-east, along the northern shores
of Asia. A coast beset with the ices of the Polar Seas
presented, however, obstacles too formidable to be over¬
come ; though recent researches show that no barrier
of land intervenes. But there was still another quarter
where an attempt might be made ; and to this point the
commercial nations of Europe failed not to direct their
efforts. The jealousy of Spain long prevented the other
European states from visiting the north-western coast of
America, so that they remained ignorant of the vast breadth
to which the continent spreads out as it advances towards
the north. They adopted, indeed, the opinion that, like
the southern extremity, the northern terminated in a point
or cape. This left room to hope for a north-western pas¬
sage into the Pacific Ocean, by sailing round the imaginary
cape. The English took the most decided lead in the ex¬
ploratory voyages to which these views gave rise. In the
reign of Queen Elizabeth, Frobisher and Davis were sent
out on three successive voyages, which led to the discovery
of the entrance into Hudson’s Bay by the former navigator,
and of the entrance into Baffin’s Bay by the latter. These
two capacious basins were afterwards discovered by the in¬
trepid navigators whose names they bear. In sailing round
the great sea which he had discovered, Baffin mistook the
great opening into Lancaster Sound for a mere gulf; a
misapprehension which checked for a time any further at¬
tempts in that quarter, as navigators w^ere led to expect
success only through the channel of Hudson’s Bay. In
1631, Fox explored a part of that great opening on the
VOL. x.
north ot Hudson’s Bay, called Sir Thomas Roe’s Welcome,
which seemed now to holdout almost the only hope of accom¬
plishing the object sought. The assertion of Middleton, an
officer in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Company, that he
had discovered the head of the Welcome to be completely
closed, and the circumstance of two other navigators, who
were sent out the following year, failing to effect anything,
produced an impression on the public mind that the passage
so long sought had no existence.
I he discoveries of Cook in the North Pacific Ocean,
where he found the American coast stretching away in a
north-westerly direction, joined to the circumstance that,
when he penetrated through the strait discovered early in
the last century by Behring and Tchirikof, which separates
America from Asia, the coast appeared there to extend in¬
definitely to the north, seemed not only to confirm the con¬
clusion that no passage into the North Pacific Ocean was
here to be expected, but also that the American continent
extended northward in one unbroken mass, perhaps even to
the pole. The groundlessness of these views became ap¬
parent when, in the year 1771, Mr Hearne, who had been
despatched by the Pludson’s Bay Company to explore the
limits of the coast in this direction, sailed down the Copper-
Mine River, and discovered its entrance into the sea; and
again, when, in 1780, Sir Alexander Mackenzie traced also
to the sea another river about twenty degrees farther to the
west. Thus were there furnished strong grounds to believe
that the pole was surrounded by an ocean which separated
the northern coasts of Asia and America, making these
two continents altogether distinct from each other; and
that through this ocean lay the long-sought course which
would certainly conduct the navigator who should succeed
in forcing his way through the ice and storms of the polar
regions, from the Atlantic into the North Pacific Ocean.
The determination of this great geographical question,
so long agitated, has recently called forth the utmost
efforts of the British government. In 1818 an expedi¬
tion was sent out to Baffin’s Bay under the command of
Captain Ross, without leading to any important result, as
he was led to conclude that no opening existed. Lan¬
caster Sound had, however, forcibly attracted the atten¬
tion of the late Sir Edward Parry, at that time lieu¬
tenant and second in command; and on returning with
a new expedition under his immediate command, he suc¬
ceeded in penetrating through Lancaster Sound, which
he found gradually to widen till it opened into the Polar
Sea. He found a chain of large islands to lie parallel to
the American coast; and among these he continued his
navigation until the accumulation of ice in the straits and
channels through which he had to pass stopped his further
progress. This circumstance induced him to make his next
attempt through Hudson’s Bay, by the channel of the Wel¬
come, which had as yet been but imperfectly explored.
Here he succeeded in reaching a point considerably beyond
that at which Middleton had represented the bay as termi¬
nating. He found at length a narrow strait communicating
with the Polar Sea, but so encumbered with ice as to pre¬
clude the hope of its ever affording an open passage. He
was therefore again sent out to renew his efforts in the first
direction, where he had already obtained partial success.
But the obstacles which he had formerly been unable to
overcome still continued, and prevented him from making
any material addition to his former discoveries. Whilst
these skilfully-conductedvoyages were in progress, Sir John,
then Captain P'ranklin, was sent out at the head of two suc¬
cessive expeditions by land, and, by actual survey, ascer¬
tained three-fourths of the boundary coast; his operations
terminating at a point beyond the 149th degree of west
longitude. On the other hand, an expedition under Cap¬
tain Beechy, sent to meet Captain Franklin on his second
toilsome journey, passed the Icy Cape of Cook, and pene-
3 o
473
History.
474 G E O G R
History, trated nearly as far as the 156th degree of west longitude,
leaving only seven degrees, or 160 miles, between the far¬
thest point thus reached and the utmost limit reached by
Captain Franklin. The results of this investigation ap¬
peared to prove that the whole of the northern coast of
America extends in a line not varying much from the
parallel of the 70th degree of north latitude. The problem
of a passage between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, to
the north of the American continent, has now been finally
solved : but this discovery, so well fitted in itself to afford
satisfaction to the British nation, which has always taken
the lead in such enterprises, has been made under cir¬
cumstances of a very saddening kind. In 1845 Sir John
Franklin and Captain Crozier wrere sent out on a voyage of
discovery to the Arctic Seas. No tidings having been re¬
ceived of this expedition, it became, after two or three
years, a subject of painful anxiety and suspense. Hence
various expeditions were fitted out and sent in search of
the missing voyagers, to succour them if still within reach
of human aid, or, if otherwise, to ascertain their fate. In
the course of these praiseworthy endeavours, Captain
M‘Clure was appointed to command the Investigator, under
Captain Collinson of the Enterprise, and proceeded with
that officer to Behring Straits in the early part of 1850.
When on the eve of sailing, Captain M‘Clure emphatically
declared that he would find Sir John Franklin and Captain
Crozier, or make the north-west passage. The latter part
of this pledge he has, geographically speaking, redeemed ;
but the impenetrable mystery which from the first enveloped
the fate of these gallant commanders remains the same.
Captain Collinson failed in his attempts to penetrate the
pack ice that season, and so was separated from Captain
M‘Clure, who, notwithstanding a signal of recal from Cap¬
tain Kellett of the Herald, the chief officer on that station,
dashed onward with a bold determination to force a passage
to the north-east—taking on himself all the responsibility of
disobeying orders. Fortunately his daring has been crowned
with success. He rounded Point Barrow on the 5th August
1850: continuing his course eastward along the coast, he
reached Cape Parry on the 6th September, whence he
steered through a channel called Prince of Wales Strait;
which, running north-east, appeared a most promising course
for reaching the sea south of Melville Island. Near the north¬
ern extremity of this strait, the Investigator was frozen in
from the 8th of October, and remained stationary during
the winter. Parties being sent out to explore, it was soon
ascertained that the channel opened into Barrow’s Strait;
and thus was the existence of a north-west passage esta¬
blished. On the 14th July 1851 the Investigator was again
fairly afloat, the ice having opened without any pressure.
The great object now to be gained was to pass through the
strait; but notwithstanding their utmost exertions, the ex¬
pedition was completely arrested by strong north-east winds,
driving great masses of ice to the southward. Thus baffled,
Captain M‘Clure resolved on running to the southward of
the island, forming the western boundary of Prince of
Wales Strait, which he had named Baring Island, and then
to sail northward along its western side. This navigation,
in which he was subjected to many delays and encountered
many formidable obstacles, he accomplished, and succeeded
in reaching the north side of the island on the 24th of Sep¬
tember. Had open water existed to the east the rest of
the passage might have been easily performed in this way,
for Barrow’s Strait lay before them, the navigation of which
from their position to Lancaster Sound was known to be
practicable. The hopes of this intrepid navigator were des¬
tined again to be disappointed. On the night of the above
mentioned day the Investigator was frozen up, and at this
point, in latitude 74° 6' N. and longitude 117° 54' W., they
had their winter quarters in 1851, 1852, 1853. In April
1852 a party crossed the ice to Melville Island, and de-
A P II Y.
posited there a document giving an account of their proceed- History,
ings, and of the position of the Investigator. This docu-
ment was happily discovered by the officers of Captain
Kellett, who had been the last person with whom Captain
M‘Clure held communication when he entered the ice on
the west, and was now, singularly enough, the person to
rescue him at the expiration of three years on the side of
Melville Island on the east. Steps were immediately taken
to communicate with the party in their ice-prison, Lieute¬
nant Pim being appointed by Captain Kellett to the ser¬
vice. Eventually it was found necessary that Captain
M‘Clure and his gallant companions should abandon their
ship, however unwillingly; so that the navigation of the
north-west passage has not yet been accomplished.
The discovery of a new continent greatly enlarged, as we
have seen, the views of mankind respecting the constitution
of the globe. But imagination, no longer limited in its
range by the notion of a circumambient ocean that could
not be passed, soon gave rise to the belief of a southern
continent, which was supposed necessary to balance the
land in the northern regions of the earth. The immense
body of water that was found to occupy so large a portion
of the known regions of the southern hemisphere gave ample
room for supposing this unknown continent to be of vast
dimensions. It was imagined that it might equal in extent
as well as in wealth the American continent. Nor was it
considered necessary to exclude it from the map of the
world till its existence should be proved. It appears in all
the early maps as an immense mass of land surrounding the
south pole, and presenting to the ocean one unbroken coast.
The discovery of certain great insular tracts in the South
Seas, which, from ignorance of their true nature, navigators
might mistake for continental promontories or portions of
coast, no doubt at first gave some countenance to the be¬
lief of the existence of antarctic land. But the delusion
was gradually dispelled before the light afforded by further
discovery. The Portuguese, in less than twenty years after
their passage of the Cape of Good Hope, pushed their re¬
searches to the most remote islands in the Indian Ocean,
including Java and the Moluccas. They appear also to
have observed some part of the coast of New Guinea. The
Spaniards during their early and adventurous career put
forth strenuous exertions to explore the Southern Ocean,
and several of the groups of islands scattered over its sur¬
face were discovered by their navigators. In 1607, the
Dutch having wrested from the Portuguese Java and the
Spice Islands, established in them the centre of their Indian
dominion. A great maritime power being thus placed so
near to the northern shores of the largest portion of land on
the globe that is regarded as an island, it became almost
impossible that New Holland could long remain unknown.
It was discovered early in the seventeenth century, and was
long supposed to form a part of the great southern conti¬
nent. Van Diemen, the Dutch governor of India, sent
out several vessels successively to explore its coasts. Her-
tog, Carpenter, Nuytz, and Ulaming made very extensive
observations on the northern and western shores, but found
them so dreary and uninviting that no settlement was at¬
tempted. In the year 1642 Abel Jansen Tasman was com¬
missioned to proceed on a voyage to ascertain its extent.
On the 14th August he sailed from Batavia, directing his
course first towards the Isle of France. He again set sail
on the 3d October, and proceeding southward and eastward,
beyond the limits reached by his predecessors, he discovered
and doubled the southern extremity of Van Diemen’s Land,
to which he gave its name ; but he failed to discover that
it is a separate island. Pursuing afterwards his course east¬
ward, having reached about 42o10’ S. Lat. and 170° E.
Long., he found himself in view of a high and mountainous
country, which he named Staaten Land, but which is now
known as New Zealand. He sailed along the coast towards
GEOGRAPH Y.
History, the north-east, and after being detained by the variableness
■—of the weather, he resumed his voyage and returned home
by the friendly Islands, discovering many islands in his
progress. He arrived at Batavia on 15th June 1643.
Tasman’s voyage proved that New Holland was no part of
the southern continent, even if such a continent should be
found to exist. Cook, who had been appointed in 1767 to
conduct a voyage into the South Pacific Ocean for astro¬
nomical and geographical purposes, sailed southward in
1769 in quest of the unknown continent. Lofty mountains
were seen on the 6th October, and it was supposed that
the object of their search was found. But the land proved
to be New Zealand. This land he circumnavigated, and
found that it consisted of two large islands separated by a
narrow channel. After six months employed in this man¬
ner, he directed his course westward, and reached the east¬
ern side of New Holland early in 1770. By his extensive
operations in that quarter—having run down the coast from
latitude 38° to its northern extremity at Torres Strait—he
left little more to be done there in the way of discovery.
Passing between New’ Holland and New Guinea, he con¬
tinued his voyage by Timor and the south coast of Java to
Batavia; whence, after repairing the ship, he sailed for
England, and reached the Downs on the 12th June 1771,
with his crew weakened and reduced in number by the fa¬
tigue and hardships of their long voyage. By this voyage it
was proved there was no such continent as that supposed to
exist to the northward of 40° south latitude. But as many
ingenious and well-informed men still adhered to the opinion
that there did exist a southern continent, government de¬
termined to send out a second expedition under Cook, to
make such an exploration of the Pacific Ocean in the higher
southern latitudes as should finally and satisfactorily settle
this much-agitated question. Cook was instructed to cir¬
cumnavigate the globe in high latitudes, prosecuting his
researches as near to the South Pole as possible, and to
traverse every part of the Southern Ocean where the
supposed continent could possibly lie. The expedition
sailed from Plymouth 13th July 1772, and quitted the
Cape of Good Hope 22d November. Pursuing his course
eastward, Cook, during three years, employed the sum¬
mer months in those regions (corresponding to our win¬
ter months) in navigating high latitudes towards the South
Pole, and the winter months in adding to his discoveries
in the South Pacific Ocean. Notwithstanding, however,
that he varied his course, and traversed in every direction
which he thought afforded the slightest likelihood of finding
land, and actually got so far south as 7l°10' of latitude, he
was unsuccessful. Having thus scrupulously and completely
accomplished the object for which he was sent out, he di¬
rected his course homeward. He had encompassed the
globe in high latitudes, and was led to conclude that the
Southern Pole is surrounded only by isles and firm fields of
ice, so that the hypothesis of an austral continent had no
foundation. He reached the Cape of Good Hope 22d
March 1775, and anchored at Spithead on the 30th July,
having, in the space of three years and eighteen days, sailed
20,000 leagues, mostly in unhospitable climates and un¬
known seas. In the course of this and his former voyage
the same great navigator secured glory to his country and
to himself by likewise completing the survey of the Great
Pacific Ocean. Some of the interesting groups of islands
scattered over its vast surface had already been made known
by the previous voyages of Byron, Wallis, and Carteret.
Cook fully traced the great chain of the Society Islands and
the Friendly Islands. He determined also the form and
relations, not only of New Zealand, but of New Caledonia
and other lands and islands in that region of the globe.
The extensive island of New Holland has recently be¬
come doubly interesting from the important relations which
now subsist between it and Europe. In the year 1788 the
establishment of a British colony on the east coast paved History,
the way for a more complete survey. By the different ex- ^
peditions undertaken from 1795 to 1799, chiefly under the
direction of Bass and Flinders, the east coast, together with
Van Diemen’s Land and Bass’s Strait, which separates
that island from New Holland, were accurately explored.
In 1801 an expedition was sent out by the British govern¬
ment under the command of Captain Flinders, for the pur¬
pose of surveying a large portion of the coast. These
surveys were prosecuted with unremitting ardour and per¬
severance. At the same time that Captain Flinders was
carrying on his survey, the French captain Baudin was
employed on the same service, and in some parts the dis¬
coveries of these navigators intermingle. Some additional
observations have more recently been made; and by these
various expeditions the whole coast of New Holland and
Van Diemen’s Land has been accurately surveyed, the
position of every point has been ascertained, and every
inlet and bay has been traced to its termination.
The strong presumption which the researches of Cap¬
tain Cook in the Southern Ocean furnished of the non¬
existence of an austral continent, seemed to leave no room
to expect that any further doubt would be entertained on
the subject. Lieutenant C. Wilkes, commander of the
expedition fitted out in 1838 by the government of the
United States, for the exploration of the antarctic regions,
has, however, claimed for his country and for himself the
honour of at length discovering a continent within the
antarctic circle. While this claim is pertinaciously adhered
to, no distinct and unequivocal proof is produced that the
continent alleged to have been seen by the American
Expedition has a substantial existence. No continent or
island was landed on ; and, on the other hand, there is no
doubt that the British Expedition under the command of
Sir James C. Ross sailed over the very spot in south lati¬
tude 66°, and east longitude 1630-166°, where Lieutenant
Wilkes supposed he saw mountainous land. This latter
expedition was fitted out by the British government for
scientific purposes in 1839, and arrived in Van Diemen’s
Land in August 1840. The French government had like¬
wise sent an expedition into the southern seas, under the
command of Captain Dumont d’Urville, about the same
time. To avoid interference with the French and Ameri¬
can discoveries, Sir James Ross determined on a more
easterly meridian—that of 170° E.,—in which to endeavour
to penetrate to the southward. The expedition sailed from
Hobart Town on 13th November 1840, and on 27th
December encountered a chain of icebergs. On the 5th
January 1841 they entered the pack-ice, through which
having forced their way, the ice having at the same time
somewhat slackened, they found themselves on the 7th
January again in a clear sea. Soon after 2 o’clock a.m. of
the 11th January they discovered land, which, as they
advanced southward, was found to extend continuously
from the 70th to the 79th degree, with several adjacent
islands. This land they called Victoria Land. It presented
to their view ranges of mountains whose lofty peaks, covered
with eternal snow, rose to elevations from seven to ten or
even twelve thousand feet above the level of the ocean.
The intervening valleys wrere filled with glaciers, which,
descending from near the mountains’ summits, projected in
many places several miles into the sea, and terminated in
perpendicular cliffs. The rocks breaking through in a few
places their covering, afforded the only indication that land
formed the nucleus of this, to appearance, enormous ice¬
berg. On the 28th January, when they had nearly reached
their highest latitude, about 78° S., they found that what
appeared when first seen at a distance to be a high island,
was a mountain 12,367 feet in height, emitting flames and
smoke in great profusion. This volcano lies in latitude
about 77^° S., and in longitude about 167° E. From the
476
GEOGRAPHY.
History. most eastern point of land at a cape not far from the foot of
this mountain, an icy barrier was found to extend eastward
as far as the eye could discern. This barrier was a perpen¬
dicular wall of ice from 150 to 200 feet in height, and
stretched 250 miles in one unbroken line, as was found on
a second visit to the same interesting locality in February
1842; nor were they able to turn its extremity, so as to
reach a higher latitude. At a point where the height of
the barrier diminished to about 80 feet, they perceived from
the mast-heads that it gradually rose to the southward,
presenting the appearance of very lofty mountains perfectly
covered with snow, but with a varied and undulating sur¬
face. And hence Sir James Ross, with nearly all his com¬
panions, felt assured that the presence of land there amounts
almost to a certainty. Still, Sir James is of opinion that
the recent discoveries in the antarctic regions made by the
French and American navigators, and by himself, do not
prove the existence of a great southern continent, but
rather of a chain of islands.
In tracing the history of geographical discovery, it can¬
not fail to be observed that while discovery by sea admits
of being pursued with great advantage, on account of the
rapidity of its progress and the extent of its range, it does
not supersede the slower and more confined operations of
the discoverer by land, which are no less necessary to make
known the interior features and circumstances of the differ¬
ent countries.
The British dominion in India has led to much additional
information respecting the interior of Asia; information
which is, however, in many respects, only the revival of
ancient knowledge. The great mountainous chain which
forms the northern boundary of India has been traced and
found in many places to tower to such heights as to exceed
the Andes, long supposed to be the highest mountains in
the world. The source of the Ganges, and that of the
Indus, with the early courses of these great rivers, have
been found to be situated quite differently from what had
been supposed to be their position by modern geographers.
The mountainous territories of Cabul and Cashmere, the
high interior tableland of Thibet, and the vast sandy
plains of Meckran, have all been more or less explored.
Information of an authentic character has also been re¬
cently obtained respecting the formerly celebrated capitals,
Bochara and Samarkand. But a wide field still remains
for future research.
The continent of Africa, however, is the quarter of the
globe which, more than any other, has baffled the efforts of
those who would explore its interior. The vast sandy de¬
serts, high mountains, and impenetrable forests which occur
on its surface, joined with the unremitting wars carried on
between the petty tribes, as well as the deeply-rooted anti¬
pathy of the African Mohammedans towards the Franks,
have presented obstacles of the most formidable kind. The
ancients, whose knowledge of the African coasts was very
imperfect, except where they border on the Mediterranean
and the Red Sea, were accustomed to penetrate into the
inland provinces, and are said to have been acquainted with
many parts of it which are now altogether unknown. At
an early period of modern history, reports that Prester John,
the Christian prince, who had been sought for in vain in
the East, was to be found in the interior of Africa, induced
the Portuguese to explore Abyssinia; but the accounts
which they gave of the extent of that country were greatly
exaggerated. From the western coast they despatched
embassies into the interior in quest of the object of their
search; and on one occasion they appear to have reached
the city of Timbuctoo, and to have obtained at Benin some
information concerning the great interior kingdom of Ghana.
The maritime nations of south-western Europe early formed
settlements on the west coast of Africa, and, for commer¬
cial purposes, were naturally prompted to seek a knowledge
of the neighbouring nations. But it was not until the for¬
mation of the African association in 1788 that any well-
sustained efforts were made in the prosecution of discovery
in the interior. There were two objects connected with
the interior of Africa which had for a long time fixed the
attention and awakened the curiosity of the nations of
Europe. These were the city of Timbuctoo and the great
central river, the Niger. Timbuctoo has been for many
centuries the grand emporium of the central trade of Africa,
and hence there has prevailed throughout Europe, ever
since the rise of discovery and commercial enterprise, a
strong desire to visit it, and to establish with it a friendly
intercourse. The discovery of the course and mouth of
the Niger has now opened up to commercial speculation
what it is hoped will give a ready access to Timbuctoo
as well as other places of traffic. The interest with which,
in a geographical point of view, however, the Niger has
been regarded, has arisen from the remarkable nature
of the regions through which it flows, and still more from
our ignorance, combined with the various and contradic¬
tory rumours which were so long abroad, respecting its
course and termination. Herodotus is the earliest author
who affords any ideas applicable to this subject. He men¬
tions an expedition into the interior of Africa, undertaken
by some Nasamonian youths, who, being made prisoners,
were carried to a great city inhabited by negroes, and si¬
tuated on the banks of a river which flowed from west to
east. This stream he conjectures to be the remote source
of the Nile, but the particulars given appear to leave little
doubt that it was the Niger. A similar hypothesis was
adopted by Strabo, Mela, and Pliny, identifying the waters
of these two great rivers. But Ptolemy, whose residence
in Alexandria afforded him ample means of information,
rejects altogether the idea of any communication between
them. He describes the Niger as terminated on the west by
Mount Mandrus (Mandingo), and as giving rise to several
extensive lakes as it proceeds in its course. His statements
do not, however, involve anything positive as to the direc¬
tion in which it flows. The Saracens or Arabians are the
next great source of information; for, in the course of the
dissensions which took place among their dynasties in
Northern Africa, lai-ge bodies crossed the desert and
founded kingdoms on the eastern part of the shore of the
Niger, of which the kingdom of Ghana was the most splen¬
did. According to their testimony, the Niger flows from
east to west, and discharges itself into the sea, by which
they understood the Atlantic, or great circumambient ocean.
With regard to its source, they generally regarded it as the
same with that of the Egyptian Nile, identifying the two
rivers in the early part of their course. Some were of opi¬
nion that the waters of the Niger did not reach the sea;
so that they must have supposed them to be discharged into
a lake. The system adopted by modern Europeans was
derived from Leo Africanus, who retained the delineations
of the Niger as flowing from east to west, and falling into
the ocean; but, instead of deriving it from the Nile, sup¬
posed it to rise from a lake lying deep in the interior of
Africa. Following this hypothesis, all the early European
navigators, when they saw the two broad estuaries ot the
Senegal and Gambia, concluded that one or both gave^
egress to the waters of the Niger. In the beginning of
the seventeenth century, the French and English, having
each formed a settlement, the one on the Senegal and the
other on the Gambia, were induced by the hope of gain to
seek a route up these rivers to the city of T imbuctoo ; and in
this enterprise they proved the falsity of the opinion which
had been so long held. The streams were traced so near to
their source as to become little more than rivulets; whilst
the explorers were still far from the great central emporium
of Africa, and from the great plain through which the Niger
was understood to flow. This result led the two great French
History,
GEOGRAPHY.
History, geographers, Delisle and D’Anville, to construct maps in
rj-Lj which the Niger, after the lapse of so many ages, was again
represented as flowing to the eastward. Instead of a
single stream pursuing a course across the whole breadth of
Africa and falling into the Atlantic, D’Anville distinguished
three rivers—the Senegal, flowing westward; the Niger,
flowing eastward into a lake in Wangara ; and another river
still farther east, and flowing in the opposite direction. The
data on which this scheme rests were never fully made public.
Still new doubt was thrown around this subject by the
reports collected by Mr Lucas, who travelled under the
auspices of the African Association, and who was assured
at Tripoli, by a native merchant, that the river flowed with
rapidity in a westerly direction. The time, however, at
last arrived, when these conflicting opinions were to be
silenced, and when new light was to be thrown on the sub¬
ject, by the labours of our illustrious modern traveller, Mr
Mungo Park. In his first expedition, in 1795-96, he pro¬
ceeded from the west coast in the direction of the river
Gambia, until at Medina he left it, and turned to the north.
Having passed through the kingdoms of Bondou, Kasson,
and Kaarta, he reached Sego, the capital of Bambarra,
where he beheld “ the long-sought majestic Niger glittering
in the morning sun, as broad as the Thames at Windsor,
and flowing slowly to the eastward,” directing its course into
the depths of the interior of Africa. This stream, he found,
was called by the natives the Joliba, or Great Water. Park
advanced beyond this point to another town called Silla on
the same river, and acquired also some valuable information
respecting the further course of the stream which was the
object of his research, as well as respecting the position of
Timbuctoo, which he was told was not more than 200 miles
from Silla. Following upwards the course of the Joliba
until he reached Bammakoo, which was stated to be about
ten days’ journey from its source, he returned to the Gambia
by a more southerly tract. In 1805 this adventurous tra¬
veller was sent out at the public expense on his second
expedition. After reaching Silla, he embarked at a place
in its neighbourhood on the Joliba or Niger, with the de¬
termination of sailing down the stream until he should reach
its mouth, whithersoever its course might conduct him. He
is ascertained to have passed successively the cities of Jenne,
Timbuctoo, Yaour or Yaouri, and to have reached Boussa,
a short distance farther down, where he was killed. No
part of his journal, however, after he embarked on the river,
has been recovered. In the meantime, a strong and general
interest being now excited in reference to African geo¬
graphy, information flowed in from various sources respect¬
ing the regions in the interior, as well as some parts nearer
the coast. Many particulars became known concerning the
countries to the east of Timbuctoo, especially the kingdom
of Bornou, then the most powerful state of Central Africa.
The knowledge possessed of the people of the interior was
also considerably increased. These circumstances prepared
the way for a more successful attempt than any hitherto
made to explore the interior of Africa, when Major Den¬
ham and Lieutenant Clapperton were sent out in 1822.
Setting out from Tripoli with a caravan of Arab merchants,
these travellers crossed the desert, and reached the great
inland sea or lake called Tchad, which is the receptacle of
immense volumes of water collected from the most distant
recesses of inner Africa. Major Denham examined the
coasts of this lake to the east and south ; while Lieutenant
Clapperton directed his researches westward, through the
kingdom of Bornou and the country of the Fellatahs, until
he arrived at Sackatoo, situated on a stream which probably
flows into the Joliba. In the course of this journey Clap¬
perton obtained a great mass of information concerning
those hitherto unvisited regions which lie eastward of Tim¬
buctoo ; but with regard to the course of the unexplored
part of the river Niger (or Quorra, as it was called at Sacka-
477
too), he heard little that could be depended upon. Having History,
returned to England, he was again sent out by the govern-
ment in command of a new expedition, with instructions
that he should endeavour to penetrate to the scene of his
former adventures from the coast of Guinea. In the execu¬
tion of this plan of research he reached the Niger at Boussa,
where Park perished ; and, after traversing some of the ad¬
joining regions on the farther side of the river, as far as the
great commercial city of Kano, the capital of Houssa, where
he had been in his former journey, he turned again to the
west, and having reached Sackatoo, there died. His ser¬
vant, Richard Lander, with a praiseworthy zeal, embarked
on one of the branches of the Niger for the purpose of
finally determining, if possible, its termination by sailing
down the stream; but he was stopped by the natives, and
compelled to turn back. The city of Timbuctoo was in the
meanwhile reached by Major Laing, who succeeded, in
August 1826, in making his way thither across the desert
from Tripoli. In this famous city he spent some weeks,
but was murdered in the desert on his return; nor did the
results of his inquiries and observations ever reach Europe.
Such are the formidable difficulties and dangers which have
hitherto encompassed the path of discovery in the interior
of Africa. Still, by renewed efforts, the object of research
has been gained. The grand question of the termination
of the Joliba, Quorra, or Niger, has at length been fully
resolved—a discovery which is the result of the fortunate
and well-conducted enterprise on which Richard Lander
and his brother were sent out in 1830. Having followed
nearly the same route which had been taken by Clapperton
in his second journey, these two travellers reached fioussa
on the 17th June. They first ascended the river as far as
Yaouri, and then returned to Boussa. After remaining
there for some time, they embarked on the river to follow
the stream in its course downward, hoping that it would
conduct them to the sea. In this expectation they were
not disappointed; for they reached the Bight of Benin by
the larger branch, which is there called the river Nun.
There is another great branch a little farther to the south;
and by these two outlets, with several smaller channels,
the river known in Europe by the name of Niger discharges
its waters into the Atlantic.
The zeal for discovery in Africa, which has been so ac¬
tive during the last sixty years, has sent forth a succession of
travellers (missionaries and others) to explore the southern
regions of that vast continent. We can mention briefly only
the most remarkable results of their researches.
It is now (1855) about six years since intelligence was
received in Europe of the discovery of snowy mountains in
Eastern Africa. The discovery was in itself so remarkable,
that the report was not at first universally credited. It was,
however, subsequently confirmed. The mountains in ques¬
tion are Kilimanjaro, in about latitude 85° S. and longitude
37° E.; and Kenia, in about latitude 1° S., and longitude
38^° E. They were discovered by the missionaries Reb-
mann and Krapf, stationed near Mombas. Kilimanjaro
is an isolated and very conspicuous peak, probably con¬
nected on its western side with the tableland of inner Africa.
The missionaries have become acquainted with its eastern,
southern, and northern aspects ; but Mount Kenia has been
seen only from the south, at a distance of six days’ journey,
or about 80 geographical miles.
Another important discovery made in the interior of
Africa within the same time is that of Lake N’Gami, by
the missionary the Rev. Dr Livingston, accompanied by
Mr Oswell and Mr Murray. It seems to be situated about
19° south latitude—about 560 miles N.N.W. of Kolobeng,
the scene of Dr Livingston’s missionary labours, and the
headquarters of the Baquain tribe. These and other ex¬
plorers have made us in some measure acquainted with an
extensive system of rivers, between 10° and 22° south lati*
478 GEOGRAPHY.
History, tude, running eastward, which, when farther reseatch shall
have made them fully known, may be found capable of be¬
ing rendered subservient to commercial intercourse with
the surrounding countries, and to their consequent civiliza¬
tion. Dr Livingston is at present extending his explora¬
tions to the north of Lake N’Gami.
An important expedition to Central Africa, headed by
Mr James Richardson, left Tripoli in March 1850. It was
sent out under the orders and at the expense of the British
government. The object of this mission was to survey Lake
Tchad, and to explore the neighbouring countries. The
scientific interests of the expedition were entrusted to two
German gentlemen, Dr Barth and Dr Overweg. Instead
of travelling from Tripoli across the desert with the great
caravan, the mission formed a small caravan of its own,
amounting to about one hundred persons and as many
camels. The journey from Tripoli to Murzuk and thence
to Ghat is less interesting than that from the latter place,
where they entered on entirely new ground. But even
in the former part of the march many important discoveries
were made, as the travellers selected new routes not before
explored, and thus rendered every part of the journey sub¬
servient to the purposes of the mission. At Ghat their
personal danger was increased to such a degree that they
found it necessary to trust for protection to the friendship
of the sultan of the Keloes, in whose country they were
detained about three months, during which time Dr Barth
made an interesting journey to Agadez, while much valu¬
able information was also collected by Mr Richardson and by
Dr Overweg who had remained. At the close of 1850 the
party reached Zinder, where the three travellers separated,
each proceeding with his followers by another route. Mr
Richardson took the direct way to Kuka, not far from the
shores of Lake Tchad, and the capital of the empire of Bor-
nou. At Kuka all the three hoped again to meet very soon
afterwards, but this hope was disappointed. Mr Richard¬
son was of a weak constitution, yet his health appeared to
suffer little from the fatigue of crossing the desert; but he
sunk before he reached Lake Tchad, which was the termi¬
nation of his mission, and from which he was to return by
direct road to Tripoli. He died in the country of Bornou at
Ungurutua, a place six days’ journey from Kuka, during the
night intervening between the 3d and the 4th of March 1851.
Thus was added another name to the large number of those
who have fallen a sacrifice to the cause of African discovery.
The two surviving travellers, undaunted by the prospect
of danger, proposed as the plan of their operations to ap¬
proach the Upper Nile, as soon as they had explored the
vicinity of Lake Tchad,—provided they were supported
by the British and Prussian governments; and to be ready
even to pursue their researches from Kuka to the Indian
Ocean. The route in a straight line to Mombas lies nearly
south-east; but from all they could learn, the route more
to the south, in the direction of Lake Nyassi, seemed more
practicable. The gigantic journey which they thus con¬
templated lay through many powerful kingdoms, densely
peopled, intersected by numerous rivers, very fertile, and
abounding in forests, but where the most formidable obsta¬
cles were to be expected from the warlike dispositions of
the surrounding nations.
In the meantime they prosecuted with zeal the imme¬
diate objects of the mission, embracing every opportunity of
collecting information. On the 29th May 1851, Dr Barth
started from Kuka to visit the kingdom of Adamana, which,
from the accounts he had received, he judged to be the
most beautiful country of Central Africa. He reached Yola,
the capital, on the 22d June, where he was permitted to
remain only three days. He was kindly received, however,
both by the sultan and by the inhabitants, and at his de¬
parture was treated with consideration and honour. Four
days’journey before reaching Yola, he had to cross at the
point of their junction the two principal rivers of Adamana, History,
the Benueh and the Faro, the latter being a tributary of i ^ J
the former. The Benueh he describes as the largest and
most imposing stream which he had seen since" leaving
Europe. He found it half a mile broad and about ten feet
deep. The distance of the source from the point at which
he crossed it was said to be nine days’ journey. This mag¬
nificent river is in fact the upper course of the Tchadda,
which itself falls into the Quorra or Niger, not far from its
mouth. The discovery thus made of the identity of the
two streams, the Benueh and the Tchadda, has opened up
a way of access to the very heart of inner Africa which
seems destined eventually to become the line from the west
along which the blessings of commerce and civilization are
to flow to the surrounding nations. The consideration of
the immense importance of following up this discovery, and
of the advantages which might be expected to accrue from
it, suggested the idea of sending out a steamboat expedi¬
tion from England to ascend the Tchadda. Former at¬
tempts to reach Central Africa by ascending the Quorra
had been attended with very disastrous consequences. But
the expedition which left the British shores in May 1854
to ascend the Tchadda was eminently successful, while not
a single life was lost. It reached the mouth of the Quorra
in the beginning of July, and, entering the Tchadda, as¬
cended the stream to within about 50 miles of the conflu¬
ence of the Benueh and the Faro. Thus it has been fully
proved that this important river is navigable to Yola, the
capital of Adamana.
While Dr Barth was prosecuting this journey his fellow-
traveller was employed in surveying Lake Tchad. This
lake is described as an immense marsh, the only portion fit
for navigation being a deep channel formed by the river
Shary, which pours into the lake a vast volume of water.
What Major Denham has described as small islands were
found to be extensive meadow-lands of much greater sur¬
face than the lake itself. The explorations of Dr Overweg
led to results considerably at variance with what had been
reported by Denham; but the discrepancies are perhaps
more apparent than real, and may find their explanation in
the fact that the lake is augmented during the rainy sea¬
son to an immense body of water; but during the season
of drought is so much reduced by evaporation as to appear
at times to be almost dried up.
In the course of the summer of 1852, Dr Barth, setting
out from Kuka, made a journey in a south-easterly direction
towards the Nile ; and so near did he approach to the east¬
ern boundary of the basin of that great river that he was
able to collect information likely to throw light on some
intricate questions connected with it. Fie succeeded also
in exploring a portion of Bagirmi, a powerful kingdom be¬
tween Lake Tchad and the Upper Nile, which had never
before been visited by any European. In uniting, by means
of his itineraries, Bagirmi with Dar For, he has completed
a line of direct route across Central Africa from the Quorra
to the Nile ; and thus from the Gulf of Guinea to the Red
Sea and the Indian Ocean.
Dr Overweg left Kuka at the same time with Dr Barth,
but took a south-westei’ly direction towards the Quorra.
Between the end of March, the time of his setting out, and
the end of May when he returned, he successfully performed
an important journey, which brought him within 150 Eng¬
lish miles of Yacoba, the great town of the Fellatahs. Dr
Barth’s journey occupied a considerably longer time ; and
it appears that Dr Overweg’s anxiety to await the return of
his companion, which was not until the 20th August, in¬
duced him to remain at Kuka, notwithstanding the danger
to be apprehended from too long exposure to the influence
of the unhealthy season. The consequence was, that his
constitution became so seriously affected, that though he
set out, immediately after Dr Barth’s arrival, on an excur-
G E O G R A P XI Y.
Mathema- sion to healthier regions, yet the advantage derived proved
tical Geo- only temporary. He died on the 27th September 1852 at
graphy. Maduari, about ten miles east of Kuka, and near Lake Tchad.
As it was known that the travellers had expected to be
ready to start from Kuka towards the Indian Ocean in
August or September 1853, it was intended by their friends
in England, that before they left Kuka they should be joined
by an additional fellow-labourer to take a part in their ar¬
duous undertaking. Dr Vogel, an astronomer and botanist,
was accordingly sent out, accompanied by two chosen vo¬
lunteers from the corps of the Sappers and Miners. By a
singular coincidence, on the very morning on which Dr
Vogel and his companions went on board the vessel which
was to take them to Malta on their way to Tripoli, letters
from Dr Barth were received in London announcing the
death of Dr Overweg.
Though now left alone, as being the only surviving mem¬
ber of the mission, Dr Barth continued to prosecute with
zeal the work in which he was engaged. Up to the 23d
November 1852 be was still at Kuka ; but he had fixed on
the 25th of the same month to leave that place, and to en¬
ter on his journey to Timbuctoo. All his journals and
papers, arranged and completed up to that date, he intended
to forward to Tripoli, there to be deposited with the Eng¬
lish consul. By the beginning of March 1853 he had per¬
formed more than one-third part of his journey, and had
reached the capital of the territories of the Fellatahs, whose
friendship and assistance he had secured. After being sub¬
jected to the disappointments and delays incident to the
traveller in that part of the world, he reached at length the
termination of his perilous journey. During his stay at
Timbuctoo his life was exposed to great danger, from the
influence of unfavourable climate, and much more so from
the hostile disposition towards Christians of the most fanati¬
cal Mohammedan population of Northern Africa. He thus
describes his distressing situation during his sojourn in that
magnificent city,—the “ Queen of the Desert,” as it is justly
called by the natives:—“ Like a helpless vessel on the
ocean waves am I thrown about on a sea of uncertainty be¬
tween the power and passion of contending parties. Every
day brings something new,—now of a satisfactory kind, then
again of the reverse. Death, captivity, safe return home,
are my visions by turns, and it is yet impossible to say which
shall be my fate.” To have left Timbuctoo without suffi¬
cient protection, would have been to expose himself to cer-
479
tain death. Hence his stay in this place of danger was un- Mathema-
avoidably protracted to nearly a year, when he was at last tical Geo-
succoured by Auab, the chief of a Tuarick tribe inhabiting graPhy-,
the regions east of Timbuctoo, along the Quorra, who came
with an escort of a hundred horsemen, and conducted him in
safety through his dominions on his way back to Sackatoo.
The news of Dr Vogel having been despatched from
Europe to join him had reached Timbuctoo before Dr
Barth left that place. On the 1st December 1854 he had
the inexpressible pleasure of meeting him at Bundi, a small
town situated at about 200 geographical miles due west of
Kuka. Once more he looked on the face of a European—
his countryman—and grasped the hand of a friend in whom
he could place implicit confidence. Exactly six years had
elapsed since he left Europe, in company with Mr Richard¬
son and Dr Overweg. Since the decease of the latter he
had been isolated from civilized society, and had been left
to contend single-handed with manifold hardships and dan¬
gers. To revisit Europe he now considered as indispensable
for the preservation of life and health ; and accordingly he
moved on to Kuka, whence he intended to proceed home¬
ward without further delay. We are happy to say that he
arrived at Marseilles early in September 1855.
The limits of the great unexplored region of Africa may
be roughly indicated as extending between the parallels of
10° north and south of the equator, and from Adamaua in
the west to the Somauli country in the east. This exten¬
sive region has just been touched by the routes of recent
travellers. But in all parts of the habitable globe the spirit
of research, which has already done so much, is still active ;
nor is it directed only to the determining of the outlines of
continents and countries, or to the marking of the leading
features of mountains, rivers and cities, with their relative
positions and distances. These are regarded by the geo¬
graphical inquirer merely as affording a proper basis on
which to rest the description of the earth considered as the
habitation of man, and as affording him amply the means
of improvement and happiness. The picture can be com¬
pleted only by the continued labours of the scientific ob¬
server, who makes the earth, with its various productions,
whether natural or artificial, the treasures hid in its bosom,
the animals found upon its surface, and, above all, the hu¬
man beings who people its different regions (and these in
all their mutual bearings and relations), the objects of at¬
tentive examination and study.
II.—MATHEMATICAL GEOGRAPHY.
CHAP. I.—PRINCIPLES AND DEFINITIONS : OF THE
TERRESTRIAL SPHERE.
We have already stated that mathematical geography
treats of the figure, magnitude, and motion of the earth ;
its relations to the other bodies of the system to which it
belongs ; the relative positions of places on its surface,
and the methods of delineating the whole or any part of
its surface. Several of these topics belong as much to
astronomy as to geography ; for the former science regards
the earth, on the one hand, as the grand observatory whence
the phenomena of the heavens are contemplated by man ;
and, on the other hand, as itself constituting a portion of
the planetary system, the laws of which it is the object of
the astronomer to investigate and explain. It is only,
indeed, by celestial observation that the position of a point
on the surface of the earth can be accurately determined;
so that the first principles of geographical science must
necessarily be drawn from astronomy.
We take for granted, then, the doctrine of the celestial
sphere ; the globular form, the magnitude and motion of
the earth, with the phenomena arising out of and depend¬
ing upon its motion. These points are fully discussed in
the article Astronomy, part ii. It will be necessary, how -
ever, for the sake of distinctness, to state briefly such of
the results derived from the reasoning there employed as
belong specially to the subject of this article.
The doctrine of the earth’s rotundity is that with which
the student of geography must first make his mind familiar.
To the eye the earth appears a circular plane, at the centre
of which the spectator imagines himself placed ; whilst the
heavens, spread over his head like a magnificent canopy,
seem to meet the earth all round in a circle which bounds
the view. The space comprehended within this circle is
found to present often a very irregular surface, rising into
mountains, or sinking into cavities, so as apparently to ex¬
clude the idea of its bearing any resemblance to a portion of
a globe or sphere. This is, however, nearly its true figure.
Were we placed at such a distance from the earth that the
eye would be able to take in at one glance the vast mass
in its full dimensions, it would present the appearance of a
circular disc, of greater or less diameter according to our
distance. If viewed on all sides, its circular form would
remain unchanged ; a property characteristic of no other
480
GEOGRAPHY.
Mathema- body but a globe or sphere. The highest mountains would
tical Geo- ]^e foun(j t0 bear so little proportion to the whole bulk, as
^graPhy- t0 cause n0 perceptible deviation from the globular form ;
anci t]ie same thing may be said of the difference which
exists between the polar and equatorial diameters, though
that quantity amounts to about twenty-eight miles.
The portion of the earth, then, seen from any point above
its surface, is to be regarded as the segment of a sphere,
which, increases in extent according as the eye is more
elevated. When the semidiameter of the earth, and the
height of the eye above the surface are known, it is easy
to find the diameter of the circle which bounds our view on
the earth ; supposing, as is the case at sea, that no object
intervenes to obstruct our vision. Thus, let AB be the
height of a mountain on the earth’s
surface. From A draw the line
AD, a tangent to the surface in H'
any direction ; D will be the most
distant point seen by a spectator
whose eye is placed at A, the
summit of the mountain. If the
line AD be supposed to be carried
round the point A, while it at
the same time continues to be a
tangent to the surface, until,
having passed through every possible position, it returns to
that from which it set out, the point D will trace the cir¬
cumference of the circle which bounds the terrestrial view,
and of which the radius will not differ much from AD.
Now AD being a tangent to the arc BD, we have AD2 =
(2BC + AB) X AB = 2BC X AB nearly, since AB must
always be very small compared with 2BC, the diameter of
the earth. Assuming the diameter equal to 7912 English
miles, we have AD2 = 7912 X AB; or, if AB is expressed
7912
in feet, AD2 x AB, in miles. Hence we obtain
AD = T224126VABT
The result obtained from this formula will deviate from the
truth in consequence of the effect of refraction; which, at a
medium, may be considered as increasing the distance by
about y1^, or *0714 of the whole. Applying this correction
to the above formula, it becomes
AD = 1-3115VAB.
For example, if the Peak of Teneriffe is 12,358 English
feet in height, then AD = 1-3115 >^12358 = 145*8 miles
is the radius of the circle which bounds the view from that
elevation.
The circle bounding terrestrial vision, which we have
now been considering, does not, except when the eye is
close to the surface of the earth, coincide with the sensible
horizon as determined by a plane passing through the eye
along the line FIO and perpendicular to the vertical line
CZ. The angle contained between the visual ray AD and
the horizontal plane is called the dip of the horizon. For
ordinary purposes, however, it is sufficiently accurate to say
that the sensible horizon is the circle which bounds the
view, where the heavens and the earth appear to meet. To
this circle the rational horizon is parallel, being determined
by a plane passing through the centre of the earth perpen¬
dicular to the vertical line CZ, and continued in every direc¬
tion to the sphere of the heavens.
Let NESQ be the terrestrial sphere, of which C is the
centre ; and let HO be the rational horizon of the point M.
The rotatory motion of the earth determines the position of the
line NS on which it revolves, and which is called its axis.
The two points N, S, in which the axis meets the surface,
are called the poles of the earth. The circle EQ upon
the earth, the plane of which passes through C the centre,
and is perpendicular to NS the axis, is called the equator Mathema-
or equinoctial line. This circle is equidistant from the tical Geo-
Fig. 2.
poles of rotation, and its plane
coincides with the plane of the
celestial equator. The rational
horizon and equator being two
great circles of the terrestrial
sphere, that is, the plane of each h
passing through the centre, they n.
are mutually bisected. This is
a property which belongs to all
great circles. Any great circle
NFS passing through the two
poles is called a meridian. Any
given point P may have a meridian passing through it;
and the plane of that circle will coincide with the plane
of the celestial meridian which passes through the zenith
of that point. Every meridian cuts the equator at right
angles.
The horizon HO corresponding to any point M upon
the globe, is divided into four equal parts by the equator
and the meridian passing through that point. The points
of division are called the four cardinal 'points. Those
through which the meridian passes are called the north
and south points of the horizon. Those points, again,
through which the equator passes are called the east and
ivest points.
The earth is divided by the horizon into two hemispheres,
called the upper and lower or under hemispheres; by the
equator it is divided into the northern and southern hemi¬
spheres ; and by the meridian, into the eastern and western
hemispheres.
The position of any point P on the surface of the earth
is determined by referring it to the co-ordinate circles, the
equator and meridian. The distance PA of the place P
from the equator, measured in degrees and parts of a degree
on the meridian passing through the place, is called its
latitude^ which is said to be north or south, according as
the place is situated in the northern or southern hemi¬
sphere. The arc EA of the equator, intercepted between
the meridian passing through the place P and some parti¬
cular meridian NMS, called the first meridian, as being
that fixed on from which the reckoning is to commence, is
called the longitude of the place in question ; and is east
or west, according as the place is situated in the eastern or
western hemisphere in reference to the first meridian. The
difference of longitude between two places is the arc of
the equator intercepted between their meridians ; and is
found by subtracting or adding the longitudes, according as
the places are on the same or on opposite sides of the first
meridian. The ancients assumed for their first meridian
that of the Fortunate Islands, which they conceived to be
the western limit of the habitable world. In later times, the
meridian passing through Ferro, one of the Canary Islands,
was used as the first meridian by the geographers of many
countries. It nearly coincided with that of the ancients.
But in modern systems of geography the first meridian is
usually that which passes through the capital of the country
to which the geographer belongs ; or if there is an observatory
in or near the capital, the meridian of the observatory is
assumed as the first. By British geographers the meridian of
the observatory at Greenwich is reckoned the first meridian.
It is usual tocall the semicircle NPS,passing through the two
poles and a given place, the meridian of that place ; and the
other semicircle NRS passing through the opposite point
on the globe, the opposite meridian. All places lying under
the same meridian have the same longitude, and at all of
them noon or any other hour occurs at the same instant of
absolute time. As the sun in his apparent diurnal revolu¬
tion moves over fifteen degrees in an hour, it is evident that
difference of longitude, which causes difference in the rela-
graphy.
GEOGRAPHY.
481
Sfathema- tive time, may be estimated in time, allowing fifteen degrees
tical Geo- to an hour, or one degree to four minutes,
graphy. ^ If a small circle MPK, or mpk, be drawn parallel to the
equator at any distance from it, all the places through which
that small circle passes will have the same latitude. Such
small circles are accordingly called parallels of latitude.
The difference of latitude between two places is the arc of
the meridian intercepted between their parallels of latitude,
and is found by subtracting or adding the latitudes, accord¬
ing as the places lie on the same or on opposite sides of the
equator.
On the hypothesis of the earth being a perfect sphere,
the degree of latitude must be assumed as everywhere of
the same length. Actual observation shows that this is not
exactly the case, but that the length of the degree increases
slightly as we proceed from the equator towards either pole
(see Figure of the Earth), so as to indicate a flattening
of the surface in the latter regions, or that the earth is of a
spheroidal figure. This, however, we do not at present
take into view. With regard to the degree of longitude, it
is at the equator of the same length with the degree of lati¬
tude. But on both sides of the equator it decreases gra¬
dually on account of the meridians approaching each other
until they intersect at the poles. At the equator a degree
of longitude is the 360th part of the circumference of a
great circle of the terrestrial sphere ; at every point to the
north or south of the equator it is the 360th part of the cir¬
cumference of a small circle, of which the radius is equal to
the cosine of the latitude. Now, since similar portions of
the circumferences of circles are to one another as their
radii, if we put L for the length of the degree of longitude
at the equator, and L' for its length in a latitude denoted by
/, we have rad.: cos. ^: L : E. Hence, radius being unity,
we obtain
L' = L X cos. 1.
From this formula the following table is calculated ; the
length of the degree of longitude at the equator being as¬
sumed equal to 69‘06 English miles.
Table showing the Length of a Degree of Longitude for
every Degree of Latitude, in Geographical and in
English Miles.
Lat.
Goo.
Miles.
5999
59-96
59-92
59-85
5977
59-67
59-55
59-42
59-26
59 09
58-90
58-69
58-46
58-22
57-96
57-68
57-38
57-06
56-73
56-38
56 01
55-63
55-23
54-81
54-38
53-93
53-46
52-98
52-48
51-96
Eng.
Miles.
6905
69-02
68-96
68-89
68-80
68-68
68-55
68-39
68-21
68-01
67-79
67-55
67-29
67-01
66-71
66-38
66-04
65-68
65-30
64-90
64-47
64-03
63-60
62-09
62-59
62-07
61-53
60-98
60-40
59-81
Lat.
Geo.
Miles.
Eng.
Miles.
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
51-43
50-88
5032
49-74
49-15
48-54
47-92
47-28
46-63
45-96
45-28
44-59
43 88
43-16
42-43
41-68
40-92
40-15
39 36
38-57
37-76
36-94
36-11
35-27
34-41
33-55
32-68
31-79
30-90
30-00
59-20
58-57
57-92
57-25
56-57
55-87
55-15
54-42
53-67
52 90
52-12
51-32
50-51
49-68
48-83
47-97
47-10
46-21
45-31
44-39
43 46
42-52
41-56
40-59
39-61
38-62
37-61
36-60
35-57
34-53
Lat.
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
Geo. j Eng.
Miles. Miles,
29-09
28-17
27-24
26-30
25-36
24-40
23-44
22-48
21-50
20-52
19-53
18-54
17-54
16-54
15-53
14-52
13-50
12-47
11-45
10-42
9-39
8-35
7-31
6-27
5-23
4-19
314
2-09
1-05
0-00
33-48
32-42
31-35
30-27
29-19
28-09
26-98
25-87
24-75
23-62
22-48
21-34
20-19
19-04
17-87
16-71
15-54
14-36
13-18
11-99
10-80
9-61
8-42
7-22
6-02
4-83
3-61
2-41
1-21
000
If a great circle Be? be supposed to be drawn on the ter- Mathema-
restrial sphere, cutting the equator obliquely at an angle of tical G®0'
about 23^ degrees, this circle will mark out the course of ^£rapky*
the sun through the year, and is called the ecliptic. It cor- ^
responds with the celestial ecliptic, and is divided in the
same manner into signs and degrees. The parallel of lati¬
tude which passes through the point of the ecliptic in which
the sun is placed on any particular day, shows to what points
of the earth’s surface the sun is vertical on that day. The
two parallels BED, bid, wdiich touch the ecliptic at the
points where it recedes farthest from the equator to the
north and south, are called the tropics ; the one, BED, the
northern tropic, or the tropic of Cancer; and the other, bid,
the southern tropic, or the tropic of Capricorn; because they
touch the ecliptic in the first points of these signs. These
circles lie in the planes of the corresponding circles in the
celestial sphere.
Of the two poles, that which lies in the northern hemi¬
sphere is called the north or arctic pole ; and the opposite,
lying in the southern hemisphere, is called the south or ant¬
arctic pole. The two parallels of latitude FG,^, which
encircle these poles respectively at an angular distance
equal to the obliquity of the ecliptic, are called the polar
circles, the one the north or arctic, and the other the south
or antarctic.
Suppose a great circle to be drawn on the terrestrial
sphere everywhere equally distant from that point on the
surface to which the sun is ver¬
tical at any given time ; this
circle is called the circle of illu¬
mination, because it separates
the enlightened from the dark
hemisphere of the earth. It is
upon the position of the circle
of illumination that the equal
or unequal lengths of the days s'
and nights throughout the year
depend over the face of the
earth. At every season of the
year this circle bisects the equator, so that under the equa¬
tor the days and nights are always equal. When the sun
is over either of the equinoctial points E, Q, the circle of
illumination bisects not only the equator, but likewise all
the parallels to the equator, in consequence of cutting them
at right angles; and hence, as the parallel of latitude pass¬
ing through any point on the earth’s surface may be re¬
garded as the path along which that point is carried by the
diurnal motion of the earth, at that season of the year the
days and nights are equal over all the earth. When the
sun is over any other point of the ecliptic, the parallels of
latitude are cut obliquely by the circle of illumination, so
that they are divided by it into two unequal parts, and hence
the days and nights are unequal all over the earth, except
at the equator. If the sun is in north declination, at all
places to the north of the equator the days are longer than
the nights ; but at all places to
the south of the equator, the
nights are longer than the days;
because with regard to places
to the north, the larger portion
of the parallel of latitude lies
within the enlightened hemi¬
sphere, while with regard to
places to the south the larger
portion lies within the dark he¬
misphere. The reverse has
place when the sun is in south
declination. When the sun is __ ____    
BD, or over the southern tropic bd, the day is then the long¬
est or shortest of the year; and the adjacent polar circle is
wholly in the light, and the opposite one wholly in darkness.
3 p
Fig. 4.
over the northern tropic
VOL. x.
482
GEOGRAPHY.
Pig:. 6.
Mathema- Thus within the arctic and antarctic circles the inhabitants
tical Geo- i,ave {;]iejr ]jght and darkness
gniphy. exten[]e(i t0 a great length ; the
sun sometimes skirting round a
little above the horizon for many
days together, and at another
season never rising above the
horizon at all, but making con¬
tinual night for a considerable
length of time.
Such are the circles supposed
to be drawn on the terrestrial ~ S
sphere. Though these circles rig. 5.
are altogether imaginary, and have really nothing corre¬
sponding to them on the earth’s surface, yet as the positions
of the corresponding circles in the heavens can be accu¬
rately determined by observation on the celestial bodies,
they become actually as effective for fixing the relative po¬
sitions of places on the globe of the earth, and for other
purposes of geography, as if that globe were reduced to
such a magnitude as to admit of its being grasped by the
hand of man, and surveyed by a single glance of his eye.
The height NO of the pole adjacent to any place M
above HO the horizon of that
place, is equal to the latitude of
the place ; for the arcs MO
and EN are equal, each being
a quadrant ; and taking away
from each the common arc MN, h|
the remaining arc NO, the ele¬
vation of the pole N, is equal
to the remaining arc ME, the
latitude of the place M.
Hence there are, with regard
to the horizon, three positions of the tenestrial sphere, as
there are of the celestial, depending on the latitude of the
place. If an observer were placed
on the pole, the latitude being
90°, his horizon would coincide
with the equator, and all the pa¬
rallels of latitude would be paral¬
lel to the horizon. This is the
parallel position of the sphere,
which is represented in fig. 7.
Again, if an observer were placed
on any point of the equator, the
latitude being 0, the poles of the
earth must be in the horizon ;
and from the properties of the sphere, the equator, and all
the small circles parallel to the
equator, must be at right angles
to the horizon. This is the right
position of the sphere, which is
represented in fig. 8. With re¬
gard to an observer placed at any
point between the equator and
either pole, the axis of the earth
lies obliquely to tbe plane of his
horizon, which is therefore cut
obliquely by the equator and all
the small circles parallel to the
equator: this is the oblique position of the sphere, and is
that represented in figure 2.
The method of determining the latitude of a place, and
the difference of longitude between two points on the earth’s
surface, is given in the article Astronomy, part iv. chap. i.
prob. ix. and x. The latitudes and longitudes of two points
on the surface of the earth being given, the angular distance
may be found ; and hence the length of a degree on the
earth’s surface being known, the distance between the points
may be expressed in miles. Thus, let A and B be two
graphy.
Pig. 9.
points on tbe earth’s surface, let P be the adjacent pole, Mathema-
and PA, PB the meridians passing through R tical Geo-
A and B ; then PA and PB will be the
complements of the latitudes, and therefore
given ; and the spherical angle APB will
be the difference of the longitudes, and
therefore also given. In the spherical tri¬
angle PAB, the base AB of which is the
distance required, we have therefore two
sides and the included angle, so that the
base AB can be found. Put D and D' for
the complements of the given latitudes, and P for the differ¬
ence of the given longitudes ; then, by spherical trigonome¬
try, we have
Cos. AB = cos. D cos. D' + sin. D sin. D' cos. P.
By assuming tan. = tan. D cos. P, this formula may be
reduced to the more convenient form
_ . „ cos. D cos. (D' — d>)
Cos. AB =  —  \
COS. <p
From the above expression the number of degrees and
parts of a degree contained in the arc intercepted between
the points A and B are to be found ; and allowing for each
degree 69'06 English miles, the distance will be obtained,
expressed in English miles, which will necessarily differ a
little from the truth, in consequence of the earth not being
truly spherical. To determine the distance between two
points on the earth’s surface with precision, requires the ap¬
plication of some of the most refined improvements in mo¬
dern mathematics. See Figure of the Earth.
As an example of the above formula, let it be required to
find the distance between Edinburgh and Constantinople.
Colat. of Edinburgh 34° 3' = D : its long. 3° 12' W.
Colat. of Constantinople 48° 59' = Dh its long. 28° 55 E.
Difference of longitude = 32° 7 = P*
Tan. D = tan. 34° 3' = 9-829805
Cos. P = cos. 32° 7' = 9-927867
Tan. <£, 29° 47'.
D' = 48° 59'
9-757672
D'— 19° 12' Its cosine = 9-975145
Cos. D = 9-918318
Arith. compl. cosine $ — 0-061525
Cos. AB, 25° 38'...= 9-954988
Hence the arc of a great circle of the sphere intercepted
between Edinburgh and Constantinople is 25° 38', or 1770
English miles nearly.
Each of the four quadrants into which the horizon is di¬
vided by the equator and the meridian is supposed to be
divided into eight equal parts; so that the whole circum¬
ference is divided into thirty-two equal parts, which are
caWed. points of the compass ; and to each point of division
a name is given indicating its position with regard to the
four cardinal points.
The position of one place with regard to another, as es
timated by the points of the compass, is called the hearing
of the former from the latter. Thus, when a place is said
to bear N.E. (north-east), N.N.E. (north-north-east), &c.
the meaning is, that it lies in the direction of those points
in the horizon from the present position of the observer.
If a series of points be assumed on the earth’s surface, so
situated that all of them, when taken in regular succession,
lie towards any the same point of the compass, except either
of the four cardinal points, the assumed points lie, not in
the circumference of a circle of the sphere, but in a sort of
spiral line, the characteristic property of which is, that it
cuts all the meridians at the same angle. This line is called
a rhumb line ; and, whilst it continually approaches the pole,
it can never arrive at it, except after an infinite number of
revolutions. In passing, therefore, from one point of the
surface of the globe to another, by pursuing the direction
483
GEOGRAPHY.
Mathema- in which the latter lies from the former, we do not take the
tical Geo- shortest way, which is an arc of a great circle, but move
graphy. over a p0rtj0n of a rhumb line, passing through the two
points. This is the line described by a ship whilst her
course is continually directed towards one and the same
point of the compass.
CHAP. II. OF THE SURFACE OF THE EARTH, AND ITS
GENERAL DIVISIONS : DEFINITIONS.
The surface of the earth contains about 196,663,400
square miles. By much the larger portion of this space is
water, which is, indeed, more than twice the extent of the
land. The surface of the land is exceedingly diversified,
almost everywhere rising into hills and mountains, or sink¬
ing into valleys, and sometimes stretching out into plains
of great extent. Amongst the most extensive plains are
the sandy deserts of Arabia and Africa, the internal part of
European Russia, and a tract of considerable extent in Prus¬
sian Poland. But the most remarkable extent of level
ground is the vast table-plain of Thibet in Asia, which is
the most elevated tract of level ground on the globe. The
principal mountain ridges are the Alps and Pyrenees in
Europe, the Altai and Himalaya Mountains in Asia, the
mountains of Atlas in Africa, and the Andes or Cordilleras
in South America. The greatest concavities of the globe
are those which are occupied by the waters of the ocean;
and of these by far the largest forms the bed of the Pacific
Ocean, which, stretching from the eastern shores of Asia
and of New Holland to the western coast of America, covers
nearly half the globe. The concavity next in extent is that
which forms the bed of the Atlantic Ocean, extending be¬
tween the new and the old worlds; and a third concavity
is occupied by the Indian Ocean. The Arctic and An¬
tarctic Oceans fill up the remaining concavities.
Smaller collections of water which communicate freely
with the oceans are called seas ; and of these, the principal
are the Mediterranean, the Baltic, the Euxine or Black Sea,
and the White Sea. Seas sometimes take their names from
the countries near which they flow; as the Irish Sea, the
German Ocean. Some large collections of water, though
they have no immediate connection with the great body of
waters, being on all sides surrounded by land, are yet called
seas; as the Caspian Sea.
A part of the sea running up into the land, so as to form
a large hollow, is called a bay or gulf, as the Bay of Biscay,
the Gulf of Mexico ; but if the hollow be small, it is called
a creek, a road, a haven.
When two large bodies of water communicate by a nar¬
row pass between two adjacent lands, the pass is called a
strait or straits, as the Straits of Gibraltar, the Straits of
Dover, the Straits of Babelmandel. A channel is a wider
kind of strait. The water usually flows through a strait
with considerable force and velocity, forming what is called
a current ; and frequently this current, as in the case of the
Straits of Gibraltar, flows continually in the same direc¬
tion.
A body of fresh water entirely surrounded by land is
called a lake, as the Lake of Geneva, Lake Champlain.
A considerable stream of water rising inland, and drain¬
ing a portion of country more or less extensive, discharging
its waters into the sea, is called a river. A smaller stream
of the same kind is called a rivulet, or brook.
Of the land, which forms the rest of the surface of the
globe, two portions of vast extent are called continents;
the one the eastern continent, or the old world, compre¬
hending Europe, Asia, and Africa; the other the western
continent, or new wmrld, comprehending North and South
America. New Holland is a third portion of land, however,
which has by some been also reckoned a continent on
account of its great extent.
A portion of land, of comparatively small dimensions
entirely surrounded by water is called an island, as Britain,
Ireland, Jamaica, Madagascar. New Holland is the largest
portion of land which is called an island. When a number
of smaller islands lie near each other they are said to form
a group of islands.
A portion of land which is almost entirely surrounded by
water is called a peninsula, as the peninsula of Malacca, the
Morea or Grecian Peloponnesus, &c. The term peninsula
is often applied to a large extent of country. Thus we
speak of Spain as a peninsula.
The narrow neck of land which joins a peninsula to the
mainland, or which connects two tracts of country together,
is called an isthmus. The most remarkable isthmuses in
the world are the Isthmus of Suez which joins Africa and
Asia, and the Isthmus of Darien which connects the con¬
tinents of North and South America.
A narrow tract of land stretching out into the sea, and
appearing to terminate in a point, is called a cape. The
most remarkable capes are, the Cape of Good Hope, at the
southern extremity of Africa ; Cape Horn, at the southern
extremity of South America; and the North Cape, at the
northern extremity of Europe. A large portion of land jut¬
ting out into the sea is called a promontory.
Until of late, in systems of geography, the earth used to
be considered as divided into four quarters; Europe, Asia,
Africa, and America. A classification in which the whole
world is arranged under seven divisions has now, however,
been very generally adopted: These divisions are, Europe,
Asia, Africa, North America, South America, Australasia,
and Polynesia. With regard to the last two, the one, Aus¬
tralasia, or South Asia, comprehends certain of the great
islands, particularly New Holland, which are usually con¬
sidered as belonging to Asia; and the other, Polynesia, sig¬
nifying many islands, comprehends all the smaller islands
which are scattered over the great expanse of the Pacific
Ocean.
This classification of the parts of the earth’s surface is
founded on the most obvious points of distinction. We
shall now explain two divisions employed by the ancients,
which are founded upon different principles ; that into zones,
and that into climates.
The division into zones is suggested by the different
degrees of temperature which prevail in different regions
of the earth. The temperature of a country depends on a
variety of circumstances (see Physical Geography) ; but
of these, one of the most obvious is the position of the sun
with regard to the zenith. The more nearly his rays are
received vertically, the higher will be the temperature ;
and, on the contrary, the more obliquely they fall, the less
effect will they produce in raising the temperature. Now
to every point of the earth’s surface between the tropics
the sun is vertical twice in the year. It is in this region,
then, that the highest temperature will prevail. Again,
within the polar circles the sun’s rays at all times fall very
obliquely ; and for a length of time they do not reach these
two regions of the globe at all. Here, then, the tempera¬
ture must be lower than anywhere else, as all other places
enjoy more of the sun’s genial influence. In the two regions
between the tropics and the polar circles, a medium tem¬
perature is found, increasing as we approach the former,
and diminishing as we approach the latter. Thus is the
earth’s surface divided, by the two tropics and two polar
circles, into five zones, distinguished from one another by
the prevailing temperature in each. That between the
tropics is called the torrid zone, because there the heat is
understood to be extreme. This region, which has the
equator passing through the middle of it, the ancients,
indeed, considered as uninhabitable. The two regions
comprehended within the arctic and antarctic polar circles
are called the northern and southern frigid zones, on ac-
Mathema-
tical Geo¬
graphy.
484
GEOGRAPHY.
count of the severity of the cold which there prevails. The
oraphy0" two reg'ons situated between the tropics and the polar
v. ' 1 ^ t circles, the one in the northern hemisphere, bounded by
the tropic of cancer and the arctic circle, the other in the
southern hemisphere, bounded by the tropic of capricorn
and the antarctic circle, are called the northern and southern
temperate zones, because there neither the heat nor cold is
excessive; but the heat reaches the highest temperature
of summer, and the cold sinks to the lowest temperature
of winter, without either becoming extreme.
As each tropic lies about 23%° from the equator, the
breadth of the torrid zone is about 47°, or nearly 3240
English miles. The breadth of each of the frigid zones,
that is, from the circumference of the polar circle to the
pole, is 23J°, or nearly 1620 miles ; so that there remains
for the breadth of each of the temperate zones about 43°,
or nearly 2970 miles. The superficial content of each zone
is easily calculated by the ordinary rules of mensuration.
Let s be the surface of a segment of the sphere, d the
diameter of the sphere, and h the height of the segment; then
s=3T416^.
To.apply this formula; let NESQ be the sphere divided
into five zones. It is evident that, for the torrid zone, h
must be equal to L/, or to twice
the sine of BE to the radius EC;
that for each of the temperate
zones 4 must be equal to LR or/r,
the difference of the sines of FE
and BE to the same radius CE;
and that for the space compre¬
hended within each polar circle,
h must be equal to NR, the ex¬
cess of the radius NC above CR,
the sine of FE corresponding to
that radius. Hence, if we put m
for twice the natural sine of the arc BE ; for the difference
of the natural sines of the arcs BE and FE ; and for the
excess of radius above the natural sine of FE, successively ;
• since in the case of the terrestrial sphere CE or CN is
equal to 3956 miles, we have h —3956 m. Putting, there¬
fore, instead of d, its value, 7912, and giving the above
formula a logarithmic form, we obtain
Log. ^ = log. m + 7'9926935.
Now, for the torrid zone, m = 2 nat. sin. 23° 30' ='7975.
Hence,
Log. w —P9017307
7-9926935
N
78419520 log. = 7-8944242.
The torrid zone contains, therefore, about 78,419,500
square miles.
Again, for each of the temperate zones, we have m
= nat. sin. 66° 30' - nat. sin. 23° 30 = -51831^ Hence,
Log. m = P7145896
7-9926935
* = 50966300 log. = 7-7072831.
So that each of the temperate zones contains about
50,966,300 English square miles.
Lastly, for the space contained within each of the polar
circles we have m = rad. - sin. 66° 30'=1 - 0-91706
— "08294: Hence,
Log. m = 2,9187640
7-9926935
s = 8155630   log. = 6-9114575.
. The portion of the surface of the globe comprehended
within each polar circle is therefore nearly equal to
8,155,600 square miles.
It is evident that the superficial content of any other
zone of the terrestrial sphere may be found by tne above Mathena-
formula, by putting m equal to the difference of the natural tical Geo¬
sines corresponding to the latitudes of the parallels by SraPhy-
which the zone is bounded. 1 ' V'—
If it is required to find the area of a segment of a zone
bounded at both extremities by meridians, it is only neces¬
sary to find first the area of the whole zone, and then to
multiply the result by the number of degrees and parts of
a degree in the length of the segment, and to divide by 360.
Thus, the number of square miles contained in the portion
of the torrid zone terminated by two meridians which are
separated from each other by 8° 45' is equal to 78419520
X8f-f-360, which gives 272,290 square miles. By divid¬
ing any particular country or district into segments of
zones by means of parallels of latitude, its area can easily
be calculated.
The division of the earth’s surface into climates was
employed by the ancients for ascertaining the situation of
places. They supposed the northern and southern hemi¬
spheres to be each divided into small zones, to which they
gave the name of climates, the breadth of each zone being
such as to make half an hour of difference in the length
of the longest day at the two parallels of latitude by which
the climate was bounded. Proceeding from the equator,
where the length of the day is always twelve hours, they
thus divided the space between it and each polar circle into
twenty-four climates. Having reached the polar circles
northward and southward, where the longest day is twenty-
four hours, they divided the space within each polar circle
in such a manner as to make the difference in the length
of the longest day at the beginning and termination of each
climate one month. Hence, as the poles are alternately
illuminated for six months, there were just six climates
within each polar circle.
Table of Climates.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XL
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXL
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
Latitude of
the Higher
Parallel.
Deg. Min.
8 34
16 43
24 10
30 46
36 28
41 21
45 29
48 59
51 57
54 28
56 36
58 25
59 57
61 16
62 24
63 20
64 8
64 48
65 20
65 46
66 6
66 20
66 28
66 32
67 23
69 50
73 39
78 31
84 5
90 0
Breadth of
the Climate.
Deg. Min.
8 34
8 9
7 27
6 36
5 42
53
8
30
58
31
8
49
32
19
8
0 56
0 48
0 40
0 32
0 26
0 20
0 14
0 51
2 27
3 49
4 52
5 34
5 55
Longest Day
under the
Higher
Parallel.
Hours. Min.
12 30
13 0
13 30
14 0
14 30
15 0
15 30
16 0
16 30
17 0
17 30
18 0
18 30
19 0
19 30
20 0
20 30
21 0
21 30
22 0
22 30
23 0
23 30
24 0
Months.
1
2
3
4
5
6
Besides dividing the surface of the globe into zones
and climates, the ancients likewise distinguished the in-
GEOGRAPH Y.
Mathema- habitants of the different regions of the earth by the par¬
tial Geo- ticular direction in which the shadows of bodies are pro-
graphy. jected in each region, and by some other circumstances de-
pending on the position of the sun relatively to the zenith
or to the meridian. The inhabitants of the torrid zone
have their shadows at noon projected, sometimes towards
the south and sometimes towards the north, according
to the position of the sun in the ecliptic. They were
therefore called by the ancients Amphiscii, a term de¬
rived from apcjn, about, and tr/ua, a shadow. In the tem¬
perate zones, the sun is at noon always on the same side of
the zenith. Hence the shadows of objects at noon always
fall in the same direction ; in the northern temperate zone
towards the north; and in the southern temperate zone to¬
wards the south. The inhabitants of these regions were
accordingly called Heteroscii, from erepos, different, and
a-Kia. Within the polar circles the sun does not always rise
and set every twenty-four hours, as in the other zones; but
for a certain number of days in our summer he never sets to
places within the arctic polar circle, nor rises to places
within the antarctic ; and the contrary takes place for a cer¬
tain number of days during our winter. The number of
days during which the sun is present or absent increases as
we advance from the polar circle towards the pole. When
the sun continues above the horizon for twenty-four hours or
upwards, the shadows will make a complete circuit round the
objects from which they are projected; hence the inhabi¬
tants of the frigid zones were called Periscii, from vrept,
about, and o-klol.
Again, the inhabitants of two places which lie under
the same meridian, and have the same latitude, but are
situated on opposite sides of the equator, were called, re¬
latively to each other, Antcecii, from avrt, opposite to, and
olklol, a habitation. At such places the hours of the day
will always correspond, but the seasons of the year will be
opposite. The inhabitants of two places which have the same
latitude, and are situated on the same side of the equator, but
under opposite meridians, were called Pericecii, from Trept,
about, and oi/aa. They have always the same season of
the year at the same time; but any hour of the day at
the one place corresponds to the same hour of the night
at the other. The inhabitants of two places which have
the same latitude, but are situated on opposite sides of the
equator, and under opposite meridians, are called Antipodes
to each other, from avrt, opposite to, and ttods, a foot. They
have always opposite seasons and opposite hours.
CHAP. HI. DESCRIPTION AND USE OF THE GLOBES.
When geographers became familiar with the doctrine of
the sphericity' and motion of the earth, it was an obvious
step to have recourse to an artificial sphere for illustrating
that doctrine. From a very early period, accordingly, the
instruments called the terrestrial and celestial globes have
been employed for this purpose. A sphere made of metal,
ivory, plaster, paper, pasteboard, or some other convenient
substance, is suspended in a brass ring, of somewhat greater
diameter, on two pins, upon which it can be made to revolve.
The sphere, thus suspended, is placed in a frame, which
may be in many respects variously constructed, according
to the taste of the workman ; but its upper part always con¬
sists of a broad ring made of metal or wood, and supported
in a horizontal position. The inner circumference of this
ring is equal to that of the brass circle in which the globe
is suspended ; and two notches in its inner edge, diametri¬
cally opposite to each other, receive the brass ring, which
also rests in a groove below, in such a position that the plane
of the horizontal ring bisects the sphere. By this arrange¬
ment the globe can be made to revolve on its axis, and the
brass circle can be made to slide round in its own plane.
On the surface of the globe are delineated the equator or
485
equinoctial line, situated exactly in the middle between the Mathema-
two points on which the globe is suspended, and divided tical Geo-
into 360 degrees; the ecliptic, divided into twelve- signs, graPhy*
and each of these subdivided into thirty degrees; the two
tropics; the two polar circles, with as many more parallels
to the equator as are found convenient; and generally
twenty-four meridians passing through the points of suspen¬
sion, which represent the poles. The first meridian is usually
made to pass through the intersections of the equator and
ecliptic, the points of the vernal and autumnal equinoxes ;
and from the former of these points the reckoning of the
degrees on the equator and ecliptic begins. The brass circle
in which the globe hangs may be made to represent the
meridian of any given point on the surface of the globe, by
simply bringing the given point under it by turning the
globe round on its axis. Hence the brass circle is called
the universal meridian. It is divided, by the equator and
two poles, into four quadrants, each of which is graduated ;
and on the one semicircle the degrees are reckoned from the
equator towards either pole, while on the opposite semi¬
circle they are reckoned from either pole towards the equa¬
tor. On the broad horizontal circle of the frame in which
the globe stands are drawn several concentric circles, the
outer of which is divided into 365 equal parts, answering to
the number of days in the year ; w'hilst the other circles are
graduated, the innermost (or rather another circle concen¬
tric with it, but larger) being, besides, divided into thirty-
two equal parts corresponding to the points of the compass.
The circle next the outer edge forms the calendar, and it
has the names of the months arranged in order around it,
whilst the divisions are distributed so as to mark the number
of days in each. The adjacent circle contains the signs and
degrees of the ecliptic, so arranged that against each day of
the year is found the point of the ecliptic in which the sun
is situated on that day. The innermost circle represents the
horizon ; and the two notches in which the brazen meridian
rests pass through the north and south points. It is divided
into four quadrants by the cardinal points ; and the degrees
of the two quadrants, which form the northern semicircle,
are reckoned from the east and west points towards the
north ; while the degrees of the other two quadrants are
reckoned from the east and west towards the south.
Such is a general view of the parts which belong alike to
both globes, the terrestrial and the celestial. A more minute
description seems unnecessary, as a careful inspection of the
globes themselves, with their appendages, will convey a
much more distinct conception of them than can be given
either by description or by drawings. It will be necessary,
however, to describe shortly the horary or hour circle, the
quadrant of altitude, and the compass.
The hour-circle is a small circle of brass, divided into
twenty-four equal parts corresponding to the hours of the
day, the divisions being reckoned in two twelves to suit
the hours before and after noon. The circle is fixed on the
axis of the globe, having its centre coinciding with the north
pole. It can be adjusted with the hand to any meridian,
but is at the same time tight enough to be moved along with
the globe. Some globes have the hour-circle fixed on the
meridian, with an index that admits of being adjusted with
the hand, but is carried round with the globe.
The quadrant of altitude is a thin flexible slip of brass,
equal in length to one-fourth part of the circumference of
a great circle on the globe. It is graduated on one side,
and is furnished with a nut and screw at one end, for the
purpose of making it fast to the brazen meridian. Its use
is to measure degrees on the surface of the globe in any
direction.
The compass is simply a magnetic needle suspended over
the centre of a circle, on the circumference of which are
marked the thirty-two points of the compass. It is fixed to
the under part of the frame in which the globe is suspended,
486
GEOGRAPHY.
Mathema* and is used for the purpose of placing the meridian due
tical Geo- north and south.
graphy. Qn t]ie terrestrial globe the land and water which com-
Vv**^*^ pose the surface of the earth are delineated, with the various
divisions belonging to each. If we suppose the globe to be
six or seven feet in diameter, the true height of the moun¬
tains on the earth’s surface must be reduced, in order to be
represented on the globe in due proportion to its bulk, in
the ratio of 7912 miles to six or seven feet; that is, the
height of the protuberance on such a globe which shall re¬
present any particular mountain must be somewhat about
the six-millionth part of the actual elevation of the moun¬
tain above the general surface of the earth. Apply this to
the highest mountain in the world, which does not exceed
five and a half miles in height; the elevation of the protu¬
berance representing it on a globe of the supposed dimen¬
sions would be about one-seventeenth part of an inch above
the general surface. It is seldom, however, that globes are
made of this size. One-third of the supposed diameter is
more near to the ordinary dimensions. Hence we see with
what propriety the earth is represented by a globe having a
smooth surface.
But in order to render the representation more complete,
it may be supposed necessary that the terrestrial globe
should be inclosed in a hollow sphere which would repre¬
sent the heavens surrounding the earth on all sides. In
conformity with this idea the armillary sphere was con¬
trived, in which the several circles of the system of the
world, put together in their natural order, are represented,
with a small globe in the centre of the sphere to represent
the earth. The ordinary way, however, of representing
the heavens, proceeds on the supposition that the eye of
the observer is placed, not in the centre of the celestial
sphere, but beyond its bounds, so as to look down on a con¬
vex surface. Thus are the stars and constellations repre¬
sented in their relative positions on the celestial globe, with
which the concave surface of the visible heavens is easily
compared.
Besides answering the general purposes of illustration,
the globes furnish also the means of resolving with facility,
and with a degree of accuracy sufficient for ordinary pur¬
poses, many problems in geography and practical astronomy.
It is only requisite to consider the circumstances on which
the solution of a problem depends, and to arrange on the
globe these circumstances, according to their natural order
and dependence, and the result is at once obtained. We
proceed to give a few of the more useful problems, with
their solutions by the globes.
I. Solution of Problems by the Terrestrial Globe.
Prob. 1. To find the latitude and longitude of a given
place.
Bring the place under the graduated edge of the brazen
meridian, then the degree of the meridian immediately
over it is its latitude north or south, and the degree of
the equator cut by the meridian is its longitude east or west.
Prob. 2. The latitude and longitude of a place being
given, to find the place itself on the globe.
Bring the point of the equator corresponding to the given
longitude to the brazen meridian ; under the degree of lati¬
tude on the meridian the place is found.
Prob. 3. To find the distance between any two places
on the globe.
Lay the quadrant of altitude over the two places, and
mark the number of degrees between them. The degrees
may then be converted into English miles, if required, by
multiplying by GQ'OG.
Prob. 4. I he hour at any one place being given, to find
what hour it is at any other place ; or to find the difference
of longitude between the places in time.
Bring the place at which the hour is given to the brazen Mathema-
meridian, and set the index, or the hour-circle, to that hour; tical Geo-
then turn the globe till the other place comes under the 8raPhy.
meridian, and the index, or the hour-circle, will show the
hour required. The difference between the time found and
the time given is the difference of the longitudes of the
places in time.
Prob. o. To rectify the globe for a given place.
Elevate the pole that is adjacent to the place as many
degrees above the wooden horizon as are equal to the lati¬
tude.
Prob. 6. To find at what hour the sun rises and sets at
a given place, for any given day.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place ; find from
the wooden horizon the sun’s place in the ecliptic for the
given day, and bring it to the nleridian. Set the index to
XII., and turn the globe till the sun’s place comes to the
eastern edge of the horizon, the index will show the hour
of rising; then turn the globe till the sun’s place comes to
the western edge of the horizon, and the index will show
the time of setting.
By doubling the hour of sunrise, we obtain the length of
the night; and by doubling the hour of sunset, we obtain
the length of the day. It is evident also that the same ar¬
rangement of the globe will give the point of the compass
on which the sun rises and sets, by simply observing what
point of the circle of rhumbs, on the wooden horizon, is
cut by the sun’s place in the ecliptic at the time of rising
and setting. Further, by observing when the sun is about
eighteen degrees below the eastern and western parts of
the horizon, the time of the beginning of the morning twi¬
light, and of the ending of the evening twilight, is found.
Prob. 7. To find the sun’s declination for a given day of
a given month, and to what places the sun will be vertical
on that day.
Find, on the wooden horizon, the sun’s place in the
ecliptic for the given day; bring that point of the ecliptic
to the meridian, the degree immediately over it on the me¬
ridian is the declination north or south. Turn round the
globe till it has made a complete revolution; and to every
place which passes under that degree of the meridian, the
sun will be vertical on that day.
Prob. 8. The hour and day being given at a particular
place, to find where the sun is then vertical.
Find the sun’s declination by the preceding problem ;
bring the given place under the meridian, and set the in¬
dex to the given hour; then turn the globe till the index
points to XII. noon ; and all the places under the meridian
will have noon at the given time ; and that place which is
under the degree of the meridian that corresponds with the
sun’s declination will have the sun in the zenith.
Prob. 9. The hour and day being given at a particular
place, to find where the sun is then rising or setting, and
where it is noon or midnight.
Rectify the globe for the given place ; and having pre¬
viously found by last problem the place to which the sun
is vertical at the given time, bring that place to the meri¬
dian. Then, to all the places under the western edge
of the horizon the sun is rising, and to those under the
eastern he is setting ; to those under the upper half of the
meridian it is noon, and to those under the lower half it is
midnight.
Prob. 10. A place in the torrid zone being given, to find
on what two days of the year the sun will be vertical to
that place.
Find the latitude of the place; turn round the globe,
and note the two points of the ecliptic which pass below
the degree of latitude on the meridian. Find in the ca¬
lendar circle of the wooden horizon the days corresponding
to these two points of the ecliptic, and these are the days
required.
GEOGRAPHY.
487
Mathema- Pkob. 11. To find the sun’s meridian altitude at a given
tical Geo- place on a given day.
graphy. Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place ; bring the
sun’s place for the given day to the meridian ; count the
number of degrees between that place and the horizon for
the altitude required.
Pkob. 12. To find the altitude of the sun at any given
place and hour.
Rectify the globe for the latitude; bring the sun’s place
to the meridian, and set the index to XII. noon; turn the
globe till the index point at the given hour; fix the qua¬
drant of altitude on the meridian at the degree of latitude,
and lay it over the sun’s place; count the number of de¬
grees on the quadrant between that point, and the horizon
for the altitude required.
Prob. 13. To find all the places to which a lunar eclipse
is visible at any instant.
Find the place to which the sun is vertical at the given
time ; rectify the globe for the latitude of that place, keep¬
ing the place under the meridian ; set the index to XII.
noon ; then turn the globe till the index point to XII. mid¬
night ; the eclipse will be visible to all those places which
are above the horizon.
Prob. 14. Any place in the north frigid zone being given,
to find how long the sun shines there without setting, and
how long he is totally absent.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place ; bring the
ascending signs of the ecliptic to the north point of the
horizon, and note at what degree the ecliptic is intersected
by that point; find on the wooden horizon the day and
month corresponding to that degree ; from that day the sun
begins to shine continually. Next, bring the descending
signs to the north point of the horizon, and by observing at
what degree the ecliptic is now cut, and referring to the
horizon, we find the time when the sun ceases to shine with¬
out setting, which is the termination of the longest day. By
proceeding in the same manner with the southern point of
the horizon, we will find the beginning and end of the
longest night.
Prob. 15. Two places being given, to find tne angle
which a great circle passing through them makes with the
meridian of each.
Rectify the globe for both places successively, bringing
in each case the place for which the globe is rectified to
the meridian ; fix the quadrant of altitude in each operation
on the meridian over the place for which the globe is recti¬
fied, and lay it over the other place; the two arcs inter¬
cepted successively on the horizon between the quadrant
and the meridian measure the angles required. It is evi¬
dent, that if both places lie on the same meridian the angle
is 0; and that if both lie on the equator the angles will be
each 90°
If a ship be supposed to sail from the one place to the
other, on a great circle of the terrestrial sphere (which sup¬
position implies that the ship’s course is altered every in¬
stant), then the one angle found by this problem will be the
course with which the ship left the one place, and the other
angle the course with which she arrived at the other place.
The arc of the great circle intercepted between the places
would be the distance sailed.
Prob. 16. To construct a horizontal dial by the globe for
a given latitude.
Rectify the globe for the latitude ; bring the first meri¬
dian under the brazen meridian, and note the aixs of the
horizon intercepted between the southern point and the
several meridians in the eastern and western hemispheres.
If the number of meridians drawn on the globe be twenty-
four, which is usually the case, the arcs intercepted on
the horizon will measure the angles which the hour-lines
make with the meridian. To find the angles corresponding
to half-hours and quarters, turn the globe gradually from its
position in which the first meridian was under the brazen
meridian, noting for each arc of 3° 15' of the equator that
passes under the brazen meridian, the arc of the horizon
intercepted between the southern point and the first meri¬
dian ; the arcs thus found give the positions of the lines
corresponding to the half-hours and quarters. The style of
the dial represents the axis of the earth, and must therefore
make with the plane of the horizon an angle equal to the
latitude of the place.
A direct north or south dial for any latitude maybe con¬
structed in the same manner, by considering it as a hori¬
zontal dial for a latitude which is the complement of the
given latitude.
Mathema¬
tical Geo¬
graphy.
II. Solution of Problems by the Celestial Globe.
Prob. 1. To find the latitude and longitude of any star.
Bring the pole of the ecliptic to the meridian. Then
having fixed the quadrant of altitude over the pole, place it
over the given star; the number of degrees between the
ecliptic and the given star is the latitude; and the number
of degrees on the ecliptic between the edge of the quadrant
and the first point of Aries indicates the longitude.
Prob. 2. To find a star’s place in the heavens, its lati¬
tude and longitude being given.
Place the extremity of the quadrant of altitude on the
pole of the ecliptic, and make its graduated edge cut the
ecliptic in the longitude of the star; then the star will be
found under the degree of the quadrant that denotes its
latitude.
Prob. 3. To find the right ascension and declination of
the sun or of a star
Bring the sun’s place, or the star, to the meridian; the
degree of the equator cut by the meridian gives the right
ascension, and the degree of the meridian over the sun’s
place, or the star, shows the declination north or south.
Prob. 4. The latitude of a place, the day and hour being
given, to arrange the celestial globe so as to exhibit the
appearance of the heavens at that place and time.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place; bring the
sun’s place for the given day to the meridian ; set the index
to XII.; then, turn the globe till the index point to the
given hour. In this position, the globe will represent the
actual appearance of the heavens.
Prob. 5. To find the time when any of the heavenly
bodies rises, sets, or comes to the meridian, on a particular
day at a given place.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place ; bring
the sun’s place to the meridian, and set the index to XII.;
then turn the globe till the star comes to the eastern edge
of the horizon; the index will show the time of rising.
Next, turn the globe till the given star comes to the west¬
ern edge of the horizon; the index will show the time of
setting. Lastly, bring it to the meridian, and the index
will show the time of its culmination or southing.
Prob. 6. To find on what day of the year any given star
comes to the meridian at a given hour.
Bring the given star to the meridian, and set the index
to the given hour; turn the globe till the index points to
XII. noon, and note the degree of the ecliptic cut by the
meridian ; the day of the month which corresponds to that
degree is the day required.
Prob. 7. The latitude of a place, the altitude of a star,
and the day of the month, being given; to find the hour of
the night.
Rectify the globe for the latitude ; bring the sun’s place
to the meridian, and set the index to XII.; fix the quadrant
in the zenith, then move the globe and the quadrant till the
star comes under the degree of the quadrant which denotes
the given altitude, and the index will show the hour re¬
quired.
488
GEOGRAPHY.
Prob. 8. The year and day being given, to find the place
of a planet.
Find the sun’s place for the given day, and bring it to
the meridian ; set the index to XII.; then find in the Nau¬
tical Almanac for the year the time when the planet passes
the meridian on the given day, and turn the globe till the
index points to the hour thus found; find in the almanac the
declination of the planet for the same day, and under it on
the globe is the place of the planet.
These are a few of the more important problems that
can be resolved by the globes, and will be sufficient to illus¬
trate the principle of solution. The solution of problems
by the armillary sphere depends upon the very same prin¬
ciples.
CHAP. IV.—OF THE CONSTRUCTION AND USE OF MAPS.
In representing the geographical divisions of the earth’s
surface, two objects are to be kept in view; on the one
hand, to exhibit accurately to the eye the relative position
of the different countries; and on the other hand, to give
a delineation sufficiently minute to furnish a distinct know¬
ledge of the necessary details. As a globe has very nearly
the exact figure of the earth, the representation which it
affords of the surface fulfils the first of these objects in the
most perfect manner; but to attain the second it would be
requisite to enlarge the globe beyond all convenient size.
A globe of the ordinary dimensions serves almost no other
purpose in this respect, but to convey a clear conception
of the earth’s surface as a whole ; exhibiting the figure,
extent, position, and general features of the great continents
and islands, with the intervening oceans and seas. To ob¬
tain a detailed representation of any part of the earth’s sur¬
face, geographers have therefore found it necessary to have
recourse to Maps, in which countries are delineated on a
plane, while the mutual proportions of the distances of places
are preserved as nearly as possible the same as on the globe.
For the construction of maps different mathematical hy¬
potheses have been adopted.
By one method of construction, that of projection, the
boundaries of countries, and their more remarkable features,
are represented according to the rules of perspective, on
the supposition of the eye being placed on some point of
the sphere, or at some given distance from it, which may
be increased indefinitely. Wherever the eye is supposed
to be situated, the representation thus obtained answers very
well, provided the surface to be represented is of small ex¬
tent, and the point of view, or projecting point, is nearly
over the centre; but when the surface is of great extent,
for example, a whole hemisphere, those places which are
situated near the border of the projection are in all of them
much distorted.
Another method, that of development, is founded on the
supposition that the spherical surface to be represented is
a portion of a cone, of which the vertex is situated some¬
where in the polar axis produced, and the conical surface is
supposed either to touch the sphere in the middle parallel
of the map, or to fall within the sphere at the middle paral¬
lel, and without it at the extreme parallels. The surface of
the cone is then supposed to be spread out into a plane.
A third method, which depends on the development of a
cylindrical surface, is that according to which maps are so
delineated as to have the parallels of latitude and circles of
longitude respectively represented by parallel straight lines.
By this method marine charts are constructed. As the
rhumb makes equal angles with every meridian, it neces¬
sarily, according to this method of delineation, becomes a
straight line. Such a representation of the earth’s surface
is commonly called Mercator’s Chart, although the inven¬
tion is due to an English mathematician, Edward Wright.
These are the three principal methods employed to re-
Mathema-
tical Geo¬
graphy.
present to the eye the several countries on the surface of Mathema-
the earth. tical Geo¬
graphy.
I. Construction of Maps bp Projection.
The representation of any portion of the earth’s surface
obtained by projection, varies, of course, its character ac¬
cording to the several situations of the eye and of the plane
of projection, in relation, to the meridians, parallels, and
various points or places so represented. It -is usual to as¬
sume the plane of a great circle of the sphere as the plane
of projection, and to suppose the eye situated at some point
in a straight line perpendicular to this plane, and passing
through the centre of the circle. If the distance of the eye
from the plane of projection be supposed indefinitely great,
the projection is called the orthographic; if it is supposed
to be upon the surface of the sphere, the projection is called
the stereographic ; and if the eye is supposed to be in such
a position that the projections of the meridians and paral¬
lels of latitude are nearly equidistant, as the meridians and
parallels themselves are upon the globe, the projection is
called the globular. In order to apply these projections to
the construction of maps, we must attend to the properties
of each.
1. Orthographic Projection of the Sphere.
The fundamental principle in this projection is, that the
representation of any point on the sphere is where a per¬
pendicular from that point meets the plane of projection.
Hence it follows that the projection of a line of any kind is
determined by supposing perpendiculars to fall from every
point in that line upon the plane of projection, and a line to
pass through the points of intersection of these perpendicu¬
lars with that plane.
It the proposed line be a straight line, its orthographic
projection will also be a straight line, being the intersection
of the plane of projection with the plane perpendicular to
it passing through the proposed line.
If the proposed line be the circumference of a circle pa¬
rallel to the plane of projection, its orthographic projection
will also be a circle of the same diameter; since the circle
and its projection are the equal and parallel extremities of
the cylinder formed by the perpendiculars falling upon the
plane of projection.
If the proposed line be the circumference of a circle, of
which the plane is perpendicular to the plane of projection,
its orthographic projection will be a straight line equal to
its diameter.
If the proposed line be the circumference of a circle, of
which the plane is neither parallel nor perpendicular to the
plane of projection, its projection will be an ellipse, being
the curve in which the plane of projection intersects the
cylinder formed by the perpendiculars falling upon it from
every point in the circumference of the circle.
An accurate idea of the orthographic projection of any
line or figure may be obtained by holding it up in the light
of the sun, and observing the shadow formed on a plane
perpendicular to the direction of the sun’s rays. The rays
which pass close to the figure are the perpendiculars to the
plane of projection, and the shadow is the orthographic pro¬
jection of the figure.
From the nature of this projection, the orthographic re¬
presentation of half the surface of the globe shows nearly
the true figure and proportions of countries about the
middle of the map, that is, directly opposite to the supposed
position of the eye ; but towards the extremities the true
figure and position of the countries are imperfectly exhi¬
bited. For this reason this method of projection is seldom
employed in geography, but in astronomy it is frequently
used. We shall give, however, the orthographic projection
SA
Fig. 11.
Matherna- 0f tile sphere on the plane of the equator and on the plane
tlcraa1^e°- of the meridian.
^ l ' r^° ProJect the Sphere orthographically on the Plane of
the Equator. From any point C as a centre, with any radius
CA, describe the circle ADD.
Let this circle represent the equa¬
tor, upon the plane of which it is
required to project the sphere or¬
thographically. It is evident that
the centre C will be the projec- B
tion of the poles of the equator,
and that since the planes of the u
meridian circles are perpendicu¬
lar to the plane of the equator,
these circles will be projected into
diameters, making with each other
the same angles as do the planes of the meridians. Let
A 90, B180, be two perpendicular diameters ; they will re¬
present two meridian circles at right angles to each other:
divide the semicircle B90D into twelve equal parts at the
points 15, 30, 45, &c., and let diameters be drawn through
the points of division; then the twenty-four radii CB, C15,
C30, &c. will be the projections of the twenty-four meri¬
dians usually drawn upon the globe, any one of which, as
BC, may be considered as the first meridian.
Next, it is evident that the parallels of latitude will be
projected into circles, which have C for their common centre,
and of each of which the radius will be equal to that of the
corresponding parallel of latitude, or to the cosine of the
latitude of the parallel. Let us suppose that a parallel is
drawn on the globe for every tenth degree of latitude ; then
divide the quadrant AB into nine equal parts, at the points
80, 70, 60, &c.; from these points of division let fall per¬
pendiculars upon BC, meeting it in the points 80, 70, 60,
&c. ; the lines C80, C 70, C60, &c. are equal to the co¬
sines of the arcs B80, B 70, B60, &c. to the radius BC.
From the centre C, therefore, describe circles with these
lines as radii; and these circles will be the projections of
the parallels corresponding to the 80th, 70th, 60th, &c. de¬
grees of latitude.
Lastly, the projections of the polar circles and of the tro¬
pics may be found by setting off from the point A towards
B, and from the point B towards A, twenty-three and a
half degrees, drawing perpendiculars to BC through these
points of division, and describing circles from C as a centre
through the points in which these perpendiculars cut BC.
Thus will the projection of the sphere upon the plane of
the equator be completed. The representation given of
the polar regions in a map of this description is tolerably
correct, but the countries towards the equator are very much
distorted.
To project the Sphere orthographically on the Plane of
the Meridian. From any point C as a centre, with any
distance CA, describe a circle
PASB, to represent the meri¬
dian circle, on the plane of which
it is required to project the sphere
orthographically. Draw the dia¬
meters PS and AB at right
angles to each other: then may
PS be assumed as the projection
of the meridian which is at right
angles to the plane of projection;
and AB will be the projection of
the equator, since that circle cuts
all the meridians at right angles.
GEOGRAPHY.
489
The other meridians cut¬
ting the projecting plane obliquely are projected into ellipses,
having PS for their common transverse axis, and the cosines
of their inclinations to the projecting plane for their several
semiconjugate axes. Let the quadrant AS be therefore
divided into six equal parts in the points 15, 30, &c. from
VOL. x.
which let 15?ra, 30rc, &c. be drawn perpendicular to AC, and Mathema-
meeting it in m, n, &c. Describe the ellipses P/«S, PraS, tical Geo-
&c. haying a common transverse axis PS, and Cm, Cn, &c. graPhy-
for their semiconjugate axes: these ellipses are the projec-
tions of the meridians passing through every fifteenth de¬
gree of the equator.
Again, to project the parallels of latitude: Divide either
of the quadrants AP or BP into nine equal parts, in the
points 10, 20, 30, &c. and draw through the points of divi¬
sion straight lines parallel to AB, the projection of the equa¬
tor : these lines are the projections of the parallels on the
one side of the equator to every tenth degree of latitude.
The parallels on the other side of the equator are to be
drawn in the same manner; as are also the tropics and polar
ciicles, the former at 23 j; on each side of the equator, and
the latter at 23^° from the poles.
In this projection there is great distortion in the appear¬
ance of the regions about the poles, and of all the coun¬
tries near the meridian PASB. It is as we approach the
centre of the map that this distortion begins so far to dis¬
appear as to allow a projected portion of the earth’s surface
to acquire any considerable resemblance to its delineation
on the globe.
2. Stereographic Projection of the Sphere.
In the stereographic projection of the sphere the eye is
supposed to be situated at one of the points where the sur¬
face of the sphere is intersected by a straight line passing
through the centre, and perpendicular to the plane on which
the projection is to be made. This plane, as we have al¬
ready remarked, is that of a great circle of the sphere ; so
that the point on the sphere at which the eye is supposed
situated will be everywhere 90° distant from the circum¬
ference of that circle whose plane is assumed as the plane
of projection. In order that the lines and circles on the
sphere may be visible to the eye in this position, it will be
necessary to suppose the sphere to be transparent. Let,
then, ABEC be a great circle drawn on a sphere of this
description, and let it pass through the eye at E. Let FG
be a plane passing through
a, the centre of the sphere,
in such a manner as to
cut the plane of the circle
ABEC at right angles in
the diameter HK, and to
make each of the arcs EH,
EK, equal to 90°: then
FG will be the plane of
projection. Draw EA the
diameter of th e sphere pass¬
ing through the eye; also Fig. is.
draw EB, EC, to B and C, any two points in the circum¬
ference of the circle ABEC ; and let the lines EA, EB, EC,
intersect the plane FG in the points a, h, c. By the fun¬
damental principle of the stereographic projection, namely,
that the representation of any point is where the straight
line drawn from it to the eye intersects the plane of projec¬
tion, the points a, b, c are the projections of the points A,
B, C. It is evident also that the line be, in which the planes
EBC and FG intersect each other, is the projection of the
line BC, or of the arc BAG; and that the lines ab, ac, are
the projections of the arcs AB, AC.
Since Cab is a right angle, ab is the tangent of the angle
aCb to the radius Ea. But the angle aCb is measured by
half the arc AB: hence ab is the tangent of half the arc
AB, or the semitangent of AB. Thus it appears, that if a
great circle pass through the projecting point E, any arc of
it reckoned from the opposite point of the sphere is pro¬
jected into a straight line passing through the centre, and
equal to the semitangent of that arc.
3 Q
490
Mathema¬
tical Geo¬
graphy.
GEOGRAPHY.
Let BDC be any circle drawn on the sphere, and having
BC for a diameter. Take D any point in the circumfer¬
ence of that circle, and draw ED intersecting the plane
EG in the point d. If the point D be carried round the
circumference BDC, the line ED will trace the surface of
a cone of which BDC is the base; and the line bdc (the
intersection of the plane EG with the conical surface),
which is traced by the point d, is the projection of the
circle BDC.
Now, it can be demonstrated that the angles EBC, ECB,
are equal to Ee&, E6c, each to each ; so that the cones EBC,
E5e are similar. Hence the projection bdc is a circle, whose
diameter be is found by taking ab and ac equal to the semi¬
tangents of the arcs AB, AC.
Thus it appears that every circle of the sphere is, ac¬
cording to the stereographic projection, represented by a
circle; but a circle can be described when three points in
the circumference are given, or when two points in the
circumference and the radius are given. Hence this pro¬
perty renders the projection of the sphere by this method
very easy.
Another very elegant and important geometrical pro¬
perty of this projection is, that any two straight lines touch¬
ing the sphere at one and the same point are represented
by two straight lines which make with each other on the
plane of projection an angle equal to that contained by the
touching lines themselves. Hence also the angle formed
by any two circles of the sphere is equal to the angle formed
by their projections.
When it is further considered that the stereographic pro¬
jection gives a representation of a hemisphere, in which the
parts about the extremity of the map are less distorted than
in the representation obtained by the orthographic projec¬
tion, it must be concluded that the former method is pre¬
ferable to the latter.
To project the Sphere stereographically on the Plane of
the Equator. Upon C as a centre describe a circle ABGE
to represent the equator, on the plane of which it is required
to project the sphere ; or rather
that hemisphere which lies re¬
mote from the point of sight. As
the eye must be supposed to be ^
situated at the pole, it is evident
that the centre C will be the pro- b|
jection of the opposite pole, and
that the meridians will be pro¬
jected into straight lines passing
through C, and dividing the cir¬
cumference of the circle ABGE
into as many equal parts as there
are meridians supposed to be drawn on the globe. If there
are twenty-four meridians, then draw AG any diameter,
and divide the semicircle AEG into twelve equal parts.
Through the points of division draw diameters, as BCE
FCK, DCH, &c., and the radii thus found will be the pro¬
jections of the meridians corresponding to every fifteenth
degree of the equator, any one of which may be assumed
for the first meridian.
Again, to project the parallels of latitude; let AG and
BE be perpendicular diameters. Divide the quadrant AB
into nine equal parts in the points 10, 20, 30, &c. From
E to the several points of division draw straight lines inter¬
secting AC in the points 10, 20, 30, &c. The lines CIO,
C20, C30, &c. are the semitangents of the distances of
the several parallels of latitude from the pole. Hence the
points 10, 20, 30, &c. are the points of intersection of the
projected parallels with the projected meridian AG. Upon
C, then, as a centre, at the distances CIO, C20, C30, &c.
describe concentric circles, and these will be the projections of
the parallels corresponding to every tenth degree of latitude.
The tropics and polar circles are found in the same manner.
graphy.
To project the Sphere stereographicalh/ on the Plane of Mathema-
a Meridian. From the centre C, with any radius CA, de- tical Geo¬
scribe the circle ASBP to re¬
present the meridian on the plane
of which it is required to pro¬
ject the sphere stereographi¬
cally. As the eye, in this case,
is supposed to be situated at a
point in the equator, that circle
will be projected into a straight
line passing through the centre
C ; let it be represented by the
diameter AB. Draw the dia¬
meter PS perpendicular to AB ;
then will PS represent the meridian passing through the
eye, and P and S will be the poles. To project the other
meridians, divide the quadrant AP into nine equal parts
(supposing a meridian to pass through every tenth degree of
the equator) at the points 10, 20, 30, &c., and from S draw
straight lines to these points of division intersecting AC in
the points 10, 20, 30, &c. The lines CIO, C20, C30, &c.,
are the semitangents of the arcs of the equator which mea¬
sure the distances of the points in which the several meri¬
dians cut the equator from the point of the sphere opposite
to the eye. Hence the points 10, 20, 30, &c., are the points
in which the projected meridians will intersect the projected
equator AB. But the projected meridians also pass through
the points P and S. In each, therefore, there are three
points given. If we describe, then, the arcs P 10 S, P20S,
P30S, &c., these arcs will be the projections of the meri¬
dians on one side of that passing through the point opposite
to the projecting point, and those on the other side are to
be found in like manner.
Again, by dividing each of the quadrants PA, PB into
nine equal parts, we find two points in each of the parallels
of latitude. A third point in each will be found by drawing
straight lines from B to each of the points of division 80,
70, 60, &c. so as to intersect PC in the points 80, 70, 60,
&c.; for the lines C 80, C 70, C 60, &c. are the semitan¬
gents of the arcs intercepted upon that meridian of which
PS is the projection between the several parallels and the
point of the sphere opposite to the projecting point. De¬
scribe, then, the several arcs through the three points found
in each : and in this manner the parallels on one side of the
equator are found. Proceed in the same manner with re¬
gard to the parallels on the other side of the equator, and
with regard to the tropics and polar circles, and the projec¬
tion will be completed.
It is evident that the centres of all the projected meri¬
dians will lie in the line AB, or in that line produced; and
from the construction it is easy to show that the distance of
the centre of each projected meridian from the point C is
equal to the tangent of the inclination of the meridian to
the plane of projection; while the radius of the projected
meridian is equal to the secant of the same angle.
Further, the centres of all the projected parallels of lati¬
tude lie in the line PS produced ; and the centre of each
projected parallel is distant from C by the secant of the
arc which measures the distance of the parallel from the
pole; while the radius of the projected parallel is equal to
the tangent of the same arc.
To project the Sphere stereographically on the Plane of
the Horizon for a given Latitude. We must here suppose
the eye to be situated at the point of the sphere opposite
to the place of which the latitude is given. From the centre
C, with any radius CN, describe a circle NWSE to repre¬
sent the horizon upon which it is required to project the
sphere. To avoid intricacy among the lines necessary to
be drawn for the construction, let the subsidiary circle
N'W'S'E' be described with the same radius. through
C, the centre of the former circle, and C, the centre of the
GEOGRAPHY.
491
OH
Fig. 16.
Mathema- latter, draw two diameters WE, NS, and W'E', N'S', inter-
tical Geo- seating each other at right angles. Let the diameters NS,
graphy. be t]le projections of the
meridian of the given place, and
of a semicircle at right angles
to that meridian, and passing
also through the given place.
It is evident that the points N,
W, S, E are the four cardinal
points of the horizon. On the
circumference of the subsidi¬
ary circle N'W'S'E' take N'P'
equal to the given latitude;
and draw the straight lineW'P'
intersecting CN' in P": then
will C P ' be the semitangent
of the distance of the pole from the point on the sphere
opposite to the projecting f
point. Make therefore CP
equal to CT", and the point
P is the projection of the pole.
Draw the diameters P[p, FA'
at right angles to each other;
then will E'A' be equal to the
latitude; and by drawing
W'A' to intersect C'S' in A",
we obtain C'A" the semitan¬
gent of the distance of the
point in which the equator in¬
tersects the meridian from the 17,
point of the sphere opposite to the projecting point. Make
CA equal to C'A"; and through the three points W, A, E,
describe an arc of a circle; the arc WAE will be the pro¬
jection of the equator. Next, we shall show the manner
of drawing the parallels of latitude, by taking as an example
the two parallels which are twenty and forty degrees distant
from the pole. In the subsidiary circle take P'20 and
P'40, equal to 20° and 40° on each side of P'. Draw from
W' to the points thus found straight lines intersecting C'N'
and C'S' in the points a', and c, d'. The lines dti and
cd! are the diameters of the projected parallels correspond¬
ing to 50° and 70° of latitude. Make C«, Cb, Cc, Cd, equal
Cct, CV, Cc, Cd! respectively, and upon ab and cd as
diameters describe circles; these circles are the projections
of the parallels required. In the same manner are the other
parallels of latitude, “the tropics, and the polar circles to be
drawn.
Again, to project the meridians;—the straight lines NP,
PS, are the projections of the opposite meridians which
pass through the north and south points of the horizon.
The meridian circle, which is at right angles to that re¬
presented by NS, passes through the east and west points
of the horizon, so that three points in its projection are
given, namely, the points W, P, E; its projection may
therefore be drawn. But it may be more conveniently
found by considering that the meridian in question makes
with the plane of projection an angle equal to the given
latitude; the centre of its projection, which is in CS pro¬
duced, must therefore be distant from the point C by the
tangent of the given latitude, and its radius will be equal to
the secant of the same. From the point S' draw S'D, touch¬
ing the circle in S', and meeting Pjo produced in D; then
DS' and DC' are the tangent and secant of the given lati¬
tude. In CS produced take CB equal to DS'; and on B
as a centre describe an arc through the point P, which
will also pass through W and E. The arcs PW, PE will
represent the opposite meridians, which are at right angles
to the meridian of the place for which the projection is
made. With regard to the other meridians, it is not difficult
to see that their centres will lie in a straight line GH drawn
through B at right angles to CB; and that the distance of
the centre of each projection from the point B will be equal
to the tangent of the inclination of the corresponding meri¬
dian circle to that meridian circle which passes through the
east and west points; while the radius of the projection will
be equal to the secant of the same inclination. Let us sup¬
pose, then, that the meridians are to make with each other
angles each equal to 15°; at the point P make the angles
B P 15, B P 30, &c. equal to 15°, 30°, &c. respectively, and let
PI5, P30, &c. meet the line GH in the points 15, 30, &c.
Upon these points, as centres, describe through the point
P the arcs mPm, nPri, &c.; then will Pm, Pn, &c. Pm,
Pri, &c. be the projected meridians required. In this man¬
ner the projection may be completed.
Mathema¬
tical Geo¬
graphy.
3. Globular Projection of the Sphere.
In the globular projection of the sphere a point is as¬
sumed for the position of the eye, at a finite distance from
the centre greater than the radius, and so situated that the
degrees in the representation shall be nearly equal to each
other, and the deviations from equality in the representa¬
tions of equal portions of the spherical surface thus in some
measure corrected. To determine the position of the point
of view so as to answer these conditions, let ADBF be a
section of the sphere made by
a plane passing through C the
centre, and through the point E
which is assumed as the project¬
ing point required. Through C
draw EB, meeting the circum¬
ference ADBF in A and B, and
draw the diameter DF at right
angles to EB. Bisect the quad¬
rant DB in I, and draw El meet- :D
ing DC in G; the point G will
be the projection of the point I.
But by hypothesis the projec¬
tions of equal arcs are nearly
equal; let then DG be as¬
sumed equal to GC. Join DB,
and draw Cl meeting DB in H. Join GH, and draw IK
parallel to DC, or at right angles to AB. Then it is evi¬
dent that DH is equal to HB ; and therefore DH : HB ::
DG: GC. Hence the line GH is parallel to CB ; and we
have IH : HC :: (IG : GE ::) KC : CE. But IH is equal
to BK, and HC to KC : therefore BK : KC : : KC : CE,
and we have BK • CE = KC2 = IK2 = BK ' KA. Hence
CE is equal to KA ; and taking away the common part AC,
there remains EA equal to KC or to IK; that is, EA, the
distance of the point of view above the surface, is equal
to the sine of 45°. If the radius CA be divided into 100
equal parts, EA is therefore nearly equal to 71 of these parts.
This projection was first suggested by M. Delahire, and
the approximation which it gives to equality in the projec¬
tion of equal arcs of a circle perpendicular to the plane of
projection is considerable. The circles of the sphere are,
according to this method of projection, represented by
ellipses. An approximation to this method is, however,
generally all that is aimed at. The circles of the sphere are
represented by circles ; and, without any regard to the dis¬
tance of a projecting point, the degrees of longitude on the
equator and of latitude on the meridian are made all equal
to one another; the plane of the meridian being assumed
as the projecting plane. The following is the construction
by which such a representation of a hemisphere of the earth’s
surface is obtained.
From the centre C (fig. 19), with any radius C A, describe a
circle PASB to represent the meridian on which it is re¬
quired to project the hemisphere. Draw the diameters AB,
PS, at right angles to each other ; and let PS represent the
meridian of which the plane is at right angles to the
492
GEOGRAPHY.
Mathema- plane of projection : then AB will be the projection of the
tical Geo- equator, and the points P and
g the projections of the poles.
To project the parallels on
the north side of the equator,
divide each of the quadrants
PA, PB, into nine equal parts: a
also divide the radius CP into
the same number of equal parts.
Let 80, 70, 60, &c. c?, e,/, &c.
be the points of division : the
parallel corresponding to 80°
of latitude will pass through the Pig. 19.
three points 80, d, 80 ; that corresponding to 70° of latitude
through the three points 70, e, 70, and so on. Describe
circles, accordingly, through these points, and the parallels
on the north side of the equator will be drawn. In the
same manner are the parallels on the south side of the
equator to be projected, as are also the tropics and polar
circles.
Again, to project the meridians, divide the radius AC
into six equal parts in the points a, b, c, &c. and through
the points P and S, and these points of division, describe
circles PaS, P6S, &c. Proceed in the same manner on the
other side of PS, and the circles thus described will repre¬
sent the meridians passing through every fifteenth degree
of the equator, any one of which may, in laying down places
by their latitudes and longitudes, be assumed for the first
meridian. Plate CCLXVIII.is a planisphere, or map of the
world, projected in this manner.
II. Construction of Maps by Development.
The practical application of the three methods of projec¬
tion which we have now explained, to the construction of
maps is usually confined to the representation of a hemi¬
sphere ; whilst for the delineation of the geographical fea¬
tures of a single country, the method of development is
commonly employed. The particular purpose for which a
map is to be used may make it more or less important that
it should exhibit, with all the precision that can be attained,
some particular features of the country represented. The
purposes of civil government require maps that give the
true figure and dimensions of territory. For military affairs,
maps that give correct distances are chiefly useful; whilst
for the purposes of the navigator, the bearings of places,
one from another, must be correctly, and, at the same time,
simply exhibited. The first two objects are nearly gained
in ordinary maps. But, for the attainment of the last, -a
map of a peculiar construction, called Mercator's Chart,
has been invented ; which, while it answers completely the
purpose of the navigator, is not immediately applicable to
any other.
It is an obvious property of a cone and of a cylinder, that
the surface of each admits of being spread out on a plane.
If a cone be laid with its slant side on a plane, the former
will coincide with the latter along a line stretching from the
point of contact in the base to the apex of the cone. Hence,
if the cone is rolled round, whilst the apex continues at the
same point, every point upon the surface of the cone will
come in contact with a corresponding point in the plane
surface ; so that a sector of a circle will be described, with
which the surface of the cone, if expanded, would exactly
coincide. A cylinder admits of being rolled along a plane
surface in a similar manner. But this is not the case with
respect to a sphere. For since a sphere touches a plane
only in a point, if the former be x’olled along the latter in
one direction, the successive points of contact will mark out
a straight line. A narrow zone of the sphere may, how¬
ever, be supposed, without great error, to coincide with the
surface of a cone or cylinder; and this hypothesis gives rise
to a twofold construction by development, that by the deve- Matherna-
lopment of a conical surface, and that by the development tical Geo-
of a cylindrical surface. graphy.
Fig. 21.
1. Development of the Curve Surface of a Cone.
Let NAME be a section of the sphere by the plane of
the meridian. Let NM represent the axis ; then AB drawn
through the centre C, at right
angles to NM, will represent
the diameter of the equator.
Take EF, any arc of the me¬
ridian, and bisect it in the
point G. Through G draw
LD a tangent to the circle
NAME, and meeting the axis 0 a
MN produced in the point
L. Let the plane figure
LGMB be now supposed to
revolve about the axis LM ;
then will the semicircle NAM
generate a sphere, and the
line LD will generate a conical surface, which will touch
the sphere. Further, the points E, G, F will describe cir¬
cles, which will be parallels of latitude re¬
presented by the straight lines Ee, Gg,
Ff according to the principles of the or¬
thographic projection. If EF be an arc
of not many degrees, the zone comprised
between the parallel circles Ee, F/* will
nearly coincide with the corresponding por¬
tion of the conical surface intercepted be¬
tween the planes of the same circles. Take
any point H in the circumference of the circle described
by G, the middle point of the arc EF, and join LH.
Let us now suppose the conical surface comprehended
between the straight lines LG, LH, and the arc GH, to be
spread out into a plane L'G'H'. Then it is evident that
the arc GH on the middle parallel, of which the radius is
the cosine of the middle latitude, is changed into an arc
G'H' of which the radius is L'G = LG the cotangent of the
middle latitude. In the line L'G', and in L'G' produced,
take G'F', G'E' equal to the arc EG or GF. Then, on the
point L' as a centre, at the distances L'E', L'F' describe the
arcs EV, F's, and the plane surface E'F’sr may be consi¬
dered as nearly equal to the spherical surface comprehended
between the meridians passing through G and H, and the
arcs of the parallels Ee, 1^ intercepted by these meridians.
Hence, if any tract of country situated on the correspond¬
ing portion of the earth’s surface be delineated on the plane
E'F sr, the representation of it thus obtained will bear a near
resemblance to its delineation on the globe, the resemblance
increasing according as the zone comprehended between
the extreme parallels is diminished in breadth.
Such is the principle of the conical development. Let us
now consider how the line L'G' and the angle G'L'H' are
to be determined, so as to suit the space E'F'sr to any given
difference of longitude and given middle latitude ; also in
what manner the parallels of latitude and the meridians are
to be drawn on that surface.
We have already seen, that L'G' is equal to the cotan¬
gent of the middle latitude to the radius of the sphere. If
the radius of the sphere be considered equal to unity, the
trigonometrical tables will give the length of L'G' in parts
of the radius. But it will be more convenient to have it
expressed in minutes of a degree. Now, since the semi¬
circumference is to radius as S’HIG is to 1, if we put R for
radius, we have 3T416 : 1 :: 180 X 60 : R = 3437,7, which
is the radius expressed in minutes of a degree. Hence
L G' expressed in the same manner will be equal to
3437’7 X cotan. middle latitude.
GEOGRAPHY.
493
Mathema- Again, since the arc GH is equal in length to the arc
tical Geo- Q'H' by hypothesis, the angle at K measured by the former,
graphy. ijC to G If H measured by the latter, as the radius
L'G' is to the radius GK ; that is, if we put D for the dif¬
ference of longitude, and <£ for the angle G L'H’, we will
have D : : (L'G’: GK :: cot. mid. lat.: cos. mid. lat.::)
rad.: sine mid. lat. Hence we obtain
zz: D X sine mid. lat.
The angle L’ being thus determined, and the lines L'G',
G'E', G'F' being known, and expressed in minutes of a de¬
gree, we can describe the figure E'F'sr, so that it shall be
accommodated to any given middle latitude and given dif¬
ference of longitude. Then having divided E'F' into as
many equal parts as there are minutes in the difference of
latitude, or as there are some given number of minutes in
it, the points must be ascertained through which the paral¬
lels intended to be drawn pass, and from L' their common
centre, these parallels are to be drawn accordingly. The
parallels EV, F's are in like manner to be divided each into
as many equal parts as there are minutes, or some given
number of minutes, in the difference of longitude : and
points being ascertained in each of these parallels through
which the meridians proposed to be drawn pass, the straight
lines joining the corresponding points are the meridians re¬
quired. It is by this method that common maps of parti¬
cular countries are constructed.
As an example, let it be required to construct a map of
Great Britain and Ireland, which must extend from 50° of
latitude to about 61° north, and from 2° east to about 11°
west longitude.
To find L'G', L'E', L'F'.
61° 61°
50° 50°
2)111 Zjn = diff. of lat. = 660'
55° 30 = mid. lat. 5° 30'= 330 zr G'E' or G'F'.
Log. cot. mid. lat., 55° 30', 9*8371343
3437*7 log. 3*5362680
L'G' = 2362'*7 log. 3*3734023
G'E' or G'F' zz 330'*0
L'E' zr 2692'*7
L'F' z= 2032'*7
To find the angle G'L'H'.
Log. sine mid. lat. 55° 30'  9*9159937
Diff. of long. =z 13° =z 780 log. 2*8920946
Angle G'L'H' zr 643' = 10° 43'....log. 2*8080883
To find the chords of the arcs E'
Chord of arc EV zr "V’V"' 
( X sin. f L  
Chord of arc EV rz 502'T 
Chord of arc FV zr V ' 
( X sin. f L 
Chord of arc FV rz 379'T 
r, FV.
•log. 3*7312180
.....'. 8*9695999
dog. 2*7008179
dog. 3*6091033
  8*9695999
dog. 2*5787032
Having now determined the four sides of the trapezoid
formed by the meridians E'F' and rs, and the chords of the
arcs EV, FV, it is easy to describe that trapezoid, the length
of the sides being measured on any convenient scale of equal
parts, which is to be considered as a scale of minutes of a
degree on the meridian. Let it be described accordintfiy,
and let the sides E'F', rs, be produced to meet in a point,
which will be the point L'. Then, from that point as a
centre describe the arcs EV, F's, and divide these arcs
each into thirteen equal parts, since the difference of longi¬
tude is 13°. Also, divide E'F' and rs each into eleven
equal parts corresponding to the given difference of latitude
11 . Having fixed upon the number of meridians and
tical Geo¬
graphy.
Fig. 22.
parallels of latitude that are to be drawn, describe from Mathema-
the point where the lines E'F', rs, " ’ "
intersect when produced, as a
centre, the parallels through the
proper points of division in E'F' or
rs ; and draw straight lines joining
the proper corresponding points
of division in EV, FV for the meri¬
dians : we shall here suppose the
meridians and parallels to be drawn
for every second degree. Number
the degrees of latitude and longi¬
tude as in the figure, and the map
is prepared for having traced upon
it the outline of the coasts of the
British isles, and places laid down
according to their latitudes and longitudes.
It is evident that if the point in which E'F' and rs inter¬
sect each other becomes very distant, it may be exceedingly
troublesome, or practically impossible, to describe from it
as a centre the parallels
of latitude. An obvious
remedy for this incon¬
venience is, to join to¬
gether two rulers, as
AB, AC, at the point A, in such a manner as that they may
contain an angle equal to the angle in the segment which
has for its arc the parallel to be drawn. If the edges of the
rulers be made, by means of two pins, to slide over the ex¬
tremities D, E of the parallel, a pencil fixed at the angular
point A will trace the parallel on the map. In the present
instance the rulers must be placed so as to form an angle of
^360_-_10_43 l74o 38- 3(y/
Fig. 23.
The conical development has been variously modified,
so as to remove as much as possible its defects. Thus, one
modification was given by the Rev. Patrick Murdoch in the
London Philosophical Transactions, 1758. He supposed
the cone to pass through points of the meridian between
the middle latitude and the extremities of the arc to be pro¬
jected, its side being parallel to the tangent at the middle
latitude, while the points where the cone intersects the
meridian are so situated as that the conic surface is exactly
equal to the spherical surface which it represents. Let M
denote the arc of the meridian to be represented in the
map ; then, according to this method of development, L'G',
the radius of the middle parallel on the map, is equal to
chord of arc M ., ,
  X cot. mid. lat.
arc M
the cotangent being supposed to be expressed in parts of
the radius of the sphere. In other respects the construc¬
tion is the same as in the ordinary conical projection.
But the simplest and most successful method of remedy¬
ing the defects of the conical development is that known by
the name of Flamsteed’s projection. The English astro¬
nomer by whom this method was invented, and whose name
it bears, made use of it in constructing his celestial atlas.
He developed all the parallels of latitude on the sphere in¬
to straight lines, and also one of the meridians, namely, that
which passes through the middle of the chart. To this
meridian the lines representing the parallels are perpendicu¬
lar, and the length of each is the same with that of the pa¬
rallel on the sphere which it represents. Dividing the pa¬
rallels in the projection into equal parts, in like manner as
the parallels on the sphere are divided, he supposed curved
lines to be drawn through the corresponding points of divi¬
sion, and these curve lines represent the meridians. Flam¬
steed employed this projection in representing the position
of the stars ; but it is also made use of in geography, par¬
ticularly lor the delineation of countries which extend on
both sides of the equator.
494
GEOGRAPH Y.
Mathema- To suit it more effectually to this purpose, it has under-
tical Geo gone, however, a modification of very considerable impor-
graphy. tancej as corrects in some measure the distortion in the
figure of countries lying near the extremities of the map,
which arises from the obliquity of the curve lines repre¬
senting the meridians to the straight lines representing the
parallels of latitude, the obliquity increasing as the former
recede from the centre of the map. On the globe the meri¬
dians cut all the parallels of latitude at right angles ; and by
employing concentric circles instead of straight lines, as in
Flamsteed’s projection, to represent the parallels of latitude,
the curves representing the meridians on the map may be
made more nearly to fulfil this condition. Fortins purpose
the common centre of the circles, which is situated in a
straight line drawn through the middle of the map as an
axis, is so assumed that the radius of the middle parallel of
latitude is equal to the cotangent of the middle latitude ;
an assumption which diminishes as much as possible the
obliquity of the angles made at the intersections of the
curves which represent the meridians, with the circles which
represent the parallels. In the position of the common
centre of the circles representing the parallels of latitude,
this modified projection of Flamsteed coincides with the or¬
dinary conical projection.
We shall exemplify this construction by showing how to
describe, according to it, the parallels and meridians for a
map of Europe.
Let the map be supposed to extend from 35° to 70°
north latitude. Hence the middle latitude will be 52° 30',
and the radius of the middle parallel of the map (being
equal to 3437'’7 X cot. 52° 30') will be equal to 2637',8.
Draw, then, any line LE for the axis of the map; and
assuming any point C for the point of intersection of the
axis with the parallel of middle latitude, set off the length
of the radius of that parallel from C to L, taken from any
convenient scale of equal parts, which is to be considered
as a scale of minutes of a degree. Thus the point L, the
common centre of the circles representing the parallels, is
determined.
Let us now suppose that a parallel is to be drawn through
every tenth degree of latitude : that is, through 40°, 50°,
60°, 70°. As the middle latitude
exceeds 50° by 150 minutes, take
150' from the scale of equal parts,
and set it off from C to 50. Again,
take 600, which are equal to 10°,
from the scale of equal parts, and
set off that distance from 50 to
40, from 50 to 60, and from 60 to
70. The point E, corresponding
to 35°, is found by setting off 300'
from the point 40. If we were to
proceed according to Flamsteed’s s'
method, as originally employed by
him, it would be necessary to draw
straight lines through the points E, 40, 50, See., perpendi¬
cular to DE, and therefore parallel to each other, and to
make these lines equal respectively to the portions of the
parallels on the sphere which they represent; then, divid¬
ing each line on both sides of the axis into as many equal
parts as are indicated by the number of meridians intended
to be drawn on each side of the axis, through the extre¬
mities and corresponding points of division to trace curve
lines to represent the meridians. In this case the point L
would not be required. But in the modification of the
method which we are now exemplifying, from the point L
as a centre an arc of a circle is to be described through each
of the points E, 40, 50, &c. and each of these arcs of longi¬
tude is to be made equal to the arc of the parallel on the
sphere which it represents. Let us then fix upon some me¬
ridian of a given number of degrees of longitude to the east-
Fig.24.
ward and westward of that represented by the line DE, Mathema-
which is to be so drawn as to fulfil this condition. Let tical Geo-
AB and ab be the meridians assumed, the former 30° to the Sraphy.
westward, and the latter 30° to the eastward, of DE. Vs-—
The arc BE or 6E is equal in length to an arc of 30° on
the parallel of latitude 35°. Now, the latter arc may be
determined in geographical miles or minutes of the meri¬
dian by means of the table (page 481), showing the length
of a degree of longitude for every degree of latitude in geo¬
graphical miles. Thus, 30° on the parallel of 35° latitude
is lound equal to 1474'-5. But the arc BE is of the same
length. Therefore we have BE or Z>E = 1474',5.
We might next find the angle which the arc BE sub¬
tends at the centre L, and thus determine the points B
and b. But it is more convenient to find the chord of the
arc, which may be easily done as follows:—
Put a for any arc of a circle whose radius is r. Then
sin. a — a — —2 nearly, if the arc is not very great.
In this expression put instead of a, and it becomes
Ct?
nearly.
sin. \a ■=. —
4 Sr2
Doubling both sides of this equation, and observing that
2 sin. = chord of a, we obtain
(ft
chord of a — a — - .. nearly.
24H
For arc4 not exceeding 30°, this formula will give the
length of the chord with sufficient exactness. Let us ap-.
ply it to find the chord of the arc BE.
Here a — 1474 '5, and r = LE = 2637''8.
Log. r = 3'421242 Log. a — 3*168645
2 3
Log. r1 — 6*842484 Log. a3 = 9*505935
Log. 24 = 1*380211 Log. 24 r1 = 8*222695
Log. 24F3=8*222695. Diff. of arc and chord, 19*2,1*283240
Hence the chord of the arc BE is 1455 *3 of the meri¬
dian. Taking this number from the scale of equal parts,
and setting it off from E towards B and b, the points B and
b are determined.
Proceeding in the same manner, we may find the arcs
of 30° of longitude, with their chords, on the other parallels
of latitude; and thence determine the remaining points
through which each of the projected meridians AB, ab
passes. The curves drawn through these points will be the
representations of the two meridians which have 30° of
longitude to east and west of the meridian represented by
de:
The points in which the projections of the intermediate
meridians intersect the projected parallels, may be found
by dividing each parallel into thirty equal parts from the
axis, both tow ards the right and left; then, by tracing
curves through the proper corresponding points of division,
as many meridians may be represented as are judged to be
necessary. If the map is to extend farther than 30° on each
side of its middle meridian, the division of the parallels may
be extended to the necessary distance beyond the meridians
AB and ab.
It is a consequence of the properties of this projection,
that distances on the map may be readily and accurately
measured by a scale of equal parts. This scale may be
constructed as follows:—
Draw a straight line AB (fig. 25) equal to any assumed
number of degrees of latitude. If we assume 35 degrees,
AB will be equal to DE. From B draw an indefinite line BC,
making with AB any angle. Then, since AB is equal to
35°, or to 2417 English miles nearly, take 2417 from any
convenient scale of equal parts and set that distance off
from B towards C, making BD equal to 2417. From the
GEOGRAPHY.
495
Fig. 25.
Mathema- same scale of equal parts take 100, or 200, &c. (in the
tical Geo- present instance we shall take
graphy. 50O), according to the number
of miles which each of the divi¬
sions of the scale is intended to
represent; and with this distance
in the compasses set off from
B towards C the divisions Bm,
mn, np, pq ; the remaining part
^D, being only 417, will not again
contain it. Join AD ; and through the points of division
m, n, p, q, draw straight lines parallel to AD, and intersect¬
ing AB. Each of the divisions of AB thus found will re¬
present 500 miles, with the exception of that adjacent ta
A, which will correspond to 417 miles. The distance of
two places of the map applied to this scale will give the
distance in English miles.
2. Development of the Curve Surface of a. Cylinder.
The principle of this development is analogous to that of
the conical, and may be illustrated in a similar manner.
Let the arc AB be a fourth part of a meridian, and draw
the lines AC, BC to the centre ; these lines will be at right
angles to each other, so that if we sup¬
pose BC to represent the semi-axis of the
sphere, then AC will be the radius of the
equator. Let EE be any arc of the me¬
ridian, and let it be bisected in G.
Through G draw DH perpendicular to
AC, or parallel to BC. If the plane
figure BDGAC be supposed to revolve ah ^
round BC as an axis, the arc AB will Fig.26
describe one-half of the surface of the sphere, the line DH
will describe the surface of a right cylinder, the point A
will describe the equator, and the points E, F, G will
describe parallels of latitude. If EF be a small arc, the
zone of the sphere which it describes will nearly coincide
with the corresponding zone of the cylinder. Any tract of
country delineated upon the former may, therefore, be nearly
represented upon the latter; which being developed, the
meridians and parallels of latitude become parallel straight
lines, the former at right angles to the latter. Let EF/e
be a portion of the zone described by EF comprehended
between two meridians of which the difference of longitude
is equal to the difference of latitude of the parallels described
by the points E and F. Since the difference of latitude and
difference of longitude are supposed equal, the arc G^ is
the same part of the middle parallel that EF is of the me¬
ridian. Hence rad : cos. mid. lat.:: EF : Gg so that Gg,
the breadth of the map representing the portion EF/e of
the spherical surface, may be found in minutes of the meri¬
dian. Upon these principles depends the construction of the
plane chart, which is said to have been invented by Henry,
son of John king of Portugal.
As an example, let it be required to construct a plane
chart extending from 30° to 50° north
latitude, and from 5° to 25° west longi¬
tude. Here the difference of latitude
and difference of longitude are each
equal to 20°, and the middle latitude
is40°. Hence wehave EF,thelength
of the chart, equal to 1200', and
the breadth of it equal to OlO'^S.
Construct a rectangle El/e, of
which the sides EF, Yf are respec¬
tively equal to 1200 and 919‘25 taken
from any the same scale of equal
parts, which is to be considered as a scale of minutes of
the meridian. Divide EF and F f each into four equal
parts, and through the points of division draw straight lines
parallel to Yf and EF, and these lines will represent the
Fig. 27.
parallels of latitude and meridians for every fifth degree of Mathema-
latitude and longitude. If the chart is to extend to a greater tical Geo¬
number of degrees of longitude east or west, the parallels gral,lly-
of latitude may be produced, and additional meridians drawn
on the left of EF, or on the right of ef
In the plane chart the degree of longitude evidently bears
to the degree of latitude its proper proportion only at the
middle parallel of latitude. Hence the rhumbs, as shown by
this chart, are altogether erroneous, except when the places be¬
tween which the rhumb is drawn are very near the equator.
To serve the purposes of navigation, for which the plane
chart was utterly inadequate, the chart was published by
Gerard Mercator in 1556 which usually bears his name;
but the true principles of its construction were first demon¬
strated about 1590 by Edward Wright of Cains College, in
Cambridge. This chart is constructed on the hypothesis
that the globe is expanded so as to meet the interior surface
of a cylinder constituted on the equator as its base, and having
its axis coincident with that of the globe. The spherical
surface is supposed to be stretched in such a manner that at
every point the meridian and parallel are lengthened in
the same proportion ; so that at every point of the chart
the ratio of the degree of longitude to the degree of latitude
is preserved the same as it is at the corresponding point on
the globe. Hence while the meridians become parallel
straight lines, and consequently the rhumbs on the deve¬
loped cylinder are also straight lines, the mutual bearings of
places are still correctly shown. The problem of finding
the lengthened meridians can be accurately resolved only
by the assistance of the fluxional calculus (see Fluxions).
But we may approximate to the solution by reasoning as
follows:—
Let AB be a quadrant of the meridian; draw AC, BC,
to the centre; and let BC represent the semi-axis; then
AC will be the radius of the equator ; and if any point D
be taken in the quadrant AB, the arc AD will be the
latitude of the point D. Draw AG, CG, the tangent and
secant of the arc AD, and DE, DF, its sine and cosine.
The increase which the arc AD acquires in being trans¬
ferred from the sphere to the cylinder is made at every
individual point of the arc, so that the whole augmentation
is the sum of these indefinitely small
increments. Let us suppose, then, that
AD is divided into a number of small
portions, for example, into minutes, -p-
Then if we put L for any latitude, we
have rad. : cos. L : : T of the meri¬
dian : T on the parallel whose latitude
is L. But from the similar triangles
GAC, CED, it is evident that CD :
CE : : CG : CA : that is, for any lati¬
tude L, rad. : cos. L : : sec. L : rad.
Therefore we have, sec. L : rad.:: T of the merid. : T on the
parallel whose latitude is L ; and this applies alike to every
minute of which the arc AD is made up. Let us now suppose
a minute on any one parallel to become equal to a minute on
the equator, or to a minute of the meridian, by the parallel
being brought into coincidence with the surface of the
cylinder, in consequence of the expansion of the spherical
surface. The minute on the meridian undergoes a corre¬
sponding increase. Let d denote it in its lengthened state ;
then, taking for granted that the increase on each minute
of the meridian depends entirely on that of the higher of the
two parallels which pass through its extremities, we obtain
sec. L : rad. : ; : T of equator, or T of meridian;
sec. L X T of mer.
hence d—
rad.
Let T of the meridian be now assumed as the radius;
then d — sec. L to the radius T of the meridian ; or, since
secants to different radii are proportional to one another,
496
GEO
GEO
Geology and we only require proportional quantities, we have simply
Geomancy.
d — sec. L.
Thus the increased minute on the chart for each suc¬
cessive minute of which the arc AD on the sphere is
made up, is proportional to the secant of the latitude of the
higher of the two parallels which pass through the extre¬
mities of that minute. Let m denote the number of mi¬
nutes in the arc AD, and take L = 1', 2', 3', &c m
successively; and we obtain for the lengthened meridian
corresponding to AD,
sec. 1' + sec. 2' + sec. 3' -f, &c + sec. m.
If we had divided AD into smaller portions than minutes,
the approximation would have been so much the nearer to
the truth. Upon this principle a table of the lengthened
meridians corresponding to every degree and minute of
latitude, called a table of meridional parts, is calculated ;
and by means of such a table Mercator’s chart is easily con¬
structed. The following table shows the length of the en¬
larged meridian for every fifth degree of latitude :—
The approximate numbers obtained in the manner now
pointed out are sufficiently correct for all nautical purposes.
From the more rigorous investigation afforded by the
fluxional calculus, it is found that the enlarged meridian is
proportionally equal to the logarithmic tangent of an arc
found by adding to 45° half the arc of latitude reckoned
from the equator. Thus, the meridional parts correspond¬
ing to 40° of latitude are equal to the logarithmic tangent
of (45°+20°) = log. tan. 65° = 33133 ; and the meri¬
dional parts corresponding to 50° are equal to log. tan. (45°
+25°) = log. tan. 70° = 43389. These two numbers will
be found to be nearly proportional to the numbers set
down in the above table as denoting the meridional parts
corresponding to 40° and 50° of latitude.
To construct Mercator’s chart: Draw two straight lines
WE, NS, cutting each other at right angles in the point C.
Of these lines, WE is to represent the equator, and NS the
meridian passing through the middle of the chart. From
the point C set off equal parts on the equator both ways.
These divisions are to represent degrees of longitude ;
and if the size of the chart will admit, each should be sub¬
divided into minutes. Assuming the equator as a scale of
minutes, set off from C towards the north and south on the
middle meridian the number of minutes in the enlarged
meridian, corresponding to each degree of latitude, as shown
by a table of meridional parts. Draw straight lines through
every fifth or every tenth degree of the equator and divided
meridian, and at right angles to them. The lines at right
jST
Geomanoy,
Fig. 29.
angles to the equator will be the meridians ; and those at
right angles to the divided meridian, and therefore parallel
to the equator, will be parallels of latitude. Any one of the
meridians may be assumed as the first meridian.
To find the bearing of any one place from another, it is
only necessary to draw a straight line from the one to the
other, and to observe the angle which that line makes with
the meridians: that angle is the bearing required, or the
course on which a ship must be steered in sailing from the
one place to the other. Thus, if L be the Lizard Point on
the chart, and M the east end of the island of Madeira,
join LM, and draw LK parallel to NS, and the angle KLM
will be the course to be steered from the Lizard to reach
Madeira. The distance of the places may be found by con¬
sidering that it is the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle
of which the proper difference of latitude (not the meridional
difference) is one side, and the course the adjacent angle.
Plate CCLXIX. is a chart of the world according to Mer¬
cator’s projection. The great elongation of the degrees of
latitude as we advance northward and southward, renders
this projection very defective, in as far as the figure of
countries and the relative distances of places are concerned.
It answers, however, perfectly the purposes for which it was
originally constructed, and has supplied what before its in¬
vention was a desideratum in geography.
To complete a map after the circles of latitude and longi¬
tude have been projected by any one of the foregoing me¬
thods the various objects within the range of the map are
to be delineated on it in such a manner as to present
to the eye a correct view of the country to be represented.
The methods employed to give distinctness and extent
to the information conveyed, will be best learned from
the actual examination of good maps, both general and par¬
ticular. (j. w—E.)
GEOLOGY. See Mineralogical Science.1
GEOMANCY, a kind of divination performed by means
of points and lines, originally made by casting pebbles on
the ground, and afterwards by marking or pricking dots at
random upon paper, and forming therefrom a judgment of
futui'ity, or deciding any question proposed. The dots and
lines represented the stars, elements, &c., and hence this
pretended science appears to have been a species of astro-
logy. Geomancy was in high repute in Chaucer’s time, and
continued to flourish down to a late period. Among the
last of its serious cultivators appears the name of Oughtred,
the eminent mathematician, who died in 1660. Cornelius
Agrippa besides some notices in his work, De Occulta
Philosophia, has left an express tract De Geomantia ; but
he afterwards had the honesty to condemn his own produc¬
tion as false and lying, in his work De Vanitate Scientia-
rum. There was another kind of Geomancy, introduced by
Almadul the Arabian, in which conjectures were drawn
from rents and fissures in the earth, and which Polydore Vir¬
gil conceives to have been invented by the Persian Magi.
1 In consequence of the lamented death of Professor Edward Forbes, who had agreed to contribute this article, it has been found
necessary to postpone it.
497
GEO
HISTORY OF
History. i he properties of bodies maybe resolved into two classes;
one comprehending those which belong to all bodies what¬
soever, and another, such as belong only to particular bo¬
dies. Amongst the properties of the first class we may con¬
sider extension, magnitude, figure, divisibility, impenetra¬
bility, inertia, weight, mobility, &c. Some of those of the
second are solidity, liquidity, transparency, and the like.
Of these properties, extension, magnitude, figure, and divi¬
sibility, are the subject of Geometry. The discussion of
other properties of body belongs to Physics, called also
Natural Philosophy.
The objects of geometry having been continually pre¬
sented to the human mind, and being of such a nature as
could at all times be perfectly comprehended, it may be
supposed that the science would in some form or other
exist from the very beginning of society. Indeed there is
a natural geometry which all possess, and which must have
been employed in the divisions of property and the erec¬
tion of dwellings in every age. The name of the science
indeed indicates its origin, for it is derived from yiuyiryu,,
the science of land-measuring.
According to the testimony of Herodotus, the science
was first cultivated in Egypt. He had been informed at
Memphis and Thebes, that Sesostris the king had divided
the lands amongst his subjects, giving to each an allotment,
for which an annual tribute was to be paid. The overflow¬
ing of the Nile, however, disturbed the landmarks, and ren¬
dered it necessary to re-adjust them by measurement; and
hence the origin of geometry, which in the course of time
passed from Egypt into Greece. There are two things to
be here noticed ; the assertion of a verification depending
on geometry, and the particular opinion of Herodotus as
to the origin of the science. If, as some chronologers have
supposed, Sesostris be the same as the King Sesac, or Shi-
shac, who made war on Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, it
would follow from Herodotus, that geometry had its origin
not more than about a thousand years before the Christian
era. It might, however, be earlier; for the operation of
measuring the land indicated a science which had made
some progress. Aristotle has attributed the invention of
geometry to the Egyptian priests, who, living secluded from
the world, had leisure for study. But however this might
be, all ancient writers are agreed in giving the Egyptians
the credit of having been the earliest cultivators of geometry.
The philosopher Thales, who lived 640 years before
Christ, brought the sciences, and particularly mathematics,
into Greece from Egypt, whither he had gone in quest of
knowledge at an advanced period of life. Diogenes Laer¬
tius relates that he there measured the height of the obe¬
lisks by means of their shadows; and Plutarch says, that
this display of skill in geometry astonished the king Ama-
sis. This shows that the Egyptians had not then advanced
far in geometrical knowledge. Proclus also has recorded
that Thales, by geometrical principles, determined the dis¬
tance of vessels remote from the shore. On his return to
Greece he founded the Ionian school, so called from Ionia,
his native country. His celebrity for learning excited the
attention of his countrymen, and drew to him disciples.
There appears to have been some slight traces of geo¬
metry in Greece at a still earlier period. We allude to the
geometrical construction of a triangle by Euphorbus of
Phrygia, and the discovery of some properties of figures.
These, however, were probably just the natural geometry
vol. x. 3
E T R, Y.
THE SCIENCE.
common to all ages. The rule and compasses, most im- History,
portant instruments, have been referred to the ages of
fable, the honour of the invention of the latter having been
ascribed to the nephew ot Daedalus, and that of the square
and level to Theodorus of Samos, one of the architects of
the temple of Ephesus. But there are no certain indica¬
tions of geometry as a science before Thales. He laid its
foundation in Greece, and infused into his countrymen a
taste for the science. He is said to have applied a circle
to the measurement of angles, and to have discovered va¬
rious properties of triangles, by comparing them one with
another. In particular, he discovered the important pro¬
position that all angles in a semicircle are right angles, a
discovery which greatly delighted him, and for which he
expressed his gratitude to the Muses by a sacrifice. Pro¬
clus has recorded that he made many discoveries in the
science, which, however, have gone to the common stock
of geometrical knowledge that had accumulated before
Euclid collected it into a system, and the authors of which
are unknown. It is probable that the greater part of the
disciples of Thales were geometers, but few of their names
have descended to us. Ameristus and Anaximander are
the only ones now known. Of the former we only know
that he was a skilful geometer. The latter wrote a kind of
elementary treatise or introduction to geometry, the ear¬
liest work of the kind that is known to have existed.
Thales wras succeeded in his school by Anaximander,
who is said to have invented the sphere, the gnomon, and
geographical charts. These required a considerable know¬
ledge of geometrical science. It has been said that he at¬
tempted the grand practical geometrical problem of measur¬
ing the magnitude of the earth. This probably has originated
in his being the inventor of representations of its surface.
The honour of being the first to measure the earth seems
to belong to another. Anaximander was followed by Anaxi¬
menes, born at Miletus 540 years b. c. He is said to have
invented sun-dials, and thus must have known both astro¬
nomy and geometry ; indeed a desire to understand the
former would prove a strong stimulus to the study of the
latter. He had as his disciple and successor Anaxagoras,
who being persecuted for his opinions, employed himself
in prison in trying to square the circle. This is the first
notice on record of an attempt to resolve what appears now
to be an insoluble problem, on which no modern geometer
will spend his time. It might, however, have a very differ¬
ent aspect to the ancient mathematicians.
Pythagoras, born about 580 years b. c., was one of the
greatest men of antiquity. According to some he was a
Tuscan, whilst others say he was a Tyrian ; but his name
is better known than his origin. At the age of eighteen
he became the disciple of Thales, and imbibed deeply his
opinion of the importance of temperance and economy of
time as necessary to success in the study of philosophy. In
the infancy of science knowledge was only to be acquired
by travel, the men of different countries standing in the place
of our modern books as the depositories of learning. Pytha¬
goras visited Phoenicia, Chaldea, and India. In the annals of
this last country the remembrance of the philosophical tra¬
veller is still preserved. He afterwards went into Egypt,where
he is said to have remained twenty-two years, holding in¬
tercourse with the priests. The long duration of his abode
is not probable, as the knowledge he seems to have acquir¬
ed did not correspond to so protracted a residence. Whilst
3 R
GEOMETRY.
493
History, in Egypt, he is said to have consulted the columns of Sothis,
on which that celebrated person had inscribed the princi¬
ples of geometry. He returned to Samos, his adopted coun¬
try, and there opened his school; but not finding auditors,
he removed to Italy, and took up his abode in Cortona, a
town in the territory of Tarentum, where he found many
disciples, and acquired a great reputation. He is said to
have discovered the important theorem in geometry, that
in a right-angled triangle the squares on the sides contain¬
ing the right angle are together equal to the square on the
side opposite to it; and on this account he is said to have
sacrificed an hundred oxen in gratitude to the Muses. The
sacrifice is probably a fable. The shedding of blood was
contrary to his moral principles, and so many oxen were
not likely to be at the disposal of a philosopher. In his
school, geometry made great progress, and was augmented
by several new theories, such as that of the incommensu¬
rability of certain lines, in particular that of the side of a
square to its diagonal. The theory of the regular solids
had its origin also in the Pythagorean school, a doctrine
which requires an extensive knowledge of geometry. This
subject, now neglected amidst the riches of modern ma¬
thematics, because of its small utility, was in the beginning
of great importance, on account of other discoveries which
must have been incidentally made in its prosecution. Dio¬
genes Laertius has attributed to Pythagoras the discovery
that of all figures having the same boundary, the circle
among plane figures, and the sphere among solids, are the
most capacious. If this was so (a thing doubtful), he is the
first on record who considered isoperimetrical problems.
The Pythagorean school sent forth many philosophers
and mathematicians : amongst the latter, Philolaus and Ar-
chytas held a distinguished rank. Of Philolaus we know
but little. He held to its full extent the Pythagorean doc¬
trine of the motion of the earth round the sun as a centre,
and was the first to unveil it. He composed a work on
Mechanics, and thus has a claim to be associated with Eu¬
doxus and Archytas as inventors of that part of mathema¬
tics. He had a tragical end, having been massacred by
the people of the small republic of which he had been a
legislator. We know more of Archytas. He was the au¬
thor of a solution of the problem of two mean proportionals.
He was also one of the first who made use of the geome¬
trical analysis, which, according to Proclus, he had learned
from Plato, and by its assistance he made many discoveries
in geometry. We pass over his mechanical inventions,
one of which, the artificial pigeon, which winged its way
through the air, certainly savours of the marvellous. Ar¬
chytas is said to have been blamed by Plato for applying
geometry to mechanics ; but if this was so, it might be for
the manner of the application. His solution of the problem
of finding two mean proportionals gives support to this
conjecture ; for although ingenious, it has the defect of re¬
quiring a motion which cannot be executed.
Democritus of Abdera cultivated geometry extensively.
It has been conjectured that he was one of the first who
treated of the contact of circles and spheres, and of irra¬
tional lines and solids.
Hippocrates, who lived about the year 380 b. c. was ori¬
ginally a merchant; but having no turn for commerce, he
did not prosper. To renovate his affairs, he went to Athens,
and there for the first time became acquainted with geome¬
try, which seemed to suit his particular turn of mind. In
the prosecution of this study he discovered that the curvi-
lineal space, called from its form a lime, comprehended
by half the circumference of one circle and the fourth of
the circumference of another (their concavities being turned
the same way), was equal to a rectilineal space, viz. the
area of a right-angled triangle, whose hypothenuse was the
diameter of the circle, and its sides each equal to the ra¬
dius of the quadrantal arc. This could not be considered
as a true quadrature of a curvilineal space; it was merely History,
a geometrical juggle, by which a common space being taken
from two equal curvilineal figures, one of the remainders
was by a sort of chance a rectilineal figure. The first true
quadrature of a curvilineal space is due to Archimedes.
Hippocrates attempted the quadrature of the circle ; but,
if his mode of reasoning has been truly handed down to us,
he committed a great oversight. This is the first recorded
paralogism in geometry. He was more successful in treat¬
ing of the duplication of the cube, which he showed to de¬
pend on the finding of two mean proportionals between
two given lines. He was also the first who composed ele¬
ments of geometry, but these have been lost. He appears
to have retained the mercantile spirit, insomuch that he
accepted money for teaching geometry. On this account
he was expelled the Pythagorean school; a measure some¬
what hard, considering his reduced circumstances.
Two geometers, Bryson and Antiphon, appear to have
lived about the time of Hippocrates, and a little before
Aristotle. They are only known by some animadversions
of the latter on their attempts to square the circle. Before
this time geometers knew that the area of a circle was
equal to a triangle whose base is equal to its circumference,
and altitude equal to its radius. This truth could not es¬
cape the observation of the early geometers. Bryson er¬
roneously believed that, by a geometrical construction, he
could find the circumference, in which case the quadrature
would have been easy. Antiphon, it appears, proceeded
by increasing continually the number of sides of an in¬
scribed regular polygon, and considered the circle to be
equal to the ultimate result; a process perfectly correct,
and the same in effect as that by which Archimedes found
the area of the parabola.
From this brief view of the progress of geometry dur¬
ing the first two centuries after its introduction into
Greece, we pass to the school of Plato, in which geometry
completely changed its character, and advanced with in¬
creased vigour and more rapid strides. Hitherto its sub¬
jects had been of the most elementary nature ; now, how¬
ever, the views of geometers became more enlarged, and
a new era in the science commenced. Although the dis¬
ciple and successor of Socrates, who had no taste either
for mathematical or physical science, Plato held them
in the highest estimation ; and, imitating the earlier sages
of Greece, he undertook voyages and journeys to improve
his mathematical knowledge. He visited Egypt to con¬
verse with the priests, and Italy to consult with the cele¬
brated Pythagoreans Philolaus, Timaeus of Locris, and
Archytas. With the last of these he contracted a parti¬
cular friendship. He w^ent also to Gyrene to hear the dis¬
courses of the mathematician Theodorus; and on his re¬
turn to Greece, when he had founded his school, he made
the mathematics, particularly geometry, the basis of his
instructions; and his disciples, encouraged by his exam¬
ple and his exhortations, applied with ardour to the study
of that science. He never allowed a day to pass without
making his disciples acquainted with some new truth. He
placed over his school this inscription, Let no one ignorant
of geometry enter here. He held that the Divinity conti-
nually geometrizes; meaning thereby, no doubt, that the
laws by which the universe are governed are in accord¬
ance with the doctrines of mathematics. It does not ap¬
pear that Plato composed any work expressly on the ma¬
thematics ; but his invention of the geometrical analysis
may be considered as one of the greatest improvements
the science has received. The theory of Conic Sections
originated in the Platonic school; and a third discovery
was that of Geometrical Loci, a theory not only beautiful
and interesting on account of the abstract truths which it
unfolds, but also by reason of its great importance in the
resolution of geometrical problems. The celebrated pro-
G E O M
History, blem concerning the duplication of the cube was agitated
about his time ; but its origin was earlier ; for Hippocrates,
as has been already stated, had reduced it to the finding
of two continued mean proportionals. Plato himself gave
a solution of the problem ; and it was also resolved by Ar-
chytas, Eudoxus, Eratosthenes, and Menaechmus. The
solutions of eleven of the ancient geometers have been
preserved in the Commentary of Eutocius on Archimedes’
Treatise concerning the Sphere and Cylinder. It is proba¬
ble that the trisection of an angle, a problem of the same
degree of difficulty as the duplication of the cube, excited
the efforts of the Platonic school. We have indeed no
positive testimony in favour of this conjecture; but the
progress of the human mind does not allow us to doubt
that the problem was of great antiquity. After the solu¬
tion of the very simple problem, the bisection of an angle,
it was natural to think of dividing it into three equal
angles ; and those who first thought of the latter problem
would no doubt be astonished to find, that two problems
so like in appearance should yet differ so much in the dif¬
ficulty of their solution. The trisection of an angle, and
the duplication of a cube, are in fact problems of such a
nature that they cannot be resolved by straight lines and
circles alone, the only lines admitted by the ancients into
their elements of geometry. The reason of this impossi¬
bility would not be apparent to the ancient geometers,
although it is made evident by the modern doctrines of
algebra.
The names of the individuals to whom we owe the par¬
ticular discoveries which have been specified have not
come down to us ; they must therefore be regarded as be¬
longing to the Platonic school generally. Proclus has re¬
corded the names of a number of the geometers of that
school. Some of advanced years attended it as friends
of its celebrated head, or from respect to his doctrines ;
others, chiefly young persons, as disciples. Of the first
class were Laodamus, Archytas, and Theaetetus: Lao-
damus was one of the earliest to whom Plato communi¬
cated his method of analysis before he made it public, and
he is said to have profited much by the possession of this
instrument of discovery. Archytas was a Pythagorean,
having extensive knowledge in geometry and mechanics.
He frequently visited Plato at Athens; but in one of his
voyages he perished by shipwreck. Theaetetus was a rich
citizen of Athens, who had studied along with Plato under
Socrates. He appears to have cultivated the theory of
the regular solids, called now the Platonic bodies.
The progress of geometry now required that its elements
should be new modelled. This was done by Leon, a scho¬
lar of Neoclis, or Neoclides, a philosopher who had studied
under Plato. To Leon has been ascribed that part of the
solution of a problem called its determination, which treats
of the cases in which the problem is possible, and of those
in which it cannot be resolved. Eudoxus of Cnidus was
one of the friends and contemporaries of Plato ; he gene¬
ralized many theorems, and thereby greatly advanced geo¬
metry. It is believed that he cultivated the conic sec¬
tions ; and even the invention of these has been ascribed
to him. He resolved the problem of the duplication of
the cube ; and it is to be regretted that Eutocius, who
speaks with contempt of his solution, has not recorded it
with others in his Commentary on Archimedes. Diogenes
Laertius has attributed to him the invention of curve lines
in general; from which we may infer, that other curves
besides the conic sections were known in the school of
Plato. Archimedes, in his Treatise on the Sphere and Cy¬
linder, says that Eudoxus found the measure of the py¬
ramid and cone, and that he was especially occupied with
the contemplation of solids. Some have given him the
credit of being the writer of the fifth book of Euclid,
which treats of proportion. Amongst the numerous ma-
E T R Y. 499
thematicians of the Platonic school, there was one, Cra- History,
tistus, who is particularly mentioned by Proclus. He was
a remarkable person ; for his knowledge of his science was
in a manner innate. There was no problem of that time,
however difficult, which he could not resolve by his natu¬
ral geometry. He was the Pascal of antiquity. There
were two brothers, Menaechmus and Dinostratus, who also
greatly distinguished themselves. The former, a particu¬
lar disciple of Plato, extended the theory of the conic sec¬
tions. Eratosthenes seems to attribute to him the merit
of having invented them; at any rate, he was the first
who solved the problem of doubling a cube by means of
these curves. Dinostratus followed in the path of his
brother, and advanced geometry by his discoveries. He
is particularly known as the reputed inventor of a curve
called the quadratrix, by which he seems to have intend¬
ed to divide an angle or an arc of a circle in any given ratio.
The curve takes its name from a property by which, could
it be constructed geometrically, the quadrature of the
circle would be obtained. According to Pappus, Dinos¬
tratus discovered this property of the curve ; and probably
this is the reason why it has been called the quadratrix
of Dinostratus, just as we say the spiral of Archimedes.
Indeed there is some ground for believing that the curve
was invented by Hippias, a philosopher and skilful geo¬
meter, contemporary with Socrates.
It was chiefly in geometry that the followers of Plato
excelled. In this they imitated their leader, who direct¬
ed his attention to abstract speculations, rather than to
the study of nature. The conic sections, one of their
most refined and profound geometrical theories, remained
merely an intellectual speculation from its first invention
till the days of Kepler and Newton, when it acquired a
high importance on account of the discovery that the or¬
bits of the planets are conic sections.
The school of Plato, after the death of its founder, was
divided into two others, which, although opposed to each
other on various points, yet agreed in holding the mathe¬
matics in esteem, and in regarding them as an indispensa¬
ble preparation for the study of philosophy. It is record¬
ed, that a person ignorant of geometry and arithmetic
having presented himself for admission into the school of
Xenocrates, the successor of Plato after Speusippus, he
was repelled by its chief, with an intimation that he was
not properly prepared for the study of philosophy: Ansas
philosophorum non habes, said the philosopher.
The mathematics, thus encouraged and protected, con¬
tinued to be cultivated and improved. The celebrated
geometer Euclid was of this school; and it may be con¬
jectured, from the age in which he lived, that he had ac¬
quired his knowledge under the tuition of the first succes¬
sors of Plato. So also, we may presume, was Aristaeus,
another celebrated geometer of antiquity, though little
known in our time, because his works have perished.
We learn, however, from Pappus, that he was one of the
ancients who contributed the most to the progress of the
sublime geometry. He was the author of two excellent
works; one a treatise on The Conic Sections, in five books,
which contained a great part of what Apollonius has
given in the first four books of his work ; the other, also in
five books, treated of Solid Loci. Pappus, in prescribing
a course of study to his son, places this last work next in
order after the Conics of Apollonius. Hence we may in¬
fer that the propositions which it contained were of a
higher order of difficulty, and required a previous know¬
ledge of the conic sections. Euclid entertained great es¬
teem for Aristaeus. We may hence conclude that he was
either his disciple or his intimate friend.
The pure mathematics were less cultivated in the school
of Aristotle than they had been in that of Plato; they were
not, however, neglected; for, unlike the modern peripa-
500 G E O M
History, tetics, who discouraged the study of geometry. Aristotle
was deeply versed in the science, as may be inferred
from his writings, which abound in examples drawn from
geometry.
Although the mathematics received but little addition
in the Aristotelian school, still they had some cultivators.
Of these, Theophrastus was the principal. He wrote some
treatises relating to them, particularly a complete history
of these sciences down to his time, a work which has un¬
fortunately been lost. It consisted of four books on the
history of geometry, six on that of astronomy, and one
on that of arithmetic. We have great reason to regret
the want of the sure light which this work, had it come
down to om times, would have thrown on the origin and
progress of these sciences, instead of which, we have only a
few glimmerings, that serve to make the darkness sen¬
sible, but not to dissipate the obscurity. Another dis¬
ciple of Aristotle, Eudemus, composed a history of the
mathematics. This consisted of six books on the history
of geometry, and as many on that of astronomy. We
owe to these all we now know concerning the origin of
those sciences; for it is from this source that Proclus,
fheon, and Diogenes Laertius have drawn the few notices
which they have transmitted to us.
We come next to a new epoch in the history of the an¬
cient mathematics. This was the institution of the school
of Alexandria. However memorable this event may have
been in the history of general literature, it is more espe¬
cially remarkable in that of the mathematics; for in this
celebrated school all the mathematical sciences were cul¬
tivated with a degree of care not inferior to that which
had been bestowed on pure geometry in the school of
Plato, and with corresponding success.
The period which immediately followed the death of
Alexander proved one of trouble and confusion. The vast
empire founded by that conqueror was dismembered by
his principal captains ; and Egypt was the portion which
fell to one of them, Ptolemy Lagus. As soon as he had
established tranquillity in his dominions, Lagus turned his
attention to the sciences; and by his encouragement of
their cultivators, he drew to him many of the learned of
Greece; and his capital soon rivalled Athens as the resort
of men of knowledge and talent. These constituted the
Alexandrian school. The perfection of this celebrated
establishment is mainly due to his son and successor Pto¬
lemy Philadelphus, who bestowed on the learned men he
had induced to settle in his capital, protection and liberal
encouragement. Amongst those who resorted to this in¬
stitution, none has been more celebrated than the Greek
geometer Euclid. His country is unknown; and of the
events of his life no notice has reached us. It appears that
he had resided in Greece, and studied geometry under
Uie disciples of Plato. Thence he went to Alexandria,
induced probably by the liberality of the first Ptolemy.
Pappus has described him as gentle and modest, and en¬
tertaining a particular regard for those who could contri¬
bute to the progress of the mathematics. His character
formed a contrast to that of Apollonius, another geo¬
meter, who was vain, and delighted in depreciating his
contemporaries. We may suppose that Euclid was not
much of a courtier, from his reply to Ptolemy, who in¬
quired of him whether there was not an easier way to a
knowledge of geometry than the study of his Elements.
^here is no royal road to geometry,” wras his answer.
VVe have elsewhere (see Euclid) given a full account of
this distinguished geometer and his writings.
. ^ie great excellence of the Elements of Euclid must
increase our regret for the loss of a treatise which he com¬
posed on Porisms. Of this work, all that has come down
to model n times is an abstract, inserted by Pappus Alex-
andnnus in his Mathematical Collections. This, however,
E T R Y.
has suffered so much from time, that all we can imme- History,
diately learn from it is, that the ancients put a high value
on porisms, and^ regarded them as an important part of
their analysis. Ihe efforts of modern geometers had been
exei ted in endeavouring to discover the nature of porisms,
but without much success. At length Dr Robert Simson,
with a zeal and perseverance not to be surpassed, succeed¬
ed in divining their nature, and even in restoring a great
number of Euclid’s propositions. These form a part of
the posthumous works of this distinguished geometer.
Leaving the Alexandrian school, our attention is drawn
to Sicily, which gave birth to Archimedes, a geometer
whose genius has been the admiration of all who have come
after him. His life was written by Heraclides; but this
precious piece of biography, so well calculated to interest
our curiosity, has unfortunately perished. Archimedes
was born 287 years before our era. He was the relation
and friend of Hiero, king of Syracuse. His skill as a me¬
chanician is universally known ; but it is only as a geome¬
ter that we shall speak of him here. Endowed with a
mind of the highest order, he exerted it in the extension
of mathematical science. Ihe measure of curvilineal
magnitude was a subject new in his time, concerning
which but little was known. Archimedes attached himself
to this branch by predilection, and opened new views,
which have engaged the attention and exercised the ge¬
nius of such men in modern times as Kepler, Cavalieri,
and Dr Wallis. Die last of these has called him a man
of prodigious sagacity, who first laid the foundations of al¬
most all that had given celebrity to the seventeenth cen¬
tury of our era.
Ihe writings of Archimedes were numerous. We have
two books by him on the sphere and cylinder, which ter¬
minate in the fine geometrical discoveries, that the solidi¬
ty and surface of the sphere are respectively two thirds of
the solidity and surface of the circumscribing cylinder,
with which he was so much delighted, that he desired that
these figures should be inscribed on his tomb. His book
on the measure of the circle is a kind of supplement to
his treatise on the sphere, which supposed a knowledge of
that measure. The determination of the exact ratio of the
diameter to the circumference was, as at present, a pro¬
blem not to be resolved; but he found limits to that ratio,
and an approximation to it sufficiently accurate for the or¬
dinary wants of the arts, which was all that he attempted.
He might, however, have carried his approximation far¬
ther, as was afterwards done by Apollonius, and by Philo,
another geometer less known.
Archimedes having succeeded in measuring the sphere
and cylinder, bodies long the study of geometers, he opened
a new field of inquiry in his Treatise on Conoids and Sphe¬
roids. All his determinations are now familiar to geo¬
meters ; his processes of reasoning are highly ingenious,
but withal somewhat intricate. Indeed we question whe¬
ther many modern mathematicians have had patience to
go through his investigations, considering that the same
conclusions can now be reached by much shorter me¬
thods.
Ihe properties of the spiral, invented by his friend Co-
non, and the quadrature of the parabola, are among the
additions made to the ancient geometry by Archimedes.
Ibis last was a grand step in the progress of geometry;
because it was the first curvilineal space legitimately
squared, and the only one, until the application of the mo¬
dern methods of analysis. In latter times the notion of in¬
finity has been introduced into geometry, and has contri¬
buted greatly to its extension. The ancients, however,
carefully avoided this term, which might have injured the
stability of the science. Their theory of exhaustions sup¬
plied its place, and was a safe, although a laborious and
indirect way of establishing truth. The writings of Archi-
G E O M
History, medes give the finest examples of its application. We
pass over the mechanical and optical inventions of this
great man, and only observe that they indicate a state of
considerable perfection in the geometrical science of that
period.
The writings of Archimedes are the most important of
the few classic remains of ancient geometry which we now
possess. The subjects of which they treat, being less ele¬
mentary, are now less studied than those in the Elements
of Euclid. Every geometer, however, should have read
them at least once in his life. The earliest edition of his
writings was published at Basle in 1644. It was in Greek,
with a Latin translation by Venatorius, the two versions
being printed as separate volumes, and accompanied by
the Commentary of Eutocius. There have been many edi¬
tions of his works. Of these we shall only notice two;
that of Torelli, in Greek and Latin, published at Oxford
in 1792, and a French translation of his writings by Pey-
rard, the learned editor and translator of Euclid’s works.
Returning to the school of Alexandria, we have to men¬
tion Eratosthenes, a geometer as well as an astronomer.
Indeed he was one of those uncommon men, whose genius
embraces all subjects ; for he was also an orator, a poet, an
antiquary, and a philosopher. His extensive knowledge in¬
duced the third Ptolemy to make him his librarian. He
chiefly cultivated geometry and astronomy, and has been
classed with the three great geometers of antiquity, Aris-
taeus, Euclid, and Apollonius, who had improved geome¬
trical analysis. Pappus mentions a work by Eratosthenes
on this subject, in two books. He has told us its title,
but has not described its exact object, which can therefore
only be conjectured. He gave a solution of the problem
of the duplication of the cube, which Eutocius has pre¬
served in his Commentaries on Archimedes; and he ap¬
plied his geometrical and astronomical science to the so¬
lution of the grand problem, the measurement of the mag¬
nitude of the earth, which, however, had been attempted
before his time.
Apollonius of Perga appeared as a geometer in the
Alexandrian school, about the time when Archimedes
had finished his career. It might be a question which of
these two great men was endowed with the higher genius ;
for such was the estimation in which Apollonius was held
at the period in which he lived, that he obtained the ap¬
pellation of the great geometer. He was the most pro¬
found and fertile writer that has ever treated of geome¬
try. His works which have survived the ravages of time,
or have been restored by modern geometers, with the ad¬
dition of the Data and Porisms of Euclid, this last also a
restoration, constitute nearly all which we now know of
that beautiful subject, the ancient geometrical analysis.
Whoever would understand it, and acquire skill and faci¬
lity in its application, would do well to study with care
the various works of Apollonius which have been restored,
if not exactly according to the letter, at least in the true
spirit of the originals. A full account of the writings of
this distinguished geometer has been given as an article
of biography (see Apollonius) ; it is therefore unneces¬
sary to enumerate them here.
The ancient mathematicians addressed their writings to
others, their particular friends. It is in this way that the
names of some of their contemporaries have descended to
us, although their writings have been lost. Apollonius
dedicated the first three books of his Conics to Eudemus,
a geometer, and in such, terms as show that he addressed
himself to one well acquainted with the subject. He says
that he had been encouraged to study the subject by
Naucrates; and he requests Eudemus to communicate
what he had written to Philonides, also a geometer. Eu¬
demus having died, he addressed the fourth book to At¬
tains, and speaks of Thrasydeus, with whom Conon of
E T R Y. 501
Samos, a little anterior to his time, had held a correspon- History,
dence on the conics; also of Nicoteles the Cyrenean, who
it seems had a controversy with Conon. The regret which
Archimedes expresses for the loss of Conon gives us rea¬
son to believe that he was a profound geometer. We
know also that he was an astronomer. Archimedes dedi¬
cated several of his works to Dositheus, another geome¬
ter, whose name has thus become known to us.
It was about this period that the geometer Nicomedes
lived. He was the inventor of the Conchoid, a curve
which served to resolve two remarkable problems, the du¬
plication of the cube, and the trisection of an angle.
The period which comprehended the ages of Euclid,
Archimedes, and Apollonius, was that in which the sci¬
ence of geometry shone forth with the greatest splen¬
dour. It had been in a state of gradual improvement
from the time of Thales. Now, however, it seems to have
arrived at a degree of perfection beyond which its cultiva¬
tors did not carry it. We may suppose that the science
of astronomy took its place, and presented a new and
more inviting field of discovery. Hipparchus, the father
of astronomy, was also a geometer; for we find him applying
its principles, combined with arithmetic, to his science.
There were geometers who were also mechanicians.
These, as well as the astronomers, probably cultivated
geometry alone as connected with their own science.
Gemimus of Rhodes lived between the time of Hippar¬
chus and the beginning of our era. He was the author
of a wmrk on geometry, and another on astronomy. The
former, which is lost, was probably a historical commen¬
tary, a sort of development of geometrical discoveries.
Proclus seems to have draum from it all that he has said
on the history and metaphysics of geometry. Its loss is
matter of regret. Ctesibius, and Hero his disciple, wmre
celebrated as mechanicians. The former lived in the
middle of the second century before Christ. Philo of
Byzantium was also a celebrated mechanician. Poss.ido-
nius was at once geometer, astronomer, mechanician, and
geographer. He deserved well of geometry, for having
repelled the attack of Zeno the Epicurean, who had at¬
tempted to invalidate its principles and certainty. Dio-
nysiodorus was a skilful geometer, as appears by his solu¬
tion of a difficult problem of Archimedes. Theodosius
was the author of a work on the geometry of the sphere,
which has descended to our times. It appears to have
been studied as a classic in the English universities. Dr
Barrow gave an edition of it, along with the writings of
Archimedes, and the four books of the Conics of Apollo¬
nius, in 1615. The best edition is that of Hunt, printed
at Oxford 1707.
The study of the mathematical sciences, which languish¬
ed in the first century of the Christian era, revived a lit¬
tle in the beginning of the second. Menelaus, an astro¬
nomer, wrote on trigonometry and spherical geomet^.
This work has reached our times by a translation from
the Arabic. Dr Halley, holding in high esteem every
vestige of the ancient geometry, had prepared a new edi¬
tion of this geometer, corrected from a Hebrew manu¬
script. It did not appear, however, until 1758, by the
care of Costard, the author of a history of astronomy.
Menelaus, as we learn from Pappus, cultivated the theory
of curve lines ; a subject which may be regarded as belong¬
ing to the higher geometry among the ancients.
Ptolemy, if not an inventive geometer, must at least
have been perfectly acquainted with its theories, for he had
the merit of applying them to astronomy. His Almagest
has handed down from antiquity a beautiful geometrical
theorem, the foundation of the Greek trigonometry. It is
this ; the rectangle contained in the diagonals of a quadri¬
lateral inscribed in a circle, is equal to both the rectangles
contained by the opposite sides.
502
GEO M E T R Y.
History. Several mathematicians of no great note lived in the
third and fourth centuries of the Christian era. Such were
Serenus, who wrote two books on cones and cylinders;
Hypsicles of Alexandria, the supposed author of two books
on regular solids, sometimes ascribed to Euclid ; and Per¬
seus Citticus, who wrote on certain lines called Spiriques,
formed from a solid generated by an arc of a circle revolv¬
ing about a fixed axis. Philo of Thyaneus, and Demetrius
of Alexandria, both wrote on curve lines.
We are now come to a period in which the sciences had
begun to decline; when, instead of original treatises, wri¬
ters were content to compose commentaries and annota¬
tions on the works of their more illustrious predecessors.
It was in this way that Pappus and Theon of Alexandria,
who lived towards the end of the fourth century, rendered
service to the mathematical sciences. The first, however,
must not be classed with the ordinary scholiasts; for in his
Mathematical Collections he has shown that he was an ex¬
pert geometer. His object in composing this work was to
collect into one body many scattered discoveries, and to
illustrate and supply deficiencies in the writings of the cele¬
brated mathematicians wdio had preceded him. He has
done this in regard to Apollonius, Archimedes, Euclid, and
Theodosius, by a number of lemmas and important propo¬
sitions which they had assumed as known. His writings
have made us acquainted with the various attempts made
by the ancients to double the cube, and to divide an angle
into three or more equal parts. We are indebted to him
for almost all we know of these and other important mat¬
ters in the ancient geometry ; and it is through his writings
that the names of many geometers have come down to our
days, which, but for him, would have been lost in the ob¬
scurity of time. The preface to his seventh book is of in¬
estimable value, inasmuch as it has preserved from oblivion
many of the analytic works of the ancients. His brief ana¬
lysis of these works, for that is all we have, has given con¬
tinuity to the history of geometry ; and his indications have
served as vestiges of the steps by which the ancients pro¬
ceeded in their discoveries. Guided by these brief notices,
the ingenuity of the moderns has succeeded in restoring
the writings of Apollonius and Euclid, which had disap¬
peared for ages. It is not improbable, that in this renovated
form, the works of these geometers surpass in excellence
the originals. The restorers have had the advantage of an
improved state of the science, and the works of later geo¬
meters, to assist them in their researches.
It is probable that at this time there is not an entire
copy of the eight books of Pappus in existence ; certainly
there is none in Britain. In a catalogue of the manuscripts
of England and Ireland, published at Oxford in 1698, there
is mention made of two copies in the Savilian library.
These have been more than two centuries in Oxford. One,
marked No. 3, is in folio, and is well written on paper; it
contains the Greek text of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth,
seventh, and eighth books, and in addition some works of
Theodosius and Autolycus. There is no memorial to in¬
dicate when it was written, or by whom. The other copy,
with a mark No. 9, is not so well written; it has been co¬
pied by various hands, on separate sheets of paper. This
copy, besides the books preserved in the former, contains
also a part of the second book. Dr Wallis has spoken of
three manuscripts of Pappus at Oxford, one in the Bodleian
and two in the Savilian library. No traces of a third copy
can now be found in the Bodleian library. The late Dr
Trail, in his life of Dr Robert Simson, has described a manu¬
script now in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh. It con¬
tains five books of Pappus, viz. the third, fourth, fifth, sixth,
and eighth ; but unfortunately the seventh, the most valu¬
able portion of the work, is wanting. This was purchased
at Paris by Dr James Moore in 1748.
The British Museum possesses a manuscript copy of
Pappus, which had been the property of the Saliante fami- History,
ly at Verona. None of the manuscripts of which we have
any details are of a very early date. There are some points
of resemblance in all that have been examined, which seem
to indicate a common origin. It is well known that early
manuscripts are few in number; sometimes only one is
known. This may have been the case in regard to the
text of Pappus, and will account for the agreement of all
the manuscripts in particular places. We owe the edition
which we possess of this ancient work to the labour of Com-
mandine, who translated and enriched it with notes, but
died when he was about to give it to the world. It after¬
wards appeared in 1588, under the patronage and by the
pecuniary aid of Francisco Maria, duke of Urban. That
part of the second book which has been preserved was pub¬
lished in the third volume of the works of Dr Wallis: it
treats of the ancient arithmetic.
We had formerly occasion to mention Hypatia, the
daughter of Theon, as a commentator on Diophantus, in
our account of the progress of Algebra. She has a claim
to our notice also in the history of geometry, by her having
composed a commentary on the writings of Apollonius.
The philosopher Proclus, the chief of the Platonic school
at Athens, made it in some measure the seat of the mathe¬
matical sciences about the middle of the fifth century. In
imitation of the chief of his sect, he held the sciences in
great estimation. He was not, however, distinguished for
original discoveries; but his commentary on the first book
of Euclid, setting aside the fault of its prolixity, is valu¬
able, because of the information it contains on the history
and metaphysics of geometry at a remote period.
We pass over several geometers of this period, of whom
hardly any thing but their names is known. We mention,
however, Diodes as the inventor of a curve called the
cissoid, contrived for the solution of the celebrated pro¬
blem, to find two mean proportionals.
Geometrical science had by this time been long on the
decline. The Alexandrian school, however, still existed ;
and a repetition of such a period as that in which Apollo¬
nius and Euclid flourished might have been hoped for, had
it not been for the troubles which agitated the East. The
taking of Alexandria by the Saracens in the year 640 gave
a deathblow to the sciences, not only in that celebrated
city, but throughout the Greek empire. The library w7as
delivered over to destruction by the command of the igno¬
rant fanatic Omar; and this, the finest monument of human
genius, the accumulated store of knowledge that had been
collecting for ages, was employed during six months in
warming the four thousand baths of Alexandria. Such
was the end of the Alexandrian school, which had for near¬
ly ten centuries contributed to the advancement of the hu¬
man mind in knowledge.
About the eighth century we find Hero, called the young¬
er, an engineer and mathematician. He wrote a treatise
on Geodeesia (so practical geometry was called), which had
no great merit; it is, however, remarkable for containing,
without demonstration, a rule for finding the area of a tri¬
angle when its three sides are known. There is no notice
of this important theorem in the wrritings of the ancients
which have come down to us. It was, however, probably
found by some geometer earlier than Hero. It appears
to have been afterwards lost, and rediscovered by Tar-
talea.
We have an unfavourable opinion of the modern Ara¬
bians, but there was a period when they had a very difter-
ent character. When the sciences were neglected by the
Greeks, and existed only in manuscripts buried in the dust
of libraries, the Arabians brought them forth from obscu¬
rity, and gave them an honourable asylum. They were
the depositaries of knowledge during the ages of barbarism
and ignorance which overspread Europe; and we owe to our
GEOMETRY.
History, intercourse with them the first glimpses of light which pe-
~'-/l netrated the obscurity of the eleventh, twelfth, and thir¬
teenth centuries. The Arabians diligently cultivated the
science of astronomy ; and as a corresponding knowledge
of other branches of science was necessary to success, they
became geometers, opticians, and even algebraists. The
greater part of the Greek geometers, particularly those ne¬
cessary to the study of astronomy, as Euclid, Theodosius,
Hypsicles, Menelaus, were translated into the Arabic lan¬
guage in the time of Almamon, or soon after him. They
even began to cultivate the sublime geometry of the an¬
cients, for the four first books of the Conics of Apollonius
were translated by order of that prince. They added to
their literature the writings of Archimedes, and at least
three of the last books of the Conics of Apollonius 3 and
all these works are to be found in libraries rich in oriental
manuscripts. It is from the last-mentioned work, correct¬
ed and augmented by the notes of Nassireddin, a Persian
geometer, that Dr Halley has enriched our geometry with
the fifth, sixth, and seventh books of the ancient Greek
author; the remaining books, viz. the eighth, appear how¬
ever to have been entirely lost. The Arabian writers quote
the writings of several Greek geometers of which we know
nothing, such as a treatise on parallel lines, another on
triangles, and a third on the division of the circle. We
must allow to the Arabians the merit of having given to
our trigonometry its present form. They also simplified the
practice of its operations, by employing the sines of the arcs
instead of the chords of the double arcs employed by the
Greeks. This was even one of their earliest inventions, for
we find it in the writings of their astronomer Albatenius.
The Arabian historians have recorded the names of se¬
veral of their cultivators of geometry ; but these may be
passed over, ignorant as we are of their contributions to the
science. The optician Alhazen however deserves notice,
because of the knowledge of geometry shown in his writ¬
ings, and also on account of a geometrical problem appli¬
cable to optics which bears his name. The solution he gives
was probably derived from the Greek geometers. It must
be confessed the Arabians do not appear to have been an
inventive people ; almost always commentators or com¬
pilers, they seldom rose higher than the labours which
such functions impose.
The Persians have also had their geometers. The most
celebrated was Nassir-Eddin Al-Tussi. The science is in¬
debted to him for some good works, particularly a learned
commentary on Euclid, which was written in Arabic, and
printed in 1590 in Italy. Another geometrical work is a
revision of the Conics of Apollonius, w ith a commentary.
Dr Halley found this useful in remodelling the fifth, sixth,
and seventh books of that precious treatise. The Persian
geometers have long known the principal Greek writers;
and they even profess to have some of their writings which
we have not known. It appears that their geometers had a
peculiar taste in treating the doctrines of abstract science,
for they have given every proposition of the elements a name
expressive of one of its uses, or of some fanciful analogy it
may have to things foreign to geometry. The forty-seventh
of the first book of Euclid, for example, they call the figure
of the bride, and the forty-eighth the brides sister; and,
with some reason, they call the mathematics the difficult
science. Mathematical knowledge among the Turks has
been nearly in the same state as among the Persians. The
libraries of Constantinople contain Arabic and some Turkish
translations of the Greek writers. Geometry is taught in
their schools, but it does not appear that they go beyond
the Elements of Euclid. There are hardly any traces of geo¬
metry amongst the Hebrews. We know that when Solo¬
mon’s temple was built, Hiram king of Tyre furnished ar¬
chitects and navigators. From this we may infer that the
Jews had no geometry at that period. It was not before
503
their second dispersion that they took an interest in the History,
sciences. However, when mixed with other nations, some
of their learned men cultivated geometry, but never pro¬
ceeded beyond the elements. About the time of Almamon,
in imitation of the Arabians, they translated the writings of
some of the Greek mathematicians into their language, in
particular those of Euclid and Archimedes. They however
made no addition themselves to geometrical science.
The researches of Europeans concerning the mathema¬
tical and astronomical science of India have discovered
among the Hindus some works on geometry of great anti¬
quity. We have already given some account of these in¬
teresting writings in our sketch of the history of Algebra ;
and we have there described the Lilavati, a work on arith¬
metic and geometry by Bhascara Acharya, a Hindu ma¬
thematician, who lived about the year 1150 of the Chris¬
tian era. In another work, reputed more ancient, viz. the
Surya Siddhanta, we find a rational system of trigonome¬
try combined with fable and absurdity. There has been
great dift'erence of opinion as to the time when this last
treatise, the most ancient on the Indian astronomy, was
written. The French astronomer Badly believed it to have
been composed more than 3000 years before the Christian
era; but more sober inquirers have judged it to be about
750 years old. The trigonometry it contains is probably
much older. The Hindu books on geometry are remark¬
able for not containing demonstrations. The writers knew
the celebrated proposition concerning the squares on the
sides of a right-angled triangle, the discovery of which
is ascribed to Pythagoras; and they also knew the rule
for finding the area of a triangle from its sides, which w^as
not known to the early Greeks. It appears from the In¬
stitutes of Akbar, that the Indians supposed the diameter
of a circle to be to its circumference as 1250 to 3927;
which is the proportion of 1 to 3T416, and is more accu¬
rate than the determination of Archimedes, or indeed
than any known before the sixteenth century.
The Chinese have cultivated astronomy from a remote
antiquity, yet it does not appear that they have made any
progress in geometry. They knew the proposition of Py¬
thagoras, it would seem, earlier than it was known to the
Greeks, yet it remained sterile in their hands. They had
no spherical trigonometry before the thirteenth century,
and then it was not of native growth ; it was probably de¬
rived from the Arabians or Persians.
The Romans, unlike the Greeks, gave little attention
to the sciences. The mathematics in particular were dis¬
regarded at Rome; and geometry, scarcely known there,
did not extend beyond the art of measuring land and of
fixing boundaries. The mathematics were, however, not
unknown to Cicero. The respect with which he speaks
of them, and the veneration he manifested for the me¬
mory of Archimedes in searching for his tomb, on which
he knew were inscribed a sphere and cylinder, indicate
that he had given some attention to the subject of geo¬
metry.
The Roman geographer Strabo must be numbered
amongst the geometers of his day: and Cicero mentions
another, Didymus, who was blind; but he was a Greek
by birth. Vitruvius has given much information, in his
architecture, on matters connected with geometry.
We pass over those ages in which the sciences had
nearly disappeared in Europe, and hail with satisfaction
their revival in the eighth century. Mathematical science
was at first dimly recognised, like the dawn of a new day
after a gloomy night, in the writings of Boethius, Bede,
his disciple Alcuin, and Gerbert, who travelled into Arabia,
the only country where a knowledge of the mathematical
sciences could be acquired. In this he was imitated by
the English monk Adelard, or Athelard, in the twelfth
century, who went into Spain and Egypt; also by other
504
GEOMETRY.
History.
Englishmen, such as Daniel Morlay, Robert of Reading,
William Shell or William de Conchis, Clement Langton,
&c. Adelard on his return translated Euclid, and he ap¬
pears to have been the first who made this writer known
in the West. His work was never printed. Plato of Ti¬
voli translated the Spherics of Theodosius into Latin about
1120; but this translation was not printed before 1518.
It is worthy of remark, that almost all the restorers of the
sciences were ecclesiastics, who in the seclusion of the
cloisters studied the works of the ancients which had been
preserved in the monasteries. This at least is one bene¬
fit the world has received from the leisure of the monks
of that period, which all of them did not spend in idleness.
The sciences found many cultivators, and much encou¬
ragement from sovereigns, in the thirteenth century; Jor-
danus Nemorarius, who lived about 1230, was well versed
in geometry and arithmetic. John of Halifax, known also
by the name of Sacro-Bosco, his contemporary, was a ma¬
thematician. Campanus of Navarre, the celebrated trans¬
lator and commentator of Euclid’s Elements, was of this
age. Almost all the early editions of this work were made
from his version and his manuscript commentary. We
have a treatise by him on the Quadrature of the Circle.
But he deviates from geometrical accuracy, by mistaking
the approximate ratio found by Archimedes for the true
and exact ratio. The paralogism which he gives for a de¬
monstration may, however, be excused in the geometers
of his time. They were few, and their writings must not
be too nicely scanned. The name of Roger Bacon is so
identified with the progress of science, that we must reckon
him among the geometers of his day. In support of this
claim we record his treatise on Perspective, a geometrical
theory.
Leonardus of Pisa, who in the fifteenth century brought
algebra into Italy, was also known as a cultivator of geome¬
try. He composed a treatise on the subject, which Com-
mandine thought worthy of publication, and had prepared
it for the press; but his death prevented its appearance.
In the beginning of this century, Cardinal Cusa acquir¬
ed reputation in geometry, by a pretended quadrature of
the circle, and other writings. These, however, were only
a tissue of paralogisms. It appears from the introduction
to a tract of this writer, that Pope Nicolas V. who occu¬
pied the pontifical throne from 1447 to 1455, was a geo¬
meter, and had translated the works of Archimedes from
Greek into Latin. The true restorers of mathematical
science in the fifteenth century were Purbach and Regio¬
montanus. Purbach banished the use of sexagenary cal¬
culation from trigonometry, which he enriched with se¬
veral new propositions. He supposed the radius divided
into 600,000 parts, instead of the divisions used by the an¬
cients ; and in place of the chords of the double arcs, ex¬
pressed in sexagenary parts of the radius, he calculated the
sines in 600,000ths of the radius. He was the inventor of
the geometrical square, an instrument used in practical
geometry; and he appears to have been the first who ap¬
plied the plumb-line to mark the divisions of an instru¬
ment. Regiomontanus, whose true name was John Mul¬
ler (called also John of Mont-Royal), was born in 1436.
At the age of fourteen he was captivated with the mathe¬
matical sciences, and put himself under the guidance of
Purbach. The preceptor and his pupil made a journey
into Italy to study Greek, in order that they might draw
their knowledge from the pure sources of antiquity. Pur¬
bach died there, but his disciple followed out his purpose.
He afterwards translated the Spherics of Menelaus and
Theodosius into Latin; he corrected from the Greek text
the ancient version of Archimedes made by Gerard of
Cremona, he translated the Conics of Apollonius, and the
Cylindrics of Serenus, besides other works on mixed mathe¬
matics ; he commented on the books of Archimedes, which
Eutocius had not touched. He defended Euclid against
the imputations of Campanus, and he confuted the pre- History,
tended quadrature of Cardinal Cusa. We pass over for
the present his improvements in trigonometry.
Lucas Paciolus, or Lucas de Burgo, the author of the
earliest printed book on algebra, contributed by the same
work to the establishment of geometry. It was first printed
in 1494, and was therefore one of the early printed books
on the science, but not the earliest, for the first edition of
Euclid was in 1482.
The decline of the Greek empire, and the taking of Con¬
stantinople, which happened in 1453, scattered the learned
men of that country, many of wLom took shelter in Italy,
and brought with them their language, and the precious
remains of ancient learning. The art of printing soon
spread abroad these treasures, and in the sixteenth cen¬
tury geometry was very generally cultivated. Amongst the
writers on the science in this century we may, in particu¬
lar, reckon Zamberti, John Baptiste Memmius, Comman-
dine, Guido Ubaldo, Maurolycus, and Tartalea. These and
others laboured usefully on the ancients, by translations
and commentaries. The Jesuit Clavius deserves particular
mention. Besides his labour on Euclid, we owe to him a
good work for the time on practical geometry in eight
books.
We pass a multitude of names, and come to the French
geometer Vieta, who was deeply versed in the ancient as
well as in the modern geometry, and the restorer of the
tangencies, one of the lost works of Apollonius. Adrian
Metius, a Dutch geometer, deserves to be mentioned for
his convenient and accurate approximate ratio (113 to
355) of the diameter to the circumference of a circle, given
in a work on practical geometry. At this period the geo¬
meter Nonius, a professor at Coimbra, laboured with zeal
in spreading a knowledge of the science in Portugal.
Ihe seventeenth century opened propitiously for the
progress of geometry. Lucas Valerius, an Italian, took up
a subject which Archimedes had neglected, namely, the
centre of gravity of solids ; and Marinus Ghetaldus, another
Italian, made an attempt to restore the lost book of Apol¬
lonius, entitled De Inclinationibus ; but he left the labour
incomplete. He also composed a work De Resolutione et
Compositione Maihematica, which proves him to have im¬
bibed the true spirit of the ancient geometry. A Scottish
geometer, Alexander Anderson, lived at this time. He had
a decided taste for the ancient analysis, of which he gave an
essay in his Supplementum Apollonii Redivivi, in which he
supplied what Ghetaldus had left imperfect. The Ne¬
therlands could boast of some geometers who did credit to
their time. Ludolph Van Ceulen has been celebrated for
his approximation to the ratio of the diameter of a circle
to its circumference (Algebra, art. 272), a prodigious
effort of labour, but requiring little genius. Willebrord
Snellius was a more distinguished geometer. He under¬
took the restoration of the lost book De Sectione Determi-
nata of Apollonius, and accomplished his task creditably.
He improved greatly the wray in which Ceulen had approxi¬
mated to the ratio of the diameter to the circumference,
and verified the labour of that model of patience in calcu¬
lation. Albert Girard has acquired great reputation in
geometry by his supposed divination of the Porisms of
Euclid; for in his edition of Stevinus he positively avers
that he had restored the three books, which, however, never
appeared; and indeed it may be doubted whether he un¬
derstood the true nature of porisms. John Neper might
be reckoned amongst geometers, but he has still higher
claims to the notice of posterity for his invention of lo¬
garithms.
The science w’as sedulously cultivated in England at
this period by Robert Record, John Dee, Leonard and
Thomas Digges, and Henry Billingsley. Record was the
author of the Pathway of Knowledge, the earliest book in
the English language on geometry. It was first printed in
G E O M
History. 155], and is dedicated to Edward VI. Edward Wright,
the inventor of what is called Mercator s Chart, was an
English geometer wdiose knowledge of the science greatly
exceeded what was common in his time.
Germany had many geometers at this period, but none
of a high order. John Werner of Nuremberg cultivated
the ancient geometry, and excelled in a knowledge of its
analysis. Every writer on geometry at this period gave a
system of trigonometry nearly the same as we now have it
in its most elementary form. To George Joachim Rheti¬
cus mathematical science is particularly indebted for a tri¬
gonometrical table, more extensive than any that had been
given before him. It was printed in 1594, with this title,
Opus Palatinum de Triangulis ; but the author was then
dead. The work was published by Valentine Otho.
Pitiscus, another German geometer, extended and re¬
printed this work in 1613, with the title of Thesaurus Ma-
thematicus, sive canon sinuum ad radium 1,000,000,000,
&c. This is indeed a treasure, and one of the most re¬
markable monuments of human patience extant.
Want of space compels us to pass in silence many names
not less celebrated than some we have given, but less re¬
markable, because of their abundance in respect of the
age to which they gave splendour. Indeed we may reckon
that every astronomer and algebraist was then a geometer.
Kepler opened an unexplored way into the field of geo¬
metry, by boldly introducing the notion of infinity into that
science. We may suppose that Archimedes must have
entertained in effect the same idea in his speculations on
fhe sphere and cylinder, but was prevented from following
it to its full extent by the strict laws according to which
the early mathematicians had constructed their demon¬
strations. The views of Kepler were eagerly seized by
Roberval in France, and by Cavalieri in Italy. They were
the fertile germs which, under the culture of such men,
led, in the course of the seventeenth century, to a rich har¬
vest of discoveries.
We have nowr arrived at a period at wdiich the discoveries
of the ancients formed but a small part of the whole body
of geometrical science, augmented as it had been by the
moderns, and which was continually increasing. The new
views which were opened soon produced the methods of in¬
divisibles of Cavalieri and Roberval, the theory of tangents
of Fermat, the arithmetic of infinites of Wallis, the geo¬
metry of curve lines of Descartes, and, finally, the method
of fluxions of Newton, and the differential calculus of Leib¬
nitz. The origin and progress of these have been fully
explained in our introductions to Algebra and Fluxions,
and require not to be here repeated. The ancient geometry,
however, still had great value. Huygens and Newton de¬
livered their sublime discoveries in its language, and repre¬
sented the relations of time, space, velocity, force, the ob¬
jects of their physical inquiries, by geometrical diagrams.
The rigorous mode of ancient demonstrations served like¬
wise as a model on which to form the processes of reason¬
ing by which the new truths in geometry and physics were
to be established.
Not to pass altogether in silence the names of geome¬
ters whose discoveries have made the seventeenth cen¬
tury ever memorable, we observe, that to Guildin, a Jesuit,
we owe the discovery of a property of the centre of gravity
applicable to the measurement of solids formed by revolu¬
tion ; and to Descartes, Fermat, Roberval, and Barrow, a
method of determining the tangents of curves. Galileo
first suggested the cycloid, the nature of which was af¬
terwards fully disclosed by the investigations of Roberval,
Fermat, Pascal, Huygens, Wren, and Wallis. James Gre¬
gory first suggested the logarithmic curve ; and John Ber¬
noulli and Leibnitz showed the true nature of the catenary,
wnich Galileo could not discover ; afterwards, David Gre¬
gory demonstrated its properties by the new geometry.
VOL. x.
E T It Y. 505
The ancient geometry came in for a share of that gene- History,
ral attention which was bestowed on the modern theories. s—
Newton, as has been already stated, held it in high esteem ;
and David Gregory and Dr Halley employed their genius
and learning in restoring to their pristine excellence the
precious remains of Euclid and Apollonius.
Previously to the time of Newton, pure geometry and
algebra were the only subjects which mathematicians
had for the exercise of their genius; but his sublime dis¬
coveries presented a new and an immense field for in¬
vestigation. The fact that the orbits of the planets are
ellipses, naturally connected the doctrines of astronomy
with the conic sections; and the two were wrought up
into the beautiful physico-mathematical theory of central
forces delivered in the Principia. When this came to
be fully understood, it served as a model of reasoning in
all speculations on physics, and the geometrical method
of Newton was adopted and imitated by his followers.
Thus, we have the Elements of Physical and Geometrical
Astronomy of David Gregory, and the Phoronomia of
Herman, and many other like treatises, composed in the
geometrical style. It was, however, soon discovered, and
first by foreign mathematicians, that the geometrical me¬
thod, which, when carried a certain length, is perspicu¬
ous and easy, is yet unsuitable to the more difficult spe¬
culations of mechanical philosophy, by reason of its cum¬
bersomeness. It was therefore abandoned by Leibnitz, the
Bernoullis, Euler, and their followers, and the greatly more
manageable modern methods of the fluxional or differential
calculus adopted in its stead. The mathematicians in Bri¬
tain, who had imbibed deeply and acquired a relish for the
spirit of the geometrical method, however, still adhered
wholly or in part to that method. Maclaurin, the exposi¬
tor of Newton’s calculus of fluxions, defended its princi¬
ples, and delivered many of his own fine speculations in the
pure and mixed mathematics, in the prolix style of the an¬
cient geometry. But he also gave a theory of the fluxional
calculus in the more concise language of the modern ana¬
lysis, which served as a practical example of the advan¬
tage which the latter has over the former as an instrument
of invention. Dr Robert Simson, the editor of Euclid,
greatly preferred the geometrical to the modern analysis;
and his disciple, Dr Mathew Stewart, the author of Ge¬
neral Theorems, Tracts relating to Physical Astronomy,
and Propositiones Geometricce more Veterum Dernonstratce,
fully agreed with him in this sentiment. At a later period
another Scottish professor, the late Mr Playfair, with a pro¬
found knowledge of both the ancient and modern analysis,
and with no prejudice in favour of the former, yet gave an
elegant example of its beauty, in his paper on the origin
and investigation of porisms.
These distinguished Scottish mathematicians, by their
writings, contributed greatly to keep up the taste for geo¬
metry in Britain during the last century. It is proper
to acknowledge also, that much is due to Dr A. Robertson,
the late professor of astronomy at Oxford, to Dr Horsley,
bishop of Rochester, and others, for the estimation in
which the geometrical analysis is now held in Britain.
The nature and objects of the ancient geometry have
been fully understood for a century past, and the only
question now is, how it ought to be studied. There
have been a great variety of treatises within that time sent
into the world. We do not, however, suppose that the
science has gained by this diversity of guides. The settled
public opinion seems to be in favour of some standard
book ; and Euclid’s Elements have been, by almost univer¬
sal consent, chosen as that standard in this country. There
is another work of great excellence in the French lan¬
guage, Elements de Geometric, by the late Legendre, a
mathematician of the highest celebrity. Were we to chuse
a book different from Euclid for purposes of instruction,
3 s
GEOMETRY.
506
History, it would be Legendre’s Geometry, of which there is an
English translation. It may be useful to read more than
one book on a subject which we wish to understand tho¬
roughly, and those who hold this opinion can find no better
book than that of the French geometer. We have kept
him constantly in view in composing this treatise.
In tracing the progress of a science, it is always inte¬
resting to know by what steps it has advanced in the
career of improvement. These may be well ascertained
by consulting the authors who have written on the science,
from its infancy downwards. With this view we have
given a catalogue of writers on algebra and fluxions, and
we now do the same in regard to geometry. The early
writers are not so much mentioned for their excellence, as
from a wish to give a faithful portraiture of the state and
progress of the science at different periods. The works
on geometry in the last century are too numerous to be
all specified. Many have fallen into obscurity. Almost
all are mere transcripts from Euclid ; indeed, generally
speaking, their excellence is in proportion to the fidelity
with which they have copied the ancient.
Ancient Writers on Geometry.
Euclid, Elements of Geometry flourished B. c. 272
First edition in Latin, that of Ratdolt 1482
First edition of Greek text, by Hervage, 1533
Edit, in Greek, Latin, and French, by
Peyrard 1814
(For other editions, see Euclid.)
 Porisms, restored by Dr Simson, Opera
qusedam Reliqua 1776
Apollonius, Conics, and various works fl. b. c. 244
For an account of his writings, see Apollonius.
Archimedes on the Sphere and Cylinder, &c. born b. c. 287
First edition of Greek text by Venatorius, 1544
Oxford edition, Gr. and Lat., by Torelli, 1792
Edition in French, by Peyrard 1808
Eratosthenes, Geometria cum Annot. 1672 fl. b. c. 194
Theon, Commentator on Euclid  fl. b. c. 117
Theodosius, Sphericorum libri tres, printed at
Oxford, 1707 fl. a. c. 75
Menelaus, Spherics, edited by Maurolycus fl. a. c. 100
Serenus, De Sectione Cylindri et Coni fl. a. c. 200
His treatise is in Oxford edition of Apollonius.
Pappus, Mathematicse Collectiones, 1588. i660..fl. a. c. 380
Proclus, Commentator on Euclid fl. A. c. 450
Taylor gave a translation in English, 1788.
Veterum Mathematicoruin Athenaei, Bitonis,
Apollodori, Heronis, Philonis, etaliorum, Opera,
Gr. et Lat 1693
Writers in Modern Times.
Lucas de Burgo, Summa de Arithmetica, &c 1494
Brauardinus, Geometria Speculativa 1495
Boville, L’Art et Science de Geometric   1514
N. de Cusa, De Geometricis Transmutationibus 1514
Albert Durer, Institutionum Geometricarum lib.iv—1532
Orontius Fineus, Liber de Geometrica Practica 1544
Record, The Pathway to Knowledge 1551
Buteo, Opuscula quaedam Geometrica 1554
Ramus, Arithmeticae lib. ii. Geometricae lib. xxvi 1580
Finckius, Geometriae Rotundae lib. iii 1583
Stevinus, Problematum Geometricorum lib. v 1583
Barotius, Geom. Problema Tredecem Modis Dem....l586
Vieta, Opera Mathematica 1589
Digges (Tho.), Pantometria, a geometrical treatise... 1591
Bapti-sta Porta, Elementorum Curvilineorum lib. ii—1601
Ramus, Geometria 1604
Clavius, Geometria Practica 1606
Ghetaldus, Apollonius Redivivus 1607
Anderson, Supplementum Apollonii Redivivi 1612
Kepler, Nova Stereometria, &c ..,..1618 History.
Van Ceulen, De Circulo et Adscriptis 1619
Snellius, Cyclometricus 1621
Metius, Arith. libri ii. et Geom. libri vi  1626
Guildin, De Centro Gravitatis, &c    1635
Cavalieri, Geometria Indivisibilibus promota  1635
 Exercitationes Geometricas sex.....  1647
Descartes, Geometria  1637
Toricelli, De Sphaera et Solidis Sphasralibus, &c.... 1644
Gregory St Vincent, Opus Geom. quadrat. Circuli. 1647
Rudd, Practical Geometry  1650
Wallis, Arithmetica Infinitorum  1656
 De Cycloide et Cissoide  1659
Pascal (A. Dettonville), Lettres (on the Cycloid).. 1658
Ricci, Exer. Geom.de Maximis et Minimis   1666
J. Gregory, Vera Circ. et Hyp. Quadratura  1667
 Geometriae Pars Universalis  1668
Slusius, Mesolabum, &c  1668
Huygens, De Linearum Curvarum evolutione et di-
mensione (in Horol. Oscil.)  1673
 Opera (collected by S’Gravesande)  1751
Barrow, Lectiones Geometricae  1674
Viviani, Enodatio Problematum Gallicorum  1677
De Omerique, Analysis Geometrica  1698
Sharpe, Geometry Improved  1718
Clairaut, Elemens de Geometrie  1746
Math. Stewart, General Theorems  1746
 Propositiones Geometricae  1763
Montucla, Histoire des Recherches sur la quadra¬
ture du Cercle (in Histoire de Mathematiques)... 1754
T. Simpson, Elements of Geometry  1752
Emerson, Elements of Geometry  1763
Hutton, A Treatise on Mensuration  1770
Lawson on the Geometrical Analysis of the An¬
cients  1774
R. Simson, Opera quaedam Reliqua  1776
West, Elements of Mathematics  1784
Playfair, Origin and Investigation of Porisms {Edin.
Phil. Trans, vol. iii.)  1794
 Elements of Geometry  1795
Wallace, Geometrical Porisms (in Edin. Phil. Tr.
vol. iv.)  1796
La Croix, Elemens de Geometrie  1795
Mascheroni, Geometrie du Compas  1798
 Problemes pour les Arpenteurs  1803
Carnot’s Geometrie de Position  1803
Kramp, Elemens de Geometrie  1805
Leslie, Elements of Geometry, Geometrical Ana¬
lysis, &c  1809
L’Huillier, Elemens d’Analyse Geometrique/&c  1809
Diesterweg, Geometriche Aufgaben nach der Me-
thode der Grechen  1825
Vincent, Cours de Geometrie Elementaire  1827
Duncan, Elements of Plane and Solid Geometry  1833
Legendre, Elements de Geometrie (15th edition)  1852
General Notions of Geometrical Magnitude.
Our notions of geometrical magnitudes are obtained by
the contemplation of a body, or solid. We readily under¬
stand that this is extended in three directions; that is, it
has length, breadth, and thickness. The outside or boun¬
dary of a solid, that which separates the particular space
it occupies from space in general, is called a surface or
superficies. A surface, then, is not conceived as having
any thickness; it has only length and breadth.
A surface has a boundary ; something which encloses it,
or separates any portion of it from the remainder. This
boundary, which has no thickness, nor breadth, but length
only, is a line.
Again, there is something which terminates a line, in¬
dicating where it begins and where it ends, or which may
G E O M
Lines and separate it into distinct portions. This is a point, which
Figures has neither thickness, length, nor breadth. These three
upon a kinds of magnitude, viz. solids, surfaces, and lines, are the
°kjects of’geometrical discussion.
There is no limit to the number of lines, and surfaces,
and solids, which may be considered in geometry. The
elements of the science, however, treat only of a few of
E T R Y. 507
these : Straight lines, circles, rectilineal plane figures, and Lines and
their affections, constitute one part of geometry ; another Figures
treats of the intersections of planes, of solids bounded by “P011 a
planes, and of the three round bodies, viz. the cylinder, the t^
cone, and the sphere. This diversity of objects leads to the
division of the subject into two parts, one which treats of
figures on a plane, and another the geometry of solids.
PART I.—OF LINES AND FIGURES UPON A PLANE.
SECT. I.—PRINCIPLES OF GEOMETRY.
Definitions.
I. Geometry is a science which treats of the properties
and relations of quantities having extension, and which
are called magnitudes. Extension is distinguished into
length, breadth, and thickness.
II. A Point is that which has position, but not magni¬
tude.
III. A Lme is that which has only length. Hence the
extremities of a line are points, and the intersections of
one line with another are also points.
IV. A Straight or Right Line is the shortest way from
one point to another.
Fig. 1.
V. Every line which is neither straight nor composed
of straight lines is a Curve Line. Thus AB is a straight
line, ACDB is a line made up of straight lines, and AEB
is a curve line.
VI. A Superficies or Surface is that which has only
length and breadth. Hence the extremities of a super¬
ficies are lines, and the intersections of one superficies
with another are also lines.
VII. A Plane Superficies is that in which any two
points being taken, the straight line between them lies
wholly in that superficies.
VIII. Every superficies which is neither plane nor com¬
posed of plane superficies, is a Curve Superficies.
IX. A Solid is that which has length, breadth, and
thickness. Hence the boundaries of a solid are super¬
ficies ; and the boundary which is common to two solids
which are contiguous, is a superficies.
X. A Plane Rectilineal Angle is the inclination of two
straight lines to one another, which meet together, but
are not in the same straight line. The point in which the
lines meet one another is called the Vertex of the angle.
Fig. 2.
/a. iy
When there is only one angle at a point, it may be ex¬
pressed by the letter placed at that point; thus the angle
contained by the lines EF and EG may be called the an¬
gle E. If, however, there be several angles, as at B, then
each is expressed by three letters, one of which is the let¬
ter that stands at the vertex of the angle, and the others
are the letters that stand somewhere upon the lines con¬
taining the angle, the letter at the vertex being placed
between the other two. Thus the angle contained by
the lines BA and BD is called the angle ABD or DBA.
Angles, in common with other quantities, admit of addi¬
tion, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Thus the
sum of the angles ABD and ABC is the angle DBC; the
difference of the angles DBC and ABD is the angle ABC.
Fig. 3.
Fig. 4.
XI. When a straight line standing on another straight
line makes the adjacent angles equal to one another, each
of them is called a Right Angle, and the straight line
which stands on the other is called a Perpendicular to it.
Thus, if DC meet AB, and make the angles ACD, DCB
equal to one another, each of them is a right angle, and
DC is a perpendicular to AB.
XII. An Obtuse Angle is that which is greater than a
right angle, and an Acute Angle is that which is less than
a right angle. Thus ABC being supposed a right angle,
DBC is an obtuse angle, and EBC an acute angle.
XIII. Parallel Straight Lines are such as are in the
same plane, and which being produced ever so far both
ways, do not meet.
Fig. 5.
XIV. A Plane Figure is a plane terminated every¬
where by lines.
If the lines be straight, the space which they enclose
is called a Rectilineal figure, or a Polygon, and the lines
themselves constitute the Perimeter of the polygon.
XV. When a polygon has three sides (which is the
smallest number it can have), it is called a Triangle ; when
it has four, it is called a Quadrilateral; when it has five,
a Pentagon ; when six, a Hexagon, &c.
XVI. An Equilateral triangle is that which has three
equal sides (fig. 7); an Isosceles triangle is that which
has only two equal sides (fig. 8); and a Scalene triangle
is that which has all its sides unequal (fig. 10).
508
GEOMETRY.
Lines and
Figure?
upon a
Plane.
Fig. 7.
Fig. 8.
XVII. A Right-angled triangle is that which has a right
angle ; the side opposite to the right angle is called the
Hgpothenuse. Thus in the triangle ABC, having the
angle at B a right angle, the side AC is the hypothenuse.
Fig. 9.
XVIII. An Obtuse-angled triangle is that which has an
obtuse angle (fig. 10) ; and an acute-angled triangle is that
which has three acute angles (fig. 11).
Fig. 10. Fig. 11.
XIX. Of quadrilateral figures, a square is that which
has all its sides equal, and all its angles right angles (fig.
12). A Rectangle is that which has all its angles right
angles, but not all its sides equal (fig. 13). A Rhombus
is that which has all its sides equal, but its angles are not
right angles (fig. 14). A Parallelogram, or Rhomboid, is
that which has its opposite sides parallel (fig. 15). A
Trapezoid is that which has only two of its opposite sides
parallel (fig. 16).
Fig. 12. Fig. 13.
i   i— 
Fig. 15.
XX. A Diagonal is a straight line which joins the ver-Lines and
tices of two angles, which are not adjacent to each other, Figures
such as AC in fig. 42. uPon a
XXL An Equilateral Polygon is that which has all its
sides equal; and an Equiangular Polygon is that which
has all its angles equal. If a polygon be both equilateral
and equiangular, it is called a Regular Polygon.
XXII. Two polygons are equilateralbetv/een themselves
when the sides of the one are equal to the sides of the
other, each to each, and in the same order; that is, when
in going about each of the figures in the same direction,
the first side of the one is equal to the first side of the
other; the second side of the one is equal to the second
side of the other; the third to the third, and so on. The
same is to be understood of two polygons which are equi¬
angular between themselves.
Explanation of Terms.
An Axiom is a proposition the truth of which is evi¬
dent at first sight.
A Theorem is a truth which becomes evident by a pro¬
cess of reasoning called Demonstration.
A Problem is a question proposed, which requires a so¬
lution.
A Lemma is a subsidiary truth employed in the demon¬
stration of a theorem, or the solution of a problem.
The common name, Proposition, is given indifferently
to theorems, problems, and lemmas.
A Corollary is a consequence which follows from one
or several propositions.
A Scholium is a remark upon one or more propositions
that have gone before, tending to show their connection,
their restriction, their extension, or the manner of their
application.
A Hypothesis is a supposition made either in the enun¬
ciation of a proposition, or in the course of a demonstra¬
tion.
Explanation of Signs.
That the demonstrations may be more concise, we shall
make use of the following signs borrowed from algebra;
and in employing them we shall take for granted that the
reader is acquainted with at least the notation and first
principles of that branch of mathematics.
To express that two quantities are equal, the sign is
put between them ; thus A r= B signifies that the quanti¬
ty denoted by A is equal to the quantity denoted by B.
To express that A is less than B they are written thus,
A B.
To express that A is greater than B they are written
thus, A B.
The sign + (read plus) written between the letters
which denote two quantities, indicates that the quantities
are to be added together; thus A + B means the sum of
the quantities A and B.
The sign — (read minus) written between two letters
means the excess of the one quantity above the other ;
thus A — B means the excess of the quantity denoted by
A above the quantity denoted by B. The signs + and
— will sometimes occur in the same expression; thus
A + C — D means that D is to be subtracted from the
sum of A and C; also A — D + C means the same thing.
The sign X put between two quantities means their
product if they be considered as numbers ; but if they be
considered as lines, it signifies a rectangle having these
lines for its length and breadth; thus A X B means the
product of two numbers A and B; or else a rectangle
having A and B for the sides about one of its right angles.
We shall likewise indicate the product of two quantities,
in some cases, by writing the letters close together; thus
mA will be used to express the product of m and A, and
GEOMETRY.
509
Lines and so on with other expressions, agreeably to the common
Figures notation in algebra.
upon a The expression A2 means the square of the quantity A,
anc^ A3 means the cube of A; also PQ2 and PQ3 mean,
the one the square, and the other the cube, of a line
whose extremities are the points P and Q.
On the other hand, the sign indicates a root to be
extracted; thus VA X B means the square root of the
product of A and B.
Axioms.
1. Two quantities, each of which is equal to a third,
are equal to one another.
2. The whole is greater than its part.
3. The whole is equal to the sum of all its parts.
4. Only one straight line can be drawn between two
points.
5. Two magnitudes, whether they be lines, surfaces, or
solids, are equal, when, being applied the one to the other,
they coincide with one another entirely, that is, when
they exactly fill the same space.
6. All right angles are equal to one another.
Note.—The references are to be understood thus: (7)
refers to the seventh proposition of the section in which
it occurs; (4, 2) means the fourth proposition of the se¬
cond section; (2 Cor. 28, 4) means the second corollary
to the twenty-eighth proposition of the fourth section.
then ACE being a straight line, the angle FCE is a right Lines and
angle (1 Cor. 1); and because ACD is a straight line, figures
the angle FCD is also a right angle, therefore the angle
FCE is equal to FCD, a part to the whole, which is im-
possible ; therefore the straight lines which have the com¬
mon points A, B cannot separate when produced, there¬
fore they must form one and the same straight line.
Theorem III.—If two adjacent angles ACD, DCB make
together two right angles; the two exterior lines AC,
CB, which form these angles, are in the same straight
line.
For if CB is not the line AC produced, let CE be that
line produced, then, ACE being a Fig. 20.
straight line, the angles ACD, DCE
are together equal to two right
angles (1) ; but, by hypothesis, the
angles ACD, DCB are together
equal to two right angles; there¬
fore ACD + DCB = ACD + DCE.
From these equals take away the
common angle ACD, and the re¬
maining angles DCB, DCE are equal, that is, a part
equal to the whole, which is impossible ; therefore CB is
the line AC produced.
Theorem IV.—If two straight lines AB, DE cut each
other; the vertical or opposite angles are equal.
Theorem I.—A straight line CD, which meets with ano¬
ther AB, makes with it two adjacent angles, which,
taken together, are equal to two right angles.
At the point C let CE be per¬
pendicular to AB. The angle
ACD is the sum of the angles
ACE, ECD; therefore ACD +
BCD is the sum of the three an¬
gles ACE, ECD, BCD. The
first of these is a right angle,
and the two others are together
equal to a right angle ; therefore
the sum of the two angles ACD, BCD, is equal to two
right angles.
Cor. 1. If one of the angles is a right angle, the other
is also a right angle.
Cor. 2. All the angles ACE,
ECD, DCF, FCB, at the same
point C, on the same side of the
line AB, are, taken together, equal
to two right angles. For their sum
is equal to the two angles ACD,
A c b DCB.
For since DE is a straight line, the sum of the angles
ACD, ACE is equal to two right pjgi 21.
angles (1); and since AB is a
straight line, the sum of the an¬
gles ACE, BCE is equal to two
right angles; therefore the sum
ACD + ACE is equal to the sum
ACE + BCE. From each of these
take away the same angle ACE,
and there remains the angle ACD
equal to its opposite angle BCE.
In like manner it may be demonstrated, that the angle
ACE is equal to its opposite angle BCD.
Cor. 1. From this it appears, that if two straight lines
cut one another, the angles they make at the point of their
intersection are together equal to four right angles.
Cor. 2. And hence all the angles made by any number
of lines meeting in one point are together equal to four
right angles.
Theorem V.—Two triangles are equal when they have
an angle, and the two sides containing it of the one,
equal to an angle, and the two sides containing it of the
other, each to each.
Theorem II.—Two straight lines which coincide with
each other in two points, also coincide in all their ex¬
tent, and form but one and the same straight line.
Let the points which are common to the two lines be
Fig. 19. A and B; in the first place it is
^ ' evident that they must coincide
entirely between A and B; other¬
wise two straight liri.es could be
drawn from A to B, which is im¬
possible (Axiom 4). Now let us
suppose, if possible, that the lines
when produced separate from each
other at a point C, the one be¬
coming ACD, and the other ACE. At the point C let
CF be drawn, so as to make the angle ACF a right angle;
Let the triangles Fig. 22.
ABC, DEF have A D
the angle A equal A.
to the angle D, the /
side AB equal to /
DE, and the side / \
AC equal to DF ; /
the triangles shall / \
be equal. For if the B c
triangle ABC be applied to the triangle DEF, so that the
point A may be on D, and the line AB upon DE, then
the point B shall coincide with E, because AB = DE ;
and the line AC shall coincide with DF, because the angle
BAG is equal to EDF; and the point C shall coincide
with F, because AC = DF ; and since B coincides with
E, and C with F, the line BC shall coincide with EF, and
510
GEOMETRY.
Lines and the two triangles shall coincide exactly, the one with the
Figures other ; therefore they are equal (Ax. 5).
Cor. Hence it follows that the bases, or third sides BC,
EF of the triangles are equal; and the remaining angles
B, C of the one are equal to the remaining angles"E, F of
the other, each to each, namely, those to which the equal
sides are opposite.
Theorem VI.—Two triangles are equal, when they have
a side, and the two adjacent angles of the one equal to
a side, and the two adjacent angles of the other, each to
each. (See fig. 22.)
Let the side BC be equal to the side EF, the angle B to
the angle E, and the angle C to the angle F ; the triangle
ABC shall be equal to the triangle DEF. For if the
triangle ABC be applied to the triangle DEF, so that the
equal sides BC, Eh may coincide, then, because the angle
B is equal to E, the side BA shall coincide with ED, and
therefore the point A shall be somewhere in ED; and be¬
cause the angle C is equal to F, the side CA shall coincide
with FD, and therefore the point A shall be somewhere in
FD; now the point A being somewhere in the lines ED
and FD, it can only be at D their intersection ; therefore
the two triangles ABC, DEF must entirely coincide, and
be equal to one another.
Cor. Hence it appears that the remaining angles A, D
of the triangles are equal; and the remaining sides AB, AC
of the one are equal to the remaining sides DE, DF of the
other, each to each, viz. those to which the equal angles
are opposite.
Theorem VII.—Any two sides of a triangle are together
greater than the third. (Fig. 22.)
For the side BC, for example, being the shortest way
between the points B, C (Def. 4), it must be less than
BA + AC.
Theorem VIII.—If from a point O, within a triangle
ABC, there be drawn straight lines OB, OC to the ex¬
tremities of BC, one of its sides ; the sum of these lines
shall be less than that of AB, AC, the two other sides.
Let BO be produced to meet CA
in D ; because the straight line OC
is less than OD + DC, to each of
these add BO, and B04- OC^-
BO + OD -j- DC; that is, BO +
OC^iBD + DC.
^ Again, since BD^lBA + AD,
to each of these add DC, and we have BD + DC^iBA +
AC; but it has been shown that BO +OC^iBD + DC,
much more then is BO + OC^lBA +AC.
Theorem IX.—If two sides AB, AC of a triangle ABC
be equal to two sides DE, DF of another triangle DEF,
each to each, but the angle BAC contained by the
former greater than the angle EDF contained by the
latter; the third side BC of the first triangle shall be
greater than the third side EF of the second.
Fig. 24.
Suppose AG
drawn so that
the angle CAG
= D, take AG
= DE and join
CG; then the
triangle GAC is
equal to the tri¬
angle EDF (5),
and therefore GC — EF. Now there may be three cases, Lines and
according as the point G fails without the triangle BAC, Figures
fig’ ^4, or on B16 side BC, fig. 25, or within the same ul)on a
triangle, fig. 26. Plane.
Case I. Because GC^lGI + IC, and AB^ AT + IB
(7), therefore GC + AB^lGI + AI -f IC + IB, that is,
GC +AB^nAG + BC ; from each of these unequal quan¬
tities take away the equal quantities AB, AG, and there
remains GC^lBC, therefore EF^iBC.
Case II. If the point G fall upon the side BC, then it
is evident that GC, or its equal EF, is less than BC.
Case III. Lastly, if the
point G fall within the tri¬
angle BAC, then AG +
GC^iAB -f- BC(8), there¬
fore, taking away the equal
quantities AG, AB, there
remains GC^BC or EF
^IBC.
Cor. Hence, converse¬
ly, if EF be less than BC,
the angle EDF is less
than BAC ; for the angle
EDF cannot be equal to BAC, because then (5), EF would
be equal to BC ; neither can the angle EDF be greater
than BAC, for then (by the Theor.) EF would be greater
than BC.
Theorem X.—Two triangles are equal, when the three
sides of the one are equal to the three sides of the other,
each to each. (Fig. 22.)
Let the side AB = DE, AC =DF, and BC = EF; then
shall the angle A = D, B = E, C = F.
For if the angle A were greater than D ; since the sides
AB, AC are equal to DE, DF, each to each, it would fol¬
low (9), that BC would be greater than EF; and if the
angle A were less than the angle D, then BC would be
less than EF ; but BC is equal to EF, therefore the angle
A can neither be greater nor less than the angle D, there¬
fore it must be equal to it. In the same manner it may be
proved that the angle B E, and that the angle C — F.
Scholium. It may be remarked, as in Theorem V. and
Theorem VI. that the equal angles are opposite to the
equal sides.
Theorem XL—In an isosceles triangle, the angles opposite
to the equal sides are equal to one another.
Let the side AB =r AC, then shall the angle C B
Suppose a straight line drawn from Fig. 27.
A the vertex of the triangle, to D the
middle of its base; the two triangles
ABD, ACD have the three sides of
the one equal to the three sides of the
other, each to each, namely, AD com¬
mon to both, AB — AC by hypothe¬
sis, and BD = DC by construction,
therefore (preced. Theor.) the angle B
is equal to the angle C. B D— c
Cor. Hence, every equilateral triangle is also equiangular.
GEOMETRY.
511
Lines and Scholium. From the equality of the triangles ABD,
Figures ACD, it follows that the angle BAD = DAC, and that
upon a |.]ie angie BDA r: ADC ; therefore these two last are
-C,1 angles- Hence it appears that a straight fine drawn
from the vertex of an isosceles triangle to the middle of its
base is perpendicular to that base, and divides the vertical
angle into two equal parts.
In a triangle that is not isosceles, any one of its three
sides may be taken indifferently for a base ; and then its
vertex is that of the opposite angle. In an isosceles triangle,
the base is that side which is not equal to one of the others.
Theorem XII.—If two angles of a triangle be equal; the
opposite sides are equal, and the triangle is isosceles.
Let the angle ABC = ACB ; the side AC shall be equal
to the side AB. For if the sides are
not equal, let AB be the greater of the
two; take BD = AC, and join CD;
the angle DBC is by hypothesis equal
to ACB, and the two sides DB, BC
are equal to the two sides AC, BC,
each to each ; therefore the triangle
DBC is equal to the triangle ACB
(5) ; but a part cannot be equal to the
B~~ c whole ; therefore the sides AB, AC
cannot be unequal, that is, they are equal, and the triangle
is isosceles.
Theorem XIII.—Of the two sides of a triangle, that is
the greater which is opposite to the greater angle ; and
conversely, of the two angles of a triangle, that is the
greater which is opposite to the greater side.
First, let the angle Ct^B ; then shall the side AB oppo-
Fig. 29. site to C be greater than the side
AC opposite to B. Suppose CD
drawn, so that the angle BCDzrB;
in the triangle BDC, BD is equal
to DC (12); but AD + DC-^AC,
and AD + DC= AD + DB = AB,
therefore AByp^AC.
Next, let the side AB^AC; then
shall the angle C opposite to AB, be
greater than the angle B, opposite
to AC. For if C were less than B, then, by what has been
demonstrated, AB^lAC, which is contrary to the hypo¬
thesis of the proposition, therefore C is not less than B ;
and if C were equal to B, then it would follow that AC rr
AB (12), which is also contrary to the hypothesis; there¬
fore C is greater than B.
Theorem XIV.—From a point A without a straight line
DE, no more than one perpendicular can be drawn to
that line.
For suppose it possible to draw two, AB and AC; pro-
Fig. 30. duce one of them AB, so thatBFz= AB,
and join CF. The triangle CBF is
equal to the triangle ABC, for the
angle CBF is a right angle, as well as
CBA, and the side BF — BA ; there¬
fore the triangles are equal (5), and
hence the angle BCF BCA ; but
the angle BCA is by hypothesis a
right angle ; therefore the angle BCF
is also a right angle; hence AC and
CF lie in a straight line (3), and consequently two straight
lines ACF, ABF may be drawn between two points A, F,
which is impossible (Axiom 4); therefore it is equally im¬
possible that two perpendiculars can be drawn from the
same point to the same straight line.
Theorem XV.—If from a point A, without a straight line Lines and
DE, a perpendicular AB be drawn upon that line, and Figures
also different oblique lines AE, AC, AD, &c. to differ- Vj’011 a
ent points of the same line.
First, The perpendicular AB shall be shorter than any T
one of the oblique lines.
Secondly, The two oblique lines AC, AE, which meet the
line DE on opposite sides of the perpendicular, and at
equal distances BC, BE from it, are equal to one another.
Lastly, Of any two oblique lines AC, AD, or AE, AD,
that which is more remote from the perpendicular is the
greater.
Produce the perpendicular AB, so that BF = BA, and
join FC, FD.
1. The triangle BCF is equal to the triangle BCA; for
the right angle CBF — CBA, the side CB is common, and
the side BF rr BA, therefore the third side CF — AC (5) ;
but AF^i AC + CF (7), that is, 2AB 2AC; there¬
fore AB AC ; that is, the perpendicular is shorter than
any one of the oblique lines.
2. If BE = BC, then, as AB is common to the two tri¬
angles ABE, ABC, and the right angle ABE — ABC, the
triangles ABE, ABC shall be equal (5), and AE = AC.
3. In the triangle DFA, the sum of the lines AD, DF
is greater than the sum of AC, CF (8), that is, 2AD'^'2AC;
therefore AD AC, that is, the oblique line, which is
more remote from the perpendicular, is greater than that
which is nearer.
Cor. 1. The perpendicular measures the distance of any
point from a straight line.
Cor. 2. From the same point three equal straight lines
cannot be drawn to terminate in the same straight line ; for
if they could be drawn, then two of them would be on the
same side of the perpendicular, and equal to each other,
which is impossible.
Theorem XVI.—If from C, the middle of a straight line
AB, a perpendicular CD be drawn to that line ; first,
every point in the perpendicular is equally distant from
the extremities of the line AB ; secondly, every point
without the perpendicular is at unequal distances from
the same extremities A, B.
1. Let D be any point in CD ; then, because the two
oblique lines DA, DB are equally
distant from the perpendicular, they
are equal to one another (15); there¬
fore every point in CD is equally
distant from the extremities of AB.
2. Let E be a point out of the
perpendicular ; join EA, EB ; one of
these lines must cut the perpendicu¬
lar in F ; join BF, then AF = BF, and AE — BF + FE;
but BF + FE BE (7), therefore AE BE, that is,
E any point out of the perpendicular is at unequal dis¬
tances from the extremities of AB.
Theorem XVII.—Twm right-angled triangles are equal,
when the hypothenuse and a side of the one are equal
to the hypothenuse and a side of the other, each to each.
Fig. 32.
Fig. 31.
512
G E Q M E T R Y.
upon a
Plane
Lines and Let the hypothenuse AC = DF, and the side AB — DE;
Figures tpjf; triangle ABC shall be equal to DEF. The proposi-
unon a tion will evidently be true (10), if the remaining sides BC,
EF are equal. Now, if it be possible to suppose that they
are unequal, let BC be the greater, take BG = EF, and
join AG; then the triangles ABG, DEF, having the side
AB = DE, BG — EF, and the angle B = E, will be equal
to one another (5), and will have the remaining side
AG =r DF ; but by hypothesis DF = AC ; therefore
AG = AC ; but AG cannot be equal to AC (15), therefore
/t is impossible that BC can be unequal to EF, and there¬
fore the triangles ABC, DEF, are equal to one another.
Theorem XVIII.—Two straight lines AC, ED, which
are perpendicular to a third straight
Fig. 33. line AE, are parallel to each other.
Fig. 34.
Fig. 35.
were unequal, the lines AB, CD
would meet each other (by the above
axiom), which is contrary to the sup¬
position that they are parallel. And
if EF, GH be not perpendicular to
AB, let EK be perpendicular to
EF, meeting GH in K; then, be¬
cause EK and FH are perpendicu¬
lar to EF, they are parallel (18); and therefore, by what
has been just shown, the perpendiculars EF, KH must be
equal; but by hypothesis EF = GH, therefore KH GH,
which is impossible ; therefore EF is perpendicular to AB ;
and in the same way it may be shown that GH is perpen¬
dicular to AB.
Cor. Hence it appears, that through the same point E,
no more than one parallel can be drawn to the same«traight
line CD.
A.
Fig. 36.
G
K
B
Fig. 37.
For if they could meet at a point
O, then two perpendiculars OA, OE,
might be drawn from the same point
O, to the straight line AE, which is
impossible (14).
In the next theorem, it is necessary to assume another
axiom, in addition to those already laid down in the begin¬
ning of this section.
Axiom 7.
If two points E, G in a straight
line AB are situated at unequal
distances EH, GF from another
straight line CD in the same
plane; these two lines, when in¬
definitely produced, on the side
of the least distance GH, will meet
each other.
Theorem XIX.—If two straight lines AB, CD be paral¬
lel ; perpendiculars EF, GH to one of the lines, which
are terminated by the other line, are equal, and are per¬
pendicular to both the parallels.
For if EF and GH, which are perpendicular to CD,
H
Theorem XX.—Straight lines
AB, EF, which are parallel to
the same straight line CD, are
parallel to each other.
For let HKG be perpendicular
to CD, it will also be perpendicu¬
lar to both AB and EF (19); there¬
fore these last lines are parallel to
each other.
Theorem XXL—If a straight line EF meet two parallel Lines and
straight lines AB, CD; it makes the alternate angles f igures
AEF, EFD equal. uPon a
I’lane.
Let EH and GF be perpendicular to CD, then these
lines will be parallel (18), and also
at right angles to AB (19), and
therefore FH and GE are equal to
one another (19); therefore the
triangles FGE, FHE, having the
side >G = HE,* and GE = FH,
and FE common to both, will be
equal; and hence the angle FEG
will be equal to EFH, that is, FEA,
wall be equal to EFD.
Cor. 1. Hence if a straight line
KL intersect two parallel straight lines AB, CD; it makes
the exterior angle KEB equal to the interior and opposite
angle EFD on the same side of the line. For the angle
AEF = KEB, and it has been shown that AEF = EFD;
therefore KEB = EFD.
Cor. 2. Hence also, if a straight line EF meet two pa¬
rallel straight lines AB, CD; it makes the two interior
angles BEF, EFD on the same side together, equal to two
right angles. For the angle AEF has been shown to be
equal to EFD; therefore, adding the angle FEB to both,
AEF + FEB = EFD + FEB ; but AEF + FEB is equal
to two right angles, therefore the sum EFD -f FEB is
also equal to two right angles.
Fheorem XXII.—If a straight line EF, meeting two other
straight lines AB, CD, makes the alternate angles AEF,
EFD equal; those lines shall be parallel.
For it AE is not parallel to CD, suppose, if possible, that
some other line KE can be drawn
through E, parallel to CD ; then
the angle KEF must be equal to
EFD (21), that is (by hypothesis),
to AEF, which is impossible; there¬
fore, neither KE, nor any other
line drawn through E, except AB,
can be parallel to CD.
Cor. If a straight line EF inter¬
secting two other straight lines AB,
CD, makes the exterior angle GEB
equal to the interior and opposite
angle EFD on the same side; or the two interior angles
BEF, EFD on the same side equal to two right angles;
in either case the lines are parallel. For if the angle
GEB — EFD, then also AEF EFD (4). And if BEF
+ EFD = two right angles, then, because BEF + AEF
= two right angles (1), BEF + EFD = BEF + AEF,
and taking BEF from both, EFD AEF, therefore (by
the theorem) in each case the lines are parallel.
Theorem XXIII.—If a side AC of a triangle ABC be
produced towards D; the exterior -p- qq
angle BCD is equal to both the 1^’‘
interior and opposite angles BAC,
ABC.
Let CE be parallel to AB, then
the angle B — BCE (21), and the
angle A ECD (I Cor. 21), there- a c ii
fore B + A = BCE + ECD = BCD.
Cor. The exterior angle of a triangle is greater than
either of the interior opposite angles.
Theorem XXIV.—The three interior angles of a triangle
ABC taken together are equal to two right angles.
GEOMETRY.
513
Lines and
For if AC be produced to D, then A + B — BCD,
(23) ; to each of these equal quan¬
tities add ACB, then shall A + B
+ ACBrr BCD + BCA; but BCD
+ BCA zr two right angles (1),
therefore A + B + ACB two
right angles.
Cor. 1. If two angles of one tri¬
angle be equal to two angles of ano¬
ther triangle, each to each ; the third angle of the one
shall be equal to the third angle of the other, and the tri¬
angles shall be equiangular.
Cor. 2. If two angles of a triangle, or their sum, be
given, the third angle may be found, by subtracting their
sum from two right angles.
Cor. 3. In a right-angled triangle, the sum of the two
acute angles is equal to a right angle.
Cor. 4. In an equilateral triangle, each of the angles is
equal to the third part of two right angles, or to two thirds
of one right angle.
Theorem XXV—The sum of all the interior angles of a
polygon is equal to twice as many right angles, wanting
four, as the figure has sides.
Fig. 41.
c;
Let ABCDE be a polygon ; from a point F within it
draw straight lines to all its
angles, then the polygon shall be
divided into as many triangles
as it has sides ; but the sum of
the angles of each triangle is
equal to two right angles (24) ;
therefore, the sum of all the
angles of the triangles is equal
to twice as many right angles
as there are triangles, that is, as
the figure has sides ; but the sum
of all the angles of the triangles is equal to the sum of all
the angles of the polygon, together with the sun1 of the angles
at the point F, which last sum is equal to four right angles
(2 Cor. 4) ; therefore the sum of all the angles of the poly¬
gon, together with four right angles, is equal to twice as
many right angles as the figure has sides, and consequently
the sum of the angles of the polygon is equal to twice as
many right angles, wanting four, as the figure has sides.
Cor. The four interior angles of a quadrilateral are,
taken together, equal to four right angles.
Theorem XXVI.—The opposite sides of a parallelogram
are equal, and the opposite angles are also equal.
Fig. 42.
Draw the diagonal BD ; the two triangles ADB, DBC
have the side BD common to both,
and AB, DC being parallel, the
angle ABDrrBDC (21),also, AD,
BC being parallel, the angle ADB
= DBC; therefore the two tri¬
angles are equal (6), and the side
AB, opposite to the angle ADB,
is equal to DC, opposite to the
equal angle DBC. In like manner the third side AD is
equal to the third side BC, therefore the opposite sides of
a parallelogram are equal.
In the next place, because of the equality of the same
triangles, the angle A is equal to the angle C, and also
the angle ADC composed of the two angles ADB, BDC
is equal to the angle ABC composed of the angles CBD,
DBA; therefore the opposite angles of a parallelogram
are also equal.
Theorem XXVII.—If the opposite sides of a quadrilate-
vol. x.
ral ABCD be equal, so that AB = DC, and AD BC ; Lines and
then, the equal sides are parallel, and the figure is a pa- figures
rallelogram. (Fig. 42.) l{Fj°nea
Draw the diagonal BD. The two triangles ABD,
CDB have the three sides of the one equal to the three
sides of the other, each to each, therefore the triangles
are equal (TO); and the angle ADB, opposite to AB,
is equal to DBC opposite to DC; therefore the side AD
is parallel to BC (22). For a similar reason AB is pa¬
rallel to DC; therefore the quadrilateral ABCD is a pa¬
rallelogram.
Theorem XXVIIL—If two opposite sides AB, DC of a
quadrilateral be equal and parallel; the two other sides
are in like manner equal and parallel ; and the figure is
a parallelogram. (Fig. 42.)
Draw the diagonal BD. Because AB is parallel to CD,
the alternate angles ABD, BDC are equal (21) ; now the
side AB = DC, and DB is common to the triangles ABD,
BDC, therefore these triangles are equal (5), and hence
the side AD = BC, and the angle ADB — DBC, conse¬
quently AD is parallel to BC (22), therefore the figure
ABCD is a parallelogram.
SECT. II.—OF THE CIRCLE.
Definitions.
I. A Circle is a plane figure contained by one line, which
is called the circumference, and is such that all straight
lines drawn from a certain point within the figure to the
circumference are equal to one another.
And this point is called the centre of the circle.
II. Every straight line CA, CE,
CD, &c. drawn from the centre to
the circumference, is called a Radius
or Semidiameter; and every straight
line, such as AB, which passes
through the centre, and is terminat¬
ed both ways by the circumference,
is called a Diameter.
Hence it follows that all the radii
of a circle are equal, and all the dia¬
meters are also equal, each being the
double of the radius.
III. An Arch of a circle is any portion of its circumfer¬
ence, as FHG.
The chord or subtense of an arch is the straight line FG
which joins its extremities.
IV. A Segment of a circle is the figure contained by an
arch and its chord. If the figure be the half of the circle
it is called a Semicircle.
Note. Every chord corresponds to two arches, and con¬
sequently to two segments ; but in speaking of these, it is
always the smallest that is meant, unless the contrary be
expressed.
V. A Sector of a circle is the figure contained by an arch
DE and the two radii CD, CE, drawn to the extremities
of the arch. If the radii be at right angles to each other,
it is called a Quadrant.
VI. A straight line is said to be placed, or applied, in a
circle, when its extremities are in the circumference of the
circle, as FG.
VII. A rectilineal figure is said to be inscribed in a cir¬
cle, when the vertices of all its angles are upon the circum¬
ference of the circle ; in this case, the circle is said to be
circumscribed about the figure.
VIII. A straight line is said to touch a circle, or to be a
3 T
Fig. 43.
514
GEOMETRY.
Lines and tangent to a circle, when it meets the circumference in one
Figures point only ; such, for example, is BD, fig. 49. The point
upon a ^ which is common to the straight line and circle, is called
' _ ^le Powt °f Contact.
^^'C***' ix. A polygon is said to be described or circumscribed
about a circle, when all its sides are tangents to the circle ;
and in this case, the circle is said to be inscribed in the
polygon.
Theorem I.—Any diameter AB divides the circle, and its
circumference, into two equal parts. (Fig. 43.)
For if the figure AEB be applied to AFB, so that the
base AB may be common to both, the curve line AEB
must fall exactly upon the curve line AFB; otherwise
there would be points in the one, or the other, unequally
distant from the centre, which is contrary to the definition
of a circle.
Fig. 44.
Theorem II.—Every chord is less
than the diameter.
Let the radii CA, CD be drawn
from the centre to the extremities
of the chord AD ; then the straight
line AD is less than AC + CD,
that is, AD A. AB.
the radius OG, and the point D upon G; therefore the Lines and
arch AMD is equal to the arch ENG. Figures
upon a
Theorem V.—In the same circle, or in equal circles, the
greater arch is subtended by the greater chord; and, con-
versely (if the arch be less than half the circumference),
the greater chord subtends the greater arch. (Fig. 45.)
For let the arch AH be greater than AD, and let the
chords AD, AH, and the radii CD, CH, be drawn. The
two sides AC, CH, of the triangle ACH, are equal to the
two sides AC, CD of the triangle ACD ; and the angle
ACH is greater than ACD ; therefore the third side AH
is greater than the third side AD (9, 1), therefore the chord
which subtends the greater arch is the greater. Converse¬
ly, if the chord AH be greater than AD, it may be infer¬
red (Cor. 9, 1) from the same triangles, that the angle ACH
is greater than ACD, and that thus the arch AH is greater
than AD.
Note. Each of the arches is here supposed less than half
the circumference ; if they were greater, the contrary pro¬
perty would have place, the arch increasing as the chord
diminishes.
Theorem VI—The radius CG, perpendicular to a chord
AB, bisects the chord (or divides it into two equal parts) ;
it also bisects the arch AGB subtended by the chord.
Theorem III.—A straight line cannot meet the circum¬
ference of a circle in more than two points.
For if it could meet it in three, these three points would
be equally distant from the centre, and therefore three equal
straight lines might be drawn from the same point to the
same straight line, which is impossible (2 Cor. 15, 1).
Theorem IV.—In the same circle, or in equal circles,
equal arches are subtended by equal chords ; and, con¬
versely, equal chords subtend equal arches.
If the radius AC be equal to the radius EO, and the
arch AMD equal to the arch ENG; the chord AD shall
be equal to the chord EG.
Fig. 45.
lor the diameter AB being equal to the diameter EF,
the semicircle AMDB may be applied exactly upon the
semicircle ENGF, and then the curve line AMDB shall
coincide entirely w ith the curve line ENGF; but the arch
AMD being supposed equal to ENG, the point D must
fall upon G, therefore the chord AD is equal to the chord
EG.
Conversely, if the chord AD = EG, the arch AMD is
equal to the arch ENG.
pA*1 if the radii CD, OG be drawn, the two triangles
ACD, EOG have three sides of the one equal to the three
sides of the other, each to each, viz. AC=EO, CDrrOG,
and AD —EG; therefore, these triangles are equal (10, 1),
and hence the angle ACD rr EOG. Now, if the semicir¬
cle ADB be placed upon EGF, because the angle ACD
= EOG, it is evident that the radius CD will fall upon
Draw the radii CA, CB ; these
radii are two equal oblique lines in
respect of the perpendicular CD,
therefore they are equally distant
from the perpendicular (15, 1), that
is, AD — DB.
In the next place, because CG is
perpendicular to the middle of AB,
every point in CG is at equal dis¬
tances from A and B (16, 1), there¬
fore, if GA, GB be drawn, these
lines are equal, and as they are the chords of the arches
AG, BG, the arches are also equal (4).
Scholium. Since C the centre, D the middle of the
chord AB, and G the middle of the arch subtended by
that chord, are three points situated in the same straight
line perpendicular to that chord ; and that two points in a
straight line are sufficient to determine its position ; it fol¬
lows that a straight line which passes through any two of
these points must necessarily pass through the third, and
must be perpendicular to the chord. It also follows, that a
perpendicular to the middle of a chord passes through the
centre, and the middle of the arch subtended by that chord.
Theorem VII.—If three points A, B, C be taken in the
circumference of a circle ; no other circumference w hich
does not coincide with the former can be made to pass
through the same three points.
Let the chords AB, BC be drawn, and let OD, OF be
drawn from the centre, perpendicu- -p^ ^
lar to, and consequently bisecting
these chords. The centre of every
circle passing through A and B, must
necessarily be somewhere in the per¬
pendicular DO (last theor.), and in
like manner the centre of every cir¬
cle passing through B and C must
be somewhere in the perpendicular
OF ; therefore the centre of a circle
passing through A, B, and C, must
be in the intersection of the perpendiculars DO, FO, and
consequently can only be at one and the same point O ;
Fig. 46.
Lines and
Figures
upon a
Plane.
G E O M
therefore, only one circle can be made to pass through the
same three points A, B, C.
Cor. One circumference of a circle cannot intersect ano¬
ther in more than two points ; for if they could have three
common points, they would have the same centre, and con¬
sequently would coincide with each other.
Theorem VIII.—Two equal chords are equally distant from
the centre ; and of unequal chords, the less is farther
from the centre.
Let the chord AB = DE; suppose the chords bisected
by the perpendiculars CF, CG
from the centre, and draw the
radii CA, CD. The right an¬
gled triangles CAF, CDG have
equal hypothenuses CA, CD ;
the side AF ^ AB) of the
one is also equal to the side DG
(= DE) of the other, there¬
fore, their remaining sides CF,
CG (which are the distances of
the chords from the centre) are
equal (17, 1).
Next, let the chord AH be greater than DE; the arch
AKH shall be greater than DME; upon the arch AKH
take ANB equal to DME, draw the chord AB, and sup¬
pose COF drawn from the centre perpendicular to AB,
and Cl perpendicular to AH. It is evident that CF
CO, and (15, 1) CO ^ Cl; much more then is CF
Cl; but CF — CG, because the chords AB, DE are equal;
therefore CG Cl; that is, of the unequal chords, the
less is farther from the centre.
Fig. 48.
Fig. 49. Theorem IX.—The perpen¬
dicular BD, drawn at the
extremity of a radius CA,
is a tangent to the circle.
For any oblique line CE is
ij greater than the perpendicular
if CA (15,1), therefore the point
/ E is without the circle ; there-
c fore the line BD has but one
point A common with the cir¬
cumference, and consequently it is a tangent to the circle.
(Def. 8.)
Scholium. Through the same point A, only one tan¬
gent, AD, can be drawn to the circle. For if it be pos¬
sible to draw another, let AG be that other tangent; draw
CF perpendicular to AG ; then CF shall be less than CA
(15, 1), therefore F must be within the circle; and conse¬
quently AF when produced must necessarily meet the cir¬
cle in another point besides A; therefore it cannot be a
tangent.
Theorem X.—If BC, the distance of the centres of two
circles, be less than the sum of their radii, and also the
greater radius less than the sum of the distance of their
centres and the lesser radius, the two circles intersect
each other.
Fig. 50. Fig. 51.
E T R Y. 515
For, that the circles may intersect each other in a point Lines and
A, it is necessary that the triangle ABC be possible ; there- Figures
fore, not only must CB be less than CA + AB, but also p'i^eu
the greater radius AB must be less than AC + CB (7, 1) ;
and it is evident, that as often as the triangle ABC can be
constructed, the circumferences described on the centres
B, C, shall intersect each other in two points A, D.
Theorem XI.—If the distance CB of the centres of two
circles be equal to the sum of the radii CA, BA; the
circles shall touch each
other externally.
It is evident that they
have a common point A ;
but they cannot have more ;
for if they had two, then the
distance of the centres must
necessarily be less than the
sum of the radii.
Fig. 52.
Theorem XII.—If the distance CB of the centres of two
circles be equal to the difference of the radii; the two
circles shall touch each other internally.
In the first place, it is evident that Fig. 53.
the point A is common to them both ;
they cannot, however, have another ;
for that this may happen, it is neces¬
sary that the greater radius AB be
smaller than the sum of the radius a
AC and the distance CB of the
centre (10), which is not the case.
Cor. Therefore, if two circles
touch each other, either internally
or externally, their centres and the point of contact are in
the same straight line.
Theorem XIII.'—In the same circle, or in equal circles,
equal angles ACB, DCE, at the centres, intercept upon
the circumference equal arches AB, DE. And, converse¬
ly, if the arches AB, DE be equal, the angles ACp,
DCE are equal.
Fig. 54.
First, if the angle ACB be equal to DCE, the one angle
may be applied upon the other ; and as the lines containing
them are equal, it is manifest that the point A will fall upon
D, and the point B upon E ; thus the arch AB will coin¬
cide with and be equal to the arch DE.
Next, if the arch AB be equal to DE; the angle ACB
is equal to DCE : for if the angles are not equal, let ACB
be the greater, and let ACI be taken equal to DCE; then,
by what has been already demonstrated, the arch AI = DE;
but by hypothesis AB — DE; therefore, AI = AB, which
is impossible ; therefore the angle ACB — DCE.
Theorem XIV.—The angle BCD at the centre of a circle
is double the angle BAD at the circumference, when
both stand on the same arch BD.
First, let the centre of the circle be within the angle
516 GEOMETRY.
Lines and BAD ; draw the diameter AE. The exterior angle BCE
Figures 0f the triangle BCA is equal to both the inward and oppo-
up011 a site angies BAC, CBA (23, 1) ; but the triangle BCA be¬
ing isosceles, the angle BAG = CBA ; therefore the angle
BCE is double of the angle BAC. For the same reason,
the angle DCE is double of the angle DAE ; therefore the
whole angle BCD is double of the whole angle BAD.
Fig. 55.
Plane.
Fig. 56.
Theorem XVII—In a circle, the angle BAD in a semi- Lines and
circle is a right angle, but the angle ABD in a segment Figures
greater than a semicircle is less than a right angle; and uP°n a
the angle AED in a segment less than a semicircle is
greater than a right angle.
Let C be the centre, join CA, and produce BA to F.
Plane.
Fig. 60.
Suppose, in the next place, that the centre is without the
angle BAD ; then, drawing the diameter AE, it may be
demonstrated, as in the first case, that the angle ECD is
double of the angle EAD, and that the angle ECB, a part
of the first, is double the angle EAB, a part of the other;
therefore the remaining angle BCD is double the remain¬
ing angle BAD.
Because CB — CA, the angle
CAB — CBA (11, 1); and be¬
cause CD r= CA, the angle CAD
= CDA, therefor^, the whole
angle BAD = CBA -{- CDA ;
but these two last angles are to¬
gether equal to DAF (23, 1),
therefore the angle BAD=r DAF;
and hence each of them is a right
angle.
And because ABD + ADB is  
a right angle, therefore ABD, an angle in a segment greater
than a semicircle, is less than a right angle.
And because ABDE is a quadrilateral in a circle, the
opposite angles B and E are equal to two right angles (last
theor.), but B is less than a right angle ; therefore the
angle E, which is in a segment less than a semicircle, is
greater than a right angle.
Theorem XV. All angles BAD, BFD in the same seg¬
ment BAFD of a circle are equal to one another.
Fig- 57- Fig. 58.
If the segment be greater than a semicircle, from the
cqntre C draw CB and CD ; then the angles BAD and
BFD being (by last theorem) each equal to half BCD,
they must be equal to one another.
But if the segment BAFD be less than a semicircle, let
II be the intersection of BF and AD ; then, the triangles
ABH and FDH having the angle AHB of the one equal
to FDD of the other (4, 1), and ABH zr FDH (by case
I) will have the remaining angle of the one equal to the
remaining angle of the other; that is, the angle BAH
= HFD, or BAD = BFD.
Theorem XVI.—The opposite angles of any quadrilateral
figure ABCD described in a circle are together equal
to two right angles.
Draw the diagonals AC, BD ; because the angle ABD
= A CD, and CBD = CAD (last
theor.), the sum ABD + CBD
= ACD + CAD ; or ABC =
ACD -j- CAD ; to each of these
equals add ADC, and ABC +
ADC = ACD + CAD + ADC;
but the last three angles being
the angles of the triangle ADC,
are taken together equal to two
right angles (24, 1), therefore
ABC+ADC — two right angles.
o at* r>nT\ t^le same manner the angles
BAD, BCD maybe shown to be together equal to two
right angles.
Fig. 59.
Theorem XVIII—The angle BAC contained by AC, a
tangent, and AB, a chord drawn from the point of con¬
tact, is equal to any angle ADB
in the alternate segment of the
circle.
Draw the diameter AE, and join
DE. The angles EAC, EDA, be- D
ing right angles (last theor.), are
equal to one another ; and of these,
EAB, a part of the one, is equal
to EDB, a part of the other (15),
therefore the remainder, BAC, of
the former is equal to the remain¬
der, BDA, of the latter.
SECT. Ill—OF PROPORTION.
In comparing two quantities of the same kind, in respect
of magnitude, we are led to consider how often the one
quantity contains either the whole or some part of the other
quantity. To resolve this question, we must find a com¬
mon measure of the quantities ; that is, a quantity that is
contained in each a certain number of times exactly.
4 E G B
.Cl— -I- |D
Let the quantities be two given straight lines AB, CD;
their common measure (if they have one) may be found
by proceeding as follows :
lake the less line CD out of the greater AB, as often
as possible, and let BE be the remainder. Next take the
lemainder BE out of the line CD, as often as it can be
had, and let DF be the second remainder.
Again, take the second remainder DF out of the first
BE, as often as it can be had, and let BGbe the third re¬
mainder. Take the third remainder BG out of the second
DF as often as possible, and proceed in this way, until a
remainder be found, which is contained an exact number
of times in the preceding. This last remainder will be a
common measure of the two lines.
Tor example, let CD be contained twice in AB, with
the remainder BE ; and BE once in CD, with a remain-
GEOMETRY.
Lines and der DF; and DF once in BE, with a remainder BG, and
Figures ]et; BGr be contained twice exactly in DF; then
upon a DF = 2 BG
Plane. EB — DF + BG = 3 BG
^ CD = EB + DF = 5 BG
AB 2 CD + EB 13 BG.
Thus it appears, that BG is contained thirteen times in
AB, and five times in CD ; therefore BG is a common
measure of the two lines. Hence also we see, that the
relation which AB bears to CD, in regard to magnitude,
consists in the former containing thirteen such parts as
the latter contains five.
In this example it has been supposed that a remainder
is at last found, which is contained an exact number of
times in the remainder immediately preceding. But this
will not always happen. If the given lines be the diagonal
of a square, and its side, and in innumerable other cases,
it may be demonstrated, that no one of the succeeding
remainders can be contained an exact number of times in
that before it: therefore such quantities cannot have a
common measure. Hence quantities are distinguished
into two kinds, viz. such as admit of a common measure,
and such as do not admit of a common measure. The for¬
mer are said to be commensurable, and the latter incommen¬
surable.
The doctrine of proportion, as delivered in the 5th book
of Euclid’s Elements, applies alike to commensurable and
incommensurable quantities ; the theory may, however,
be rendered considerably easier, by confining it to com¬
mensurable quantities. It is this limited view of the sub¬
ject that is here given. Experience proves that Euclid’s
fifth book is difficult to be understood by the generality of
readers ; and this fact may serve as an excuse for deviat¬
ing, unwillingly, from the illustrious ancient.
Definitions.
I. When one quantity contains another a certain num¬
ber of times, without a remainder, the former is said to be
a multiple of the latter, and the latter a part of the for¬
mer.
II. When several quantities are multiples of as many
others, and each contains its part the same number of
times, the former are called equimultiples of the latter,
and the latter like parts of the former.
III. Between any two finite magnitudes of the same
kind there subsists a certain relation, in respect of quan¬
tity, which is called their ratio. The two magnitudes com¬
pared are called the terms of the ratio. The first the ante¬
cedent, and the last the consequent.
IV. If there be four quantities, and if the first contain
a part of the second (without a remainder) just as often
as the third contains a like part of the fourth, the ratio of
the first to the second is said to be equal to the ratio of
the third to the fourth; or the first is said to have to the
second the same ratio which the third has to the fourth.
V. The terms of any number of equal ratios are called
proportionals.
Note. WThen four quantities A, B, C, D, are propor¬
tionals, it is usual to say, that A is to B, as C to D,
and to write them thus, A : B :: C : D; or thus, A :
B = C : D.
VI. Quantities are said to be continual proportionals
when the ratio of the first to the second, of the second to
the third, of the third to the fourth, and so on, are all
equal.
VII. When three quantities are continual proportionals,
the second is said to be a mean proportional between the
other two.
VIII. In proportionals, the antecedent terms are called
homologous to one another; as also the consequents to
one another.
517
IX. When there is any number of quantities of the Lines and
same kind, the first is said to have to the last the ratio Figures
compounded of the ratio which the first has to the second,
and of the ratio which the second has to the third, and of ,
the ratio which the third has to the fourth, and so on, to
the last magnitude.
X. If three magnitudes are continual proportionals, the
ratio of the first to the third is said to be duplicate of the
ratio of the first to the second.
XL If four magnitudes are continual proportionals, the
ratio of the first to the fourth is said to be triplicate of
the ratio of the first to the second, or of the ratio of the
second to the third, &c.
The following technical words are employed to signify
certain ways of changing either the order or magnitude
of proportionals, so as that they still continue propor¬
tionals.
XII. If four quantities are proportionals, they are said
to be proportionals by inversion, when it is inferred that
the second is to the first, as the fourth to the third.
XIII. They are proportionals by alternation, when the
first is to the third, as the second to the fourth.
XIV. By composition, when the sum of the first and se¬
cond is to the second, as the sum of the third and fourth
to the fourth.
XV. By division, when the difference of the first and
second is to the second, as the difference of the third and
fourth to the fourth.
XVI. By conversion, when the first is to the difference
of the first and second, as the third to the difference of
the third and fourth.
XVII. By mixing, when the sum of the first and se¬
cond is to their difference, as the sum of the third and
fourth to their difference.
Axioms.
1. Equal quantities have the same ratio to the same
quantity, and the same quantity has the same ratio to
equal quantities.
2. Quantities having the same ratio to the same quan¬
tity, or to equal quantities, are equal among themselves;
and those to which the same quantity has the same ratio
are equal to one another.
3. Ratios equal to one and the same ratio are also equal
one to the other.
Theorem I.—-Quantities have to one another the same
ratio which their equimultiples have.
Let A and B be two quantities, and supposing m to de¬
note any number, let mAand mB (that is, m times A and
m times B) be any equimultiples of these quantities; the
ratio of A to B is equal to the ratio of mA to mB; or A:
B mA : mB.
For, let A contain three such parts, each equal to X, as
B contains four, so that
A=.X + X + X;B = X + X + X + X.
Then mA — mX + mX + niK,
mB — mX. + mX + mX + mX,
because a whole taken any number of times, is equal to
the sum of its parts taken as often. Now, because Aeon-
tains the one fourth of B three times, and mA evidently
contains one fourth of wB also three times ; A contains a
part of B exactly as often as mA contains a like part of
mB. Therefore (Def. 4), the ratio of A to B is equal to
the ratio of m A to mB.
In the same manner, if A and B be supposed any other
multiples of X, it may be proved that A : B = mA : mB.
Cor. Like parts of magnitudes have to each other the
same ratio as the whole ; for A and B are like parts of mA
and mB.
518
G E O M E T 11 Y.
Lines and Theorem II.—If four quantities be proportionals, they
Figures are proportionals also when taken inversely,
upon a
Ikm. Let A, B, C, D be four quantities, such, that A : B rr
^ ' C : D ; then B : A — D : C.
For, suppose that C contains two such equal parts as
D contains three, then, because the ratio of A to B is
equal to the ratio of C to D, A will contain two such parts
as B contains three. (Def. 4.) Therefore B will contain
three such parts as A contains two; and D will contain
three such parts as C contains two. Thus B will contain
a part of A as often as D contains a like part of C;
therefore the ratio of B to A is equal to the ratio of D to
C. (Def. 4.)
Theorem III.—If four quantities of the same kind be pro¬
portionals, they will also be proportionals when taken
alternately.
Let A : B r= C : D, then, if the quantities be all of the
same kind, A : C r: B : D.
For, let C contain three such parts as D contains four;
then (Def. 4) A will contain three such parts as B con¬
tains four. Let each of the equal parts contained in A
and B be X, and let each of the equal parts contained in
C and D be Y; then
A — 3X B z= 4X
C = 3Y D = 4Y.
And because A and C contain X and Y the same num¬
ber of times, A and C are equimultiples of X and Y. (Def,
2.) Also, because B and D contain X and Y the same
number of times, B and D are equimultiples of X and Y.
Therefore A : C rr X : Y ^
And B : D = X : Y /
Hence A : C = B : D (Axiom 3.)
Cor. If the first of four proportionals be greater than
the third, the second shall be greater than the fourth ; and
if the first be equal to the third, the second shall be equal
to the fourth ; an.d if the first be less than the third, the
second shall be less than the fourth.
Prop. I.
Theorem IV.—If four quantities be proportionals, they
shall also be proportionals by composition.
Let A : B = C : D; then, by composition, A -j- B :
B zz C + D : D.
Let C contain five such parts as D contains three, then
(Def. 4) A will contain five such parts as B contains three.
Let each of the equal parts contained in A and B be X,
and let each of the equal parts contained in C and D be
Y. Then, because
A =z 5X, B = 3X, C = 5Y, D = 3Y,
by adding, A + B z= 8X, and C + D zz 8Y.
Now, B zz 3X, and D zz 3Y;
Therefore A + B contains one third of B eight times, and
C + D contains one third of D also eight times, and, in
general, A + B will contain a part of B as often as C + D
contains a like part of D; therefore (Def. 4) A + B : B
= C + D : D.
Theorem V.—If four quantities be proportionals, they
will also be proportionals by division.
Let A : B zz C : D, and let A be greater than B, and
C greater than D; then A — B:BzzC — D:D.
tor, making the same supposition as in last proposition,
so that A zz 5X, B zz 3X, C zz 5Y, D zz 3Y,
by subtracting, A — B zz 2X, and C — D zz 2Y.
Now, B zz 3X, D z: 3Y.
Thus it appears, that in this case A — B contains one
third of B twice, and that C — D contains one third of D
also twice; and, in general, that A — B will always con- Lines and
tain some part of B as often as C — D contains a like part Figures
of D ; therefore (Def. 4) A — B : B zz C — D : D. ufon a
rlane.
Theorem VI.—If four quantities be proportionals, they
shall also be proportionals by conversion.
Let A : B zz C : D ; then A:A — BzzC:C — D.
For, making the same supposition as in the two last pro¬
positions, because
A zz 5X, B zz 3X, C zz 5Y, D zz 3Y,
therefore A — B zz 2X, C — D zz 2Y.
Hence it appears, that in this case A contains the half
of A — B five times, and that C contains the half of C —
D also five times; and, in general, that A will contain a
part of A — B as often as C contains a like part of C.— D;
therefore (Def. 4) A : A — B zz C : C — D.
Theorem VII.— If the first of four magnitudes has the
same ratio to the second which the third has to the
fourth, and if any equimultiples whatever be taken of
the first and third, and any whatever of the second and
fourth; the multiple of the first shall have the same
ratio to the multiple of the second that the multiple of
the third has to the multiple of the fourth.
Let A : B zz C ; D, and supposing m and n to denote
any two numbers, let the antecedents A and C be taken
each m times, and let the consequents B and D be taken
each n times ; mA : wB zz ?rC : nD.
Suppose that C contains two such parts as D contains
three, then (Def. 4) A will contain two such parts as B
contains three. Let each of the equal parts contained in
A and B be X, and let each of the equal parts contained in
C and D be Y, so that A zz 2X, B zz 3X, Czz2Y, Dzz3Y.
Then mA — 2>«X nB zz 3»X
mC zz 2mY nD zz 3wY.
From these expressions, it appears that X and Y are
like parts of rcB and wD ; for each is contained in its mul¬
tiple three ?i times; also, that mA and mC are equimul¬
tiples of X and Y; for each contains its part two m times.
Therefore mA contains a part of nB, exactly as often as
mC contains a like part of ?iD; and hence (Def. 4) mA
: mB zz mC : nD.
Cor. If A : B zz C : D, then mA : B zz mC : D,
and A : «B zz C : nD.
Theorem VIII.—If there be any number of quantities, and
as many others, which, taken two and two in order, have
the same ratio; the first will have to the last of the
first quantities the same ratio which the first of the
others has to the last.
First, Let there be three quantities, A, B, C, A r p
and other three, H, K, L, such that A : B zz ’ T ’ T ’
H : K, and B : C zz K : L; then A : C = H : L. ^
For, suppose that H contains two such parts as K con¬
tains three and L seven, then (Def. 4) A will contain two
such parts as B contains three, and C seven.
Let the equal parts contained in A, B, C be X, and let
the equal parts contained in H, K, L be Y, so that
A zz 2X, B z: 3X, C zz 7X,
H zz 2Y, K zz 3Y, L zz 7Y.
In this case, A contains one seventh of C twice, and H
contains one seventh of L also twice; and, in general, A
will contain a part of C as often as FI contains the same
part of L; therefore A : C zz H ; L (Def. 4L
Next, let there be four quantities A, B, C, D, and other
four H, K, L, M, such that A : B zz H : K,
and B : C zz K : L, and C : D zz L : M;
then A : D = H : M.
A, B, C, D,
H, K, L, M.
GEOMETRY.
519
Lines and For, since A, B, C are three quantities, and H, K, L
Figures other three quantities, which, taken two and two, have
upon a same rat;0 . ^g foreg0j[ng casej A : C = H : L.
And because A: C = H: L, and C : D - L : M; there¬
fore, by that same case, A : D — H : M. In the same
way, the demonstration may be extended to any number
of quantities.
Note. This proposition is usually cited by the words
ex cequali or ex cequo.
and by composition (4) A + B:Bz=C + D:D, Lines and
therefore, ex ceq. A + B : A — B r= C + D : C — D. Figures
In like manner, if B be greater than A, it may be uPon a
proved that A + B : B — A = C + D : D — C. JJ.a^
Theorem XII.—If any number of quantities be propor¬
tionals ; as one of the antecedents is to its consequent,
so is the sum of all the antecedents to the sum of all
the consequents.
Theorem IX.—If there be any number of quantities, and
as many others, which, taken two and two, in a cross or¬
der, have the same ratio; the first will have to the last
of the first quantities, the same ratio which the first of
the others has to the last.
First, let there be three quantities A, B, C,
and other three H, K, L, such that A:B = K:L,
and B : C = H : K; then A : C = H : L.
For, suppose K to contain two such equal parts as L
contains three, then A will contain two such parts as B
contains three. (Def. 4.) Let each of the equal parts
contained in A and B be X, and let each of the equal
parts contained in K and L be Y, so that
A - 2X, B = 3X, K = 2Y, L = 3Y.
Also, let Z be the same part of C that Y is of L, and
let V be the same part of H that X is of A; so that, in
this case,
C = 3Z, II = 2V.
Then, because B : C = H : K; that is, 3X : 3Z = 2Y
: 2Y, and (by Prop. I.) 3X : 3Z X : Z, and 2V: 2Y
V : Y; therefore X : Z = V : Y (Ax. 3). Hence (by
Prop. VII.) 2X : 3Z = 2V : 3Y; but 2X = A, 3Z z= C,
2V = H, 3Y = L; therefore A : C =r H : L.
A, B, C,
H, K, L.
Next, let there be four quantities, A, B, C, D, and
other four H, K, L, M, such that A : B :
L : M, and B : C = K : L; and C : D —
H : K ; then A : D = H : M. For since
A, B, C, D,
H, K, L, M.
A, B, C are three quantities, and K, L, M other three,
which, taken two and two in a cross order, have the same
ratio; by the first case, A : C = K : M; but C : D = FI
: K; therefore, again, by the first case, A : D H : M.
In the same manner, the demonstration may be extended
to any number of quantities.
Note. This proposition is usually cited by the words
ex oequali in proportione perturbata, or ex cequo inversely.
Theorem X.—If the first has to the second the same ratio
which the third has to the fourth, and the fifth to the
second the same ratio which the sixth has to the fourth ;
the first and fifth together shall have to the second the
same ratio which the third and sixth have to the fourth.
Let A : B = C : D,
and E : B = F : D;
then A + E:Br=C + F:D.
Because E : B — F : D, by inversion, B : E = D : F
(2); but, by hypothesis, A : B = C : D; therefore ex
cequali (Prop. VIII.), A : E = C : F; and, by composi¬
tion, A + E : E = C + F : F. Again, by hypothesis,
E : B F: D, therefore ex ceq. A + E:B=C + D:F.
Let A:B — C:Dz=E:F; then A : B A + C
+ E : B + D + F. For, suppose that A contains two
such parts, each = X, as B contains three, and that C con¬
tains two such parts, each = Y, as D contains three, and
that E contains two such parts, each — Z, as F contains
three, and so on ; then
A = 2X B — 3X
C = 2Y D - 3Y
E = 2Z F - 3Z.
Hence, by addition,
A + C + E = 2X + 2Y+ 2Z = 2(X + Y + Z); B +
D + F = 3X + 3Y + 3Z = 3 (X + Y + Z).
Thus it appears that A contains one third of B twice,
and that A -f- C + E contains one third of B + D + F
also twice; and, in general, that A will contain a part of
B just as often as A + C + E contains a like part of B
+ D + F; therefore A:B — A-{-C + E:B+D + F.
In treating of proportion, we have supposed that the an¬
tecedent contains some part of the consequent a certain
number of times exactly, which part is therefore a com¬
mon measure of the antecedent and consequent. But
there are quantities which cannot have a common mea¬
sure, and which are therefore said to be incommensurable;
such, for example, are the sides of two squares one of
which has its surface double that of the other.
Although the ratio of two incommensurable quantities
cannot be expressed in numbers, yet we can always assign
a ratio in numbers which shall be as near to that ratio as
we please. For let A and B be any two quantities what¬
ever, and suppose that x is such a part of A that A—px;
then if q denote the number of times that x can be taken
from B, and d the remainder, we have B = -f- d, and
qx •= B — d; and because p \ q — px \ qx, therefore p :
^ = A : B — d. Now, as d is less than x, by taking x suf¬
ficiently small, d may be less than any proposed quantity;
so that B — d may differ from B by less than any given
quantity; therefore two numbers/? and q may always be
assigned, such, that the ratio of /? to ^ shall be the same
as the ratio of A to a quantity that differs less from B
than by any given quantity, however small that quantity
may be.
Hence we may conclude, that whatever has been deli¬
vered in this section relating to commensurable quanti¬
ties, may be considered as applying equally to such as are
incommensurable.
SECT. IV.—THE PROPORTIONS OF FIGURES.
Definitions.
Theorem XL—If four quantities be proportionals, the sum
of the first two is to their difference as the sum of the
other two to their difference.
Let A : B — C : D ; then, if A be greater than B, A
+ B:A — B=C + D:C — D.
For, since A : B = C : D,
by division (5) A — B:Br=C — D:D,
and inversion (2) B:A — B=:D:C — D,
I. Equivalent Figures are such as have equal surfaces.
Two figures may be equivalent, although very dissimi¬
lar ; thus a circle may be equivalent to a square, a trian¬
gle to a rectangle, and so of other figures.
We shall give the denomination of equal figures to those
which, being applied the one upon the other, coincide en¬
tirely : thus, two circles having the same radius are equal;
and two triangles having three sides of the one equal to
three sides of the other, each to each, are also equal.
520
GEOMETRY.
Lines and
Figures
upon a
Plane.
H. Two figures are similar, when the angles of the one
are equal to the angles of the other, each to each; and
the homologous sides proportionals. The homologous sides
are those which have the same position in the two figures;
or which are adjacent to the equal angles. The angles
themselves are called homologous angles.
I wo equal figures are always similar, but similar figures
may be very unequal.
III. In two different circles, similar
sectors, similar arches, similar segments,
are such as correspond to equal angles
at the centre. Thus the angle A be¬
ing equal to the angle O, the arch BC
is similar to the arch DE, and the sec¬
tor ABC to the sector ODE, &c.
IV. Th e Altitude of a parallelogram
is the perpendicular which measures
the distance between the opposite
sides or bases AB, CD.
V. The Altitude of a triangle is the
perpendicular AD drawn from the
vertical angle A upon the base BC.
Fig. 64. Fig. 65.
drawn between its two parallel bases AB, CD.
VII. The Area and the surface of a figure are terms of
nearly the same signification. The term area, however, is
more particularly used to denote the superficial quantity of
the figure in respect of its being measured, or compared
with other surfaces.
Theorem I.—Parallelograms which have equal bases and
equal altitudes are equivalent.
Let AB be the common base of the parallelograms
ABCD, EBAF, which being supposed to have the same
altitude, the sides DC, FE opposite to the bases will lie
in DE a line parallel to AB. Now, from the nature of a
parallelogram, AD rr BC, and AF — BE; for the same
reason DC AB, and FE = AB; therefore DC = FE,
and taking away DC and FE from the same line DE, the
remainders CE and DF are equal; hence the triangles
DAF, CBE have three sides of the one equal to three
sides of the other, each to each; and consequently are
equal (10, 1). Now, if from the quadrilateral ABED the
triangle ADF be taken away, there will remain the paral¬
lelogram ABEF; and if from the same quadrilateral
ABED, the triangle CBE, equal to the former, be taken
away, there will remain the parallelogram ABCD ; there¬
fore the two parallelograms ABCD, ABEF, which have
the same base and the same altitude, are equivalent.
Cor. Every parallelogram is equivalent to a rectangle
of the same base and altitude.
Theorem II.—Every triangle ABC is the half of a paral¬
lelogram ABCD, having the same base and altitude.
For the triangles ABC, ACD are r?. ary Lines and
equal (28, 1). lg' * Figures
Cor. 1. Therefore a triangle
ABC is the half of a rectangle
BCEF of the same base and alti¬
tude.
Cor. 2. All triangles having
equal bases and equal altitudes are
equivalent. b o C
Theorem III.—Two rectangles of the same altitude are
to each other as their bases.
Let ABCD, AEFD be two rect- Fig. 68.
angles, which have'a common al- xi f c
titude AD; the rectangle ABCD I i j I :
shall have to the rectangle AEFD j i i i ;
the same ratio that the base AB ill : j
has to the base AE. \ ; i
Let the base AB have to the ill j i
base AE the ratio of the number a. e. ' 'is
p (which we shall suppose 7) to the number g (which may
be 4), that is, let AB contain p (7), such equal parts as
AE contains q (4}; then, if perpendiculars be drawn to
AB and AE at the points of division, the rectangles
ABCD and AEFD will be divided, the former into jo and
the latter into q rectangles, which will be all equal (1J ; for
they have equal bases and the same altitude. Thus the
rectangle ABCD will also contain p such equal parts as
the rectangle AEFD contains q ; therefore the rectangle
ABCD is to AEFD as the number p to the number q
(Ax. 3, 3), that is, as the base AB to AE.
Theorem IV.—Any two rectangles are to each other as
the products of any numbers proportional to their sides.
Let the numbers m, n, p, q have
among themselves the same ratios
that the sides of the rectangles ABCD,
AEFG have to each other; that is,
let AB contain m such equal parts, E
whereof AD contains n ; and AE con¬
tains p, and AG contains q, then shall
ABCD : AEFG mn : pq.    
Let the rectangles be so placed that the sides AB, AE
may be in a straight line, then AD and AG will also lie
in a straight line (3, 1). Now (3)
ABCD : AEHD = AB : AE — m\p,
but m : p — nm : np (\, 3),
therefore ABCD : AEHD z= nm : np.
Again, AEHD : AEFG = AD : AG z= n : q;
but n \ q — pn : pq;
therefore AEHD : AEFG — pn : pq;
and it was shown that
ABCD : AEHD = nm : np or pn,
therefore (8, 3) ABCD : AEFG mn : pq.
Scholium.
Hence it appears, that the product of the base by the
altitude of a rectangle may be taken for its measure, ob¬
serving that by such product is meant that of the number
of linear units in the base by the number of linear units
in the altitude. This measure is however not absolute,
but relative; for it must be supposed, that in comparing
GEOMETRY.
upon a
Plane.
Lines and one rectangle with another, the sides of both are mea-
Figures sured by the same linear unit. For example, if the base
of a rectangle A be three units, and its altitude 10, the
rectangle is represented by 3 X 10, or 30; this number
considered by itself has no meaning; but if we have a
second rectangle B, the base of which is twelve units and
the altitude seven, this second rectangle shall be repre¬
sented by the number 12 X 7, or 84; and hence it may
be concluded that the two rectangles are to each other
as 30 to 84; therefore, if in estimating any superficies the
rectangle A be taken for the measuring unit, the rectan¬
gle B shall have for its absolute measure |^, that is, it
shall be superficial units.
It is more common, as well as more simple, to take for
a superficial unit a square, the side of which is an unit in
length, and then the measure which we have regarded
only as relative becomes absolute: for example, the num¬
ber 30, which is the measure of the rectangle A, re¬
presents thirty superficial units, or thirty squares, each
having its side equal to an unit. To illustrate this, see
fig. 70.
521
trapezoid is equal to FE X AL, it is also equal to FE X Lines and
^AB + CD^ Figures
Theorem VIII.—If four straight lines AB, AC, AD, AE
be proportionals; the rectangle ABFE, contained by
the two extremes, is equivalent to the rectangle ACGD
contained by the means. And conversely, if the rect¬
angle contained by AB, AE, the extremes, be equiva¬
lent to the rectangle contained by AC, AD, the means,
the four lines are proportionals.
Let the rectangles be so placed as
to have the common angle A, and K
let BF, DG intersect each other in
H. Because the rectangles ABHD,
ACGD have the same altitude AD, o
ABHD : ACGD —AB : AC (3) ;
and because the rectangles ABHD,
ABFE have the same altitude AB,
for the same reason,
Theorem V.—The area of any parallelogram is equal to
the product of its base by its altitude. (Fig. 67.)
For the parallelogram ABCD is equivalent to the rect¬
angle FBCE, which has the same base BC, and the same
altitude AO (Cor. 1) ; but the measure of the rectangle
is BC X AO (Schol. 4), therefore the area of the paral¬
lelogram is BC X AO.
Cor. Parallelograms having the same base, or equal
bases, are to each other as their altitudes; and parallelo¬
grams having the same altitude are to each other as their
bases; for in the former case put B for the common base,
and A and A' for the altitudes, then the areas of the
figures are B X A and B X A'; and it is manifest that
B X A : B X A' = A : A'; and in the latter case, putting
A for the common altitude, and B and B' for the bases, it
is evident that B X A : B' X A B : B'.
Theorem VI.—The area of a triangle is equal to the pro
duct of its base by the half of its altitude. (Fig. 67.)
ABHD : ABFE = AD : AE ;
but by hypothesis AB : ACzrAD : AE, therefore (Ax.
3, 3) ABHD : ACGD = ABHD : ABFE ; therefore (Ax.
2, 3) the rectangle ACGD = ABFE.
Next suppose that the rectangle ACGD=ABFE; then
ABHD :ACGD=ABHD : ABFE (Ax.l, 3); but ABHD:
ACGD = AB : AC (3), and ABHD : ABFEzrAD : AE;
therefore AB : AC = AD : AE.
Cor. If three straight lines be proportionals, the rect¬
angle contained by the extremes is equal to the square of
the mean ; and if the rectangle contained by the extremes
be equal to the square of the mean, the three straight
lines are proportionals.
Theorem IX.—If four straight lines be proportionals, and
also other four; the rectangles contained by the cor¬
responding terms shall be proportionals; that is, if
AB : BCzrCD : DE, and BF: BG=DH : DI, then shall
rectangle AF : rect. BMrrrect. CH : rect. DQ.
For the triangle ABC is half of the parallelogram ABCD,
which has the same base BC, and the same altitude AO
(2); but the area of the parallelogram is BC X AO (5),
therefore that of the triangle is ^BC X AO, or BC X
2 AO.
Cor. Two triangles of the same altitude are to each
other as their bases; and two triangles having the same
base are to each other as their altitudes.
Theorem VII.—The area of a trapezoid ABCD is equal
to the product of its altitude EF by half the sum of its
parallel sides AB, CD.
Fig. 71.
E
Through the point I, the
middle of BC, draw KL paral¬
lel to the opposite side AD,
and produce DC to meet KL.
In the triangles IBL, ICK, IB
is equal to IC by construction,
and the angle CIK=BIL, and
the angle ICK = IBL (21, 1) ;
therefore these triangles are
equal; and hence the trapezoid ABCD is equivalent to
the parallelogram ALKD, and has for its measure
AL X EF. But AL = DK, and because the triangle IBL
is equal to the triangle KCI, the side BL — CK ; there¬
fore AB + CD = AL + DK=z2AL; hence AL is half the
sum of the parallel sides AB, CD; and as the area of the
VOL. x.
F
Fig. 73.
For in BG and DI produced, if necessary, take BFzrBF,
and DH = DH, and let FP be parallel to BC, and HN
to DE ; then (3),
rect. AF : rect. BP — AB : BC,
and rect. CH : rect. DN — CD : DE ;
but AB : BC — CD : DE (by hypothesis), therefore,
rect. AF : rect. BP rect. CH : rect. DN;
now (3) rect. BP : rect. BM := BF: BG, and rect. DN:
rect. DQ z= DH : DI; but BF : BG = DH : DI (by hy-
poth.) therefore,
rect. BP : rect. BM =r rect. DN: rect. DQ;
but it has been shown that
rect. AF: rect. BP = rect. CH : rect. DN,
therefore (8, 3),
rect. AF: rect. BM = rect. CH : rect. DQ.
Cor. Hence the squares of four proportional straight
lines are themselves proportionals.
Theorem X.—If a straight line AC be divided into any
two parts at B, the square made upon the whole line
3 u
522
Lines and
Figures
upon a
Plane.
GEOMETRY.
AC shall be equal to the squares made upon the two
parts AB, BC, together with twice the rectangle con¬
tained by these two parts ; which may be expressed
thus,
AC2 = AB2 + BC2 + 2 AB X BC.
Fig. 74.
H
Suppose the square ACDE to
be constructed ; take AF = AB,
draw FG parallel to AC, and BH
parallel to CD.
The square ACDE is made up
of four parts; the first ABIF is
the square upon AB, because
AF = AB ; the second IGDH is
the square upon BC, for AC =
AE, and AB zr AF ; therefore
A “ ^ AC — AB= AE —AF, that is,
BC = EF ; but BC rz IG, and EF = DG (26, 1) ; there¬
fore IGDH is the square upon BC; and the remaining
two parts are the two rectangles BCGI, FEHI, which
have each for their measure AB X BC ; therefore the
square upon AC is equal to the squares upon AB and
BC, and twice the rectangle AB X BC.
Theorem XI.—If a straight line AC be the difference of
two straight lines AB, BC, the square made upon AC
shall be equal to the excess of the two squares upon
AB and BC above twice the rectangle contained by
AB and BC ; that is,
AC2 = AB2+BC2 —2ABXBC.
Fig. 75.
G-'
E
Construct the square ABIF,
take AE = AC, and draw CG
parallel to BI, and HK paral¬
lel to AB; and complete the
square EFLK. The two rect¬
angles CBIG,GLKDhave each
AB X BC for their measure ;
and if these be taken from
the whole figure ABILKEA,
that is, from AB2 + BC2, there
will remain the square ACDE, that is, the square upon
AC.
A
Fig. 76.
G
Theorem XII.—The rectangle contained by the sum and
the difference of two straight lines is equal to the dif¬
ference of the squares upon those lines ; that is,
(AB + BC) X (AB — BC) = AB2 — BC2.
Let ABC be a right-
angled triangle ; having
formed the squares upon
its three sides, draw a per¬
pendicular AD from the
right angle upon the hy-
pothenuse, and produce it
to E, and draw the diago¬
nals AF, CH. The angle
ABF is evidently the sum
of ABC and a right an¬
gle, and the angle HBC
is also the sum of ABC
and a right angle ; there¬
fore the angle • ABF =: y U G-
HBC. Now AB = BH, for they are sides of the same
square, and BC = BF for the same reason ; therefore the
triangles ABF, HBC have two sides, and the included
angle of the one equal to two sides, and the included
angle of the other, each to each, therefore the triangles
are equal (5, 1); but the triangle ABF is the half of the
rectangle BDEF (which for brevity's sake we shall call
BE), because it has the same base BF, and the same alti¬
tude BD (2); and the triangle HBC is in like manner
half of the square AH ; for the angles BAG, BAL being
both right angles, CA and AL constitute a straight line
parallel to BH (3, 1) ; and thus the triangle HBC and the
square AH have the same base HB, and the same altitude
AB ; from which it follows that the triangle is half of the
square (2). It has now been proved that the triangle
ABF is equal to the triangle HBC ; and that the rect¬
angle BE is double of the former, and the square AH
double of the latter ; therefore the rectangle BE is equal
to the square AH. It may be demonstrated in like man¬
ner that the rectangle CDEG, or CE, is equal to the
square AI; but the rectangles BE, CE make up the square
BCGF; therefore the square BCGF upon the hypothe-
nuse is equal to the squares ALHB, AKIC upon the
other two sides.
Theorem XIV In a triangle ABC, if the angle C be
acute; the square of the opposite side AB is less than
the squares of the sides which contain the angle C ; and
if AD a perpendicular be drawn to BC from the oppo¬
site angle, the difference shall be equal to twice the
rectangle BC X CD; that is,
AB2 = AC2 + CB2 — 2BC X CD.
Fig. 78.
Lines and
Figures
upon a
Plane.
Construct upon AB and AC
the squares ABIF, ACDE ; pro¬
duce AB, so that BK BC,
and complete the rectangle
AKLE. The base AK of the
rectangle is the sum of the two
lines AB, BC ; and its altitude
AE is the difference of the
A  ^—B K same lines ; therefore the rect¬
angle AKLE = (AB +BC) (AB — BC) ; but the same
rectangle is composed of two parts ABHE + BHLK, of
which BHLK is equal to the rectangle EDGE, for BH —
DE, and BK=FE; therefore AKLE=ABHE + EDGF;
but these two parts constitute the excess of the square
ABIF above the square DHIG, the former of which is
the square upon AB, and the latter the square upon BC ;
therefore (AB + BC) X (AB — BC) = AB2 —BC2.
Theorem XIII.—The square upon the hypothenuse of a
right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares
upon the two other sides.
First, suppose AD to fall within the triangle, then
BD = BC —CD, and consequently (11) BD2= BC2 +
CD2 —2BC X CD; to each of these equals add AD2;
then, observing that BD2 + DA2 = BA2, and CD2 + DA2
= CA2,
ABS = BC2 + C A2 — 2BC X CD.
Next, suppose AD to fall without the triangle, so that
BD = CD — BC, and therefore BD2 = CD2 + BC2 —
2BC X CD (11), to each of these add AD2 as before, and
we get
AB2 BC2 + C A2 — 2BC X CD.
Theorem XV In a triangle ABC, if the angle C be ob-
geometry.
523
Lines and
Figures
upon a
Plane.
tuse; the square of the opposite side AB is greater
Fig. 79.
than the sum of the squares of the
sides which contain the angle C ;
and if AD a perpendicular be drawn
to BC from the opposite angle;
the difference shall be equal to
twice the rectangle BC X CD;
that is,
AB2 = AC2+ BC2 + SBC X CD.
For BD = BC + CD, and therefore (10), BD2 = BC2
+ CD2 + SBC X CD ; to each of these equals add AD2,
then, observing that AD2 + DB2 = AB2, and AD2 +
DC2 = AC2,
AB2 = BC2 + CA2 + SBC X CD.
Scholium. It is only when a triangle has one of its
angles a right angle, that the sum of the squares of two
of its sides can be equal to the square of the third side ;
for if the angle contained by those sides be acute, the
sum of their squares is greater than the square of the op¬
posite side, and if the angle be obtuse, that sum is less
than the square of the opposite side.
Fig. 80.
Theorem XVI.—If a straight line
AE be drawn from the vertex
of any triangle ABC to the mid¬
dle of its base BC ; the sum of
the squares of the sides is equal
to twice the square of half the
base, and twice the square of the
line drawn from the vertex to
the middle of the base ; that is,
AB2 + AC2 = 2BE2 + 2AE2.
Draw AD perpendicular to BC, then
AB2 = BE2 + EA2 — 2BE X ED (14),
and AC2 = CE2 + EA2 + 2CE X ED (15);
therefore, by adding equals to equals, and observing that
BE = CE, and therefore BE2 = CE2, and 2BE X ED
= 2CE X ED,
AB2 + AC2 = 2BE2 + 2AE2.
Theorem XVII.—A straight line DE drawn parallel to
one of the sides of a triangle ABC, divides the other
two sides AB, AC proportionally, so that AD : DB
= AE: EC.
Join BE and CD. The triangles BDE, CDE, having
the same base DE, and the
same altitude, are equiva¬
lent (2), and the triangles
ADE, BDE, having the same
altitude, are to one another
as their bases (6), that is,
ADE : BDE = AD : DB;
the triangles ADE, CDE,
having also the same alti¬
tude, are to one another as
their bases ; that is, ADE :
CDE = AE : EC, but the triangle BDE has been proved
equal to CDE ; therefore, because of the common ratio in
the two proportions, we have (Ax. 3, 3)
AD : DB = AE : EC.
Cor. Hence, by composition, AB: AD = AC : AE ; and
AB : BD = AC : CE.
Fig. 81.
A
For if DE is not parallel to BC, suppose some other Lines and
line DO to be parallel to BC ; then, AB: BD = AC : CO Figures
(17), and since by hypothesis AD : DB =: AE : EC, and ”Pon a
consequently, by composition, AB:BD = AC:CE, there- v__ar^c-
fore, AC : CO = AC : CE ; therefore, CO = CE (2 Ax.
3), which is impossible; therefore DO is not parallel to
BC.
Cor. If it be supposed that BA : AD = CA : AE ; still
DE will be parallel to BC ; for by division BD : AD z= CE
: AE, this proportion being the same as in the theorem,
the conclusion must be the same.
Theorem XIX.—A straight line AD, which bisects the
angle BAG of a triangle, divides the base BC into two
segments proportional to the adjacent sides BA, AC ;
that is, BD : DC = BA : AC.
Through the point C draw CE parallel to AD, so as to
meet BA produced. In the
triangle BCE, the line AD
is parallel to one of its sides
CE, therefore BD : DC
zzz BA : AE ; now the tri¬
angle CAE is isosceles, for,
because of the parallels AD,
CE, the angle ACEr^DAC,
and the angle AECrzBAD,
(21, 1); but by hypothesis
DAC zz BAD, therefore
ACE =z AEC; and consequently, AE = AC (12, 1), there¬
fore, substituting AC instead of AE in the above propor¬
tion, it becomes BD : DC z= BA : AC.
Theorem XX.—If two triangles be equiangular, their ho¬
mologous sides are proportional, and the triangles are
similar.
Let ABC, CDE be two equiangular triangles, which
have the angle BAG := CDE,
ABC=DCE,andACB=DEC;
the homologous sides, or the
sides adjacent to the equal
angles, shall be proportional;
that is, BC : CE = AB : CD
= AC : DE.
Place the homologous sides
BC, CE in the same direction,
and produce the sides BA, ED,
till they meet in F. Because BCE is a straight line, and
the angle BCA is equal to CED, the lines CA, EF are
parallel (22, 1); and in like manner, because the angle
ABC zz DCE, the lines BF, CD are parallel ; therefore
the figure ACDF is a parallelogram, and hence AF zz CD,
and CA zz DF (26, 1). In the triangle BFE the line AC
is parallel to the side FE, therefore BC : CE rz BA: AF;
or since AF zz CD, BC : CE zz BA : CD. Again, in the
same triangle, because CD is parallel to the side BF, BC
: CE zz FD : DE, or, since FD zz AC, BC : CE zz AC :
DE ; having now shown that BC : CE z= BA : CD, and
that BC : CE zz AC : DE, it follows that BA : CD zz AC
: DE ; therefore the equiangular triangles BAG, CDE
have their homologous sides proportional, and hence (Def.
2) the triangles are similar.
Scholium. It is manifest that the homologous sides
are opposite to the equal angles.
Fig. 83.
i'
Fig. 82.
E
Theorem XVIII—Conversely, if two of the sides AB,
AC of a triangle be divided proportionally by the
straight line DE, so that AD : DB = AE : EC; then
shall the line DE be parallel to the remaining side
BC.
Theorem XXI.—If two triangles have their homologous
sides proportional, they are equiangular and similar.
Suppose that BC : EF zz AB : DE z: AC : DF; then
shall A zz D, B zz E, C zz F. At the point E make the
524
GEOMETRY.
Lines and angle FEG_ B, and at the point F make EFGr= C; then is a mean proportional between the hypothenuse and the Lines and
Figures
upon a
Plane.
the third angle G shall
be equal to the third
angle A, and the two
triangles ABC, GEF
shall be equiangular;
therefore, by the last
theorem, BC : EF —
AB : GE ; but by hy¬
pothesis BC : EF= AB
: DE ; therefore GE —
DE (Ax. 2, 3). In like manner, because by the same the¬
orem BC : EF =: C A : FG; and by hypothesis BC : EF
CA : FD ; therefore FG — FD ; but it was shown that
EG—ED, therefore, the triangles GEF, DEF, having the
sides of the one equal to those of the other, each to each,
are equal; but, by construction, the triangle GEF is equi¬
angular to ABC, therefore also the triangles DEF, ABC
are equiangular and similar.
Iheorem XXII.—Two triangles which have an angle of
the one equal to an angle of the other, and the sides
about these angles proportional, are similar.
segment adjacent to that side.
3. By comparing the homologous sides of the two simi¬
lar triangles ABD, ACD, it appears that BD : DA = DA
: DC ; therefore the perpendicular is a mean proportional
between the segments of the hypothenuse.
Theorem XXIV.—Two triangles which have an angle of
the one equal to an angle of the
other, are to each other as the
rectangles of the sides which con¬
tain the equal angles ; that is, the
triangle ABC is to the triangle
ADE as the rectangle AB X AC
to the rectangle AD X AE.
Join BE; because the triangles
ABE, ADE, have a common vertex
E, they have the same altitude, there¬
fore ABE : ADE - AB : AD (Cor.
to 6) ; but AB : AD r= AB X AE : AD X AE (3), there¬
fore,
ABE : ADE = AB X AE : AD X AE.
Figures
upon a
Plane.
Let the angle A z= D, and let AB : DE = AC : DF,
the triangle ABC is similar
to DEF. Take AG = DE,
and draw GH parallel to BC,
then the angle AGHr=ABC
(21, 1), therefore the triangle
AGH is equiangular to ABC,
and consequently (20) AB :
AG = AC : AH ; but by
hypothesis AB: DE — AC :
DF, and by construction AG
= DE, therefore AH = DF; the two triangles AGH,
DEF are therefore equal (5, 1), but the triangle AGH is
similar to ABC, therefore DEF is similar to ABC.
Theorem XXIII.—In a right-angled triangle, if a perpen-
Fig. 86. dicular AD be drawn from the
right angle upon the hypothe¬
nuse, then,
1. The triangles ABD, CAD on
each side of the perpendicular
are similar to the whole tri¬
angle BAG, and to one an¬
other.
2. Each side AB or AC is a mean proportional between
the hypothenuse BC, and the adjacent segment BD or
3. The perpendicular AD is a mean proportional between
the two segments BD, DC.
1. The triangles BAD, BAG have the common angle
B ; besides, the right angle BAG is equal to the right
angle BDA, therefore the third angle Bx\D of the one is
equal to the third angle BC A of the other; therefore,
these triangles are equiangular and similar; and in the
same manner it may be shown that the triangle DAC is
equiangular and similar to BAG ; therefore the three tri¬
angles are equiangular and similar to each other.
2. Because the triangle BAD is similar to the triangle
BAG, their homologous sides are proportional. Now the
side BD of the lesser triangle is homologous to the side
BA of the greater, because they are opposite to the equal
angles BAD, BCA ; in like manner BA, considered as a
side of the lesser triangle, is homologous to the side BC
of the greater, each being opposite to a right angle ; there¬
fore, BD : BA — BA : BC. In the same manner it may
be shown that CD : CA — CAj CB, therefore each side
Fig. 85.
In the same manner, it may be demonstrated that
ABC : ABE = AB X AC: AB X AE ;
therefore (8, 3) ABC : ADE r= AB X AC : AD X AE.
Cor. Therefore the two triangles are equivalent, if the
rectangle AB X AC = AD X AE, or (8), if AB : AD
— AE : AC, in which case the sides about the equal
angles are said to be reciprocally proportional.
Scholium. What has been proved of triangles is also
true of parallelograms, they being the doubles of such tri¬
angles.
Theorem XXV.—Two similar triangles are to each other
as the squares of their homologous sides. (See fig. 85.)
Let the angle A = D, the angle B E, and therefore
the angle C = F,
then (20) AB : DE = AC : DF ;
now AB : DE — AB : DE,
for the two ratios are identical, therefore (9),
AB1 2: DE2 = AB X AC : DE X DF;
but ABC : DEF = AB X AC : DE X DF (24),
therefore ABC : DEF = AB2: DE2 (Ax. 3, 3),
therefore the two similar triangles ABC, DEF are to each
other as the squares of the homologous sides AB, DE, or
as the squares of any of the other homologous sides.
Theorem XXVI—Similar polygons are composed of the
same number of triangles which are similar and similar¬
ly situated.
In the polygon ABCDE, draw from one of the angles A
the diagonals AC, AD to all the other angles. In the po¬
lygon FGHIK, draw in like manner from the angle F,
homologous to A, the diagonals FH, FI to the other angles.
Fig. 88.
C
Because the polygons are similar, the angle ABC is equal
to its homologous angle FGH (Def. 2), also the sides AB,
BC are proportional to FG, GH ; so that AB : FG BC
: GH, therefore the triangles ABC, F'GH are similar (22) ;
GEOMETRY.
525
Lines and therefore the angle BCA GHF, and these being taken
Figures from the equal angles BCD, GHI, the remainders A CD,
upon a FHI are equal; but the triangles ABC, FGH being simi-
^ar’ -AC • FFI — BC : GH, besides, because of the simila-
rity of the polygons, BC : GH = CD : HI; therefore AC :
FH = CD : Hi; now it has been already shown that the
angle ACD = FHI, therefore the triangles ACD, FHI
are similar (22). It may be demonstrated in the same
manner that the remaining triangles are similar, whatever
be the number of sides of the polygon ; therefore two simi¬
lar polygons are composed of the same number of triangles
similar to each other, and similarly situated.
Theorem XXVII.—The perimeters of similar polygons
are as the homologous sides; and the polygons them¬
selves are as the squares of the homologous sides. (See
fig. 88.)
straight lines be drawn, terminating in the concave arch Lines and
BC; the whole lines shall be reciprocally proportional Figures
to the parts of them without the circle, that is, OB : OC “R011 a
— OD-OA Piane-
_ UU . <JA. Fig< 9Q'
Join AC, BD ; then the triangles
OAC, OBD have the common angle
O, also the angle B = C (15, 2),
therefore the triangles are similar,
and the homologous sides are pro¬
portional, that is, OB : OC = OD :
OA.
Cor. Therefore (8) OA X OB
ir OC X OD, that is, the rectan¬
gles contained by the whole lines,
and the parts of them without the
circle, are equal to one another.
O
For, since by the nature of similar figures AB : FG =
BC : GH = CD : HI, &c. therefore (12, 3) AB + BC
+ CD, &c. the perimeter of the first figure, is to FG
+ GH + HI, &c. the perimeter of the second, as the side
AB to its homologous side FG.
Again, because the triangles ABC, FGH are similar,
ABC : FGH=AC2 : FH2 (25), in like manner ACD : FHI
= AC2: FH2 ; therefore,
ABC : FGH = ACD : FHI.
By the same manner of reasoning,
ACD : FHI r= ADE : FIK,
and so on if there be more triangles ; hence, from this se¬
ries of equal ratios, it follows (12, 3) that ABC + ACD
+ ADE, or the polygon ABCDE, is to FGH + FHI
+ FIK, or the polygon FGHIK, as one of the antecedents
ABC, is to its consequent FGH, or as AB2 to FG2; there¬
fore similar polygons are to each other as the squares of
their homologous sides.
Cor. 1. If three similar figures have their homologous
sides equal to the three sides of a right-angled triangle, the
figure having the greatest side shall be equal to the two
others; for these three figures are proportional to the
squares of their homologous sides, and the square of the
hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two
sides.
Cor. 2. Similar polygons have to each other the dupli¬
cate ratio of their homologous sides. For let L be a third
proportional to the homologous sides AB, FG, then (Def.
10, 3) AB has to L the duplicate ratio of AB to FG ; but
AB : L AB2: AB X L (3), or since AB X L = FG2,
(Cor. to 8) AB : L = AB2 : FG2 = ABCDE : FGHIK;
therefore the figure ABCDE has to the figure FGHIK,
the duplicate ratio of AB to FG.
Theorem XXVIII—The segments of two chords AB,
CD, which cut each other within a circle, are recipro¬
cally proportional, that is, AO : DO z= CO : OB.
Fig. 89. Join AC and BD ; and because
the triangles AOC, BOD have the
angles at O equal (4, 1), and the
angle A = D and the angle C=
B (15, 2), the triangles are simi¬
lar ; therefore the homologous
sides are proportional (20), that
is, AO : DO — CO :BO.
Cor. Hence AO X BO r: CO
X DO (8), that is, the rectangle
contained by the segments of The
one chord is equal to the rectangle contained by the seg¬
ments of the other.
Theorem XXIX.—If from a point O without a circle two
Theorem XXX.—If from a point O without a circle a
straight line OA be drawn touching the circle, and also
a straight line OC cutting it; the tangent shall be a mean
proportional between the whole line which cuts the cir¬
cle, and the part of it witho it the circle; that is, OC :
OA = OA : OD.
For if AC, AD be joined, the
triangles OAD, OCA, have the
angle at O common to both, also
the angle ACD or AGO equal
to DAO (18, 2), therefore the
triangles are similar (20), and
consequently CO : OA = OA :
OD.
Cor. Therefore (Cor. to 8) CO
X OD —OA2, that is, the square
of the tangent is equal to the
rectangle contained by the whole
line which cuts the circle, and
the part of it without the circle.
Fig. 91.
o
Theorem XXXI.—In the same circle, or in equal circles,
any angles ACB, DEF are to each other as the arches
AB, DF of the circles intercepted between the lines
which contain the angles.
Suppose the arch AB to have to the arch DF the ratio
of the number p to the number q ; then the arch AB be¬
ing supposed divided into equal parts Ag, gh, 4B, the
number of which is p, the arch DF shall contain q equal
parts DA, kl, Im, mn, wF, each of which is equal to any
one of the equal parts into which AB is divided. Draw
straight lines from the centres of the circles to the points
Fig. 92.
of division ; these lines will divide ACB into/? angles and
DEF into q angles, which are all equal (13, 2); therefore
the angle ACB has to the angle DEF the ratio of the
number/? to the number <7, which ratio is the same as that
of the arch AB to the arch DF.
Cor. Hence it appears that angles may be measured
and compared with each other by means of arches of cir¬
cles described on the vertices of the angles as centres;
observing, however, that the radii of the circles must be
equal.
526
GEO M E T R Y.
SECT. V.—PROBLEMS.
Plane.
Lines and
Figures
upon a Problem I.—To bisect a given straight line AB ; that is,
to divide it into two equal parts.
Fig. 93. From the points A and B as
, centres, with any radius greater
than the half of AB, describe
arches, cutting each other in D
and D on each side of the line
AB. Draw a straight line through
 B the points D, D, cutting AB in
C ; the line AB is bisected in C.
For the points D, D, being
equally distant from the extre-
mities of the line AB, are each
in a straight line perpendicular
to the middle of AB (16, 1),
therefore the line DCD is that perpendicular, and conse¬
quently C is the middle of AB.
Fig. 95.
A. B
On K as a centre, with any radius, describe an arch to
meet the lines containing the angle K in L and I; and on
upon a
Plane.
A as a centre, with the same radius, describe an indefinite Lines and
arch BO ; on B as a centre, with a radius equal to the Figures
chord LI, describe an arch, cutting the arch BO in D;
draw AD, and the angle DAB shall be equal to K.
For the arches BD, LI having equal radii and equal
chords, the arches themselves are equal (4, 2), therefore
the angles A and K are also equal (13, 2).
Problem V.—To bisect a given arch AB, or a given an¬
gle C.
First, to bisect the arch AB, on A and B as centres,
Fig. 97.
Problem II.—To draw a perpendicular to a given straight
line BC, from a given point A in that line.
Fig. 94. Take the points B and C at
equal distances from A; and on
B and C as centres, with any
radius greater than BA, de¬
scribe arches, cutting each
other in D ; draw a straight
line from A through D, which
will be the perpendicular re¬
quired. For the point D, be¬
ing at equal distances from
_ ^ the extremities of the line BC,
must be in a perpendicular to
the middle of BC (16, 1), therefore AD is the perpendi¬
cular required.
Problem III.—To draw a perpendicular to a given line
BD, from a given point A without that line.
On A as a centre, with a radius sufficiently great, de¬
scribe an arch, cutting the given
line in two points B, D; and on B
and D as centres, with a radius
greater than the half of BD, de¬
scribe two arches, cutting each
other in F; draw a straight line
through the points A and F, meet¬
ing BD in C ; the line AC is the
perpendicular required.
For the two points A and F are
each at equal distances from B and
D ; therefore aline passing through
A and F is perpendicular to the middle of BD (16, 1).
Problem IV.—At a given point A, in a given line AB, to
make an angle equal to a given angle K.
Fig. 96.
with one and the same radius, de¬
scribe arches to intersect in D ;
join CD, cutting the arch in E,
and the arch AE shall be equal
to EB.
For, since the points C and D
are at equal distances from A, and
also from B, the line which joins
them is perpendicular to the mid¬
dle of the chord AB (16,1), there¬
fore the arch AB is bisected at E
(6, 2).
Secondly, to bisect the angle C ;
on C as a centre, with any dis¬
tance, describe an arch, meeting the lines containing the
angle in A and B; then find the point D as before, and
the line CD will manifestly bisect the angle C as required.
Scholium. By the same construction we may bisect
each of the arches AE, EB; and again we may bisect
each of the halves of these arches, and so on ; thus, by suc¬
cessive subdivisions, an arch may be divided into four,
eight, sixteen parts, &c.
Problem VI—Through a given point A, to draw a
straight line parallel to a given straight line BC.
On A as a centre, with a Fig. 98.
radius sufficiently large, de- B f y
scribe the indefinite arch \
EO ; on E for a centre, with \
the same radius, describe the \
arch AF; in EO take ED X
equal to AF, draw a line
from A through D, and AD will be parallel to BC.
For if AE be joined, the angle EAD is equal to
13, 2), and they are alternate angles, therefore AD
rallel to BC (22, 1).
^1
AEB
is pa-
Problem VII.—To construct a triangle, the sides of
which may be equal to v. Qq
three given lines A, B, C.
Take a straight line DE,
equal to one of the given
lines A; on D as a centre,
with a radius equal to ano¬
ther of the lines B, describe
an arch ; on E as a centre,   
with a radius equal to the
remaining line C, describe B
another arch, cutting the for- c 
mer in F ; join DF and EF, and DEF will be the triangle
required, as is sufficiently evident.
Scholium. It is necessary that the sum of any two of
the lines be greater than the third line (7, 1).
Problem VIII.—To construct a parallelogram, the adja¬
cent sides of which may be equal to two given lines A,
B, and the angle they contain equal to a given angle C.
527
GEOMETRY.
Lines and Draw the straight line DE = A; make the angle
GDE = C, and take DG
rr B ; describe two arches,
one on G as a centre, with a
radius GF = DE, and the
other on E, with a radius EF
= DG; then DEFGshall be
the parallelogram required.
For by construction the
opposite sides are equal;
therefore the figure is a pa¬
rallelogram (27, 1), and it is
so constructed, that the ad¬
jacent sides and the angle they contain have the magni¬
tudes given in the problem.
Cor. If the given angle be a right angle, the figure
will be a rectangle; and if the adjacent sides be also
equal, the figure will be a square.
Problem IX .To find the centre of a given circle, or of
a circle of which an arch
is given.
Take any three points A,
B, D, in the circumference
of the circle, or in the given
arch, and having drawn the
straight lines AB, BD, bi¬
sect them by the perpendi¬
culars EG, FH ; the point C
where the perpendiculars in¬
tersect each other is the cen¬
tre of the circle, as is evident from Theorem VI. Sect. II.
Scholium. By the very same construction, a circle
may be found that shall pass through three given points
A, B, C; or that shall be described about a given tri¬
angle ADC.
Problem X.—To draw a tangent to a given circle through
a given point A.
Fig. 101.
Fig. 103.
A
If the given point A be in the circumference (fig. 102),
draw the radius AC; and through A, draw AD perpen¬
dicular to AC, and AD will be a tangent to the circle
(9, 2). But if the given point A be without the circle
(fig. 103), draw AC to the centre, and bisect AC in O,
and on O as a centre, with OA or OC as a radius, de¬
scribe a circle which will cut the given circle in two points
D and D'; join AD and AD', and each of the lines AD,
AD' will be a tangent to the circle.
For, draw the radii CD, CD', then each of the angles
ADC, AD'C is a right angle (17, 2) ; therefore AD and
AD' are both tangents to the circle (9, 2).
Cor. The two tangents AD, AD' are equal to one an¬
other (17, 1).
Problem XI.—To inscribe a circle in a given triangle Lines am
ABC. Figures
upon a
Bisect A and B any two angles of the triangle by the
straight lines AO, Fi 104 '
BO, which meet each
other in O ; from O
draw OD, OE, OF,
perpendiculars to its
sides; theselines shall
be equal to one an¬
other.
For in the triangles
ODB, OEB, the angle
ODB = OEB, and A
the angle OBD = OBE; therefore, the remaining angles
BOD, BOE, are equal; and as the side OB is common
to both triangles, they are equal to one another (6, 1),
therefore the side OD = OE ; in the same manner it may
be demonstrated, that OD = OF; therefore the lines OD,
OE, OF, are equal to one another; and consequently a
circle described on O as a centre, with OD as a radius,
will pass through E and F; and as the sides of the tri¬
angle are tangents to the circle (9, 2), it will be inscribed
in the triangle.
Problem XII.—Upon a given straight line AB, to de¬
scribe a segment of a circle that may contain an angle
equal to a given angle C.
Produce AB towards Fjg_ iq5.
D, and at the point B
make the angle DBE
equal to the given an¬
gle C; draw BO per¬
pendicular to BE, and
GO perpendicular to
the middle of AB,
meeting BO in O ; on
O as a centre, with OB
as a radius, describe
a circle, which will pass through A, and AMB shall be the
segment required.
For since FE is perpendicular to BO, FE is a tangent
to the circle ; therefore the angle EBD (which is equal to
C by construction) is equal to any angle AMB in the al¬
ternate segment (18, 2).
Problem XIII.-—To divide a straight line AB into any
proposed number of equal parts ; or into parts having to
each other the same ratios that given lines have.
First, let it be proposed to di- Fig. 106.
vide the line AB (fig. 106) into
five equal parts. Through the
extremity A draw an indefinite
line AG, take AC of any magni¬
tude, and take CD, DE, EF, and
FG, each equal to AC, that is,
take AG equal to five times AC ;
join GB, and draw Cl parallel to
GB, the line AI shall be one
fifth part of AB, and AI being
taken five times in AB, the line
AB shall be divided into five
equal parts.
For since Cl is parallel to GB, the sides AG and AB
are cut proportionally in C and I; but AC is the fifth
part of AG ; therefore AI is the fifth part of AB.
Next, let it be proposed to divide AB (fig. 107) into
parts, having to each other the ratios that the lines P, Q,
528
Lines and
Figures
upon a
Plane.
GEOMETRY.
Fig. 107. R have. Through A draw
AG, and in AG take AC
= P, CD = Q, DE = R ;
join EB, and draw Cl and
DK parallel to EB; the line
AB shall be divided as re¬
quired.
For, because of the paral¬
lels Cl, DK, EB; the parts
AI, IK, KB have to each
other the same ratios that
the parts AC, CD, DE have (17, 4), which parts are by
construction equal to the given lines P, Q, R.
Problem XIV.—To find a fourth proportional to three
given lines A, B, C.
upon a
Fane.
a centre, with CB as a radius, describe a circle; join AC, Lines and
meeting the circle in D; make AF = AD, and AB shall figures
be divided at F in the manner required.
For since AB is perpendicular to the radius, it is a tan¬
gent to the circle (9, 2) ; and if AC be produced to meet
the circle in E, AB : AF =r AE : AB (30, 4), and by di¬
vision AB — AF : AF AE — AB : AB; but AB —
AF = BF; and since DE 2BC = AB, therefore AE
— AB = AD = AF, therefore BF : AF = AF : AB.
Scholium. When a line is divided in this manner, it
is said to be divided in extreme and mean ratio.
Problem XVII.—To make a square equivalent to a given
parallelogram, or to a given triangle.
<
Fig. 111.
Fig. 108.
Draw two straight lines DE, DF, containing any angle ;
on DE take DA = A, and DB — B, and on DF take DC
= C; join AC and draw BX parallel to AC; then DX
shall be the fourth proportional required.
For because BX is parallel to AC, DA : DB =r DC :
DX (17, 4), that is, A : B C : DX ; therefore DX is a
fourth proportional to A, B, and C.
Cor. The same construction serves to find a third
proportional to two lines A and B; for it is the same as
a fourth proportional to the lines A, B, and B.
Problem XV.—To find a mean proportional between two
straight lines A, B.
D C
A E B X y
First, let ABCD be a given parallelogram, the base of
which is AB, and altitude DE; find XY a mean propor¬
tional between AB and DE (by Problem 15), and XY shall
be the side of the square required.
For since by construction AB : XY rr XY: DE, there¬
fore XY2 = AB X DE (8, 4) =
parallelogram ABCD (5, 4).
Next, let ABC be a given tri¬
angle (fig. 113), BC its base, and
AD its altitude; find XY a mean
proportional between half the base
and the altitude, and XY shall be
the side of the square required.
For since ^BC : XY = XY ;
AD ; therefore (8, 4) XY2 =r |BC
X AD = triangle ABC (6, 4).
Fig. 112.
Fig. 109. Upon any straight line DF
take DE = A, and EF — B;
and on DF as a diameter de¬
scribe a semicircle DGF; draw
EG perpendicular to DF.meet-
ing the circle in G; the line
EG shall be the mean propor¬
tional required.
A For, if DG, FG be joined,
B   the angle DGF is a right an¬
gle (17, 2), therefore, in the
right-angled triangle DGF, GE is a mean proportional be¬
tween DE and EF (23, 4).
Problem XVI To divide a given straight line AB into
two parts, so that the greater may be a mean propor¬
tional betw'een the whole line and the other part.
Problem XVIII.—Upon a given line EF, to construct a
rectangle EFGX equivalent to a given rectangle ABCD.
Find a fourth proportional Fig. 113.
to the three lines EF, AB, and
AD (by Problem 14); draw
EX perpendicular to EF,
and equal to that fourth pro¬
portional, and complete the
rectangle EFGX, which will
have the magnitude required.
For since EF : AB z= AD
: EX, therefore (8, 4) EF X
EX = AB X AD; that is,
the rectangle EFGX is equal to the rectangle ABCD.
Problem XIX.—To make a triangle equivalent to a given
polygon ABCDE.
Fig. 110.
At B, one of the extremities of the line, draw BC per¬
pendicular to AB, and equal to the half of AB; on C as
First, draw the diagonal
CE, so as to cut off the tri¬
angle CDE ; draw DG paral¬
lel to CE, to meet AE pro¬
duced in G; join CG, and
the given polygon ABCDE
shall be equivalent to ano¬
ther polygon ABCG, which
has one side fewer.
For since DG is parallel
to CE, the triangle CGE is
Fig. 114.
c
Lines and equivalent to the triangle CDE (2 Cor. 2, 4) ; to each add
VtfonT the.P0,Jg°n ABCE, and the polygon ABCDE shall be
Plane. e(lulva.lent to the polygon ABCG.
In like manner, if the diagonal CA be drawn, also BF
parallel to CA, meeting EA produced, and CF be joined,
the triangle CFA is equivalent to the triangle CBA, and
thus the polygon ABCDE is transformed to the triangle
CFG.
In this way a triangle may be found equivalent to any
other polygon ; for by transforming the figure into another
equivalent figure that has one side fewer, and repeating
the operation, a figure will at last be found which has only
three sides.
Scholium. As a square may be found equivalent to a
triangle, by combining the problem with Prob. XVII. a
square may be found equivalent to any rectilineal figure
whatever.
GEOMETRY.
529
chords of two sixths of the circumference ; therefore the Lines and
angles A, B, &c. are equal (15, 2). Figures
If straight lines be drawn joining A, C, E, the vertices uPon a
of the alternate angles of the hexagon, there will be PIar!f\,
formed an equilateral triangle inscribed in a circle, as is —^
sufficiently evident.
Scholium. As the same manner of reasoning will apply
alike to any equilateral polygon; it may be inferred that
every equilateral polygon inscribed in a circle is also equi¬
angular. ^
Problem XXIII—To inscribe a regular pentagon and
decagon in a given circle.
Fig. 117.
Problem XX.—Upon a given line FG to construct a po¬
lygon similar to a given polygon ABCDE. (Fig. 88.)
Draw the diagonals AC, AD; at the point F make the
angle GFH — BAG, and at the point G make the angle
.GH — ABC; thus a triangle FGH will be constructed
similar to ABC. Again, on FH construct in like manner
a triangle klH, similar to ADC and similarly situated;
and on FI construct a triangle FXI similar to AED, and
similarly situated; and these triangles FGH, FHI, FIK
shall form a polygon FGHIK similar to ABCDE (26, 4).
Problem XXI.—To inscribe a square in a given circle.
Draw two diameters AC,
BD, so as to intersect each
other at right angles; join
the extremities of the dia¬
meters A, B, C, D, and the
figure ABCD shall be a
square inscribed in the circle.
For the angles AOB, BOC,
&c. being all equal, the
chords AB, BC, CD, DA
. ^are e(3ual 5 and as each of
the angles of the figure ABCD is in a semicircle, it is a
right angle (17, 2}, therefore the figure is a square.
Problem XXII.—To inscribe a regular hexagon, and also
an equilateral triangle, in a given circle.
From any point A in the circumference, apply AB and
BC each equal to AO the radius ; draw the three diame¬
ters AD, BE, CF, and join their adjacent extremities by
the lines AB, BC, &c. and the figure ABCDEF thus
formed is the hexagon required.
Fig. 116.
For the triangles AOB,
BOC being by construction
equilateral, each of the an¬
gles AOB, BOC is one third
of two right angles (4, Cor.
24, 1); and since AOB +
BOC + COD — two right
angles, therefore COD =
one third of two right an¬
gles ; therefore the three
angles AOB, BOC, COD
are equal, and as these are
equal to the angles AOF, FOE, EOD, the six angles at
tlie centre are^all equal; therefore the chords AB, BC
CD, DE, EF, FA are all equal; thus the figure is equila¬
teral. It is also equiangular, for the angles FAB, ABC
&c. are in equal segments, each having for its base the
VOL. X.
Draw any radius AO, and di¬
vide it into two parts AF, FO,
such, that AO : OF = OF: AF
(16) ; from A place AG in the
circumference equal to OF; join
OG, and draw the chord AHB
perpendicular to OG, the chord
AB shall be a side of the pen¬
tagon required.
Join GF, and because AO:
nu ti c a 0F = 0F: and that AG =
OF, therefore AO : AG = AG: AF; now the angle A is
common to the two triangles OAG, GAF, and it has
been shown that the sides about that angle in the two
triangles are proportionals; therefore (22, 4), the trian¬
gles are similar^ and the triangle AOG being isosceles,
the triangle AGF is also isosceles, so that AG = GF;
but AG = FO (by construction), therefore, GF=FO’
and the angle FOG = FGO, and FOG + FGO = 2FOG •
but AFG= FOG + FGO (23, 1), and AFG zr FAG,’
therefore FAG = 2FOG; hence in the isosceles triangle
AOG, each of the angles at the base is double the verti¬
cal angle AOG, therefore the sum of all the angles is
equal to five times the vertical angle AOG; but the sum
of all the angles is equal to two right angles (24,1), there-
fore the angle AOG is one fifth of two right angles, and
consequently AOB = 2AOG = two fifths of two right
angles, equal one fifth of four right angles, therefore the
arch AB is one fifth of the whole circumference. If we
now suppose straight lines BC, CD, DE, to be applied in
the circle each equal to AB, the chord of one fifth of the
circumference, and AE to be joined, the figure thus formed
will be an equilateral pentagon, and it is also equiangular
(Schol. 22). It is evident that AG is the side of a deca¬
gon inscribed in the circle.
Problem XXIV.—Having given ABCD, &c. a regular
PoIyg°n inscribed in a circle; to describe a regular po¬
lygon of the same number of sides about the circle.
Draw GH a tangent to the circle at T the middle of
the arch AB; do the same
at the middle of each of the
other arches BC, CD, &c. ;
these tangents shall form a
regular polygon GHIK, &c.
described about the circle.
Join OG, OH, &c. also
OT and ON. In the tri¬
angles OTH, ONH, the side
OI — ON, and OH is com¬
mon to both, and OTH,
, - i • , ONH, are right angles,
Jerefore the tnangles are equal (17, 1) and the angle
f OH — NOH ; now 1> is the middle of the arch TN,
therefore OH passes through B; and in the same man¬
ner it appears that I is in the line OC produced, &c. Now
3 x
GEOMETRY.
530
Lines and because OT bisects the arch AB, it is perpendicular to
Figures t]ie chord AB (6, 2) ; therefore GH is parallel to AB
upon a /g o and 18, 1), and HI to BC, therefore the angle
GHO zr ABO, and IHO = CBO, and hence GHI = ABC ;
and in like manner it appears that HIK = BCD, &c.;
therefore the angles of the circumscribed polygon are
equal to those of the inscribed polygon. And because
of the parallels, GH : AB — OH : OB, and HI : BC =
OH : OB, therefore GH : AB = HI: BC ; .hut AB = BC;
therefore GH = HI. For the same reason HI = IK,
&c., therefore the polygon is regular, and similar to the
inscribed polygon.
SECT. VL—OF THE QUADRATURE OF THE
CIRCLE.
Axiom.
space; and let ABG be such an arch of the given circle, Lines and
that AG is its chord. Bisect the fourth part of the cir- Figures
cumference (5, 5), then bisect one of its halves, and pro- plj™ j1
ceed in this manner till, by repeated bisections, there
will at length be found an arch AB less than AG. As
the arch thus found will be contained in the circumfe-
Fig. 121.
If ABC be an arch of a circle,
and AD, CD be two tangents at
its extremities, intersecting each
other in D ; the sum of the tan¬
gents AD, DC is greater than
the arch ABC.
Cor. Hence the perimeter of
any polygon described about a
circle, is greater than the circumference of the circle.
Prop. I. Theorem.—Equilateral polygons, ABCDEF,
GHIKLM, of the same number of sides inscribed in
circles are similar, and are to one another as the squares
of the radii of the circles.
Fig. 120.
As each of the polygons is by hypothesis equilateral, it
will also be equiangular (Schol. 22, 5). Let us suppose,
for example, that the polygons are hexagons ; then, as the
sum of the angles is the same in both, viz. eight right
angles (25, 1), the angle A will be one sixth part of eight
right angles, and the angle G will be the same ; therefore
A G; in like manner B = H, C r= I, &c., and as the
figures are equilateral, AB : GH zr BC : HI — CD : IK,
&c., therefore (2, Def. 4) the figures are similar. Draw
AO, BO, GP, HP to the centres of the circles ; then, be¬
cause the angle AOB is the same part of four right angles
that the arch AB is of the whole circumference, and the
angle GPH the same part of four right angles that GH
is of the whole circumference (13, 2), the angles AOB,
GPH are each the same part of four right angles; there¬
fore they are equal; the isosceles triangles AOB, GPH
are therefore similar (22, 4), and consequently AB : GH
= AO : GP; therefore (9 and 27, 4) polygon ABCDEF :
polygon GHIKLM = AO2 ; GP2.
Prop. II. Theorem.—A circle being given, two similar
polygons may be found, the one inscribed in the circle,
and the other described about it, which shall differ
from each other by a space less than any given space.
rence a certain number of times exactly, its chord AB is
the side of a regular figure inscribed in the circle ; apply
lines in the circle, each equal to AB, thus forming the re¬
gular figure ABC, &c., and describe a regular figure DEF,
&c. of the same number of sides about the circle. Then
the excess of the circumscribed figure above the inscribed
figure shall be less than the square upon AG. For draw
lines from D and E to O the centre, these lines will pass
through A and B (24, 5); also, a line drawn from O, to
H the point of contact of the line DE, will bisect AB,
and be perpendicular to it; and AB will be parallel to
DE. Draw the diameter AL, and join BL, which will be
parallel to HO (18, 4). Put P for the circumscribed
polygon, and p for the inscribed polygon ; then, because
the triangles ODH, OAK are evidently like parts of P
and p, V : p = ODH : OAK (1, 3); but the triangles
ODH, OAK being similar, ODH : OAK zz OH2 : OK2
(25, 4) ; and on account of the similar triangles OAK,
LAB, OA2, or OH2 : OK2 zz LA2 : LB2 (20, and 9, 4) ;
therefore P : p zz LA2 : LB2, and by division and inver¬
sion, P : P—p — LA2 : LA2 — LB2, or AB2 ; but LA2,
that is, the square described about the circle, is greater
than the equilateral polygon of eight sides described about
the circle, because it contains that polygon, and for the
same reason the polygon of eight sides is greater than the
polygon of sixteen sides, and so on ; therefore LA2 "y P,
and as it has been proved that P : P — p = LA2 : AB2,
of which proportion the first term P is less than the third
LA2; therefore (2, 3) the second P — /> is less than the
fourth AB2; but AB2 Z. AG2, therefore P—p Z AG2.
Cor. 1. Because the polygons P and p differ from one
another more than either of them differs from the circle,
the difference between each of them, and the circle, is less
than the given space, viz. the square of AG. And there¬
fore, however small any space may be, a polygon may be
inscribed in the circle, and another described about it,
each of which shall differ from the circle by less than the
given space.
Cor. 2. A space which is greater than any polygon that
can be inscribed in a circle, but which is less than any
polygon that can be described about it, is equal to the
circle itself.
Prop. III. Theorem.—The area of any circle is equal to
a rectangle contained by the radius, and a straight line
equal to half the circumference. (Fig. 121.)
Let ABC, &c. be any equilateral poWgon inscribed in
the circle, and DEF, &c. a similar polygon described
about it; draw lines from the extremities of AB and DE,
a side of each polygon, to O the centre; and let OKI! be
Let AG be the side of a square equal to the given perpendicular to these sides. Put P for the perimeter of
Fig. 119.
D
GEOMETRY.
531
Lines and the polygon DEF, &c. and p for the perimeter of the poly-
Figures g0n ABC, &c. and n for the number of the sides of each,
upen a rpjien} because n X ^DE rr ^P, n X 77DE X OH r=
l P X OH, but n X IDE X OH = n X triangle DOE
— polygon DEF, &c.; therefore, ^ P X OH = polygon
DEF, &c.; and in like manner it appears that X OK
— polygon ABC, &c. Now let Q denote the circumfer¬
ence of the circle, then, because -|Q > and OFI >
OK, therefore X OH ^>\p X. OK, that is, X OH
is greater than the inscribed polygon. Again, because
oQ “C. (Axiom), therefore X OH ^P X OH,
that is, iQ X OH is less than the circumscribed polygon.
Thus it appears that -IQ X OH is greater than any poly¬
gon inscribed in the circle, but less than any polygon de¬
scribed about it; therefore, X OH is equal to the
circle (2 Cor. to 2).
Prop. IV. Theorem.—The areas of circles are to one
another as the squares of their radii. (Fig. 120, 122).
Let ABCDEF and GHIKLM be equilateral polygons
of the same number of sides inscribed in the circles, and
OA, PG their radii; and let Q be such a space, that AO2
: GP2 — circle ABE : Q ; then, because AO2: GP2 = poly¬
gon ABCDEF: polygon GHIKLM, and A02:GP2 = cir-
cle ABE : Q, therefore polygon ABCDEF : polygon
GHIKLM — circle ABE : Q ; but circle ABE poly-
Fig. 122.
gon ABCDEF, therefore Q poly¬
gon GHIKLM : that is, Q is greater
than any polygon inscribed in the cir¬
cle GHL. In the same manner it is
demonstrated that Q is less than any
polygon described about the circle
GHL; therefore Q is equal to the
circle GHL (2). And because AO2
: GP2 = circle ABE : Q, therefore
AO2 : GP2 — circle ABE : circle GHL.
Cor. 1. The circumferences of circles are to one an¬
other as their radii. Put M for the circumference of the
circle ABE and N for the circumference of GKL; then,
circle ABE : circle GHL — AO2 : GP2; but ^M X AO
— circle ABE, also |N X GP = circle GHL (3), there¬
fore ^M X AO : X GP = AO2: GP2, and by alterna¬
tion |M X AO : A02 = X GP: GP2, therefore (3, 4),
LM : AO = -£N : GP; and again, by alternation, ^M :
| N zr AO : GP, therefore M : N = AO : GP.
Cor. 2. A circle described with the hypothenuse of a
right-angled triangle as a radius, is equal to two circles
described with the other two sides as radii. Let the sides
of the triangle be a, b and the hypothenuse h, and let the
circles described with these lines as radii be A, B, and H.
Because A : H z= a2 : A2
and B : H zz A2 : A2,
therefore A + B : H zz a2 + A2 : A2 (10, 3);
but a2 + A2 = A2 (13, 4), therefore A + B z= H.
Prop. V. Problem.—Having given the area of a regu¬
lar polygon inscribed in a circle, and also the area of a
similar polygon described about it; to find the areas of
regular inscribed and circumscribed polygons, each of
double the number of sides.
Let AB be the side of the given inscribed polygon, and
EF parallel to AB that of the similar circumscribed poly¬
gon, and C the centre of the circle ; if the chord AM, and
the tangents AP, BQ be drawn, the chord AM shall be the
side of the inscribed polygon of double the number of
sides ; and PQ or 2PM that of the similar circumscribed
polygon. Put A for the area of the polygon, of which
AB is a side, and B for the area of the circumscribed
polygon ; also a for the area of the polygon of which AM
is a side, and A for the area of the similar circumscribed Lines and
Fig. 123. polygon ; then A and B Figures
are by hypothesis known,
and it is required to find a ^
and A.
p I. The triangles ACD,
ACM, which have a com¬
mon vertex A, are to one
51 another as their bases CD,
CM; besides, these tri-
Q angles are to one another
as the polygons, of which
they form like parts, there-
F fore A : a — CD : CM.
The triangles CAM, CME, which have a common vertex
M, are to each other as their bases CA, CE ; they are
also to one another as the polygons a and B, of which
they are like parts ; therefore, a: B zz CA : CE ; but be¬
cause of the parallels DA, ME, CD : CM zz CA : CE ;
therefore, A : a zz a : B ; therefore the polygon a, which
is one of the two required, is a mean proportional between
the two known polygons A and B, so that a -=z VA X B.
II. The triangles CPM, CPE, having the same altitude
CM, are to one another as PM to PE. But as CP bisects
the angle MCE, PM : PE = CM : CE (19, 4) zz CD :
CA zz A : a ,• therefore CPM : CPE = A:a ; and conse¬
quently CPM + CPE, or CME : CPM A a: A, and
CME : 2CPM zz A + a: 2A ; but CME and 2CPM, or
CMPA,‘ are to one another as the polygons B and A, of
which they are like parts ; therefore A ax 2A zz B : A.
Now the polygon a has been already found, therefore by
this last proportion the polygon A is determined; that is,
, 2A X B
A zz ——; .
A + a
Prop. VI. Problem.—To find nearly the ratio of the
circumference of a circle to its diameter.
Let the radius of the circle zz 1, then the sides of the
inscribed square being the hypothenuse of a right-angled
triangle of which the radii are the sides (see fig. 115), the
area of the inscribed square will be 2 (13, 4), and the cir¬
cumscribed square, being the square of the diameter, will
be 4. Now, retaining the notation of last problem, if
we make A zz 2, and B zz 4, the formulae a A X B,
9 A V 4?
A zz ;— give us a zz 2,8284271, &c. the area of the
A +a
inscribed octagon, and A zz S’S 1337085, &c. the area of
the circumscribed octagon. By substituting these num¬
bers in the formula, instead of A and B, we shall obtain
the areas of the inscribed and circumscribing polygons of
16 sides; and thence we may find those of 32 sides, and
so on, as in the following table :
No. of Sides.
4
8
16
32
64
128
256
512
1024
2048
4096
8192
16384
32768
Ins. Polygons.
2,0000000
2*8284271
3*0614674
3*1214451
3*1365485
3*1403311
3*1412772
3*1415138
3*1415729
3*1415877
3*1415914
3*1415923
3*1415925
3*1415926
Circ. Polygons.
4-0000000
3*3137085
3*1825979
3*1517249
3*1441184
3*1422236
3*1417504
3*1416321
3*1416025
3*1415951
3*1415133
3*1415928
3*1415927
3*1415926
Hence it appears that the area of a regular polygon of
32768 sides inscribed in the circle, and of a similar poly-
532 GEO M
Geometry, gon described about it, differ so little from eacn other that
the numbers which express them are the same as far as
the eighth decimal place. And as the circle is greater
than the one polygon, and less than the other, its area
will be nearly 3-1415926. But the area is the product of
the radius and the half of the circumference; therefore
the radius being unity, half the circumference is 3-1415926
nearly ; and the radius is to half the circumference, or the
diameter is to the circumference, nearly as 1 to 3-1415926.
Archimedes, by means of inscribed and circumscribed
polygons of 96 sides, found that the diameter is to the
circumference as 7 to 22 nearly, which ratio is nearer to
the truth than can be expressed by any smaller numbers;
and Metius found it to be more nearly as 113 to 355.
Both of these expressions are convenient on account of
E T E Y.
the smallness of the numbers, but later mathematicians Geometry,
have carried the approximation to a much greater degree
of accuracy. Dr Rutherford has lately calculated the ratio
of the circumference of a circle to its diameter to the extent
of 208 places of decimals, which is 58 places farther than it
had been previously carried. The result is contained in a
paper which was published in the Transactions of the
Royal Society, and is as follows : 7r= 3-14159265358979
323846264338327950288419716939937510582097494459
230781640628620899862803482524211706798214808651
328230664709384460955058223172535940812848473781
392038633830215747399600825931259129401832806517
44, &c. The formula by which the above was calculated
U 1 = 4 tan-.!-tan-i +tan-4.
PART II—GEOMETRY OF SOLIDS.
SECT. I—OF PLANES AND SOLID ANGLES.
Debtnitions.
I. A straight line is perpendicular, or at right angles, to
a plane, when it is perpendicular to every straight line
which it meets in that plane. The plane is also perpen¬
dicular to the line.
II. A line is parallel to a plane when they cannot meet
each other, although both be produced. The plane is also
parallel to the line.
III. Parallel planes are such as cannot meet each other,
though produced.
IV. It will be demonstrated (Theor. 3) that the com¬
mon section of two planes is a straight line; this being
premised, the inclination of two planes is the angle con¬
tained by two straight lines drawn perpendicular to the
line which is their common section, from any point in it,
the one perpendicular being drawn in the one plane, and
the other in the other plane.
This angle may be either acute or obtuse.
V. If it be a right angle, the two planes are perpendicu¬
lar to each other.
VI. A solid angle is that which is made by the meet¬
ing of more than two plane angles, which are not in the
same plane, in one point- Thus the solid angle V is
formed by the plane angles AVB, BVC, CVD, DVA.
(Fig. 133.)
Theorem I.—One part of a straight line cannot be in a
plane and another part above it.
For from the definition of a plane (Sect. 1, Part 1), it
is manifest, that if a straight line coincide with a plane in
two points, it must be wholly in the plane.
Theorem II—Two straight lines which cut each other in
a plane determine its position; that is, the plane can
coincide with these lines only in one position.
Let the straight lines AB, AC
cut each other in A; conceive a
plane to pass through AB, and
to be turned about that line,
till it pass through the point
C; and this it can manifestly
do only in one position; then,
as the points A and C are in
the plane, the whole line AC
must be in the plane; there¬
fore there is only one position
Fig. 124.
in which the plane can coincide with the same two lines
AB, AC.
Cor. Therefore a triangle ABC, or three points A, B
C, not in a straight line, determine the position of
plane.
Theorem III.—If two planes AB, CD intersect each
other; their intersection is
a straight line.
Let E and F be two points
in the line of common section,
and let a straight line EF be
drawn between them; then
the line EF must be in the
plane AB (Def. 1), and the
same line must also be in the
plane CD; therefore it must
be the common section of them
both.
Theorem IV.—If a straight line AP be perpendicular to
two straight lines PB, PC
at P, the point of their in¬
tersection ; it will also be
perpendicular to the plane
MN, in which these lines
are.
Draw any other line PQ in
the plane MN, and from Q,
any point in that line, draw
QD parallel to PB; make
DC DP ; join CQ, meet¬
ing PB in B ; and join AB, AQ, AC. Because DQ is
parallel to PB, and PD DC; therefore BQ. — QC, and
BC is bisected in Q,. Hence in the triangle BAG,
AB2 + AC2 = 2AQ2 + 2BQ2 (16, 4),
and in the like manner, in the triangle PBC,
PB2 + PC2 = 2PQ2 + 2CQ,2;
therefore, taking equal quantities from equal quantities,
that is, subtracting the two last quantities, which are put
equal to each other, from the two first, and observing, that
as APB, APC are by hypothesis right-angled triangles,
AB2 — BP2 = AP2, and AC2 — CP2 = AP2, we have
AP2 + AP2 = 2AQ2 — 2PQ2,
and therefore AP2 = AQ2 — PQ2, or AP2 + PQ2 = AQ2;
therefore the triangle APQ,is right-angled at P (Schol. 15,
4, Part 1), and consequently AP is perpendicular to the
plane MN (Def. 1).
Fig. 126.
Fig. 125.
GEOMETRY.
533
Geomf^y Cor. 1. The perpendicular AP is shorter than any ob-
° o 3'y lique line AQ, therefore it measures the distance of the
point A from the plane.
Cor. 2. From the same point P in a plane no more than
one perpendicular can be drawn. For if it be possible that
there can be two perpendiculars, conceive a plane to pass
through them, and to intersect the plane MN in the straight
line PQ; then these perpendiculars will be in the same
plane, and both perpendicular to the same line PQ, at the
same point P in that line, which is impossible.
It is also impossible that from a point without a plane
two perpendiculars can be drawn to the plane ; for if the
straight lines AP, AQ, could be two such perpendiculars,
then the triangle APQ would have two right angles, which
is impossible.
Theorem V.—If a straight line AP be perpendicular to a
plane MN, every straight line DE parallel to AP is per¬
pendicular to the same plane.
Let a plane pass through the parallel lines AP, DE, and
u'~ 1<r>r? intersect the plane MN in
the line PD ; through D draw
BC at right angles to PD ;
take DC = DB, and join PB,
PC, AB, AC, AD. Because
DB4 — DC, therefore PB
= PC (Cor. 5, 1, Part I.);
and because AP is perpen¬
dicular to the plane MN, so
that APB, APC are right
angles, AB — AC, therefore
ABC is an isosceles triangle;
and since its base BC is bisected at D, BC is perpendicu¬
lar to AD (Schol. 11, 1, P. I.) ; but by construction BC is
perpendicular to PD ; therefore (4) BC or BD is perpendi¬
cular to the plane passing through the lines AD and PD, or
AP and DE ; hence BD is perpendicular to DE, but PD
is also perpendicular to DE (19, 1, P. I.), therefore DE is
perpendicular to the two lines DP, DB ; and therefore it
is perpendicular to the plane MN passing through them.
Cor. 1. Conversely, if the straight lines AP, DE be
perpendicular to the same plane MN, they are parallel;
for if not, through D draw a parallel to AP; this parallel
will be perpendicular to the plane MN (by the theorem),
therefore, from the same point D two perpendiculars may
be drawn to a plane, which is impossible (4).
Cor. 2. Two straight lines A and B which are parallel
to a third line C, though not in the same plane, are pa¬
rallel to each other. For suppose a plane to be perpen¬
dicular to the line C, the lines A and B parallel to this
perpendicular are perpendicular to the same plane; there¬
fore, by the preceding corollary, they are parallel between
themselves.
i<ig. lav.
Theorem VL—Two planes MN, PQ, perpendicular to
the same straight line AB, are parallel to each other.
For, if they can meet each other, let O be a point com¬
mon to both, and join OA, OB ;
then the line AB, which is per¬
pendicular to the plane MN,
must be perpendicular to AO,
a line drawn in the plane MN
from the point in which AB
meets that plane. For the
same reason AB is perpendi¬
cular to BO; therefore OA,
OB are two perpendiculars
drawn from the same point O,
to the same straight line AB, which is impossible.
Fig. 129.
Theorem VII.—The intersections Geometry
EF, GH of two parallel planes of Solids.
MN, PQ with a third plane
FG, are parallel.
For if the lines EF, GH, situ¬
ated in the same plane, are not
parallel, they must meet if pro¬
duced ; therefore the planes MN,
PQ, in which they are, must also
meet, which is contrary to the
hypothesis of their being parallel.
Theorem VIII.—Any straight line AB, perpendicular to
MN one of two parallel planes MN, PQ, is also per¬
pendicular to PQ the other plane. (Fig. 128.)
From B draw any straight line BC in the plane PQ,
and let a plane pass through the lines AB, BC, and meet
the plane MN in the line AD, then AD will be parallel
to BC (7); and since AB is perpendicular to the plane
MN, it must be perpendicular to the line AD, therefore
it is also perpendicular to BC (19, 1, P. I.) ; hence (Def. 1)
the line AB is perpendicular to the plane PQ.
Theorem IX.—Parallel straight lines EG, FH, compre¬
hended between two parallel planes MN, PQ, are equal.
(Fig. 129.) 4
Let a plane pass through the lines EG, FH, and meet
the parallel planes in EF and GH ; then EF and GH are
parallel (7) as well as EG and FH; therefore EGHF is
a parallelogram, and EG = HF.
Cor. Hence two parallel planes are everywhere at the
same distance from each other. For if EG and FH be
perpendicular to the two planes, they are parallel (1 Cor.
5) ; therefore they are equal.
Theorem X.—If two straight lines CA, EA, meeting one
another, be parallel to two other lines DB, FB, that meet
one another, though not in the same plane with the first
two ; the first two and the other two shall contain equal
angles, and the plane passing through the first two shall
be parallel to the plane passing through the other two.
Take AC = BD, AE = BF, and join CE, DF, AB, CD,
EF. Because AC is equal and pa¬
rallel to BD, the figure ABDC is
a parallelogram ; therefore CD is
equal and parallel to AB. For a
similar reason EF is equal and pa¬
rallel to AB; therefore also CE
is equal and parallel to DF (Cor. 5,
and 28, 1, P. I.); therefore the tri¬
angles CAE, DBF are equal (10,
1, P. L), hence the angle CAE
= DBF.
In the next place, the plane
ACE is parallel to the plane BDF:
for suppose that the plane parallel
to BDF, passing through the point A, meets the lines CD,
EF in any other points than C and E (for example in G
and H), then (9) the three lines AB, GD, FH are equal;
but the three lines AB, CD, EF have been shown to be*
equal; therefore CD zz GD, and FH — EF, which is ab¬
surd, therefore the plane ACE is parallel to BDF.
Fig. 130.
Theorem XL—If three straight lines AB, CD, EF, not
situated in the same plane, are equal and parallel; the
triangles ACE, BDF formed by joining the extremities
of these lines are equal, and their planes parallel.
(See fig. 130.)
534
Geometry
of Solids.
GEOMETRY.
For since AB is equal and parallel to CD, the figure and the parallel planes PQ, RS, they are parallel (7) ; and in Geometry
ABDC is a parallelogram ; therefore the side AC is equal like manner it appears, that AC, GF are parallel; there- of Solids,
and parallel to BD. In like manner it maybe shown ^ A ^ ' A/~< /
that the sides AE, BF are equal and parallel; also CE,
DF; therefore the triangles CAE, BDF are equal. It
may be demonstrated, as in last proposition, that their
planes are parallel.
Theorem XII.—If a straight line AP be perpendicular
to a plane MN; any plane APB, passing through AP,
shall be perpendicular to the plane MN.
Let BC be the intersection of the planes AB, MN;
if in the plane MN the line
DE be drawn perpendicular
to BP, the line AP, being
perpendicular to the plane
MN, shall be perpendicular
to each of the straight lines
BC, DE; therefore the angle
APD is a right angle ; now
r PA and PD are drawn in
1 the planes AB, MN perpen-
Fig. 131.
dicular to their common section, therefore (5 Def.) the
planes AB, MN are perpendicular to each other.
Scholium. When three straight lines, such as AP,
BP, DP, are perpendicular to each other, each is perpen¬
dicular to the plane of the two other lines.
Theorem XIII.—If the plane AB be perpendicular to the
plane MN, and if in the plane AB a straight line PA
be drawn perpendicular to BP, the common intersection
of the planes; then shall PA be perpendicular to the
plane MN. (Fig. 131.)
For, if in the plane MN, a line PD be drawn perpendi¬
cular to PB, the angle APD shall be a right angle, be¬
cause the planes are perpendicular to each other; there¬
fore the line AP is perpendicular to the two lines PB, PD,
and therefore it is perpendicular to their plane MN.
Cor. If the plane AB be perpendicular to the plane MN,
and from any point P, in their common intersection, a per¬
pendicular be drawn to the plane MN; this perpendicular
shall be in the plane AB ; for if it is not, a perpendicular AP
may be drawn in the plane AB to the common intersection
BP, which will be at the same time perpendicular to the
plane MN ; therefore, at the same point P, there may be
two perpendiculars to a plane NM, which is impossible (4).
Theorem XIV.—If two planes AB, AD be perpendicular
to a third ; their common intersection AP is perpendi¬
cular to the third plane. (Fig. 131.)
For, if through the point P a perpendicular be drawn to
the plane MN, this perpendicular shall be in the plane AB,
and also in the plane AD (Cor. 12); therefore it is at their
common intersection AP.
Theorem XV.—If two straight lines be cut by parallel
Fig. 132. planes ; they shall be cut in the
Mr—— ^ same ratio.
Let the line AB meet the
planes MN, PQ,, RS, in A, E,
B ; and let CD meet them in C,
F, D, then shall AE: EB — CF
: FD. For draw AD meeting
the plane PQ in G, and join AC,
EG, GF, BD; the lines EG,
BD being the common sections
of the plane of the triangle ABD
fore AE : EB (= AG: GD) = CF : FD.
Theorem XVI.—If a solid angle be contained by three
plane angles ; the sum of any two of these is greater than
the third.
It is evidently only necessary to demonstrate the theo¬
rem, when the plane angle
which is compared with the
sum of the other two is great¬
er than either of them ; for,
if it were equal to or less than
one of them, the theorem
would be manifest; there¬
fore let S be a solid angle
formed by three plane angles
ASB, ASC, BSC, of which
ASB is the greatest. In the
plane ASB make the angle
BSD rr BSC ; draw any
straight line ADB, and having taken SC = SD, join AC,
BC ; the triangles BSC, BSD, having two sides, and the
included angle of the one equal to two sides, and the in¬
cluded angle of the other, each to each, are equal (5, 1, P.I.),
therefore BD = BC ; nbw AB AC + BC, therefore,
taking BD from the first of these unequal quantities, and
BC from the second, we get AD ^ AC ; and as the tri¬
angles ASD, ASC have SD — SC, and SA common to
both, and AD AC, therefore (9, 1, P. I.) the angle
ASD^lASC ; and, adding DSB to the one, and CSB to
the other, ASB ASC + BSC.
Theorem XVII.—The sum of all the plane angles which
form any solid angle is less than four right angles.
Let the solid angle V be cut by any plane ABCDE;
from a point O taken in this plane, draw to all its angles
the lines OA, OB, OC, OD, OE. The sum of all the an¬
gles of the triangles AVB, BVC,
&c. formed about the vertex V is
equivalent to the sum of the angles
of a like number of triangles AOB,
BOC, &c. formed about the point
O. Now at B the angle ABC,
which is the sum of OBA and
OBC, is less than the sum of the
angles VBA, VBC (16) ; in like
manner at C, OCB + OCD
VCB + VCD, and so on with all
the angles of the polygon ABCDE.
Hence, in the triangles of which
the common vertex is O, the sum of the angles at their
bases is less than the sum of the angles at the bases of the
triangles which have their vertex at V ; therefore the sum
of the angles about the point O is greater than the sum of
the angles about the point V. But the sum of the angles
about O is equal to four right angles, therefore the sum of
the plane angles which form the solid angle about the ver¬
tex V is less than four right angles.
Scholium. This demonstration supposes that the solid
angle is convex, or that it lies all on one side of the plane
of any one of its faces. If it were otherwise, the sum of
the solid angles would be unlimited.
Theorem XVIII.—If each of two solid angles be contain¬
ed by three plane angles equal to one another, each to
each ; the planes in w'hich the equal angles are, have
the same inclination to one another.
geometry.
535
Geometry Let the angle ASB = DTE, the angle ASC = DTE,
of Solids, and the angle BSC — ETF ; the two planes ASB, ASC
'**~\~*s shall have to each other the same inclination as the two
planes DTE, DTE.
Fig. 135.
Take A any point in SA, and in the two planes ASB,
ASC draw AB and AC perpendiculars to AS, then (Def.
4) the angle BAG is the inclination of these planes ; again,
take TD =r SA, and in the planes TDE, TDF draw DE
and DF perpendiculars to TD, and the angle EDF shall
be the inclination of these other planes; join BC, EF.
The triangles ASB, DTE have the side AS=DT, the an¬
gle SAB zz TDE and ASB = DTE, therefore the trian¬
gles are equal, and thus AB r= DE, and SB = TE. In
like manner it appears that the triangles ASC, DTF are
equal, and therefore that AC — DF, and SC = TF. Now
the triangles BSC, ETF, having BS = TE, SC = TF,
and the angle BSC zz ETF, are also equal, and therefore
BC zz EF ; but it has been shown that AB zz DE, and
that AC zz DF ; therefore the triangles BAG, EDF are
equal, and consequently the angle BAC zz EDF ; that is,
the inclination of the planes ASB and ASC is equal to the
inclination of the planes DTE and DTF. In the same
manner it may be proved that the other planes have the
same inclination to one another.
Scholium. If the three plane angles which contain the
solid angles are equal, each to each ; and if the angles are
also disposed in the same order in the two solid angles, then
these angles when applied to one another will coincide and
be equal. But if the plane angles be disposed in a contrary
order, the solid angles will not coincide, although the the¬
orem is equally true in both cases. In this last case, the
solid angles are called Symmetrical angles, and they must
be accounted equal, because they are equal in every thing
that determines their magnitude.
SECT. II.—OF SOLIDS BOUNDED BY PLANES.
Definitions.
I. A Solid is that which has length, breadth, and thick¬
ness.
II. A Prism is a solid contained by plane figures, of
which two that are opposite are equal, similar, and parallel;
and the others are parallelograms.
To construct this solid, let ABCDE be any polygon, fig.
136 ; if in a plane parallel to ABC there be drawn straight
lines FG, GH, HI, &c. equal and parallel to the sides AB,
BC, CD, &c. so as to form a polygon FGHIK equal to
ABCDE, and straight lines AF, BG, CH, &c. be drawn,
joining the vertices of the homologous angles in the two
planes ; the planes or faces ABGF, BCHG, &c. thus form¬
ed will be parallelograms ; and the solid ABCDEFGHIK
contained by these parallelograms and the two polygons is
the prism itself.
III. The equal and parallel polygons ABCDE, FGHIK
are called the Bases of the prism; and the distance be¬
tween the bases is its Altitude.
IV. When the base of a prism is a parallelogram, and
consequently the figure has all its faces parallelograms; it
is called a parallelepiped. A parallelepiped is rectangular, Geometry
when all its faces are rectangles. _ Vy
V. A Cube is a rectangular parallelepiped contained by
six equal squares.
VI. A Pyramid is a solid contained by several planes,
which meet in the same point V, and terminate in a poly¬
gonal plane ABCDE. Fig. 134.
VII. The polygon ABCDE is called the Base of the
pyramid ; the point V is its Vertex ; and a perpendicular
let fall from the vertex upon the base is called its Altitude.
VIII. Two solids are similar when they are contained
by the same number of similar planes, similarly situated,
and having like inclinations to one another.
Theorem I.—Two prisms are equal when the three planes
which contain a solid angle of the one are equal to the
three planes which contain a solid angle of the other,
each to each, and are similarly situated.
Fig. 136. Let the base ABCDE be
equal to the base abede, the
parallelogram ABGF equal
to the parallelogram and
the parallelogram BCHG
equal to the parallelogram
bchg ; the prism ABCI shall
be equal to the prism abci.
For let the base ABCDE
be applied to its equal the
base abede, so that they may
coincide with each other;
then, because the three plane angles which form the solid
angle B are equal to the three plane angles which form the
angle b, each to each, viz. ABC zz abc, ABG zz abg, and
GBC zz gbc, and because these angles are similarly situated,
the solid angles B and b are equal (15, 1), therefore the
side BG shall fall upon the side bg ; and because the paral¬
lelograms ABGF, abgf are equal, the side FG shall fall
upon its equal^; in like manner it may be shown that
GH falls upon gh, therefore the upper base FGHIK coin¬
cides entirely with its equal fghik, and the two solids coin¬
cide with each other, or occupy the same space, therefore
the prisms are equal.
Cor. Two right prisms which have equal bases and
equal altitudes are equal to one another. If the equal
angles of the lower bases follow each other in the same
order, then the three planes which contain each solid angle
of the one prism will be respectively equal to the three
planes which contain a solid angle of the other prism, and
will be similarly situated; and when the one solid angle
is applied to the other, these planes will coincide, and
the prisms will exactly coincide. If the equal angles of
the lower base follow each other in a contrary order, then,
by inverting one of the prisms, so that its upper may be¬
come its lower base, the angles of the two bases will follow
each other in the same order; so that in either case the
prisms coincide and are equal.
Theorem II In any parallelepiped, the opposite planes
are equal and parallel.
E
Fig. 137.
H
From the nature of the
solid (4 Def.), the bases
ABCD, EFGH are equal
parallelograms, and their
sides are parallel; there¬
fore the planes AC, EG
are parallel; and because
AD is equal and parallel
to BC, and AE is equal
and parallel to BF, the
536
GEOMETRY.
Geometry angle DAE = CBF, and the plane DAE is parallel to the
of Solids, plane CBF (10, 1); therefore also the parallelogram
DAEH is equal to the parallelogram CBFG. It may in
like manner be demonstrated that the opposite parallelo¬
grams ABFE, DCGH are equal and parallel.
Cor. Any two opposite faces of a parallelepiped may be
taken for its bases.
Theorem III—In every prism ABCDE-FGHIK, the
sections NOPQR, STVXY, made by parallel planes,
are equal polygons.
Because the parallel planes NOPQR,
STVXY are cut by a third plane NOST;
the sections NO, ST are parallel; and
these lines are included between the pa¬
rallels NS, OT, which are sides of the
prism; therefore NO is equal to ST.
For a like reason the sides OP, PQ, QR,
&c. of the section NOPQR are respec¬
tively equal to the sides TV, VX, XY,
&c. of the section STVXY. And be¬
sides, these equal sides being also paral¬
lel, the angles NOP, OPQ, &c. of the
first section are respectively equal to the
angles STV, TVX, &c. of the second
section. Therefore the two sections
NOPQR, STVXY are equal polygons.
Cor. Every section of an upright prism, by a plane pa¬
rallel to the base, is equal to that base.
Theorem IV.—If a parallelepiped AG be cut by a plane
passing through BD, FH, the diagonals of two of the op¬
posite planes ; it will be cut into two equivalent prisms
ABDHEF, GHFBCD equal to one another.
In the same manner it may be demonstrated that the Geometry
oblique prism BCD-FGH is equal to the right prism of Solids.
'Bcd-Fgh. But the two prisms are equal (Cor. to IV
since they have the same altitude, BF and their bases are
equal, they being halves of the same parallelogram ; there¬
fore the two triangular prisms BAD-FEH, BCD-FGH,
which are equivalent to them, are also equivalent to each
other.
Cor. Every triangular prism ABD-EFH is half a pa¬
rallelepiped AG, having the same solid angle A with the
same edges AB, AD, AE.
Scholium. Although the triangular prisms, into which
the oblique parallelepiped is divided, are contained by
equal planes, and have their solid angles equal, yet they cannot
be made to coincide. The reason is, the plane angles
about the corresponding solid angles are not placed in the
same order. These solid angles are therefore symmetri¬
cal, and cannot be brought to coincide (18, 1). Two
prisms, or two solids of any kind so constituted, are called
symmetrical solids. An exact notion of their relation to
each other may be acquired, by considering that any ob¬
ject, and its image reflected from a plane mirror, are sym¬
metrical figures. They resemble each other exactly ; but
every part is placed in a reverse order ; thus, the reflected
image of a right hand is a left hand.
In symmetrical solids every circumstance on which the
magnitude of each depends is the very same in both ; hence
it might be assumed, as an axiom in the geometry of so¬
lids, that they are equivalent.
Theorem V.—If two parallelepipeds AG, AL have a
common base ABCD, and have their upper bases
EFGH, IKLM in the same plane, and between the
same parallels EK, HL; the two parallelepipeds are
equivalent to each other.
Fig. 138.
Through B and F, the extremities of one of the sides,
draw the planes Bacfc, Yehg, perpen¬
dicular to BF, to meet the three
other sides of the solid in a, d, c,
and in e, h, g~. These sections
are equal (3), because the planes
are perpendicular to FB, and
therefore parallel. They are also
parallelograms (7, 1), because aB,
dc, the opposite sides of the same
section, are the intersections of two
parallel planes ABFE, DCGH by
the same plane. For a like reason,
the figure BaeF is a parallelogram,
as also the other lateral facesBFGC,
cdhg, adhe of the solid ¥>adc-~Fehg-. Therefore this solid
is a prism (Def. 2), and it is a right prism, because BF is
perpendicular to the plane of the base.
From the constitution of the figure, the right prism ¥>h
is divided into two right triangular prisms aQd-eYh, cUd-gYh,
and it is now to be proved that the oblique triangular prism
ABCD-EFGH is equal to the right triangular prism
aBd-eFA. Since these two prisms have a common part
ABD-c/%, it is only necessary to prove that the remainders,
viz. the solids BaADrf, FeFHA are equivalent to each other.
Because BAEF, BaeF are parallelograms, therefore
AE = BF ~ ae ; hence Aa — Ee. In like manner it may
be proved that De? — HA. Conceive now that FeA, the
base of the solid FeA, is placed on Barf, the base of the
solid BaADrf ; then, the point e falling on a, and A on rf ;
the lines eE, AH will coincide with their equals a A, rfD, be¬
cause they are perpendicular to the same plane. There¬
fore, the two solids will coincide entirely, the one with the
other; and hence it follows that the oblique prism BAD-
EEH is equivalent to the right prism Barf-FeA.
Fig. 139.
H
There may be three cases, according as El is greater
or smaller than EF, or equal to it; but the demonstration
is the same for them all. In the first place we shall prove
that the triangular prism AEI-DHM is equal to the tri¬
angular prism BFK-CGL.
Since AE is parallel
to BF, and HE to GF,
the angle AEI = BFK,
HEI i= GFK, and HEA
= GFB. Of these six
angles, the three first
form the solid angle E,
and the three others
form the solid angle F;
-A. B therefore, since the
plane angles are equal each to each, and similarly situated,
the solid angles E and F are equal. Now, if the prism
AEI-DHM be applied to the prism BFK-CGL, so that
their bases AEI, BFK, which are equal, may coincide with
each other; then, because the solid angle E is equal to
the solid angle F, the side EH shall fall upon FG, and
this is all that is necessary to prove that the two prisms
coincide entirely; for the base AEI and the edge EH de¬
termine the prism AEM, and the base BFK and the edge
FG determine the prism BFL (1); therefore the prisms
are equal. Now, if from the solid AEL, the prism AEM
be taken away, there will remain the parallelepiped AIL;
and if from the same solid AEL, the prism BFL be taken
away, there will remain the parallelepiped AEG; there¬
fore the parallelepipeds AIL, AEG are equivalent to each
other.
Iheorem VI.—Two parallelepipeds upon the same base,
and having the same altitude, are equivalent to one
another.
GEOMETRY.
537
Geometry ] 4^
of Solids.
A. B
Let ABCD be the common base of the two parallele¬
pipeds AG, AL, which, because they have the same alti¬
tude, will have their upper bases in the same plane. Then,
because EF and AB are equal and parallel, as also IK and
AB, EF is equal and parallel to IK (Cor. 2, 5, 1); for a
similar reason GF is equal and parallel to LK. Let the
sides EF, HG, as also the sides LK, IM, be produced, so
as to form by their intersections the parallelogram NOPQ;
it is manifest that this parallelogram is equal to each of the
bases EIGH, IKLM. Now, if we suppose a third paral¬
lelepiped, which, with the same lower base ABCD, has
for its upper base NOPQ, this third parallelepiped will be
equivalent to the parallelepiped AG (4) ; for the same rea¬
son the third parallelepiped will be equivalent to the paral¬
lelepiped AL • therefore the two parallelepipeds AG, AL,
which have the same base and the same altitude, are equi¬
valent to one another.
Theorem VII.—Any parallelepiped may be changed into
a rectangular parallelepiped having the same altitude,
and an equivalent base. (Fig. 141 and 142.)
Fig, 142. At the points A, B, C, D (fig. 141)
MI Q L P BK, CL, DM, be drawn perpen¬
dicular to the plane ABCD, and ter-
-g- minating in the plane of the upper base;
then, IK, KL, LM, MI, being joined,
a parallelepiped AL will thus be form¬
ed, which will manifestly have its lateral
faces AK, BL, CM, DI rectangles; and
if the base AC be a rectangle, the solid
AL will be a rectangular parallelepiped
equivalent to the parallelepiped AG.
But if ABCD be not a rectangle (fig. 142), draw AO and
BN perpendicular to CD, and OQ and NP perpendicular
to DC, meeting ML in Q and P; the solid ABNOIKPQ
will manifestly be a rectangular parallelepiped, which will
be equal to the parallelepiped AL; for they have the
same base ABKI, and the same altitude, viz. AO ; there¬
fore the rectangular parallelepiped AP is equivalent to the
parallelepiped AG (fig. 141), and they have the same al¬
titude, and the base ABNO of the former is equivalent
to the base ABCD of the latter.
Theorem VIII.—Two rectangular parallelepipeds AG,
AL, which have the same base ABCD, are to each other
as their altitudes AE, AI.
Fig. 143.
H a
Suppose that the altitudes AE, AI
are to each other as the numbers m and
n, so that AE contains m such equal
parts pg, &c. as AI contains n. Let AE
and AI be divided into m and n equal
parts respectively, and let planes pass
through the points of division parallel
to the base ABCD ; thus the parallel¬
epiped AG will be divided into m so¬
lids, which will also be parallelepipeds having equal bases Geometry
(3) and equal altitudes, therefore they will be equal among of Solids,
themselves ; and in like manner the parallelepiped AL will
be divided into n equal solids; and as each of the solids
in AG is equal to each of the solids in AL, the parallel-
opiped AG will contain m such equal parts as the paral¬
lelepiped AL contains n ; therefore the parallelepiped AG
will be to the parallelepiped AL as the number m to the
number n, that is, as AE the altitude of the former to AI
the altitude of the latter.
Theorem IX.—Two rectangular parallelepipeds AG, AK,
which have the same altitude AE, are to each other as
Let the two solids be
placed, the one by the
side of the other, as re
presented in the figure,
and let the plane ONKL
be produced, so as to
meet the plane DCGIT
in PQ, thus forming a
third parallelepiped AQ,
which may be compared
with each of the parallel-
opipedsAG, AK.The two
solids AG, AQ, having
the same base ADHE,
are to each other as their altitudes AB, AO (8); and, in
like manner, the two solids AQ, AK having the same base
AOLE, are to each other as their altitudes AD, AM;
that is,
solid AG : sol. AQ = AB : AO,
sol. AQ : sol. AK r= AD : AM;
but AB : AO base AC : base AP (3, 4, Part 1.)
and AD : AM — base x\P : base AN,
therefore,
sol. AG : sol. AQ = base AC : base AP,
sol. AQ : sol. AK = base AP : base AN,
therefore, ex cequo,
sol. AG : sol. AK =r base AC : base AN.
Theorem X.—Two rectangular parallelepipeds are to
each other as the products of numbers proportional to
their bases and altitudes, or as the products of the num¬
bers which express their three dimensions. (Fig. 144.)
Let AG be a parallelepiped, the three dimensions of
which are expressed by the lines AB, AD, AE, and AZ
another parallelepiped the dimensions of which are ex¬
pressed by the lines AO, AM, AX. Let the two solids
AG, AZ be so placed, that their surfaces may have a
common angle BAE; produce such of the planes as are
necessary, so as to form a third parallelepiped AK, having
the same altitude as the parallelepiped AG. By the last
proposition,
sol. AG : sol. AK — base AC : base AN,
and by the ;ast theorem but one,
sol. AK : sol. AZ = AE : AX;
but, considering the bases AC, AN as measured by num¬
bers, as also the altitudes AE, AX, by 1 of Sect. III.
Part I.
base AC : base AN = AE X base AC: AE X base AN,
and AE : AX = AE X base AN : AX X base AN,
therefore,
sol. AG : sol. AK = AE X base AC : AE X base AN,
sol. AK ; sol. AZ =: AE X base AN : AX X base AN,
therefore, ex eequo,
sol. AG : sol. AZ — AE X base AC : AX X base AN;
which proportion, by substituting for the bases AC, AN
3 Y
bases ABCD, AMNO.
Fig. 144.
VOL. x.
538
GEOMETRY.
Geometry their numerical values AB X AD and AO X AM, becomes
of Solids, sol. AG : sol. AZ = AB X AD X AE : AO X AM X AX.
Scholium. Hence it appears that the product of the
base of a rectangular parallelepiped by its altitude, or the
product of its three dimensions, may be taken as its nu¬
merical measure; and it is upon this principle that all
other solids are estimated. When two parallelepipeds
are compared by means of their bases and altitudes, their
bases must be considered as measured by the same su¬
perficial unit, and their altitudes by the same linear unit;
thus, if P and Q denote two parallelepipeds, and the base
of P contain three such equal spaces as that of Q con¬
tains four; and the altitude of P contains two such equal
lines as that of Q contains five, then P : Q — 3 X 2 :
4 X 5 = 6 : 20.
If all the dimensions of each solid be used in comparing
them, then, the same linear unit must be employed in es¬
timating all the dimensions of both solids; thus, if the
length, breadth, and height of the solid P be 4, 3, and 6
linear units, respectively; and those of Q, 7, 2, and 5, of
the same units; then P:Qr=4X3x6:7X2x5
- 72 : 70.
As lines are compared by considering how often each
contains some other line taken as a measuring unit, and
surfaces, by considering how often each contains a square
whose side is that unit; so solids may be compared, by
considering how often each contains a cube, the side or
edge of which is the same linear unit. Accordingly, the
dimensions of the parallelepipeds P and Q being as above,
the proportion P : Q — 72 : 70 may be considered as in¬
dicating that P contains 72 such equal cubes as Q con¬
tains 70.
The magnitude of a solid, its bulk, or its extension, con¬
stitutes its solidity, or its content; thus, w'e say, that the
solidity or the content of a rectangular parallelepiped is
equal to the product of its base by its altitude, or to the
product of its three dimensions.
Theorem XI.—The solidity of any parallelepiped, or in
general of any prism, is equal to the product of its base
by its altitude.
1. Any parallelepiped is equivalent to a rectangular pa¬
rallelepiped of the same altitude, and an equivalent base
(7); and it has been shown that the solidity of such a
parallelepiped is equal to the product of its base by its
altitude.
2. Every triangular prism is the half of a parallelepiped
of the same altitude, but having its base double that of
the prism (3) ; therefore the solidity of the prism is half
that of the parallelepiped, or it is half the product of the
base of the parallelepiped by its altitude, that is, it is
equal to the product of the base of the prism by its altitude.
3. Any other prism may be divided into as many tri¬
angular prisms as there can be triangles in the polygon
which forms its base ; but the solidity of each prism is
equal to the product of its base by their common altitude ;
therefore the solidity of the wdiole prism is equal to the
product of the sum of all their bases by the common alti¬
tude, or it is equal to the product of the base of the prism,
which is the sum of them all, by its altitude.
Cor. Two prisms having the same altitude are to each
other as their bases; and two prisms having the same
base are to each other as their altitudes.
Note. The cube of a line AB is expressed thus;
AB X AB X AB, but more commonly by AB3.
Theorem XII.—Similar prisms are to one another as the
cubes of their homologous sides.
Let P and p be two prisms, of which BC, be are the
homologous sides; the Geometry
prism P is to the prism p of Solids,
as a cube on the line BC
to a cube on he.
From A and a, homo-
-L'; logous angles of the two
j prisms, draw AH, ah per-
/ pendicular to their bases
4 BCD, bed. Join BH ;
take Ba r= ba, and in the
plane BHA draw ah perpendicular to BH ; then ah shall
be perpendicular to the plane CBD (13, 1), and equal
to ah, the altitude of the other prism; for if the solid
angles B and b were applied the one to the other, the
planes which contain them, and consequently the perpen¬
diculars ah, ah would coincide (Schol. 18, 1).
Now, because of the similar triangles ABH, abh, and
the similar figures AC, ac,
AH : ah = AB : ab — BC : be ;
and because of the similar bases,
base BCD : base bed — BC2 : be1 (25, 4, Part I.)
From these two proportions, by considering all the quan¬
tities, as expressed by numbers (by 11,3, Part I.),
AH X base BCD : ah X base BCD = BC3 : be X BC2,
ah X base BCD : ah X base bed = be X BC2 : be3,
therefore, ex aequo,
AH X base BCD : ah X base bed — BC3 : be3.
But AH X base BCD expresses the content of the
prism P; and ah X base bed expresses that of the other
prism p ; therefore
prism P : prism p — BC3 : be?.
Cor. Similar prisms are to one another in the tripli¬
cate ratio of their homologous sides. Let S and s denote
the homologous sides of t wo similar prisms P and p. It
is manifest that
S3, S2s, S.s2, s3,
are four continual proportionals; therefore (Def. 11, Sect.
III. Part I.), the ratio of S3, the first, to s3, the last, is the
triplicate of the ratio of S3, the first, to S2s, the second;
now, by the proposition, P = S3 : s3, and the ratio of
S3 to S2^ is the same as the ratio of S to s; therefore, the
ratio of P to p is triplicate of the ratio of S to s.
Prop. XIII. Theor.—If a triangular pyramid A-BCD
be cut by a plane parallel to its base, the section FGH
is similar to the base.
For because the parallel planes BCD, FGH are cut by
a third plane ABC, the
sections FG, BC are pa¬
rallel (7, 1). In like
manner it appears that
FH is parallel to BD;
therefore the angle HFG
is equal to the angle
DBC (10, 1.) And be¬
cause the triangle ABC
is similar to the triangle
AFG, and the triangle ABD is similar to the triangle
AFH, we have
BC : BA = FG : FA, and BA : BD = FA : FH.
Therefore, ex cequali, BC : BD FG : FH ; now the angle
DBC has been shown to be equal to the angle HFG;
therefore the triangles DBC, HFG are equiangular (20,
4, Part I.)
Prop. XIV. Theor.—If two triangular pyramids A-BCD,
a-bed, which have equivalent bases and equal altitudes,
be cut by planes that are parallel to the bases, and at
equal distances from them ; the sections FGH,^4 will
be equal. (Fig. 146.)
Fig. 14b.
B c b
Fig. 145.
G E O M
Geometry Draw AKE, ake perpendicular to the bases BCD, bed,
ot Solids, meeting the cutting planes in K and k-, then, because of
tjie parallel planes, we have AE : AK = AB : AF, and ae:
ak = ab:af(\b, 1); but, by hypothesis, AE — ae, and
AK= ak ; therefore, AB : AF = a6: o/i Again, because
of similar triangles, AB : AF rr BC : FG, and ab\ of—
be : fg ; therefore BC : FG =. be : fg ; and hence BC2:
FG2 — bc~ \ fg2 (23, 4, Part I.) ; but because of the similar
triangles BDC, FHG, BC2: FG2=rtrian. BDC : trian. FHG,
and in like manner be2 -.fg2 — trian. bcd\ trian.(25, 4,
Part I.), therefore
trian. BCD : trian. FGH = trian. bed: trian.
Now, trian. BCD = trian. bed (by hypothesis), therefore
the triangle FHG is equal to the triangle//^.
Theorem XV.—A series of prisms of the same altitude
may be circumscribed about any pyramid ABCD, such,
that the sum of the prisms shall exceed the pyramid by
a solid less than any given solid Z.
Let Z denote a prism standing on the same base with
the pyramid, viz. the tri¬
angle BCD, and having
for its altitude the perpen¬
dicular drawn from a cer¬
tain point E in the line AC
upon the plane BCD. It
is evident that CE multi¬
plied by a certain number
m will be greater than AC ;
divide CA into as many
equal parts as there are
units in m, and let these be
CF, FG, GH, HA, each of
which will be less than CE.
Through each of the points
F, G, H, let planes be made
to pass parallel to the plane BCD, making with the sides
of the pyramid the sections FPQ,, GRS, HTU, which will
be all similar to one another, and to the base BCD (13).
From the point B draw in the plane of the triangle ABC
the straight line BK parallel to CF, meeting FP produced
in K. In like manner, from D draw DL parallel to CF,
meeting FQ in L; join KL, and it is plain that the solid
KBCDLF is a prism. By the same construction let the
prisms PM, RO, TV be described. Also let the straight
line IP, wrhich is in the plane of the triangle ABC, be pro¬
duced till it meet BC in h ; and let the line MQ be pro¬
duced till it meet DC in g. Join hg, then hCg QFP is a
prism; and is equal to the prism PM (Cor. 11). In the
same manner is described the prism »zS equal to the prism
R,0, and the prism equal to the prism TV. The sum,
therefore, of all the inscribed prisms AQ, ?«S, and gU is
equal to the sum of the prisms PM, RO, and TV, that is,
to the sum of all the circumscribed prisms except the prism
BL; wherefore, BL is the excess of the prisms circum¬
scribed about the pyramid above the prisms inscribed with¬
in it. But the prism BL is less than the prism which has
the triangle BCD for its base, and for its altitude the per¬
pendicular from E upon the plane BCD, which prism is,
by hypothesis, equal to the given solid Z ; therefore the ex¬
cess of the circumscribed above the inscribed prisms is less
than the solid Z. But the excess of the circumscribed
prisms above the inscribed is greater than their excess
above the pyramid ABCD, because ABCD is greater than
the sum of the inscribed prisms ; much more therefore is
the excess of the circumscribed prisms above the pyra¬
mid less than the solid Z. A series of prisms of the same
altitude has therefore been circumscribed about the py¬
ramid ABCD exceeding it by a solid less than the given
solid Z.
Fig. 147.
E T R Y.
539
Prop. XVI. Theor.—Pyramids that have equal bases and Geometry
altitudes are equal to one another. Solids.
Let A-BCD, a-bed be two pyramids that have equal
Fier. 148.
bases BCD, bed, and equal altitudes; viz. the perpendi¬
culars drawn from the vertices A and a upon the planes
BCD, bed, the pyramid A-BCD is equal to the pyramid
a-bed.
For if they are not equal, let Z represent the solid
which is equal to the excess of one of them, a-bed, above
the other A-BCD ; and let a series of prisms CE, FG,
HK, LM, of the same altitude be circumscribed about
the pyramid A-BCD, so as to exceed it by a solid less
than Z, which is always possible (15); also let a series
of prisms, ce,fg, kk, Im, equal in number to the other, and
of the same altitude, be circumscribed about the pyramid
a-bed. And because the pyramids have equal altitudes,
and the number of prisms described about each is the
same, the altitudes of the prisms will be all equal, and the
bases of the corresponding prisms in the two pyramids, as
EF, ef will be sections of the pyramids at equal distances
from their bases, therefore they are equal (14), and the
prisms themselves are equal (1), and the sum of all the
prisms described about the one pyramid is equal to the
sum of all the prisms described about the other pyramid.
To abridge, put P and jo to denote the pyramids A-BCD,
and a-bed respectively, and Q and q to express the sums of
the prisms described about them. Then, because by hy¬
pothesis Z=p—P, and by construction Z^Q — P,
therefore — P'^Q— P, hence jw must be greater than
Q; but Q is equal to q, therefore/; must be greater than
q, that is, the pyramid p is greater than q, the sum of the
prisms described about it, which is impossible ; therefore
the pyramids P, p are not unequal, that is, they are equal.
Theorem XVII.—Every prism having a triangular base
may be divided into three pyramids that have triangular
bases, and that are equal to one another.
Let ABC, DEF be the opposite bases of a triangular
Fig. 149. prism. Join AE, EC, CD; and be¬
cause ABED is a parallelogram, of
which AE is the diameter, the triangle
ADE is equal to the triangle ABE;
therefore the pyramid of which the
base is the triangle ADE and vertex
the point C, is equal to the pyramid of
which the base is the triangle ABE,
and vertex the point C. But the pyra¬
mid of which the base is the triangle
ABE and vertex the point C, that is, the pyramid ABCE,
is equal to the pyramid DEFC (16), for they have equal
bases, viz. the triangles ABC, DFE, and the same altitude,
viz. the altitude of the prism ABCDEF. Therefore, the
three pyramids ADEC, ABEC, DFEC are equal to one
540
GEOMETRY.
Geometry another; but these pyramids make up the whole prism
of Solids. ABCDEF ; therefore, the prism ABCDEF is divided into
three equal pyramids.
Cor. 1. From this it is manifest that every pyramid is
the third part of a prism which has the same base and the
same altitude with it; for if the base of the prism be any
other figure than a triangle, it may be divided into prisms
having triangular bases.
Cor. 2. Pyramids having equal altitudes are to one an¬
other as their bases; because the prisms upon the same
bases, and of the same altitude, are to one another as their
bases.
SECT. III.—OF CYLINDERS, CONES, AND THE
SPHERE.
Definitions.
I. A Cylinder is a solid figure described by the revolu¬
tion of a right-angled parallelogram about one of its sides,
which remains fixed.
The Axis of the cylinder is the fixed straight line about
which the parallelogram revolves.
The Bases of the cylinder are the circles described by
the two revolving opposite sides of the parallelogram.
II. A Cone is a solid figure described by the revolution
of a right-angled triangle about one of the sides contain¬
ing the right angle, which side remains fixed.
The Axis of the cone is the fixed line about which the
triangle revolves.
The Base of the cone is the circle described by that side
containing the right angle which revolves.
III. A Sphere is a solid figure described by the revolu¬
tion of a semicircle about a diameter.
The Axis of a sphere is the fixed line about which the
semicircle revolves.
The Centre of a sphere is the same with that of the se¬
micircle.
The Diameter of a sphere is any straight line which
passes through the centre, and is terminated both ways by
the superficies of the sphere.
IV. Similar cones and cylinders are those which have
their axes and diameters of their bases proportional.
Theorem I. If from any point E in the circumference of
the base of a cylinder ABCD, a perpendicular EF be
drawn to the plane of the base AEB ; the straight line
EF is wholly in the cylindric superficies.
Let GH be the axis, and AGHD the rectangle, which
Fig. 150.
by its revolution describes the cylin¬
der. Because HG is perpendicular
to AG in every position of the revolv¬
ing rectangle, it is perpendicular to
the plane of the circle described by
AG ; and because AD, the line which
describes the cylindric superficies, is
parallel to GH, it is also perpendicu¬
lar to the plane of that circle (5, 1).
Now when by the revolution of the
rectangle AGHD the .point A coin¬
cides with the point E, the line EF
will coincide with AD, and thus will be wholly in the cy¬
lindric superficies ; for otherwise two perpendiculars might
be drawn to the same plane, from the same point, which is
impossible (2 Cor. 4, 1).
Iheorem II—A cylinder and a parallelepiped having
equivalent bases, and the same altitude, are equal to one
another.
Let ABCD be a cylinder and EF a parallelepiped hav-Geometry
ing equivalent bases, viz. the circle AGB and the parallelo- of Solids,
gram EH, and having also equal altitudes ; the cylinder
ABCD is equal to the parallelepiped EF. If not, let them
be unequal; and first let the cylinder be less than the pa¬
rallelepiped EF ; and from the parallelepiped EF let there
be cut off a part EG by a plane PQ parallel to NF, equal
to the cylinder ABCD. In the circle AGB inscribe the
polygon AGKBLM that shall differ from the circle by a
space less than the parallelogram PH (1 Cor. 2, 6, P. I.), and
cut off from the parallelogram EH a part OR equal to the
polygon AGKBLM, then it is manifest that the parallelo¬
gram OR is greater than the parallelogram OP, therefore
the point R will fall between P and N. On the polygon
AGKBLM let an upright prism be constituted of the same
Fig. 151.
altitude with the cylinder, which will therefore be less than
the cylinder, because it is within it (1) ; and if through
the point R a plane RS parallel to NF be made to pass, it
will cut oft the parallelepiped ES equal to the prism AGBC,
because its base is equal to that of the prism, and its alti¬
tude is the same. But the prism AGBC is less than the
cylinder ABCD, and the cylinder ABCD is equal to the
parallelepiped EQ, by hypothesis ; therefore, ES is less than
EQ, and it is also greater, which is impossible. The cy¬
linder ABCD therefore is not less than the parallelepiped
EF ; and in the same manner it may be shown not to be
greater than EF, therefore they are equal.
Theorem III—If a cone and cylinder have the same base
and the same altitude ; the cone is the third part of the
cylinder.
Fig. 152.
Let the cone ABCD and the cylinder BFKG have the
same base, viz. the circle BCD, and the same altitude, viz.
the perpendicular from the point A upon the plane BCD ;
the cone ABCD is the third part of the cylinder BFKG.
If not, let the cone ABCD be the third part of another cy¬
linder LMNO having the same altitude with the cylinder
BFKG ; but let the bases BCD, LIM be unequal, and first
let BCD be greater than LIM. Then, because the circle
BCD is greater than the circle LIM, a polygon may be in¬
scribed in BCD that shall differ from it less than LIM does
(1 Cor. 2, 6, P. I.), and which therefore will be greater than
541
GEOMETRY.
Geometry LIM. Let this be the polygon BECFD, and upon BECFD
of Solids. let there be constituted the pyramid ABECFD, and the
prism BCFKHG. Because the polygon BECFD is greater
than the circle LIM, the prism BCFKHG is greater than
the cylinder LMNO, for they have the same altitude, but
the prism has the greater base. But the pyramid ABECFD
is the third part of the prism BCFHG (17, 1) ; therefore
it is greater than the third part of the cylinder LMNO.
Now the cone ABECFD is by hypothesis the third part
of the cylinder LMNO ; therefore, the pyramid ABECFD
is greater than the cone ABCD, and it is also less, because
it is inscribed to the cone, which is impossible. Therefore
the cone ABCD is not less than the third part of the cy¬
linder BFKG. And in the same manner, by circumscrib¬
ing a polygon about the circle BCD, it may be shown,
that the cone ABCD is not greater than the third part of
the cylinder BFKG ; therefore, it is equal to the third part
of the cylinder.
Theorem IV.—Let ABDC be a plane figure, bounded by
a straight line CD, a line of any kind AB, which is ter¬
minated by perpendiculars at the extremities of CD, and
by these perpendiculars AC, BC. Let AB b abe a
solid generated by the revolution of this figure about
CD as an axis ; a series of cylinders may be described
about the solid, and another series may be inscribed in
it, having all the same altitude, and such that the sum
of the circumscribed cylinders shall exceed the sum of
the inscribed cylinders by less than any given solid S.
Fig. 153.
a C A
Let S denote a solid which is a cylinder, having B6 for the
diameter of its base, and DP for its height. Suppose the
fixed axis CD to be divided into a number of equal parts
DK, KG, GE, EC, each less than DP. In the plane of the
figure ABDC, draw perpen¬
diculars EF, GH, KL to
meet the line AB in F, H,
L. Construct the inscrib¬
ed rectangles AE, FG, HK,
LD, also the circumscribed
rectangles CF, EH, GL, KB.
By the rotation of the plane
figure about the axis CD,
these rectangles will evi¬
dently generate a series of
cylinders inscribed in the solid, and another series describ¬
ed about it. Let the circumscribed cylinders, reckoned
from the bottom of the solid to the top, be denoted by V,
X, Y, Z, and the inscribed cylinder by v, x, y, z, then the
sums of the circumscribed and inscribed cylinder will be
Y + X + Y + Z,
and v x + y + z-
Now by the nature of the figure, each circumscribed cylin¬
der is equal to the inscribed cylinder next below it; there¬
fore X =: v, Y ■=. x, and Z — y, and hence the excess of
the sum of all the circumscribed above the inscribed cylin¬
ders will be the same as the excess of the greatest circum¬
scribed above the least inscribed cylinder ; that is, it will
be equal to V — z, and consequently will be less than Y;
but the lowest circumscribed cylinder V is less than the
solid S, because it has the same base (viz. the circle hav¬
ing for its diameter B b), and a less altitude KD, by con¬
struction ; therefore the excess of the series of circumscrib¬
ed above the series of inscribed cylinders is less than the
given solid S.
Cor. The difference between the solid AB ba and either
of the two series of cylinders will be less than the greatest
circumscribed cylinder: For the solid AB ba is greater
than the one series of cylinders and less than the other;
therefore it will differ from either series by a quantity less
than the difference between the two.
Theorem V.—If a cone and hemisphere have equal bases Geometry
and altitudes, and if a series of cylinders be described °f Solids,
about the cone, and another series be inscribed in the
hemisphere, and the cylinders have all the same altitude ;
the sum of the two series will be equal to a cylinder
having the same base and altitude as the hemisphere.
Let AFB be a semicircle, and CFDA, CFEB, squares
described on the radius CF, and let CE be the diagonal of
one of the squares BF : Let CF be divided into any num¬
ber of equal parts CG, GK, KM, MF; and let perpendi¬
culars be drawn through the points of division, meeting
the diagonal CE, in
the points O, P, Q,;
the quadrantal arc
BF in the points H,
L, N ; and the side
of the square in the
points R, S, T ; con¬
struct the rectangles
CO, GP, KQ, ME,
which will circum¬
scribe the triangle CFE ; construct also the rectangles CH,
GL, KN, which will be inscribed in the quadrant CFB.
Suppose now the plane of the square to revolve about its
side CF as an axis; the triangle CFE will then generate
a cone, which will have DE for the diameter of its base,
and C for its vertex ; the quadrant CFB will generate a
hemisphere, having for its base a circle of which AB is a
diameter ; and the square CBEF will generate a cylinder,
having the same base and altitude as the hemisphere : also,
the rectangles described about the triangle CFE will mani¬
festly generate a series of cylinders circumscribing the cone ;
the rectangles inscribed in the quadrant will generate a
series of cylinders inscribed in the hemisphere; and the
rectangles CR, GS, KT, ME will generate a series of cy¬
linders which will compose a cylinder having the same base
and altitude as the hemisphere.
The triangles CFE, CGO are manifestly similar, and
CF FE ; therefore CG = GO. In like manner, it may
be proved that CK r= KP and that CM — MQ.
Join CH, and because CGH is a right-angled triangle,
a circle described with CH as a radius will be equal to two
circles described with CG and GH as radii (2 Cor. 4, 6,
Part I.), but CG = GO, and CH = GR ; therefore a circle
described with GR as a radius will be equal to two circles
described with GO and GH as radii; hence again it fol¬
lows, that the cylinder generated by the rectangle CR will
be equal to both the cylinders generated by the rectangles
CO and CH, for they have all the same altitude, and the
base of the first is equal to the sum of the bases of the
other two. It may be demonstrated in the same manner
that the cylinder generated by the rectangle GS is equal
to the sum of the cylinders generated by the rectangles GP
and GL, and the same of all the rest; therefore the sum
of the cylinders generated by the rectangles CR, GS, KT,
ME is equal to the two series of cylinders, one generated by
the rectangles CO, GP, KQ, ME, and the other generated
by the rectangles CH, GL, KN ; that is, a cylinder having
the same base and altitude as the hemisphere, is equal to the
sum of the two series of cylinders, one described about the
cone, and the other described in the hemisphere.
Theorem VI Every sphere is two thirds of the circum¬
scribing cylinder. (Fig. 154.)
Let a figure be constructed exactly as is last proposition ;
and to abridge, let C denote the cone, c the series of cylin¬
ders described about it, H the hemisphere, h the cylinders
described in it, and K the cylinder having the same base
and altitude as the hemisphere, or cone. Moreover, put d
. 154.
C B
542
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti- for the difference between the cone and its circumscribed
cal Geo- cylinders, and d! for the difference between the hemisphere
metry. an(j ^ inscribec[ cylinders ; then we have
v'—C d — c, and H /« + d',
and adding equals to equals,
C + H + d = c -{• h + d'.
But c + ^ = K (5) ; therefore, C + H + rf=:K + c?',
and C + H + d — d' = K, also C + H = K + c? — d.
Hence it appears that the difference between C + H and
K is equal to the difference between d and d'. Now d is
less than the cylinder generated by the rotation of the rect¬
angle ME (Cor. to Prop. 4), ande? is less than the cylinder
generated by the rectangle CR, which is equal to ME ;
therefore the difference between d and d' must be less than
the same rectangle ; hence the difference between C + H
and K is less than the cylinder generated by the revolution
of the rectangle ME, or is less than a cylinder having the
same base as the cone, and the line FM for its altitude.
From this we may infer, that C + H is exactly equal to
K ; for if there can be any difference, let it be a cylinder
having the same base as the cone, and its altitude equal to
FV ; then FM must be greater then FV ; but the number
of parts into which FC is divided may be so great that FM
maybe less than FY ; therefore C + H cannot be unequal
to K; and since C + H = K, and C — (3), therefore
H — f K ; that is, the hemisphere is two thirds of its cir¬
cumscribing cylinder ; and taking the doubles of these, the
whole sphere is two thirds of its circumscribing cylinder.
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry,
A Table showing the Theorem of the foregoing Treatise? that corresponds to each of the principal Propositions in
the first Six and in the Eleventh and Twelfth Books of Euclid’s Elements.
Euclid.
Book I.
Prop. 4.
5.
6.
8.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19
20.
21.
24,
25,
26,
27. )
28. J
29.
30.
32.
).
L.
33.
34.
35. \
36. )
37.
38. J
Geometry.
Part I.
Tiieor. Sect.
5. 1.
11. 1.
12. 1.
10. 1.
1. 1.
3. 1.
4.
23.
24. 1.
13. 1.
7. 1.
8. 1.
9. 1.
6. 1.
22. 1.
21. 1.
20. 1.
23. )
24. [ 1.
25. )
28. 1.
26. 1.
1. 4.
2 Cor. to
2. 4.
Euclid.
Book I.
Pr. 41.
47.
48. |
Book II.
Pr. 4.
5.1
6./
7.
12.
13.
Book III.
:}
Pr. 2.
3.
10. {
11
12,
14.
i,{
16.
20.
21.
22.
26.1
27./
Geometry.
Part I.
Theor. Sect
2. 4.
13. 4.
Scholium
15. 4.
Theor. Sect
10. 4.
12. 4.
11. 4.
15. 4.
14. 4.
Theor. Sect.
3. 2.
6. 2.
Cor. to
7. 2.
12.
11.
8.
2.
8.
9.
14.
15.
16.
13. 2.
Euclid.
Book III.
Pr. 28.1
29./
31.
32.
35.
36. |
Book V.
Pr. 4.
12.
15.
16.
17.
18.
22.
23.
24.
Book VI.
Pr, 1.^
Geometry.
Part I.
Theor. Sect,
4. 2.
17. 2.
18. 2.
28. 4.
29. 4.
30. 4.
Theor. Sect.
7.
12.
1.
3.
5.
4.
8.
9.
10.
Theor. Sect.
Cor. to
5. 4.
Cor. to
6. 4.
Euclid.
Book VI.
Pr. 2
3.
4.
5.
6.
8.
14.
15.
16.
17.
19.
•{
20.
3,.{
33.
Book XI.
Pr. 1.
2.
3.
4.
6.
8.
Geometry.
Part I.
Theor. Sect
17. 4.
18. 4.
19. 4.
20. 4.
21. 4.
22. 4.
23. 4.
Cor.
24. 4.
8. 4.
25. 4.
26. 4.
27. 4.
1 Cor. to
27. 4.
31. 4.
Part. II.
Theor. Sect,
1. 1.
2. 1.
3. 1.
4. 1.
1 Cor. to
5. 1.
5. 1.
Euclid.
Book XI.
•{
9,
10.
13 ^
l
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
A.
24.
25.
28.
29.
30. }
31. /
32.
33.
Book XII,
Pr. 1.
2.
7.
10.
Geometry.
Part II.
Theor. Sect.
2 Cor. to
5. 1.
10. 1.
2 Cor. to
4. 1.
6. 1.
10. 1.
7. 1.
15. 1.
12. 1.
14. 1.
16. 1.
17. 1.
18. 1.
12.
9.
4.
5. 2.
6. 2.
9. 2.
12. 2.
Part. II.
Theor. Sect.
1. 6. of Part I.
4. 6. of Part I.
16. 2. of Part II
3. 3.
(VY. •VY.)
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
1. The branch of science which has obtained the name
of analytical geometry owes its origin to Descartes. It con¬
sists in the application of algebra to geometry, not merely
by using algebraic symbols as the representatives of magni¬
tude, but by employing these in such a manner that the
position of a point is indicated by referring it to fixed lines
or planes, just as the position of a point on the earth’s sur¬
face is defined by referring it to the equator and the first
meridian. For example, if we suppose the positions of two
lines at right angles to one another to be fixed and known,
then the position of any point in the same plane is sufficiently
determined by its distances from these two lines, just as the
position of a place on a given map is denoted by its latitude
and longitude.
This science, like that of ordinary geometry, is divided
into two parts, plane and solid, or analytical geometry of
tivo and of three dimensions.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY OF TWO DIMENSIONS.
2. As every line or area is supposed to be situated in one
plane, we may, whenever it is convenient to do so, imagine
that plane to be the paper before us, which, for convenience
of phraseology, we may further suppose to be standing
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
543
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
upright, so that any one line of print is horizontal, whilst the
successive lines lie vertically under each other. The sim¬
plest way, under these circumstances, in which the position
of a point can be indicated, will be by its distances from two
lines at right angles to each other, the one horizontal, the
other vertical. If we know the positions of these lines, then
we know the position of every point in this plane whose
distances from these two lines have been given us. But it
is frequently necessary to adopt lines ol reference inclined
to one another. In this case, the position of a point is de¬
termined by its two distances
from these lines respectively,
each measured in a direction
parallel to the other. The
lines of reference are called
the co-ordinate axes; their
point of intersection is called dT
the origin ; the distances of
any other point from the lines,
measured in the way stated
above are called the co-ordi¬
nates of that point ; of these
one is called the abscissa,
the other the ordinate, the former being usually the de¬
signation of the horizontal distance.
In this figure, OX, O Y, at right angles or not, are called
the co-ordinate axes ; O the origin ; PM, PN (or its equal
OM), drawn parallel to OY and OX, the co-ordinates of the
point P ; OM the abscissa, PM the ordinate. The line
OM is usually written by the letter x, and MP by y. We
may thus form some idea of the meaning of the symbols by
considering the letter x as the abbreviation for the general
word longitude, and the letter y as that for latitude. Thus
when the latitude and longitude are both specified, the
point referred to is determined. If, on the other hand,
there is stated merely a relation between them, such, for
example, as that the latitude is equal to the longitude, it is
clear that no one point is determined thereby, since the
same property is applicable to an innumerable series of
points. A little consideration will show that some line,
straight or crooked, will pass through all such points. The
relation, therefore, is said to determine this line, and when
expressed in algebraic symbols, is called the equation to the
line. Thus, for example, the relation, “ that the abscissa
is equal to the ordinate,” or the longitude equal to the lati¬
tude, understood as above, indicates a straight line ; and the
corresponding equation, a;is the equation to a straightline.
3. The requirements of analysis demand that attention
should be paid to the sign as well as to the magnitude of
the algebraic symbol which expresses an abscissa or an
ordinate. We lay it down as a rule, deduced at once from
the algebraic definitions of the symbols + and —, that if
one of them denotes a line measured in one direction, the
other will denote a line measured in the opposite direction.
Thus if a? = + a be an abscissa measured to the right of
O, x = — a will be an equal abscissa measured to the left;
if ^ 6 be an ordinate measured above 0,y = — b will
be an equal ordinate measured below it; and these are
the directions which we shall usually assign to the positive
and negative abscissas and ordinates.
4. Besides the method of representation which we have
described, there is another very unlike it in form, but equally
important in the solution of mechanical and astronomical
problems. In this system, the position of a point is deter¬
mined by its distance from a given point, and the direction
in which the line measuring that distance lies with respect
to a given line. This system is called the system of polar
co-ordinates. The given point to which all others are re¬
ferred is called the pole, and the distance from that point
the radius vector.
5. The subject before us naturally divides itself into
three distinct branches,—1°, the determination of the equa¬
tions to curves from the knowledge of their properties ;
2°, the determination of the forms and properties of curves ,
from their equations; and, 3°, the deduction of one pro¬
perty of a curve from another, or from several others. I he
third branch being the combination and extension of the
other two, we propose briefly to illustrate the first and
second, and then to include under the third a discussion ot
some of the more important properties of the Conic Sec¬
tions in the form in which the requirements of science de¬
mand their exhibition.
SECTION I. THE DETERMINATION OF THE EQUATIONS TO
CURVES FROM THE KNOWLEDGE OF THEIR PROPERTIES.
6. a. The Straight Line.—The property of the straight
line which we shall employ
is this—that if two series of
parallel lines be drawn from
any points in it so as to form
with the given line a series of
triangles, the sides of these
triangles will be proportionals.
Let PQIl be the straight
line; OX, OY the co-ordinate axes; PM parallel to OY,
and QE parallel to OX : the triangles PQE, QUO are
similar, .’. PE : EQ :: QO : OR.
Let OM be called x, or OM = x, MP = y, OQ = 6 j
and let the ratio QO : OR be a: 1.
then y — b : x :: a : 1;
or 7/ = arr *f 6 is the equation to the line PR.
Hence it is clear that any simple equation between y and x
will represent a straight line. If the axes of co-ordinates
are at right angles to each other—in which case they are
called rectangular axes—a is the trigonometrical tangent
of the angle PRO, in which the given line cuts the axis
of#.
7. The equation to a straight line may be written in a
different form, which is frequently convenient, thus :
Let the perpendicular from O on the line PR be called
p, the angle PRM a; then it is evident that
y cos a — x sin a — p = 0,
which is the equation to the line.
This equation is abbreviated by writing for it simply
a = 0; or, when multiplied by a constant a, by m = 0;
where w is a function of x, y, a, p, and a constant which is
arbitrary. We shall give an instance of the use of this form
of the equation in the sequel.
If the axes of co-ordinates are not at right angles, the
equation becomes slightly changed in form.
Let the line make the angles 0 and </> with the axes of x
and y respectively ; then
QO : OR :: sin 0 : sin <£ ;
sin 0 . i
y = ——--x + o is the equation ;
sin <£
or y sin <£ — x sin 6 = b sin ;
consequently all lines which are parallel to the given line,
or for which 0 and </> are the same, have the relative mag¬
nitudes of the co-efficients of x and y the same, and vice
versd.
8. Cor. 1.-—If the line j^ass through a given point of which
the co-ordinates are x, y, we shall have y = ax + b gene¬
rally,
and y = ax + b for the given point;
••• y - y = a(x - x),
or b is determined.
Cor. 2.—If the line pass through a second given point
whose co-ordinates are y", x, we shall have f — y" ~
a {pc' - x), or a is determined,
and .'. y ~ y' =Jv ^7 ~ x>) *s the equation.
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
544
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
ANALYTICAL
9. To (express the polar equation to the straight line.
Let O be the pole, O Y perpendicular to PR ; and sup-
, pose OP joined. Let OP = r, OY =jo, POR = 6,
—1 YOR = a; then OP cos POY = OY, or r cos (9 — a)=p
is the equation required.
10. b. The Circle.—The property of the circle is, that
the lines drawn from the centre
to the circumference are equal.
Let us suppose the axes to
be rectangular, Q the centre,
QP the radius = a; OM = x,
PM = ;/, the co-ordinates of P ;
ON = 6, NQ = c, the co-ordi¬
nates of the centre ; then
PR2 + QR2 = PQ2; or
iy — cf -f (# — 5)2 = a2 is the
equation required. If the ori¬
gin be at the centre, the equa¬
tion is #2+,?/ = a2.
11. The polar equation in its simplest form, when the
centre is the pole, is evidently r = a.
12. c. The Parabola.—The property (Conic Sections,
Part 1, Def. 1) is, that the distance of any point from the
focus is equal to its distance from the directrix.
Let F be the focus, DQ the
directrix, then FP = PQ. Sup¬
pose the vertex A to be the
origin, and AFX the axis of the
parabola to be the axis of x.
Let AM - x, MP = y, AF
= AD = «, then PM2 + MF2
= PF2 = PQ2 = MD2; or
if + (-T - of = (a? + a)2, which
gives y1 = \ax, the equation re¬
quired.
13. To find the polar equation, the focus being the pole.
Let FP = r, DFP = Q; ° 1
then FP cos PFM FM = DM — DF = PQ — DF
= FP — DF — i— ‘la
2a
1-cos PFM ~“2 PFM = —^6 is the efluation
sm
cos^
2 2
required.
14. d. The Ellipse.—The property (Conic Sections,
Part 2, Def. 1) is, that the sum of the two lines drawn from
any point to the two foci is constant.
Let the centre C be the origin : CA which passes through
the focus S, called the semi-axis major, or the semi-transverse
■axis, the axis of x; CB perpendicular to CA, the semi¬
axis minor, or the semi-conjugate axis, the axis of y;
CM = x, MP = ?/, CA = a, CB = b; then it is evident that
CF2 = CS2 = a2 - Z>2; and the condition FP + SP = 2a gives
FP2=(2a - SP)2=4a2 - 4a . SP + SP2,
or (FC + xf +y2 = 4a2 - 4a . SP + (CS - xf+y2;
whence 2FC . a:=4a2-4a. SP -2CS .x,
or a . SP = a2- CS . ic ;
that is, a2(SM2 + MP2) = ai-2a2 .CS . x+CS2. x2,
or a2(x - CS)2 + a2y2
= a4-2a2. CS . x+ CS2. x2;
whence a2 x2 +a2. CS2 + a2 y2
= a4 + CS2. a?2,
or a2y2-\-b2x2 = a2b2, the equa¬
tion required.
15. Cor.—Since a . SP =
«2 — CS. x,
if CS = ae, we shall have SP
Fig. 5.
— a —ex-, and since SP + FP = 2a, FP = a + ex. Also it
is evident that a2e2 = a2 — b2, or e2=l — ~.
’ a2’
e is called the eccentricity.
metry.
GEO M E T R Y.
16. To find the polar equation to the ellipse, the focus Analyti-
being the pole. cal Geo-
Let SP=r, PSA=$, then PSD=7r—0. But (Art. 15)
SP — a —ex,
where x= CM = CS — SM = a e — r cos PSM ;
r —a — ae2 +er . cos PSM ;
a(l—e2) __ a(l-e2)
1 + e cos 0
\—e cos PSM
is the equation required.
17. e. The Hyperbola.—The property is (Conic Sec¬
tions, Part 3, Def. 1), that the difference of the two lines
drawn from any point to the two foci is constant.
The figure being drawn, and the same letters retained
as for the ellipse, we shall have FP — SP = 2a, which equa¬
tion being treated as the corresponding equation for the
ellipse, will give, first, a . SP = CS . a: —a2; and, finally (if
CS2 = a2 + 02), a2y2 — b2x2= —a2b2 is the equation required.
18. The polar equation is r=^-^~ 
1 ^ 1 + <? cos 0
19. /. The Cissoid of Diodes.—This curve is generated
by the following con¬
struction : AQB is a
semi-circle, of which AB
is the diameter; AQ is
any chord; QN perpen¬
dicular to the diameter;
PM is drawn parallel to
QN at such a distance
that AM = BN : the
point P, in which the
chord AQ and the line
PM intersect one another, is a point in the cissoid APD :
the cissoid is said to be the locus of the point P.
Let AB = 2a, AM = a?, MP=y,
then y2 :x2:: QN2: AN2 :: AN. NB : AN2
:: NB : AN :: x : 2a — a?;
y-o
is the equation required.
2a —x
20. To find the polar equation.
Join BQ ; let AP = r, PAM = 0; then because AQB
is a right angle,
AQ = AB cos 0, .-. AN = AB cos2 0,
and AM = r cos 0, .*. r cos 0 = AB — AB cos2 0 = AB sin2 0,
2a sin2 0 . ,
is the equation required.
and r =
2\. g. The Conchoid of Nicomedes.—This curve is gene¬
rated as follows :—
A line of indefinite length revolves on and also slides in
a fixed pivot; whilst a con¬
stant portion of the line
always projects beyond a
given fixed straight line,—
the extremity of the pro¬
jecting line traces out a con¬
choid ; or the conchoid is
the locus of the extremity.
Let C be the pivot, AB
the fixed line; PQ the con¬
stant portion of the revolv¬
ing line which projects above
it. Draw CA perpendicular
to AB. Let PQ = a, CA = 0, AM=x, MP^y.
By similar triangles,—
PL2 : LC2 : : PM2 : MQ2 :: PM2: PQ2 - PM2;
or (y+ b)2 : x2 :: y2 : a2 —y2;
or x2y2 = (y + b)2 (a2-/2); which is the equation
quired.
22. To find the polar equation. Let C be the pole
re-
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
545
Analyti- CP = r,-^ACP=0; then since CQcos0 = CA, we get
cal Geo- (r — a) cos 6 = b, the polar equation.
metry. 23. h. The Cycloid.—This curve is described by a point
^ in the circumference of a
circle which rolls along a
straight line.
Let GPD be the circle
which rolls along the
straight line BR, the point
P in the circumference of the circle will trace out a curve
BAR, which is the cycloid.
Let A be the highest point of the curve ; GD = 2a the
diameter of the generating circle = AC ; AM = x, MP —y\
O the centre of the circle ; -s^POG = ft ; then it is evident
that the circumference of the circle coincides by succession
with the straight line BR; therefore arc PD = BD, arc
GPD = BC, and arc GP = DC ; hence
x = GL = a vers 0,
y = ML + LP = PG + PL = a 0 + a sin 0,
or y - a vers-1 b V 2ax - x2 is the equation re¬
quired.
24. i. The Lemniscate.—The property of this curve is
that the product of the two lines drawn from any point of
it to the two foci is always equal to the square of half the
distance between the foci.
Let F and S be the foci,
FC = CS = a, CM = ;r,MP
= y; the property is that 15
FP x SP = a2.
  Tig. 9.
Flence (a + x)2 + y2 x {a — x)2 -r y2 = d2, •,
or (y2 + x2 + a2 + 2 ax) (?/ + af + a2 — 2 ax) = a4;
or (y2 + x2 + a2)2 — 4a2a?2 = a4;
or (y2 + a?2)2 + 2 dry1 — 2dix2 = 0 ;
or (y2 + x1)2 = 2a\xi —y2) is the equation required.
25. To find the polar equation. Let CP = r, -^PCS = 6',
then FP2 = r2 + a2 + 2ar cos 6 ;
SP2 = r2 + a2 — 2ar cos 6 ;
FP2 x SP2, or a4 = (r2-r a2)2 — 4aV2 cos2 6',
whence r2 = 4a2 cos2 6 — 2d2
= 2a2 (2 cos2 ^ - 1)
= 2a2 cos 2 0 is the equation required.
26. Besides the cycloid there are other curves which are
generated by a point in a rolling circle. The trochoid dif¬
fers from the cycloid in having the generating point within
the circle at a distance h from the centre. Its equations are
x — a —h cos 6
y = a6 + h sin 6.
The epicycloid is traced out by a point in the circum¬
ference of a circle which rolls on the convex circumference
of another circle.
The hypocycloid is traced out by a point in the circum¬
ference of a circle which rolls on the concave circumfer¬
ence of a larger circle.
If the describing point is not in the circumference of the
rolling circle, the curves become the epitrochoid and hypo-
trochoid respectively.
SECTION II. THE DETERMINATION OF THE FORMS AND PRO¬
PERTIES OF CURVES FROM THEIR EQUATIONS.
27. Since very few curves can be described by a con¬
tinuous motion, it is evident that, with rare exceptions, the
determination of the form of a curve must resolve itself
either into the expression of the numerical values of all co¬
ordinates corresponding to given abscissas, or into a ge¬
neral investigation of the number and nature of the branches
of the curve, their flexui’e and mutual intersections. It is
under the latter aspect that we are about to regard this sub-
vol. x.
ject. With respect to those few curves which can be de- Analyti-
scribed by a continuous motion, the modes of description of cal Geo-
some of the most important have been already given in the metry.
treatise on Conic Sections, whilst others, such as the cy-
cloid, involve a mechanical process so obvious that it is quite
superfluous to waste words in attempting to make it plain.
We proceed then at once to describe the general features
of a few curves from their equations. This description we
shall designate as tracing the curve.
28. a. The cubical parabola of which the equation is
d2y — vd.
When x=0, y = 0, which shows that the curve passes
through the origin. When a; is positive, y is positive, which
shows that to the right the curve lies above the axis of x.
When x is negative, y is negative, which shows that to the
left the curve lies below the axis of x.
di
Since = 3a;2, it follows that
at the origin the axis of a; is a tan¬
gent to the curve (Fluxions, Art.
65, Equation 3). The form of  —
the curve is therefore as in the
figure. /
29. b. The semi-cubical pa- '
rabola, of which the equation is
Fig. 10.
When x = 0, y = 0. When x is positive y1 is positive, or
y has two equal values, one + the other —; which shows that
there are two similar branches of the curve to the right of
the origin, the one above and the other below the axis of x.
When x is negative y1 is negative, and y is impossible ;
or there is no portion of the curve to the left of the axis of
x. The figure is like the outline of the head of a spear, or
is a cusp.
ay2 = x
30. c. The curve whose equation is ?/ =
x2+ 1
It is evi¬
dent that its general form will be something like that of the
cubical parabola already traced. But the equation may be
thrown under the form y = x P &c.; which shows that
x
as x increases the value of y tends continually to be equal
to it; which is equivalent to the fact that the curve con¬
stantly approaches a straight line whose equation y = x.
This straight line is called an asymptote to the curve. An
example of a similar line has already been given in the ar¬
ticle Conic Sections (iii. 15) in the case of the hyperbola.
A more instructive example will be seen in the conchoid
already described, where, from the nature of the case, it is
at once evident that the curve continually approaches the
straight line AB, without ever reaching it.
To ascertain whether a curve has an asymptote or not, it
is sufficient to expand its equation in a descending series
of powers of x.
If the portion which remains, after excluding that which
becomes 0 on becoming infinite, be in the form of a
simple equation, that equation represents the asymptote.
In addition to this there may be an asymptote parallel to
the axis of y, which can be ascertained by y becoming in¬
finite for some finite value of x.
31. <7. There is another circumstance to be noted respect¬
ing the curve we have been discussing. Near the origin
where the axis of a1 is a tangent, it is evidently convex to
that axis ; but from the nature of the case it is clear that
at a considerable distance from the origin it must be convex
towards its asymptote, and consequently concave towards
the axis of x. The point at which it changes from convex
to concave is called a point of inflexion or a point of con¬
trary flexure. To ascertain the position of this point, it is
necessary to find the value of x which shall render = 0.
3 z
546
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti- On solving this equation we shall obtain x - it V3, which
cal Geo- gives the point of inflexion. The
rnetry. curve js therefore as follows (fig. 11),
OB being the asymptote, and P the
point of inflexion.
32. e. To trace the curve of which
the equation is
xy1 = (x — a)(x — b) (x — c).
Suppose a the least, and c the
greatest of the three magnitudes.
We have
y
_ (x — a) (x — b) (x — c)'
Fig. 11.
from which it is clear that in all cases there are two values
of y equal and with opposite signs ; or, in other words, there
is symmetry with respect to the axis of x.
When a? = 0, ?/ is infinite, or the axis of y is an asymptote.
When a? < a, y is impossible, or no branch of the curve
lies between the origin and the distance a to the right.
When x = a, y = 0 •, when a? )> a 6, y is possible; and
when x= b, y = 0; the curve accordingly starts from the
axis of x at the distance a from the origin, and returns to
it again at the distance b. This branch of the curve is
consequently a kind of oval. If it be required to ascertain
where is the broadest part of the oval, it will be necessary
to find at what point y is a maximum by the method given
in Fluxions, art. 60. The result is obtained by the solu¬
tion of a cubic equation.
When x >b<0, y is impossible.
When x — c,y^-0', when c, y is possible ; and when x
is infinite, y is infinite—the branch beyond the distance c
consequently starts from the axis of x, and extends to in¬
finity, somewhat in the
form of a parabola. When
x is negative, y is always
possible ; and it is infinite
both when a? is 0 and when
x is infinite—diminishing
from the first point and
then increasing to the se¬
cond. At some point it
must attain a minimum
value, which can be ascer¬
tained as the maximum
above. The branch to
the left of the origin ac¬
cordingly bears some faint
resemblance to an hyper¬
bola. The whole curve
is as in the figure where O is the origin
OC = c.
Fig. 12.
-OA = a, OB = b,
33. /. In the last example we assumed that a, b, and c are
all different from each other. If we suppose a = i, we have
the equation y -{x — a) The peculiarity in this
equation is this—that when x = a, y = 0, which gives a pos¬
sible \)omi A ; but when a? is a little greater or less than
y is impossible, so that no branch of the curve lies near
the point. J his point, an isolated point where co-ordinates
satisfy the equation, but which does not belong to any
blanch of the curve, is called a conjugate point. By com¬
paring this example with the last, of which it is a particular
case, we shall be able to trace the origin of such a point in
the oval AB, which has collapsed.
We vvill now give an example or two of the use of polar
co-ordinates.
34. g. The Lemniscate, of which the equation (i) is
r1 — 2a2 cos 26. H w
When 0 = 0, r2 = 2«2, r = zt:aV2 \ or r has two equal
values, CA and CB in the figure of Art. 24.
When # <C / r is possible, having two equal values, caTueo.
positive and negative, the former giving the upper half of ^
the right-hand portion, and the latter the lower half of the left.
When 0 = 7^,r = 0 •, when 6 r is impossible.
3 7j-
When 6 = —.r = 0; when0 = 7r,r = rbaV2, thus giving
the upper portion of the left-hand figure, and the lower
portion of the right.
35. h. The Cardioide, of which the equation is
o 0
r - a cos —.
When # = 0, r = a ; when 0 is < tt, r is positive ; when
B — 7t, t* = 0; and the same is true in a reverse order between
tt and 27r. The curve, therefore,
starts at its greatest distance from
the origin, and returns to the
origin by having positive radii
throughout a whole circumference
—a portion of it accordingly lies
to the left of the axis of y. The
curve is in the shape of a heart,
thus : O being the origin ; O A = a. ^13-
Many curves, whose equations are presented between
linear co-ordinates, have their general form, and some of
their properties, determined most readily by converting
the given equation into a polar equation, as in the follow¬
ing example:—•
36. i.— a?4 — ax-y + ay3=0.
Let x=r cos B, y—r sin B\ then the equation gives
r—a ——r-^r (cos2 B - sin2 0).
cos B
When B = 0, r —0; when 0 < ^j-, r is positive; when
<9 = ^-, r = 0 : hence there is an oval in the first octant,
having its extremity at the origin.
When 0 ^ <C 7^ is negative; when B = r is infinite;
hence there is no branch of the curve in the second octant,
but one extending back from the origin to infinity in the
sixth octant.
When B'p* ~ , r is negative ; when B — T’ = 0;
hence there is no branch of the curve in the third octant,
but a branch returning from infinity to the origin in the
seventh.
When d? > ^ <( tt, r is
positive ; when 0 = tt, r = 0 ;
hence there is an oval in the
fourth octant, having its ex¬
tremity at the origin. The
maximum radius vector oc¬
curs at about 30. The
curve is therefore in the an¬
nexed form.
37. These examples will
suffice to illustrate the ge¬
neral determination of the
form of a curve from its equation. We have next to dis¬
cuss the determination of the properties of curves from
their equations. This we shall do very briefly, confining
ourselves to curves of the second degree. As a preliminary
it will be requisite to point out the method employed to
transfer our reference from one system of co-ordinates to
another. This method is called
Fig. 14.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
547
Transformation of Co-ordinates.
38. It is supposed that the equation to a curve referred
to a certain system of co-ordinates x, y, is given ; and it is
required to determine what its equation becomes when re¬
ferred to another system of co-ordinates x, y. The problem
obviously resolves itself into the determination of the values
of x and y in terms of x and y', and the substitution of the
latter in place of the former. The formulae are thus ob¬
tained.
39. 1°. If the new axes are parallel to the old, the origin
alone being changed—it is evident that nothing is required
but to write a?' + a in place of x, and ?/ + in place of y;
where a and b are theco-ordi-
nates of the new origin re¬
ferred to the old.
40. 2°. Suppose the origin
unchanged, and both the old
and new axes rectangular,
the axis of x being inclined
to that of x by the angle 6.
Let OM = x, MP =y, ON =
x, NP=y. Draw NR, NQ
parallel to Oy and Ox re¬
spectively ;
then
Fig. 15.
x= OR — QN = a/ cos 6 —y sin 6.
?/ = NR + PQ = a/ sin 0 + y' cos 6.
41. 3°. Suppose the origin to be unchanged ; and neither
the old nor the new axes to be necessarily rectangular.
Let OM = x, MP =_y,
ON = a/, NP =y. Draw
ME, NF perpendicular
to Oy, and let NG be
parallel to Oy and meet
EM produced in G ;
then ME= NF - GM,
or a7sina?0?/ =
x sin x Oy —y sin y'Oy.
Similarly, by drawing
perpendiculars from P and N on Ox, we get
y sin yOx=x sin x'Ox + y sin yOx.
42. 4°. When both the origin and the direction of the
axes are to be changed, we have only to unite the processes
of No. 1q and Nos. 2 and 3 to effect the transformation.
43. 5°. To obtain a polar equation, let OP = 7-;
then
sin OPM sm PO?/
x = r -——=r
sin PM x
y=r
sin POM
sin xOy
sin POa?
sin PM# sin xOy
45. Prop. II.—Admitting that the above equation repre- Analyti-
sents a conic section, it is required to determine the cal Geo¬
particular one. metry.
If we solve the equation with respect to y, we obtain
Ay = - (Ba: + D)± V( B2 - AC>2 + 2 (BD-AE>+D2-AF.
Now, I. If B2 — AC be negative, this value of y is impos¬
sible when x is infinite ; which shows that the curve does
not extend to an infinite distance. It is therefore a circle
or an ellipse, according as C is equal to A or not. The
ellipse, however, may be simply a point, and the equation
may be impossible.
II. If B2 —AC be positive, y has two real roots when x
is infinite, whether x be positive or negative. The curve
has consequently four infinite branches as in the hyperbola
or in two intersecting straight lines.
HI. If B2 — AC = 0; then if BD — AE is positive, y will
be possible when x is positive and infinite, but impossible
when x is negative, and vice versa. The curve is conse¬
quently a parabola. If BD — AE = 0, the equation repre¬
sents two straight lines or one, or is impossible.
IV. If the quantity under the radical is a complete square,
i.e., if (B- —AC) (D2 —AF) = (BD —AE)2 the equation
represents two straight lines; for it is the product of two
simple equations.
46. Prop. III.—To find the centre of the curve.
The centre is that point which bisects every chord which
can be drawn through it. Let a, b be the co-ordinates of
the centre; x, y, the co-ordinates when the centre is the
origin; then (Art. 39) we have x = x + a, y =y -^b-, whence
A(/ + 6)2 + 2B(#' + a) (y + 5) -| C(#' + a)2 + 2D(?/' + b)
+ 2E {x + a) + F = 0.
Now when y = 0, this equation must give two values of
x, equal and with opposite signs, because the chord of x
is bisected at the centre. Hence their sum is equal to 0 ;
or B6 + Ca + E = 0;
similarly, Ab -f Ba + D = 0;
whence
BD-AE BE-CD
B2-AC’6- B2-AC’
which are the co-ordinates of the centre.
In the case of the parabola these co-ordinates are in¬
finite, for (Art. 45) B2 — AC = 0 : hence we may say that
the parabola has no centre. In analysis, however, it is de¬
sirable to regard the centre as existing at an infinite dis¬
tance.
47. Prop. IV.—To find the locus of the middle points of
parallel chords.
Properties of Curves of the Second Degree, as deduced from
the general equation.
The general equation of the second degree is
Ay1 + 2 B#?/ q- C#2 + 2 Oy + 2 E# + F = 0.
44. Prop. I.—No straight line can cut a curve of the
second degree in more than two points.
Let y = mx + ^ be the equation to a straight line, then
by substituting this value of y in the given equation, we
have a quadratic for the determination of the values of x at
the points where the co-ordinates are common to it and to
the straight line. A similar process gives a quadratic equa¬
tion in y. Consequently there are but two solutions, and
therefore but two points of intersection.
By referring to the equations to the conic sections given
above, it will be seen that they are curves of the second
degree
Let a, b be the co-ordinates of one of those middle
points, and let the origin be transferred to that point by
writing x + a, y + b for x and y. Let also y = m x be the
equation to this chord; then the points in which it in¬
tersects the curve will be those for which x and y are the
same in the equation to the curve and to the chord. Hence
A (mx + 5)2 + 2B {x + cl) (mx + 5) + C (x + a)2
+ 20 (m x +b) + 2E {x + a) + F = 0
is the equation for determining the values of x at the points
of section ; but since these are by hypothesis equal and with
opposite signs, the co-efficient of#' must be equal to 0;
therefore Amb + B5 + Bwza + Ca + Om + E = 0.
Now m remains the same for all chords which are parallel.
This equation is therefore a simple equation between a and
b; consequently if a and b be considered as the co-ordi¬
nates of middle points generally, the equation which con¬
nects them is the equation to a straight line. The locus of
the middle points of all parallel chords is therefore a
straight line.
548
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
48. Every straight line which bisects a system of parallel
chords is called a diameter, and the chords themselves are
called ordinates to that diameter.
49. Cor.—From the definition of a centre it is evident
that every diameter passes through it.
In the case of the parabola, which has no finitely situated
centre, we observe that B2 = AC. Now the equation to
the diameter (Art. 47) is
+ C« + m (Ab + Ba) + E + mT) = 0 ;
/B2 \
or Vtb + Ca + m l + Ba 1 + E +mD = 0;
or (1+7?) (B6 + Ca) + E +mD=0;
C
i.e. B6 + Ca + ^ + ^ = 0;
in which the co-efficients of the co-ordinates a and b are
independent of m, which shows (Art. 8) that all diameters
of the 'parabola are parallel to one another.
50. Prop. V.—If two diameters of a curve of the second
degree be such that one of them bisects all chords
parallel to the other, then the latter also will bisect
all chords parallel to the former.
By Art. 47 the equation to the line which bisects all chords
parallel to the line whose equation is ?/ = mx, is
(A?rc + B) 6 + (Bm + C) a + Dm + E = 0,
Bm + C Dm + E
or ?/ + -r  = 0,
u Am + B Am + B
by writing y and x for the symbols which stand for the
general phrases latitude and longitude of a point in the
line. Let this be abbreviated by 3/ = nix 4- &c.,
. , Bm + C
where m = —   —.
Am + B
In the same manner the diameter which bisects all chords
parallel to y — nix is y = m'x;
Bm' + C
where m" =
Am ' + B
B 2m + BC
Am + B
+ C
ABm + AC
Am -f B
+ B
i.e. (Art 8), this diameter is parallel to the original chord ;
hence the truth of the proposition. Diameters so related
to each other are called conjugate diameters.
51. Prop. VI.—If through any point O two chords be
drawn, meeting the curve in the points P, Q, and
R, S, respectively; then, the ratio of the rectangle
OP . OQ, to the rectangle OR . OS, is a ratio which
is the same whatever be the point O, provided the
direction of the chords remain unchanged.
Let the co-ordinates of O be a and b ; the polar radius
through O = r; then (Art. 43) we have
sin PO?/ sin POa? 7
x = r~   + a, y = r _ +&
sin xOy J sin xOy
= mr + a suppose =nr + b,
where m and n depend on the direction of the radius or
chord.
T he general equation becomes, by substitution,
A {nr + by + 2B {mr + a) {nr -f £) + C {mr + a)2
+ 2D {nr +5)+ 2E (mr + a) + F = 0;
which gives two values of r, viz. OP, OQ. Their product
is the last term of the equation, viz.
A62+ 2B«6 + Ca2 + 2D6 + 2Ea + F
An - + 2Bmft + Cm2
similarly the product OR, OS is
A&2+ 2Ba5 + Ca2+ 2T)b + 2Ea + F
An2 + 2¥>mri + Cm'2
Consequently OP.OQ : OR.OS : : Ari2 + 2 BmV +
: Ard + 2 Bmra + Cm2;
a ratio which is independent of a and b, and therefore of
the position of the point O. If O' be any other point, and
O'P' be parallel to OP, O R' to OR, &c.; then
OP.OQ : OR.OS : : O'P'.O'Q': O'R'.O'S'.
52. Cor. 1.—If O' be the centre; 0'P' = 0'Q', 0'R' =
O'S'; then OP.OQ : OR.OS : : O'P'2 : O'R'2. That is, if
tivo chords intersect one another, the rectangles by their
segments are to one another as the squares of the diameters
parallel to them respectively.
53. Cor. 2.—O' being still the centre, let O'O be the
diameter of which PQ is the ordinate; and let RS and
also R'S' pass through O' and.*, coincide with one another;
then OP2 : OR.OS : : O'P'2 : O R'2; or the square of the
ordinate is to the rectangle by the abscissas, as the square
of the diameter which is parallel to the former to the square
of that which passes through the latter.
54. In the case of the parabola this proposition is inap¬
plicable ; for the diameter and the chord parallel to it are
both infinite. To determine the corresponding ratio for
this case, let the axes be transformed to x, y such that the
axis of x is parallel to the diameter, and the axis of 3/ to a
bisected chord. Let also the origin be on the curve—the
equation will then assume the form Aiy2 + 2 Ea?' = 0; for
C = 0; because when y = '0 there must be only one value
of x, viz., x = O’, but B'2 = 4 A'C' .\ B' = 0 : and since the
two values of y are equal and with opposite signs we must
have D = 0 : lastly, since the origin is on the curve we must
have F = 0. The equation in this form shows that the ab¬
scissas are to one another as the squares of the ordinates.
The theorems contained in this second corollary con¬
stitute the fundamental properties of the conic sections,
and are the same as demonstrated in the treatise on that
subject. (Arts. i. 12, ii. 13, iii. 12.)
55. Prop. VII.—To find the equation to the tangent.
The tangent is that line to which a line cutting the curve in
two points continually approaches as its limit, as the points of
section approach to each other.
The equation to a line which meets the curve in the two
points xy, xy" is
t tl
y~y = fr^x' ^ ~ ^ (Art-8j Cor-2-)
Now Ay2 + 2 Vtxy + Ca/2 + 2 T>y + 2 Ea/ + F = 0 (1)
and Ay"2 + 2Ba;"/ + Ca;"2 + 2 D/ + 2 Ea;" + F = 0;
.’. by subtraction,
AC?/2 - /2) + B{a/(y' - /) +y'{x - xj + x"(y - /)
+ /(#' ~ »/')} + C(a/2 - x"2) + 2 D(y' - y")
+ 2 E(a/ — x'j = 0;
whence y ~y" - B ^ +/) + C (a; + a-") + 2 E
x — x ~ A (y'+/) + B (a;'+ a;") + 2 D ’
and the equation to the cutting line is
a : A (y' +/) + B (*'+*') + 2 D
The equation to the tangent is derived from this by writing
y for / and x for x . It is therefore
, By' + Ca;' + E , , (e).
^ J Ay+Ba/ + D v J x '
Those who are familiar with the differential calculus will
obtain this result at once from the equation
, dy .
y-y=-si^-x^
If we multiply out equation (2), and substitute for Ay'2-f
Analyti-
cal Geo¬
metry.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti- 2 V>xy + Cx'2 + D/y' + Ea/ its value - Dy — Ea/ — F from
cal Geo- equation (1), we shall have
nietry. + B (ay' + a;'?/) + Ca%c' + D (y + ?/') + E (a? + x) + F = 0
as the equation to the tangent. The equation to the tan¬
gent is therefore to be got from the equation to the curve
by writing xx for x2, yy for y2, x + x for 2 x, y +y for
2 y, and xy + xy for 2 xy \ or by changing one of the a;’s
into a/, and one of the y’s into y.
56. Cor.—Since the equation to the tangent is symme¬
trical in a? and x, y and ?/, if we abbreviate it by (x, y, x, y),
we shall have the equation <p(x, y, x, y) = fix, y, x,y) ;
x and y being interchangeable with x and y.
57. Prop. VIIT.—To find the equation to the straight line
which joins the points of contact of two tangents,
real or imaginary.
Abbreviate the equation to the curve by f(x, ?/) = 0,
and to the tangent by <p(x, y, x, y) = 0.
Let X, Y be the co-ordinates of the point of intersection of
two tangents; then the equations/(a;',y ) = 0, <p{x, y, X, Y)
= 0 give the values of a?', y, the co-ordinates of the point of
contact of the one tangent.
Also the equations f{x, y") — 0, <£(a?", y", X, Y) = 0, give
the co-ordinates x , y" of the point of contact of the other
tangent which passes through the point X, Y.
Now, of the equations constituting these respective pairs,
one is a simple equation, and the other a quadratic. Each
pair will therefore give two values of the variables. But each
pair is the same as the other; therefore the two roots of the
one are the roots of both ; or x, y, x", y" are the roots of
the equations f (x, y) = 0, <p(x, y, X, Y) = 0.
Again, let {x, y, X,Y) ~ 0 be the equation to the chord
which passes through the points (x, y'-, x", y") of contact;
then will x, y, x", y" be the roots of the equations/(x, y) = 0,
y, X, Y) = 0.
But it has been already proved that
/ (^> V) = °> (x, y, X, Y) = 0
have the same roots. Moreover, one of the equations,
/ (x, y) = 0, is common to both pairs; therefore the other
two equations must be identical; orij/(x, y, X, Y) = 0 is the
same as / (x,y, X, Y) = 0; i.e., the equation to the line which
joins the points of contact of two tangents is of the same form
as the equation to the tangent; or if the equation to the tan¬
gent at the point x, y in the curve is <£ (x, y, x, y') = 0;
the equation to the line which joins the points of contact of
two tangents which meet in a point x, y, out of the curve
is / {x, y, x, y) = 0.
58. The line which joins the points of contact of two
tangents is called the polar of their point of intersection ;
and that point accordingly is called the pole of the line.
59. Prop. IX.—If the point B is in the polar of A, then is
A also in the polar of B.
Let x, y be the co-ordinates of A,
r/ ft -pv
x ,y,   B.
The equation to the polar of A is </> (x, y, x, yj = 0; but
by hypothesis B (x, y") is a point in this line; therefore
<p (x",y", x,y') — 0. Hence also (Art. 56)<p(x',y, x",y") = 0.
But (x, y, x", y") = 0 is the a
equation to the polar of B; the
equation <p (x, y, x", y") = 0
consequently shows that x,
y are the co-ordinates of a b<5 ’
point in that line ; i.e., A is
a point in the polar cfB.
60. Cor. 1.—VIany num¬
ber of points be taken in the s
polar of A, their polars will Pig. it.
all pass through A ; i.e., the polars of every point in a
straight line all pass through the pole of that line.
61. Cor. 2.—If A and B are the poles of two lines
PQ and RS which meet in O, the line AB is the polar
of the point O.
For the polar of O passes through A (by the Proposi¬
tion) and through B ; it is therefore the straight line AB.
62. Prop. X.—To find the condition that the straight line
whose equation is my + nx+p = 0 may touch a
given conic section.
The equation to the conic section may, by properly select¬
ing the co-ordinates, be thrown into one or other of the two
forms,
549
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
X‘ If
- + f = 1
a b
^ + i.
a b
The tangents to these have for their respective equations
(Art. 55),
xx y y , .x + x y y ,
a b a b
In order that the former of these may coincide with the
equation my + n x + p = Q, we must have
n _ x m _y
p a’’ p b'
3C * 'll L
But = I; whence an2+ b m2 = p2
a b
•(I)
is the resulting condition.
In order that the latter of the above equations may coin¬
cide with the equation my + nx + p-Q, we must have
1 y
n a .mb
V
1 -
a , m
—- and  
x p
1-*
a
* = i+jl y-=—~
a art b an
which being substituted in the equation
2 x
a
a2 n2 + 2 a n p + b m2 = 0.
as the condition required.
2 x y1 , .
——+*-j- = \y there results
•(2)
63. Prop. XL—Given that chords to a curve of the second
degree always touch a conic section, it is required to
prove that the locus of their poles
is a conic section.
Let A be the conic section to which
the chords are always tangents; B the
curve of the second degree (a conic
section) to which the chords are drawn;
C the curve which is the locus of the
poles of the chords to B.
Let x, y be the co-ordinates of a
point in C, the equation to the polar of
this point is
<£ {x, y, x, y') = 0 (Art. 57) or
(Ay' + Ba?' + D) y + (By' + Cx + E) a;
+ Dy' + ~EjX + F = 0 (Art. 55).
In order that this line may be a tan¬
gent to the conic section A, whose equa¬
tion we shall suppose to be either
+ fLi or 22 + fLi,
a b a b
we have to satisfy one or other of the two conditions ob¬
tained in the last proposition, viz.
550
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti- a(Ry + Ca/ + E)2 + b(Ay + Bx + D)2=(Dy + Ex + F)2(I)
cal Geo - or a\By + Cx + E)2 + 2a(E>y + Cx + E) (EL/ + Ex'-t- F)
raetrJr- + b (Ay + Ba/ + D)2 = 0 (2)
as necessary to be fulfilled.
If the requisite one of these relations between x and y
hold true, the polar to every point in C will touch A. But
these conditions are both expressed in the form of a quad¬
ratic equation between x and y. Hence the curve C is a
curve of the second degree or a conic section.
are in a straight line. Let w=0, v = Q, w = Q, be three
simple equations between x and y, each multiplied by an
arbitrary constant, as in Art. 7; and let ?< = 0 (1) be the
equation to the line AB, v = 0 (2) to the line CD, and
w — 0 (3) to the line EF.
Now since u, v, w, involve x and y, v?, v1, tv1, Sic., will
involve x% y'\ &c., consequently
! + -y2 + w1 - (A + ^r-)vw - (/a + ~)mv - (v + - )uv = 0.
•(4)
64. Prop. XII.—Given that C is generated by A through
the intervention of B, as in the last proposition, to
prove that A would be generated by C through the
intervention of the same curve B.
Let two tangents be drawn to A, forming chords to B,
and let the poles of those chords be C and C' in the curve
C : then (Art. 61) the point of intersection of those tangents
is the pole of CC' (a chord in C). But as the tangents be¬
come indefinitely near each other, their point of intersection
tends to become the point A in the curve A ; and the points
C, C also tend to become indefinitely near each other, or
the chord CC' tends to become a tangent. Hence the point
A on the curve A is the pole of the tangent to a point C
on the curve C.
65. The curves A and C are therefore reciprocal, and
the process which employs this method of demonstration is
termed the method of reciprocal polars. We shall confine
ourselves to a single application of this method, that of con¬
necting two theorems relative to the conic sections which
are known as Pascal’s and Brianchon’s theorem respec¬
tively.
Pascal’s Theorem.
66. Prop. XIII.—If any hexagon be inscribed in a conic
section, and the opposite sides be produced to
meet in three points, those points are in a straight
line.
Let ABCDEF be a hexagon inscribed in a conic sec¬
tion, and let the opposite sides produced meet in the
Pig. 19.
points G, H, and K; viz., AB and ED in G : BC and EF in
H; CD and AT in K: then the points G, H, and K
is an equation between x, y, x,2 y2 Sic., containing six arbi¬
trary constants ; and is therefore the general equation of
the second degree which represents any conic section.
At the points A and B, where the straight line represented
by equation (1) intersects the conic section represented by
(4), the same values of x and y render both equations
identical, or u is the same in fact as well as in form in both
equations:
We must have, therefore,
■y2 + ?c2 — (A + Y)y?c = 0,
A
or v=Xw and v — ~w
at those points respectively. Similarly at the points D
and C we must have u — piv, u = —w respectively, and at
the points E and E, u = vv and u = —v. Hence the points
are thus determined, viz.:
A by the equations u - 0, v = A?y ...
B
D
E
u = 0, v = ~w
A
v — 0, u = —w
p
v = 0, w = jxiv
tv - 0, u — vv
w — 0, u =
..(5)
..(6)
..(7)
..(8)
..(9)
(10)
Let u = Av + Bw be the equation to the line which passes
through the points B and C ; then, by (6) we must have
A il
0 = -^~ + B; andby(7) —= B: consequently
u = — ( — Ay +w).
[X
.(11)
is the equation to the line BC. Similarly u = vv+p tv (12)
is the equation to the line DE, and u = - (y-A tv) (13) is
the equation to the line FA.
Let AM + By+C?c = 0 be the equation to GK.
This equation and the equations to AB and ED must be
simultaneously satisfied at the point G. Combining then
(1) and (12) with this equation we —
In like manner the equation must be satisfied simulta¬
neously with those to AF1 and CD, at the point K. The
equations (2) and (13) combined with it give = whence
A. O
A = ^-, B=—, C = —; and the equation to the line GK
becomes
ti v tv n ,, ,s
7 4 h -=0  (14).
A fJL v
Again, let Aw + By + Cw = 0 be the equation to the line
GH. The point G gives as before jj'- at the point H
the equation must be satisfied simultaneously with the equa-
Analyti-
cal Geo¬
metry.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
551
Analyti- tions to BC and EF. Combining (3) and (11) with it, we
cal Geo- u, X , 111
metry. get Ir= t; • whence we obtain A , B C = —; and
_ j A Ij X [X v
* 'll *1} 'IfJ
the equation to GH is v+- + -=0, the same as the
A JLL V
equation to GK. Hence GH and GK are in the same
straight line.
67. Cor.—It is evident that the demonstration does not
require any order of position amongst the points, or, in
other words, that the points are interchangeable. Conse¬
quently, if for hexagon we read six 'points, and admit every
variety of modes of joining them, we shall obtain a great
number (sixty) of different straight lines in which three
points of intersection of joining lines lie.
Brianchon’s Theorem.
68. Prop. XIV.—If any hexagon be described about a
conic section, the three diagonals which join opposite
angles meet in a point.
Let two tangents be drawn to a conic section A as in
Art. 63, meeting in the point P, and let their poles in the
conic section C be a, h ; then (Art. 61) P is the pole of
the line ah. The same is true of any other pair of tan¬
gents ; consequently, if six tangents be drawn to A forming
a hexagon about it, their points of intersection will be the
poles of a hexagon in C.
Let us designate the angles of the hexagon described
about A by P, Q, R, S, T, U ; and the sides of the hexagon
described in C to which they are respectively poles by p,
q, r, s, t, u.
Let p and s meet in G ; <7 and t in H, and r and w in K ;
then, by the last proposition, G, H, and K are in a straight
line.
Now (Art. 61) G is the pole of PS, H of QT, and K
of RU ; and since G, H, and K are in a straight line, their
polars PS, QT, RU pass through the pole of that line
(Art. 60) ; or meet in a point.
SECTION III.—DEDUCTION OF PROPERTIES OF CURVES FROM
THEIR EQUATIONS AND KNOWN PROPERTIES.
We propose in this section to deduce some of the more
important properties of the conic sections from their equa¬
tions, combined with their known geometrical figures. The
axes of co-ordinates will be supposed rectangular unless
otherwise expressed.
1. The Straight Line.
69. Prop. I.—To find the equation to a straight line which
shall be perpendicular to a given straight line.
Let y= ax + bbe the equation to the given straight line.
y=px + q that of the required line.
If 6, (p be the angles in which those lines respectively
cut the axis of #; it is evident that the condition imposed
requires that
^ /i
P = 2 + 0
••• tanP=-cotfl = -lWe;
or p — — ~ (Art. 6);
hence ?/= — ^ ^ + ^ is the equation required.
70. Prop. II.—To find the length of the perpendicular
from a given point on a given line.
Let x, y be the co-ordi¬
nates of the given
point A ;
y = ax + 6 the equa¬
tion to the given
line PR.
Draw AP perpendicular
to the given line, and let
y cut RP in E ;
then AE = AD - ED
A
= - {ax + b)
and AP = AE sin AEP = AE cos PRM
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
_ AE _V ~
Vl+tan2PRM Vl + a2
71. We may exhibit this result in a very different form
by adopting the equation to a straight line given in Art. 7.
Let AP = P ; then the equation to a line through A
parallel to RP is y cos a — * sin a — Qo + P) = 0; and since
A is a point in this line,
y cos a —x sin a — (/> + P) = 0 ;
or T =y cos a — x sin a —p ;
= a (Art. 7) when x, y are written for x andy.
72. Prop. III.—If a = 0, /3 = 0 be the equations to two
straight lines, agreeably to the abbreviated notation
of Art. 7; then la. + iw/3 = 0, or a — kfi = 0 will
represent a line which passes through their point of
intersection.
For the co-ordinates which render both a = 0 and (3 = 0
render la + m(3 = 0, or a — k(3 = 0 •, and are therefore co¬
ordinates of a point in the last line as in the other two.
73. Prop. IV.—If a = 0 be the
equation to the line QA,
(3=0 to the line QB, and
a — k(3=0 to the line QC ;
then k=
sin AQC
sin BQC*
Fig. 21.
Let x, y be the co-ordinates of C.
Draw CA, CB perpendicular to QA, QB ; then (Art. 71)
CA=y cos a — x sin a—p.
= a, when x, y are written in place of the co¬
ordinates.
CB =/?, when x, y are written for the co-ordinates.
But since x, y is a point in the line a - = 0, we have
when x, y are written for the co-ordinates,
= CA = QC sin AQC = sin AQC
CB QC sin BQC sin BQC’
74. Cor. 1.—The equation to the line QC is therefore
a sin BQC — (3 sin AQC = 0.
75. Cor. 2.—The straight line which bisects the angle
between two straight lines whose equations are a=0, (3=0
is a-(3=0.
76. Prop. V.—If a = 0, (3=0, y = 0 be the equations to
three straight lines, and it be possible to find three
numerical quantities, /, m, and n, such that la + m(3
+ ny shall be equal to 0; the three straight lines
shall meet in one point.
At the point where two of them whose equations are
a=0, (3=0 intersect, the co-ordinates render la + m(3=0.
But, by hynothesis, la + m(3 + ny=Q for all co-ordinates;
552
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti- ny=0 for the co-ordinates of the point where the first
cal Geo- an(j second lines meet; consequently the same co-ordinates
^ metry- belong to the third line; or the three meet in that point.
77. Prop. VI.—The straight lines which bisect the angles
of a triangle meet in a point.
Let a = 0, /3 = 0, y = 0 be the equations to the sides of
the triangle; a — /3 = 0, a — y = 0, f3 — y = 0 (Art. 75) are
the equations to the lines which bisect the angles. But
a-/3-(a-y) + j8-y=0; consequently (Art. 76) these
lines meet in a point.
80. Prop. I.—If TPQ be a tangent to a circle; CT, BQ Analyti-
perpendiculars to the diameter from its extremities; cal Geo-
then the rectangle PT.PQ = rad2. metry.
When the centre is the origin, the equation to the circle v
is x1 + y2 — a2 (Art. 10), and that of the tangent is xx +
yy = a2 (Art. 55).
Hence ax + BQ.y'= a2
— ax + CT.?/' = a2
.*. CT.BQ.?/2 = a2 (a2 — xn)
= ay2
or CT.BQ = a2
but CT = PT, BQ = PQ, .*. PT. PQ = a\
78. Prop. VII.—The perpendiculars from the angles of
a triangle on the opposite sides meet in a point.
Let the angle between the lines whose equations are
a = 0, /8 = 0 be denoted by (a/3), &c.; then (Art. 74) the
equation to the perpendicular from the angle in which these
two meet is
u = a cos (j3y)—(3 cos (ay) = 0.
Similarly the equations to the other two perpendiculars are
v = y cos (a/3) — a cos (y/3) = 0,
w = (3 cos (ya) — y cos (/3a) = 0.
Hence we have u + v + ?t? = 0, therefore (Art. 76) the
three lines meet in a point.
79. Prop. VIII.—If there be two triangles such that the
perpendiculars from the angles of the one on the
sides of the other meet in a point, then the perpen¬
diculars from the angles of the latter on the sides of
the former will also meet in a point.
Let the equations to the sides of the former triangle be
a = 0, /3 = 0, y = 0; and of the latter a'= 0, /3'= 0, y = 0.
Let also (a/3) denote the angle between the lines a = 0,
/3 = 0; (a/3') between the lines a=0, (3 = 0, Sic. Then
(Art. 74) the equation to the perpendicular from the point
(a/3) on the line y' = 0 is a cos ((3y) — (3 cos (ay')—0 (1)
and the equation to the perpendicular from the point (ay)
on the line ^ = 0 is a cos (y/3') — y cos (a/3') = 0; (2)
and from (/3y) on a' = 0, (3 cos (ya') — y cos (/3a') = 0 (3)
Now at the point where these three lines meet, a is the
same in (1) and (2), /3 in (1) and (3), and y in (2) and (3).
Hence by elimination between (l) and (3), we get
a cos (f3y ) cos (ya!) — y COS (/3a') cos (ay') = 0;
which, when combined with (2), gives
COs(/3y') cos (ya') COS (a/3') = COS (/3a') COS (ay') COS (y/3() (4)
Now, if we change a into a', (3 into (3, y into and con¬
versely, we obtain the equations to the perpendiculars from
the angles of the latter triangle on the sides of the formex*.
At the point where the first and third of these lines inter¬
sect, we shall have, as before,
a cos (/3'y) cos (ya) — y cos (/3'a) cos (a'y) = 0 ;
and the equation to the second line is
a! COS (y/3) - y COS (a'/3) = 0.
But because, by equation (4),
cos (/3'y) cos ya) cos (a'/3) = cos ((3a) cos (a'y) cos (Y/3),
the same values of a' and y' satisfy both these equations.
Hence the three lines meet in one point.
2. The Circle.
We shall confine ourselves to two properties only of the
circle, both because of their more simple geometric deduc¬
tion, and because they are included in the properties of the
ellipse.
81. Prop. II.—If through a fixed point chords are drawn
to a circle, and tangents are drawn at the extremi¬
ties of those chords, the locus of the points of inter¬
section of the tangents is a straight line.
Let 6, c be the co-ordinates of the fixed point, x, y the
co-ordinates of a point in which two tangents to the circle
intersect one another; then (Art. 57) the equation to the
chord which joins the points of contact is xx + yy = a2.
But, by hypothesis, b, c are co-ordinates of a point in this
line, .*. bx + cy = a2. Now this is a simple equation be¬
tween x and y. Hence the truth of the proposition.
3. The Parabola.
82. Prop. I.—To find the latus rectum of the parabola.
The latus rectum is the ordinate to the axis drawn through
the focus.
By Art. 12 the equation to the parabola is y2 = \ax.
Now, when x = a, y \% half the chord through the focus;
.\ that half-chord2 = 4a2, or the latus rectum = 4a.
83. Prop. II.—To find the subtangent of the parabola.
The subtangent is the portion of the diameter included
between the ordinate and
the tangent.
Let PT be the tangent
meeting the axis in T ; MT
is the subtangent.
The equation to the tan¬
gent PT is (Art. 55) yy =
2a (x + x).
Now, at the point T, y = 0, /. a? = — x, or AT
hence the subtangent is double the abscissa.
AM;
84. Cor.—Since AT = AM and AF = AD; by addi¬
tion, FT = DM = PQ = FP; .-. ^ FPT = ^ FTP =
-si! QP F, or the tangent bisects the angle between two lines
drawn from the point of contact, the one to the focus, the
other perpendicular to the directrix.
This is the property of the tangent employed in the
treatise on Conic Sections, to which the reader is referred
for the geometrical properties to which it leads.
85. Prop. III.—To find the equation to the normal of the
parabola.
The normal is the straight line which is perpendicular to
the tangent at the point of contact.
Let PT be the tangent at the point P, PG perpendicular
to PT is the normal.
The equation to PT is
2a , 2ax
yy = 2a (x + x), or y = — x+ -w- ;
and the equation to a line perpendicular to this is (Art. 69)
V
= _JC
2a
x + q.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
553
Analyti- Now the point P, whose co-ordinates are x,y, is a point in
cal Geo- this line ; therefore
metry. r
| i 1J i
t V r
and by subtraction y—y = ^ — ^
which is the equation to the normal.
86.—Cor. At the point G, y = 0, x — AG. Hence
AG = x 2a = AM + 2a; .\ MG = 2a.
The line MG is called the subnormal; and it follows that
the subnormal is equal to half the latus rectum.
87. Prop. IV.—The perpendicular from the focus on the
tangent intersects the tangent in the axis of y.
The equation to the tangent is
yy' = 2a (x + x)
= 2 ax +
y(y-|-) =
2ax;.
and the equation to the perpendicular from F on the tan¬
gent is
y , x
= _yjL<]L
2a 2
y yx
™y-'-2 = -2a
•(2)
Let PN be the diameter parallel to AM; QN the ordi- Analyti
•(i)
nate parallel to the tan¬
gent at P ; a?', y the co-or¬
dinates of P ; a?, y of Q re¬
ferred to the axis ; x, y"
the co-ordinates PN, NQ
referred to the diameter
PN and the tangent ^P. t
Hence, * = a;' + x -fy"cos T,
y=y +y" sin t ;
therefore the equation y2 = ^ax becomes
0/ -fz/sin T)2 = 4a (x + x + y" cos T),
or y'2 + 2y'y" sin T +y"2 sin2 T = 4aa/ + Aax + Aay" cos T.
Qcl
Now tan T = —r (Art. 6) ;. *. 2yy sin T = 4ay" cos T ; and
y'2 = 4aa/; hence the equation is reduced to y"2 sin2 T = A.ax .
4a
Bnt sina 'p~4 FP (Art. 88); hence y"2 = 4 FPa?" is the
equation required.
The equation when the curve is referred to any diameter
and its bisected chords is consequently of the same form
as the equation when the curve is referred to the axis.
The conclusions arrived at in the one case are very easily
adapted to the other.
91. Prop. VII.—The semi-latus-rectum is an harmonic
mean between the segments of any chord drawn
through the focus.
Let PFR be a chord through the focus; then (Art. 13),
jL = A(i-c°srFM);
cal Geo¬
metry.
At their point of section x and y are the same in both.
Now if a? be not 0,y - is positive in equation (1) and
negative in equation (2), or vice versd, which is impossible;
a? = 0, or the point of intersection is in the axis ofy.
88. Cor.—FP : FY :: FY : FA,
FY2 FY2 FA
or FP"" FA FA2 FA sin2 T*
89. Prop. V.—To find the locus of the intersection of the
tangent with the perpendicular on it from the vertex.
The equation to the tangent is yy =2a (x + x), (1)
and the equation to the perpendicular on it from the ver¬
tex is y= -J^a?; (2)
Also the equation to the parabola is y‘1=\ax (3)
From equation (2), y — — 2a—, and hence, from equation (1)
f QaiP1
2ax = — — 2ax. Substituting these values in (3), there
is obtained
4a2 y2 _ 4 ay2
a?2 x
— 4aa?
y2 =-.
a?3
a + a:’
which shows (Art. 19) that the locus is a cissoid, the dia¬
meter of whose generating circle is AD.
90. Prop. VI.—To find the equation to the parabola
when the axes are any diameter and the tangent
at its extremity.
yol. x.
similarly Fr = ^a ^ — cos RFM).
112
Now, cos PFM + cos RFM = 0; •'• -5771 + 7717 — rr-* which
Jr it r it Aa
proves the proposition.
4. The Ellipse.
92. Prop. I.—If a circle be
described about the
axis major, then or¬
dinates to the ellipse
and the circle to the
same abscissa, have
to one another the
proportion of the
axis minor to the axis
major.
Let MPQ be an ordinate to the abscissa CM; then
MP2=-^j(a2 —#2) (Art 14),
and MQ2 = a2 - *2 (Art. 10);
MP2: MQ2 :: Z>2: a2,
or MP : MQ :: 6 : a.
93. Prop. II.—To find the subtangent of the ellipse.
The equation to the tangent PT is a2yy' + Wxx = a262.
At the point T, y=0; .\ xx=al, or CT.CM = CA2
whence the subtangent
MT=CT-CM=
CA2
CM
-CM =
CA2 — CM2
CM ‘
94. Cor.—If a tangent be drawn to the circle at Q, it
will cut the axis in the same point T, for CT is indepen¬
dent of b.
4 A
554
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
95. Prop. III.
ANALYTICAL
-To find the value of the subnormal.
The equation to the tangent being (Pyy + tfxx =(£¥,
the equation to the normal PG will be
0“*') (Art. 69).
Now, at the point G we have y = 0;
b2x
CG - x —
■■ e2x = c2CM.
V 1 +i
96. Prop. IV.—The normal bisects the angle between the
two focal distances.
For, retaining the letters placed at the foci in Art. 14,
we have
FG = FC + CG = ae + e2x ;
and SG = SC — CG = ae — e?x.
Also SP =a — ex (Art. 15), and therefore
FP = a + ea/ ; whence
FG: SG:: FP: SP,
and (Euc. vi. 3) the angle FPS is bisected by the line PG.
97. Cou.—Hence also the tangent bisects the angle be¬
tween one of the focal distances and the other produced.
98. Prop. V.—To find the locus of the intersection of the
tangent with the perpendicular on it from the focus.
Wx
If we write m = we shall have as the equation to the
b*
tangent, y + mx =
/ 62 \ 2 2 / \ 2
Now (y) =« (?) >
(62 \ 2  .
—rj —b1 — nPa2, and y + mx — Vbl + wra2 is the
equation to the tangent.
Also the equation to the perpendicular on it from the
focus is, y = — (x — ae) ; or my — x= —ae. Squaring the
equations and adding them, we get
(1 + m2) {x1 + ?/2) = 52 + m^a2 + a2e2,
= (1 +m2) a2;
x1+y1 = di;
or the locus required is the circle described about the major
axis.
99. Prop. VI.—The rectangle by the two perpendiculars
from the foci on the tangent is equal to the square
of the semi-axis minor.
The length of the perpendicular from a point whose
co-ordinates are xv yiy on a straight line whose equation is
y= — mx + c is (Art. 70) yx + mx1 — c
V l + m1 ’
Now, the co-ordinates of S are x^ae, y^O; hence the
perpendicular from S on the tangent is equal to
mae — c  .
where e=V 52 + m2a2.
b2x
GEOMETRY.
100. Prop. VII.—To find the equation to the ellipse when Analyti-
referred to two diameters as axes, of which the one cal Geo-
is parallel to a tangent at the extremity of the other,
Let CP be one diameter,
and CD parallel to the tan¬
gent at P the extremity of
the other.
Let the co-ordinates of
P, referred to the axes as °‘
before,be x,y ; of Q, xiy yv
and let the co-ordinates of
Q referred to CP and CD
be x and y, or C\ =#,
QV =y; also let the angle
PCA = ^, DCO = (p; then tan a = and tan 0 =^7;
ay x
b2
tan 6 tan <p = —2; i. <?., a2 sin 6 sin <p = b2 cos 9 cos <p.
And (Art. 41) x^ = x cos 9—y cos tp,
yx = x sin 9+y sin <p.
Substituting these values in the equation a2yl 2 + b2x2 = a2b2,
there results
a\x sin 6+y sin pf + W^x cos 6—y cos <p)2 = a?b2,
or «2(#2 sin2 6+y2 sin2 <p) + b\x2 cos2 9 + y2 cos2 <p) = a25,
or a2y~ + b2x2 = d2b2, where
^,2_ a2b2  ^,2_ a2^2 
a a2 sin3 ^ + 52 cos2 a2 sin2 <p + 53 cos2 <p’
101. Cor. 1.—Since only the squares of x and y appear
in the equation, the line CP bisects all chords parallel to
CD, or (Art. 50) the diameters CP, CD are conjugate
diameters, and CP is parallel to the tangent at D.
102. Cor. 2.—By making successively x = 0 andy = 0,
we obtain CP = a, CD = 5'. Hence the equation is exactly
the same as when referred to the principal axes; and the
results obtained in that case are easily adapted to the
present.
103. Cor. 3.—We have
a'2 sin2 9: 6'2 cos2 <p:: a2 tan2 (p + b2:a2 + b2 cot2 9,
tfx2 . „ 53 + '2
- + i2:a
ay y
::b2 :«2,
PM: CN :: b :a.
Similarly DN: CM :-.b : a,
PM: CN :: DN: CM.
104. Cor. 4.—CP2+CD2 = CM2 + MP2 + CN2 + ND2
= CM2 + MP2 + fm P2 + K CM2
b* 1 a“
= (a2 + 62) (:
= a2 + 52;
or the sum of the squares of any two conjugate axes is the
same as the sum of the squares of the principal axes.
105. Cor. 5.—CD2 = ?2y'2 + x2,
blU a1 ’
-K)
•= a2 — dx2
= FP . SP (Art. 15).
106. Prop. VIII.—All parallelograms circumscribing the
ellipse are equal.
If tangents be drawn at the extremities of conjugate
diameters, they will form a parallelogram of which the
CM2 MP2 \
)
Vi 4-
In the same way the length of the perpendicular from F on
—— YfldG C
the tangent is ~ r_; consequently their rectangle
c2 — m2a2e2
is —r——5—= 62.
i+m2
+ h2x^
+ a2*
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
555
Analyti- area is 4 sin (0 + <£)
cal Geo- =4 dfi sin 6 cos <£ + 4 di! cos 6 sin <$>
metry. =4 PM . CN + 4 CM . DN
=4 -? PM2 +4 - CM2 (Art. 103)
b a
t , /PM2 CM2\ . ,
=4 (_—+—) =4«6.
107. Prop. IX.—The ellipse is the curve generated by
a point whose distance from the focus is to its dis¬
tance from the directrix as e : 1.
Let EQ be the directrix
at a distance from the cen¬
tre CE = —; then
e
PQ = ME = CE - CM
(Art. 15);
a —ex _FP
\ FP:PQ
5. The Hyperbola.
bx
a
Hence the straight line whose equation is 2/ =
asymptote to the curve.
If the curve be referred to conjugate diameters, the same
reasoning will show that the equation to the asymptotes is
w = dt—, x.
^ a
It is evident that the asymptotes are the diagonals of a
parallelogram of which the conjugate diameters are the
lines joining the points of bisection of opposite sides.
Let the curve be referred to conjugate diameters, of Analyti-
which one is parallel to RH ; its equation is
and the equation to the asymptote
w 2 — — a:2
y - a' , * ■
•••
cal Geo¬
metry.
i.e. MR2-MP2 = 5'2.
Now MP = MQ being respectively
and
The equation to the hyperbola differs from that to the
ellipse only in having — b2, in place of b°\ With this limita¬
tion, the properties given above and their demonstrations
are common to both curves, and it would be superfluous to
repeat them. We shall, accordingly, confine ourselves to
that property of the hyperbola which has no parallel in the
ellipse—the asymptote and its consequences.
108. Prop. I.—To find the equation to the asymptote of
the hyperbola.
We have already (Art. 30) shown that if the values of
y be expressed in a descending series of powers of x, the
equation to the asymptote may be obtained from it by
omitting all negative powers.
Now in the hyperbola (Art. 17)—
2 62 „
—V,x2 — d‘
a
b'
MR = MH being respectively rt —, a?;
.*. the above equation gives RP .PH = 6'2.
110. Prop. III.—To find the equation to the curve when
referred to the asymptotes as axes.
Draw NP parallel to CR, and let CN = cd, NP=y.
Suppose CM in the direc¬
tion of the transverse* axis
— x, MP perpendicular to
it=y, the angle RCM = 0;
then x=x cos 6+y cos 0,
y=y sin 6 — x sin 6-,
a2 (y' —x')2 sin2 6
— b2 (x + y)2 cos2 6= — aW.
Now tan 0 = — ;
a
•2/3 62
.*. sm20=-
cos"
e=
w+b2’
a2
Fig. 27.
hence
a2 + 6;
a2b2
d2 + bi
' oft IP
xy - —-—, the equation required.
2 { {y -x)2- (x +y )11 = - a2b2;
111. Prop. IV.—If any tangent be produced to meet the
two asymptotes, the area of the triangle contained
by the tangent and the two asymptotes is always the
same.
Let UPT be the tangent; its equation (Art. 55) ;
, a2 + 62
xy +yx = —5—.
Now,
and
Hence
wheny=0, a?=CT ;
when x=0, y=CXJ ;
CT =
CU =
a2 + bl
;
a2 + b2
2x '
CT . CU = +,b7- =a2 + b2;
4 xy
and as the angle TCU is constant, the area TCU is always
the same, whatever be the point P.
We cannot close this portion of our subject without ac¬
knowledging our obligations to Mr Salmon, whose masterly
treatise can hardly be too highly recommended.
109. Prop. II.—If any chord of the hyperbola be termi¬
nated by the asymptotes, the rectangle by its seg¬
ments is equal to the square of the semi-axis parallel
to that chord.
Let RPQH (fig. 27) be a chord terminated by the asymp¬
totes ; then RP . PH = b2.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY OF THREE DIMEN¬
SIONS ; OR SOLID CO-ORDINATE GEOMETRY.
1. As in plane co-ordinate geometry, the position of a
point in a plane is denoted by its distances from two given
lines, so in solid geometry the position of a point in space
* The terms transverse and conjugate are more appropriate than major and minor in the case of the hyperbola.
556
ANALYTICAL
Analyti- is denoted by its distances from three given planes. The
cal Geo- direction in which the distance from any one plane is mea-
metry. surecj jg parallel to the line of intersection of the other two.
The planes of reference are called the co-ordinate planes,
and their lines of intersection the co-ordinate axes; the
point in which the three intersect one another being the
origin.
SECTION I. PROPERTIES OF THE PLANE AND STRAIGHT
LINE.
We shall at present confine ourselves to rectangular axes.
2. Prop. I.—To find the distance between two points in
terms of their co-ordinates.
Let Ox, Oy, Oz be the axes of co-ordinates ; P, Q the two
points ; x, y, z the co-ordinates of P ; x, y, z the co-ordi¬
nates of Q. Through P, Q
draw planes parallel to the co¬
ordinate planes of xy, xz, yz;
it is evident that they will
form a parallelepipedon, of
which PQ is the diagonal.
Let QM be the edge of this
parallelepipedon parallel to x,
MN parallel to y, and NP to
z : then it is evident that
QM — x - x, MN ~y — y,
NP = z — z : and QM being
perpendicular to the plane
PMN, the angle QMP is a right angle
.-. PQ2 = QM2-f MP2=QM2 + MN2 + NP2
= 0 -xf + {y-yf + (z-z)2.
3. Cor. 1.—If a, /3, y be the angles which PQ makes
with the axes of x, y, z, we shall have
x — a/ = QM = PQ cos PQM = PQ cos a,
y -y' = PQ cos 13,
z — z = PQ COS y ;
PQ2 = PQ2 cos2 a + PQ2 cos2 /3 + PQ2 cos2 y,
cos2 a + cos2 J3 + cos2 y = 1 ;
consequently the angles which a straight line makes with
the axes are not all three arbitrary, but where two are
given, the third is determined by the above equation.
4. Cor. 2.—If we take the three equations,
^ — ^ ^PQ cos a, y—y =¥Q, cos (3, z —z' = PQcosy,
and multiply the first by x — x, the second by y —y, and
the third by z — z, and add the results, we shall get
Fig. 28.
and
GEOMETRY.
6. Prop. III.—To find the equation to a plane.
Let ABC be the plane, P any
point in it, of which the co-ordi¬
nates are x,y,z\ OQ perpendi¬
cular to the plane —p, making
with the axes of x, y, and z the
angles a, (3, and y.
Let also OP make with the
axes the angles d, (3, y : then, as
in Art. 3, we have a? = OP cos a',
y = OP cos /S', z = OP cos y.
Now OQ = OP cos POQ
= OP (cos a COS a' + cos /3 cos $ + cos y COS 7 )
(Art. 5),
or p = x COS a + y cos /3 + z cos y.
<. Cor. 1. If OA = a, 0B = 6, OC = c, we have
.-P _ o_V
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
Fig. 29.
COS a = —, cos 3 = ~,
a b
P
cos y= -:
c
.-. X COS a+y cos /3 + Z COS y= 2P+^P + ?P ;
' a b c
^enCe ano^er form of the equation.
8. Cor. 2. Any simple equation in x, y, z of which the
general form is A a,’ + By + Cz = D will represent a plane.
9. Cor. 3. It the equation be written in the form ex¬
hibited in the last corollary, we must have
cos «■ _ A cos /3 B cos y C
D’ n ~~ IT "Y-=D;
P 1J p
(Art. 3) i = A! + B,+ C!
D2
D
COS a =
or p =
A
V A2 + B2 + C2’
VA2 + B2+C2’
cos/3 =
C
B
VA2 + B2 + C2’
cos y
a/A2 + B2+ C2
10. Cor. 4.—If z = 0 in Cor. 1, we get ~+'^ =: which
is obviously the equation to the line AB. This line is called
the trace of the plane on the plane of xy. In like manner,
AC, BC are the traces of the plane or the planes of xz
and yz.
11. Cor. 5.—If the plane be parallel to the axis of z or
perpendicular to the plane of xy, the line OQ is in the
(a? —a/j cos a + (y — y') cos/3+ (z —z') cos y = PQ. it ,
^ place of ay ; . y=—and cosy =0; hence the equation
5. Prop. II.—To find the angle between two straight lines
in terms of the angles which the lines make with the
axes.
Draw through the origin two lines OP, OQ parallel to
the given lines, and let OP make with the axes the angles
tt> A 7> and OQ the angles a', /S', y'.
lake OP = 1, OQ= 1, and let the angle POQ be 6;
then x = OP cos a = cos a, y = cos /3, &c.
Now PQ2 = OP2 + OQ2 — 2 OP . OQ cos 6,
= 2 — 2 cos 0.
But PQ2 = (x — x')2 + (y-y'f + (z- z'f
= (cos a — cos a’)2 + (cos (3 — cos /S')2
+ (cos y — COS y')2
= COS" a + cos2 /3 + cos2 y + cos2 d + cos2 /S' + cosV
— (2 cos a cos a' + cos /3 cos /S' + cos y cos y )
= 2 — 2 (cos a cos d + cos ,6 cos /S' + cos y cos y );
cos 0 = cos a cos a +cos (3 cos /S'+ cos y cos y'.
to the plane becomes x cos a+y cos I3=p, or the equation
to the plane is the same as the equation to its trace on the
plane of xy.
12. Prop. IV.—To find the equations to a straight line.
A straight line is the intersection of two planes, conse¬
quently the equations to those planes will be satisfied si¬
multaneously for the line. These are therefore the equa¬
tions to the line.
If the two equations be Ax + By + Cz = D and A'x + By
+ C z = D', we may obtain by elimination
x=az+p, y = bz + q
as the form of the equations required.
13. The equations are sometimes obtained in the follow¬
ing manner:—
Let planes pass through the line respectively perpendi¬
cular to the planes of xz and vz. Their eouations will have
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
557
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
the form (Art. 11) x = az+p, y — bz + q, which are the
equations to the line.
, 14. Cor. 1.—It is evident that if perpendiculars be
drawn from every point in the given line to the plane of
xz, they will intersect that plane in the line whose equation
is x = az-\-p. This latter line is called the projection of
the given line on the plane of xz. Consequently, the equa¬
tions to a line are the equations to its projections on two of
the co-ordinate planes.
15. Prop. V.—To express the angles which a straight line
makes with the co-ordinate axes in terms of a and b.
Let PQ, fig. of Art. 2, be the line, x=az+p, y = bz + q
its equations ; then because the point Q, of which the co¬
ordinates are x, y, z, is a point in the line, we have
x — x=a{z — z), y—y' = b(z — z),
, x — x r> V — V z — z
and cos a= w—, cos pcos y =
1 CJ
PQ’
PQ
cos /S=
16. Cor. 1
17. Cor. 2,
— xf + (;/ —yf + {z — z')2 V d2 + bl + ]
b 1
cos y =
VaP + b^+Y^
cos a
cos y
Va? + b2+\
b =
cos 13
cos y’
or
a
x — x
= —j—=z — z
b
z — z ,
=  and
y—y_z—z
cos j8 cos y
cos a cos y
which are the equations to a straight line in terms of the
angles which it makes with the co-ordinate axes.
18. Cor. 3.—If x=a'z+p, y=Vz + q be the equations
to another straight line; then, if 6 be the angle between
them, we shall have
cos 6 = cos a cos a + cos (3 cos ft 4- cos y cos y (Art. 5)
ad -YbU + \
VV + 62 + 1 s/d2 + #2 + 1
] 9. Cor. 4.—In order that the two straight lines may be
at right angles to one another, we must have cos 0 = 0, or
ad + bl) +1=0.
20. Prop. VI.—To find the conditions that a straight line
may be at right angles to a plane.
It is evident that the angles determined in Art. 9, which
the perpendicular to the plane makes with the axes, must
be equal to those determined in Art. 15, which the straight
line makes with them ; or
A a 13 b
V A2 + B2 + C2
V«2 + 02+lVA2 + B3 + C2
C 1
Va2 + 62 + 1
VfA2 + B2 + C2 Vd1 + b2+l’
.*. A = aC, B = 0C are the conditions required.
21. Prop. VII.—To find the conditions that a straight line
may coincide with a plane.
Let x = az+p, y = bz + q be the equations to the line;
Ax + V>y + Cz = T> the equation to the plane; then, since
they coincide, we must have A {az+p) + B(Z»2r + <7) + C.z = D,
whatever be z; hence Aa + B£ + C = 0 and A/) + B^=D
are the conditions required.
22. Cor.—The condition that the straight line may be
parallel to the plane is Aa + B0 + C = O; being the con¬
dition that a line and plane parallel to these through the Analyti-
origin shall coincide. cal Geo¬
metry.
23. Prop. VIII.—To find the length of the perpendicular
from a given point on a given plane.
Let P be the point of which
the co-ordinates are x, y, z ;
PR perpendicular to the plane
whose equation is A« + By +
Cz=D.
Draw PQ parallel to the axis of
z, meeting the plane in Q : then
PR = PQ cos QPR
C
= PQ ",  (Art. 9);
VA2 + B2+C2
But PQ = z - I^A^By,
Ax + B?/ + Cz — D
•. PR =
Fig. 30.
VA2 + B2 + C2
24. If from every point in the boundary of a given sur¬
face, straight lines be drawn parallel to a given line and
meeting a fixed plane, they form the boundary of \he pro¬
jection of the surface on that plane. When the lines are
drawn perpendicular to the plane, the projection is called
an orthogonal projection. It is with this class alone that
we are concerned here.
Prop. IX.—The projection of a plane area is to the area
itself, as the cosine of the angle between the two
planes is to unity.
Suppose the area divided into triangles, indefinitely small
if necessary. Let ABC
be one of these triangles,
DEF its projection ; and
let the line of intersec¬
tion of the planes of ABC,
DEF be GK. Through
A, B, C draw planes at
right angles to GK, and
therefore passing through &
D, E, and F; each of the
angles AGD, PHQ, CKF Fig. 31.
is equal to the angles between the planes.
Now the triangles ABP, DEQ have BP, EQ as their
bases, and GH as their common altitude;
.-. DEQ: ABP :: EQ : BP
:: cos PHQ : 1.
Similarly of the other triangles. Hence the truth of the
proposition.
25. Prop. X.—The square of any plane area is equal to
the sum of the squares of its projections on the three
co-ordinate planes.
Let Ax, Ay, Az represent the projections of A on the
planes of yz, xz, and xy ; a, /3, y, the angles which the per¬
pendicular on A makes with the axes of a?, y, and z; then
a is the angle which the area makes with the plane of yz.
.’. Ax = Ay cos a. Similarly Ay = A cos /3, AZ = A cos y.
Now cos2 a + cos2/3 + cos2 y=l; .'. Ax2 +Ay2 +AZ2=A2.
26. Prop. XL—To find the equation to a plane in terms
of the area and its projections on the co-ordinate
planes.
As in the last proposition A = Ax cos a, &c.
At „ Av A*
cos a =
A
cos /3 = ~
^ A
cos y~~r
\
558
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
Now (Art. 6) the equation to the plane is
x cos a + ?/ cos (3 +z cos y=p;
hence it becomes xAx+yA.y\-zAz=pA..
28. Prop. XII.—The projection of a straight line on a
plane is to the straight line, as the cosine of the
angle between them is to unity.
Let AB be the straight line meet¬
ing the plane in E; CD the projec¬
tion ; then AC, BD, which are per¬
pendicular to ED, are in the plane
BED at right angles to the plane of
projection; and A EC or its equal
B AF is the angle between the straight
line and the plane,; hence
CD : AB :: cos E : 1.
Pig. 32.
29. Prop. XIII.—The projection of a straight line on
another straight line is to the straight line itself, as
the cosine of their angle of inclination is to unity.
When two lines are not in the same plane, their angle of
inclination is the angle which one of them makes with a
straight line drawn through it parallel to the other.
Let AB be the line to be
projected; CD the line on
which it is to be projected.
Draw AE parallel to CD ;
then BAE is the angle of in¬
clination of the lines. Through
B draw the plane BEE per¬
pendicular to CD, and there¬
fore to AE; and draw AC
parallel to EF. Then EFC, Fig. 33.
BFC, AEB are right angles, AF is a parallelogram
and AE = CF the projection of AB on CD. But
AE : AB:: cos BAE : 1;
.*. CF : AB :: cos BAE : 1.
B
SECTION II.—EQUATIONS TO SURFACES OF THE SECOND
DEGREE DEDUCED FROM THEIR PROPERTIES.
32. a.—The Sphere.
The characteristic property is that every point is equally
distant from the centre.
Let «, b, c, be the co-ordinates of the centre, and r the
radius. The equation is evidently
(x — a)1 + (y — bf + {z — c)2 = r2.
33. b.— Oblique Cylinder on a Circular Base.
We shall give the simplest form of the equation, by sup¬
posing the circular base to be in the plane of xy with its
centre at the origin, so that its equation is x2 y2 = r2.
This circle is called the directrix. A straight line moves
parallel to itself in such a way as always to pass through the
circumference of this circle. This line is called the gener¬
atrix. Let a? = az + p, y = + <7 be its equation. Then
a, b, r are known constants. Now ja, q are the values
of x and y when z = 0; they are therefore the co-ordi¬
nates of a point in the circumference of the directrix, or
p1 + q1 = r2, i. e. (x — azf + (y — bzf = r2, which is the equa¬
tion required.
34. Cor.—A similar process will determine the equa¬
tion to the cylinder whatever be the equation to the
directrix.
3o. c.— Oblique Cone on a Circular Base.
We shall suppose the circle to be the same as in Art. 33.
The generatrix is now required to pass through a fixed
point called the vertex of the cone. Let a, b, c be the co¬
ordinates of this point; x = Az +p, y = Bz + y, the equa¬
tions to the generatrix: then we must have a = Ac + p,
6 = Be + y, from which equations we obtain
_az — cx _bz - cy
and, since/>2 + = r2, the equation required is
{az — ex)2 + {bz — cy f = r2 {z — cf.
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
30. Prop. XIV.—If any two points be connected both by
a straight and by a broken line, the projection of
the former on a given line is equal to the sum of the
projections of every part of the latter.
The projection of PQ on the line AB is equal to the sum
of the projections of PM, MN, NR, RQ. Through P, M,
N, R, Q draw planes perpendicular to AB ; the intercepted
portions of AB are the projections of PM, MN, &c.; hence
the proposition is evidently true provided none of the in¬
tercepted portions lap over each other or are negative, as
would be the case with the projec¬
tion of MN in the following figure.
But the cosines employed will
rectify this, provided we attend to
the directions of the lines as indi¬
cated in the figure by the arrows.
For the projection of MN will be
negative, because the angle is
greater than a right angle, whilst A
all the others vvill be positive, in- ris-34-
eluding that of RQ, for which the angle is negative, but its
cosine positive.
31. By a similar process, and retaining the same restric¬
tion as to direction, we may show that if an area be con¬
nected with any number of areas, having common edges
with the former area and with each other, the projection of
the former on any plane is equal to the sum of the projec¬
tions of all the others.
36. d.—The Ellipsoid.
The directrices are two ellipses
at right angles to each other,
having a common axis. We
shall suppose their planes to be
those of xy and xz. The gener¬
atrix is a variable ellipse, such
that its semi-axes are the or¬
dinates of the directrices.
a:2 MQ2
Eet — + —— = 1 (1) be the equation to AOB,
x
b
MR2
= 1 (2) the equation to AOC,
the two directrices; so that OA = a, OB - b,OC = c. The
equation to the generatrix RPQ will he
y1 , z'
MQ2 r MR2 1 
But by equations (1) and (2) MQ2 = &2 ^1 -
c3 (* _ a2) ’ ^ence (3) becomes
nrS ■r2 ^
 (3)
MR2 =
x* z“
a b~ c*
37. Cor.—If b = c, the ellipsoid becomes a spheroid,
prolate or oblate according as b is less or greater than a.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
559
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
38. e.—Paraboloid of Revolution.
The directrix is a parabola, which we shall suppose to
he in the plane of xz, the axis of x being its axis, so that
its equation isz‘2 = 4ax. The generatrix is a variable circle
in the plane of yz, such that its radius is always the ordi¬
nate of the parabola. The equation to the generatrix is
y2 + z2 = radius2, . i/2 + z2 = 4ax is the equation required.
39. f.—Hyperboloid of One Sheet.
This surface differs from
the ellipsoid only in having
the directrices two hyperbo¬
las, with a common conju¬
gate axis. Hence d1 is nega¬
tive, and the equation is there¬
fore
;/ z2 ^ —i
lr c2 dl
40. h.—Hyperboloid of Two Sheets.
This surface differs from the
ellipsoid only in having the di¬
rectrices hyperbolas with their
transverse axis common. Hence
li1 and e2 are negative, and the
equation is therefore
x2 _ y2 zl _
41. h.—Elliptic Paraboloid.
The directrices are here two parabolas placed as the two
ellipses were in the case of the ellipsoid. The generatrix
is a variable ellipse as before.
In the figure of last Article, if we suppose AB, AC to be
two parabolas whose equations are MQ2 = 4aa?, MR2 = 46a?,
the origin being at A, we shall have as the equation to the
ellipse RPQ
MQ2 T MR2
y2 z1
^ ^ = a? is the equation required.
42. i.—Hyperbolic Paraboloid.
The directrices are the same
as in the last Article, but the
generatrix is a variable hyperbola,
whose semi-axes are the ordinates
of the two parabolas. The equa¬
tion to the hyperbola is therefore
y2 z2 1
MQ? “MR2 =L
Hence the equation to the sur¬
face is
y2 z2
a 77 “ #•
4a 4b
Fig. 38.
43. Prop. I.—To find the distance between two points in
terms of their oblique co-ordinates.
Retaining the figure of Art. 2, and supposing the axes
not to be at right angles, we have
PQ2=QM2 + MP2-2QM.MP cos QMP
= QM2 + MN2 + NP2-2MN.NP cos MNP
-2QM.MP cos QMP.
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
Now MP cos QMP is the projection of MP on the line MQ,
and is therefore (Art. 29) equal to the sum of the projections
of MN and NP on the same line, «.e., to MN cos NMQ
-fNPcosAMQ. Butif a, /3, y be the angles t/Oz, #02, arOy,
it is evident that MNP, AMQ, and NMQ are their respec¬
tive supplements; hence
PQ2=QM2 + MN2 + NP2 + 2MN.NP cos « + 2Q,M.NP cos/S
+ 2 Q,M . MN cos y
=(* — a!/)2 + (y - y')2 + (z — x'f + %y — t/) (s - s?) cos a
+ 2(x — d)^ — z') cos js 2(a; — of) (y — y) cos y.
44. Prop. II.—To change the origin without altering the
directions of the axes.
It is evident that this is effected by writing x +a, y + b,
z + c for x, y, z.
45. Prop. III.—To pass from a rectangular system to any
other, the origin re¬
maining unchanged.
Let OM = x, MN = yt
NP = z; OM' = #', MHS'=y,
N'P=2. If the line OP be
projected on the line Ox, the
projection is OM or#; and if
the broken line OM', M'N',
N'P be projected on O#, the
projection is equal to
x cos x'x + y' cos y x + d cos z'x,
. *. x-=.x cos xx + y cos yx + / cos z'x, Fig. 39.
care being taken, as in Art. 30, to take the angles #'#, &c.
between the positive axis of x and the positive axis of #.
Similarly y = cos xy+y cos y'y +z cos zy,
z=x cos xz+y cos yz + z cos zz.
Of the nine angles #'#, y'x, See. employed above, six only
are independent of one another ; since by Art. 3 we have
the three following relations between them, as conditions
to be satisfied, viz.:—
cos2 #'# + cos2 xy + cos2 #2=1,
cos2 y'x + cos2 yy + cos2 y z--\,
cos2 ZX + COS2 zy + COS2 22=1.
46. Cor.—If the new axes are rectangular as well as the
old, we have three other equations of condition amongst
the angles, to be satisfied, viz.cos xy = 0, cos #2=0,
pos yz — 0, which give (Art. 5)
cos xx cos y x + cos xy cos yy + cos xz cosy2=0,
cos xx cos zx + cos xy cos zy + cos xz cos 22 = 0,
cosy# cos 2'# + cos y'y cos zy + cos yz cos 22=0.
These make up the six equations of condition.
SECTION in.—TRANSFORMATION OF CO-ORDINATES.
Hitherto we have supposed the system of co-ordinates to
be rectangular. This is indeed the fundamental system;
but for the solution of certain problems it is necessary to
pass to an oblique system. The investigation of the re¬
quisite formulae will constitute the subject of the present
section.
47. Prop. IV.—To pass from one rectangular system to
another in a form which shall involve only three
angles.
To avoid the six equations of condition exhibited above,
Euler devised the following beautiful method of transform¬
ation, w'hich is of frequent use in the solution of Mechanical
Problems.
560
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Tig. 40.
Let the angle between the planes
of xy and xy be called 6 : let also
these two planes intersect in the
line Ox^ which makes with the
axis of x the angle xOx1 = <f), and
with the axis ot' x the angle x'Ox1
= xp.
(1.) Transform the co-ordinates
to x^/l in the plane of xy, the axis
of s remaining unchanged; there results (Plane Geometry,
Art. 40)
x = xx cos —yy sin <£,
y=xx sin 4>+yl cos <£.
2.) Transform the co-ordinates to y:iz in the plane yxz,
the axis of xL remaining unchanged ; there results
.Vi =y% cos Q-z sin 6,
z =y2 sin d + z cos 0.
(3.) Transform the co-ordinates to xy in the plane x{y,3
the axis of z remaining unchanged; there results
xx — x cos ^—y sin
y^=x sin ifr+y cos if/.
By substitution, we obtain
x = (x cos if/-y sin if/) cos ^ - (x smif/+y cos if/) sin ^ cos 6
+ z sin (f> sin 6,
y = (x cos if/-y sin if/) sin cf) + (x sin if/ +y cos if/) cos cf> cos 0
+ z cos (ft sin 6,
z = (x sin if/+y cos if/) sin 6 + z cos 6, the requisite for¬
mulae.
48. Cor.—If i[/=0,
x=x cos cos 0 — z sin 6) sin <f>,
y — x sin <ji + (y' cos 6 — z sin 6) cos
z =y sin 6 + z cos 6,
formulae which are of frequent use.
49. Prop. V.—To transform the co-ordinates from rectan¬
gular to polar.
Let OP (figure of Art. 45) = /’, POz=0, NO;r=<?>;
then a:=ON cos <p = r sin 6 cos <p, y=r sin 6 sin q>, and
z = r cos 0 are the requisite formulae.
SECTION IV.—TANGENT PLANES AND NORMALS TO SURFACES.
50. Prop. 1.—To find the equation to the tangent plane
to a surface.
If such a plane exists, it must have the property that if
a section of it and of the surface be made by a plane pa¬
rallel to any of the co-ordinate planes, the section of the
plane will be a tangent line to the section of the surface.
Let x, y, z be the co-ordinates of the point of contact,
x, y, z those of any point in the tangent plane ; and let the
equation to that plane be
z -z=p (x'-x) + q (y -y).
Put y =y in the plane and in the surface; then, since the
resulting line is a tangent to the resulting curve, we have
i dz . , .
z —z = — \x — x), y being constant;
dz
•'•/> = — the partial differential co-efficient.
Similarly q =
dz
q~ dy'
51. Cor.—If the equation to the surface be written
under the form m=0 ; and ^ represent the partial
differential co-efficients of u with respect to x, y, and z re¬
spectively ; since the total differential co-efficient of u with
respect to x, when y is constant, must = 0, we shall have Analyti-
c. ., , du du dz
Similarly — = 0. metry.
dy dz dy v. r
du
du du dz q
dx dz dx
du
TT dz dx dz dr/
enCG fa~~dj? dhj= ~ du^
dz dz
and the equation to the tangent plane becomes
, . , du , , .du , , .du -
52. Prop. II.—To find the equation to the normal to a
surface.
Retaining the notation of Art. 51 ; since the normal is
perpendicular to the surface, and therefore to the tangent
plane; if its equations are x' — x=a{zf — z),y—y = b{zf — z),
we must have (Art. 20)
du du
dx a dz ’
du 7 du ^
d^-bdi=0:
whence the equations to the normal are,
, , .du , , .du , , .du , , . du
(* -x)-£ = (* -z)Tx, (n-y)Tz = (* -z)^.
53. Cor.—The equations may also be written
, dz , , .
■;c+*(z-z>=0’
, dz . , . r.
V ~y+fa ^ "^=a
54. Example.—To find the equation to the tangent plane
to the ellipsoid.
We have
a?"
~aF
dz
dx
y zi
+c*-1;
d-x dz dy
aV dy aV
and the equation to the tangent plane becomes
0'-*)+ yr{y-y)=Q-,
z -z +
c~x
dlz
yy
xx zL ir x
4 1 ~ —2 + r2 -]—r- = 1.
a c b1 a*
c1 1 V
55. If p be the perpendicular from the centre on the tan¬
gent ; we have (Art. 23)
1
P =
/ x1 y1 z1
'V ~r t + —4
56. Prop. III.—To find the locus of the intersection of the
tangent plane of the ellipsoid with the perpendicu¬
lar on it from the centre.
xx
~dl
yy_
b2
zz
+ — = 1.
d
The equation to the tangent plane is
 0)
Consequently the equations to the perpendicular on it
from the centre are (Art. 20)
 (2)
 (3)
, c‘x ,
arz
, dy ,
V ~ TT Z \
y dz ’
also
xr ir zL .
— 4- 'A J = 1.
d1^ b2 +d
From equations (2), ~ = and
a1 dz d
z
dz
y _
y>
xx yy
^ + +
5-=^(^+y2+^
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
ANALYTIC
which, by equation (1), gives
Vy
z = -c*
X
+ y (+ 2;
aV
Similarly y = -,
77, : and these values
+ y'2 + z'2’
+ yl + s'2     being substi‘
tuted in equation (3), there results aV2 + Wy2 + c1z‘2 =
(pc2 + y l + z2f, an equation which occurs in the undula-
tory theory of light.
SECTION Y.—ON THE CURVATURE OF SURFACES.
57. If through the normal to a surface different planes
be drawn, their intersections with the surface will be plane
curves, which will generally have different degrees of cur¬
vature depending on the direction of the tangent line ; and,
further, if other sections than those through the normal are
drawn, they will determine curves which have different de¬
grees of curvature for the same direction of the tangent
line. We proceed to determine the radius of curvature of
any such section.
08. Prop. I.—The sum of the reciprocals of the radii of
curvature of any two normal sections at right angles
to each other is constant.
Let the normal be taken as the axis of z, and conse¬
quently the tangent plane as the plane of xy.
Let also the angle which a section makes with the plane
of xz be B.
A L GEOMETRY.
60. Prop. III.— The curvature of any normal section
(measured by the reciprocal of the radius of curva¬
ture) is equal to the sum of the products of the cur¬
vatures of the two principal sections by the cosines
of the angles which they respectively make with it.
Let one of the principal sections be the plane of xz, or
let the two values of 0 be 0 = 0, 0 = 90°. Let also p, p be
the two principal radii of curvature ;
then when 0 = 0, we have — = r,
P
and when 0 = 90°, -j = t.
p
Also, since tan 20 = 0, we have s=0,
—cos2 0 + ^ sin2 0.
K p p
61. Prop. IV.—If through a given tangent line at any
point, both a normal and an oblique section be made,
the radius of curvature of the oblique section is
equal to the projection
on its plane of the radius
of curvature of the nor¬
mal section.
It is evident that ^ =0, ^ = 0.
dx
dy
Put r for
d}z
dx-'
s for
d2z
and let OM = k,
d-z
dxdjf dy1'
MN = K; then if R be the ra¬
dius of curvature of this section,
R = ~ limit
£
of
ON5
of
PN
W+ K2
= ~ limit
rfc K2 .
+ .s' /i K t ——p &c.
1 -f tan2 0
r + 2s tan 0 + £ tan2 0 ’
and -jr ~ r cos2 0 + 2s sin 0 cos 0 + * sin2 0.
Let —, be the radius of curvature of the section at right
angles to this, or for which the angle is 90° + 0; then
—- = r sin2 6-2s sin 0 cos 0 + £ cos2 0 ;
_1_
R
+ = r + t, which is independent of 0.
59. Prop. II.—To determine the sections of greatest and
least curvature.
Retaining the notation of the last article, we have
H = r cos2 0 + 2s sin 0 cos 0 + £ sin2 0,
which will be a maximum or a minimum, when
— r sin 0 cos 0 + s (cos2 0 —sin2 0) + £ sin 0 cos 0 = 0,
or tan 20 = ^; an equation which gives two values of 0,
viz., 0 = a, 0 = 90° +a, or the maximum and minimum sec¬
tions are at right angles to each other. These are called
the principal sections.
VOL. x.
Let the axis of x be the given
tangent, the plane of xz the nor¬
mal section, that of xz the ob¬
lique section. Fig. 42.
Let OM = A, MP=z, MN = £, NPW, ^zOz'= 0, R
the radius of curvature in the normal section zx, R' in the
oblique section zOx.
Then R : R' :: limit of ~ ^
MP MP'
:: limit of MP : MP
J
:: limit of
cos 0
:: limit of (rh2 + 2shU ftU2') : rid cos 0
U
:: 1 : cos 0, because the limit of -r = 0 ;
h
therefore R' = R cos 0.
This is called Meunier’s Theorem, and it establishes the
fact, that if the diameter of a circle in the plane of yz be
that of the circle of curvature of the normal section, the chord
of the same circle in the direction of the oblique section
will be the diameter of the circle of curvature of that sec¬
tion ; and consequently if the diameter of a sphere be the
diameter of curvature of any normal section, the chord of
the same sphere made by an oblique section through the
same tangent line will be the diameter of the circle of cur¬
vature of that section ; or the sections of the sphere by
planes through the same tangent line will all be circles of
curvature of the corresponding sections of the surface ; and
conversely.
62. Prop. V.—To find the conditions that a section of a
surface may have a contact of the second order with
a circle.
We shall suppose the touching circle to be determined
by the section of a sphere, the cutting plane which is com¬
mon to it and the given surface being supposed to pass
through their ordinate z, so as to have for its equation
y -y = m (x — x) or if a? + A,?/+ £ are the co-ordinates of
a point in the section of either surface near their point of
contact, the increments are connected by the equation
k = mh.
Let f (x,y, z) = 0 be the equation to the given surface;
(X — a)2 + (Y — /3)2 + (Z — y)2 = R2 the equation to the sphere
of which the section has a contact of the second order with
4 B
561
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
562
ANALYTICAL GEOMETRY.
Analyti- the given surface at the point whose co-ordinates are x,y,z.
cal Geo- Let zv Zj be the ordinates of points in the common section
metry. 0f the two surfaces near their point of contact; then at the
point in the curve of which the co-ordinates are x + h,
y + k, we have
dz _ dz , . 1 / d2z. „ . „ d2z d^z
-hk + —1<?
, az -l , az i , L ! a z 7,-2 , n
z,-=zz +-r-h + k+ +2
1 dx dy 2 \dxz
dz
dx
h? / d2z
2 veG:2
dx dy
d2z
dy2
+ &c.
^dy'+WVv + &C-;
and at the corresponding point in the circle,
dZ . rfZ , h2 /d2Z
a: + —I
„ rf-'Z
FVSx3 3x«+“
nd2Z \
d Y V
+ &c.
dZ
dx
dZ
dY
dz
dx’’
dz
' dy’'
d2Z d2z
d^_d^3+ m ^dNTdY
■(,
d2Z
d2z
dx dy
 (1)
 (2)
><S-g9=° <3)
63. Prop. VI.—To find the radius of curvature and the co¬
ordinates of the centre of a normal section.
By differentiation, we obtain from the equation to the
sphere of which the section of the normal plane is the
circle of curvature
(X — a)2 + (Y-/3)2+ (Z -y)2 =R2 (1)
X - a + (Z - y) =0 (2)
dX
- /3 + (Z - y) §=0„
Y - (3 + (Z - y) =0 (3)
, /^z\2 ,</2Z
+ \dx) +(z“y)^=0 (4)
 (5)
dZ dZ t fr/ N d?Z
dXdY + {~ y)dXdY
= 0.,
(S)
1 + ( ) + (Z - 7) ^V2-°
.(6)
and hence by equation (1)
R2 = (1 + p2+ q1) (Z - y)2
1 + p2 + 2w pq + m2 (1 + q2)
R-y/l +p + q r> + 2ms+ mH
....(10)
Analyti¬
cal Geo¬
metry.
Zl-z + d'xA+
But the requirement for a contact of the second order is,
that to the extent of A2 these two expressions shall be co¬
incident.
The conditions to be fulfilled are, therefore,
Equations (7), (8), and (9) determine the co-ordinates of
the centre ; and equation (10) gives the value of the radius
of curvature of the section.
SECTION YI. THE GENERATION OF SURFACES BY THE MOTION
OF LINES.
We propose in the present section to determine the ordi¬
nary and differential equations to cylindrical, conical, and
conoidal surfaces, and to surfaces of revolution.
Cylindrical Surfaces.
64. To determine the ordinary equation, we adopt the
definition, that cylindrical surfaces are generated by the
motion of a straight line which always moves parallel to
itself.
Let x = az + p, y =bz + qhe the equations to the gene¬
rating line, where a and b are the same for all the lines ; and
let a? = F (z), y = <p (z) be the equations to the directing
curve : then at the points where the straight line meets the
curve we have
x = az' + p, y= bzf + q, x - Y (z), y = P (z);
from which equations we may eliminate x, y, and z, and
obtain a relation between/* and q and the constants a and
b. Let this relation be p ==/(?)! i-e-
- az = J G - fo)>
dY) 1 v~ ,J dYy
Now the conclusion arrived at in Art. 61 enables us to
apply the conditions of the last Article ; for if the section of
the sphere by one plane is a section of curvature, every
,T . dz dz d?z
section is so. Hence it we write = P’ = y~i =
d~z
ffff— s> we shtdl have, by equations (1) and (2)
of the last Article compared with (4), (5), and (6) of the
present,
dfZ _ \ +p‘l d?Z pq d2Z _ 1 + <?2
rfX2 “ ~ZZTf dXdY ~ ~ Z^f ~dY*~~Z^f
and consequently equation (3) of the last Article gives
the equation required.
65. To obtain the differential equation, we observe that
a tangent plane always touches the curve along one of
the generating lines. Hence the line whose equation is
x = az+p, yz=bz + q is parallel to the plane whose equation
is (Art. 50)
, dz . , ^ dz, , v
*_*=*(*
The condition is (Art. 22) a -^r + = 1, which is the dif-
ferential equation required.
Conical Surfaces.
66. A conical surface is generated by a straight line
which passes through a given point, and always meets a
given curve.
Let a, b,cbe the co-ordinates of the given point; x= F (z),
P ~ 9 (z)> equations to the given curve, the directrix ;
the equations to the generatrix are x — a = m (z — c),
y — b = n (z — c); also at the point where the line meets the
directrix we shall have x - a = m{z - c), y - b= n (z - c),
y = F(z'), y = (z ), from which equations x, y, z may
be eliminated, and there will remain
Whence Z - y = - + Zmpq + + qf 
r + 2m s + m2t ^ '
Also by equations (2) and (3) we have
(X - ay=p2(Z -y)2 (8)
O — /^)2 ^ 72(Z — y)2 (9) tial equation required.
the equation required.
67. To find the differential equation, it is only necessary
to observe, that the tangent plane passes through the given
point; hence z — c = ~ (# — a) + ^ (y - A) is the differen-
dx ^ ' dy'7
docia.
GEO
Geometric Right Conoidal Surfaces.
Progres¬
sion 68. A right conoidal surface is generated by a straight
|| line which passes through a given curve, and is at right
George of angles to a fixed axis.
(appa- -^e gjla]j SUpp0se fixec| axj[g be that of z, so that
, the equations to the generatrix are z=p, y = mx. Let the
equations to the directrix be # = F(;z), ty = <p (2); then at
the point where the line meets the directrix we must have
z =p, y = mx, «' = F (s'), y =(p (s'), from which if a/, y, z
be eliminated, there will remain
P (m), or s (f-} t^ie e(lua^on squired.
69. To find the differential equation, we observe that the
tangent plane always contains the generating line. Retain¬
ing the same notation, the equation to the tangent plane is
, dz , , s dz , ,
Now when x' = 0, y =0, we must have z =z,
t^le recluisite condition, or the
equation required.
Surfaces of Revolution.
70. A surface of revolution is generated by a variable
circle whose plane is always perpendicular to a given fixed
line through its centre; and whose circumference passes
through a given curve.
Let Aa; + B^ + Cs = D be the equation to the plane in
A B
which the circle lies : where ^ and — are known (Art.
Vs L/
20); a, (3, y the co-ordinates of any known point in the
axis in which the centre of the generating circle lies;
the equation to a sphere whose centre is in this line will be
(x — a)2 + {y — fi)2 + (z — y)2= R2, and the intersection of the
plane Ax + By + Cs = D with this sphere will give the
GEO
563
generating circle, provided D and R be properly selected. Cross of St
Let also the equations to the directrix be x=F (z), y = p(z); George
then at the point of junction of the generatrix and directrix
we must have
Ax + By + Cz’ = D
{X - a)2 + (y - Sf + (z' - y)2 = R3
x = F (z)
y = <p (z) ;
whence by eliminating x, y, z, we obtain the relation
R1 = f<D)
or + + f (Ax + By + Cz), the
Knights of
St George.
equation required.
71. To find the differential equation, we observe that
the normal always passes through the axis of revolution.
Let x - a = m(z - c) = 0, y - b = n(z - c) = 0be the
equation to the axis of revolution ;
*-x+%V-z)=0’ V-^+|;(z-z)=0,
(Art. 53), the equations to the normal; then since x, y,z
are the same in all the four equations; we have, by eli¬
mination,
y — b+ 11c —nz =
x — a + me — mz=
and therefore
{dj-h+nc~nz) =
(dz\
I + 1 (x — a + me — mz),
the equation required.
For further details, the reader is referred to Hymers’s
Analytical Geometry of Three Dimensions, Gregory’s Solid
Geometry, or Leroy’s Geometric des Trois Dimensions.
Geometric Progression. See Progression.
GEORGE I., II., III., and IV., kings of Great Britain.
See Britain.
George, St, one of the Bermudas, and also a town there.
See Bermuda.
George of Cappadocia, or St George, the patron saint
of England, was born about the beginning of the fourth
century—according to some accounts, at Epiphania, in
Cilicia; according to others, in Cappadocia. His father
was a fuller; and the future saint himself had long a severe
struggle to maintain against the disadvantages of his humble
birth. According to Gregory of Nazianzen, George dis¬
tinguished himself in his early career as a parasite of so
mean a type that he would sell himself for a cake. By
these arts he obtained the contract for supplying bacon to
the troops; but he fulfilled its terms so ill, that he with
difficulty escaped death at the hands of the indignant sol¬
diers. He then fled to Alexandria, where he entered the
public service, embraced Christianity, and finally became
bishop of the city. Arianism was at that time rampant, and
George became an Arian. Indeed, he owed his episcopate
to the pliancy of his conscience, and the readiness with
which he lent himself to further the political views of the
court. On taking possession of his see, he found a fierce
persecution going on against the Trinitarians. Instead of
mitigating this evil, he carried it to such an extreme as at
length to raise a rebellion against him. He fled for his life ;
but being soon after re-instated by the court, he returned
to Egypt and signalized himself by redoubled cruelties. As
might fiave been expected, his conduct raised up numerous
enemies against him, even among his own partizans. His
downfall could not be long delayed. A tyrannical act which
he perpetrated towards the heathens in his diocese, shortly
after the accession of Julian, irritated the people so keenly
that they rose up en masse, dragged him out of the prison
to which he had retired for safety, paraded him through the
streets on the back of a camel, and after tearing him to
pieces, burnt Ms remains. It is a mystery how this George
was ever admitted into the calendar at all. Some writers,
such as Papebroche and Heylyn, deny altogether that the
patron saint of England is the same person as the bishop
of Alexandria. Other stories, however, give a version of
George’s history which explain to a certain extent the ho¬
nour in which he is now held. One of these makes him a
soldier in the service of Diocletian, in whose reign he suf¬
fered martyrdom along with many other thousands of Chris¬
tians, Among the Greeks St George became known as
the Victorious; and in England his renown gradually in¬
creased after the era of the Crusades to such an extent,
that by the time of Edward III. he had become the patron
saint of the kingdom. {Acta Sanctorum ; Heylyn, History
of St George ; Gibbon, Decline and Fall, chap, xxi., &c.)
Cross of St George, a red cross in a field argent, form¬
ing part of the British standard. See Heraldry.
Knights of St George. See Garter. There have
been various other orders of this denomination, most of
which are now extinct. Among these may be noticed one
founded by the Emperor Frederick III., in 1470, to guard
the frontiers of Bohemia and Hungary against the Turks;
that of St George of Alfama, founded by the kings of
564 G IL 0
Religious Aragon ; and another in Austria and Carinthia. (See Ash-
Orders of mo]e On the Garter, $c.)
'St George Religious Orders of St George. Of these there were dif-
G " ferent orders and congregations, particularly canons regular
town6* of St George in Alga, at Venice, established by authority of
v [ j Pope Boniface IX. in 1404. The foundation of this order
was laid by Bartolomeo Colonna, who preached in 1396 at
Padua and some other places in the state of Venice. Pope
Pius V., in 1570, gave these canons precedence over all
other religious orders.
GEO RGE LAKE, a beautiful mountain lake in the state
of New York, 10 miles S. of Lake Champlain, into which it
discharges its surplus waters. It is 36 miles in length, with
a breadth varying from three-quarters of a mile to 4 miles. It
is remarkable for the transparency of its water, and the sur¬
rounding scenery is of the most picturesque description.
It is studded with numerous islands of various forms and
sizes, amounting, with islets and rocks, to more than 300.
GEORGETOWN (formerly Stabroek), the capital of
British Guiana, is situated on the E. bank of the Demerara,
at its mouth, which is there about 3 miles wide, in N.
Eat. 6. 49. 30.; W. Long. 58. 11. 30. The town itself is
one of the prettiest in the West Indies; and its streets are
wide and straight, intersecting each other at right angles.
The houses are of wood, with open verandahs in front, and
neatly painted in cool and quiet colours; they are shaded
and almost hidden by trees and shrubs, and look more like
a collection of villas than a town. The street along the
river side—where all the stores and shops are situated, and
where business is chiefly transacted—forms, however, an
exception ; there everything is plain, bare, and business¬
like. The ships lie alongside the wharfs or at a short dis¬
tance in the stream, which is also crowded with numerous
smaller vessels engaged in the island trade, or in bringing
produce from the more distant estates. The hall of the
legislative council, courts of justice, custom-house, treasury,
and all the other public offices, are in one building of con¬
siderable extent and architectural beauty, with shady por¬
ticoes and marble-paved galleries or verandahs supported
on cast-iron columns. The chief of the other public edi¬
fices are the cathedral and churches, several liberally main¬
tained hospitals, barracks, market-place, and ice-house.
Below the town is the u Fort,” as it is called, but which
looks more like a green field, with a few guns pointing to¬
wards the sea, and a house or two for a single officer and a
dozen artillerymen. Pop. (1851) 25,508.
Georgetown, a city in the United States of North Ame¬
rica, district of Columbia, on the left bank of the Potomac
river, 2 miles W.N.W. of Washington city, from which it is
separated by Rock Creek. It is beautifully situated on a
range of hills rising above the river and undulating along its
banks. The “ heights” are lofty eminences overlooking the
city, and occupied by splendid villas and extensive gardens in
the highest state of cultivation. On the heights is Oak Hill
cemetery, tastefully laid out and surrounded by a massive
iron railing. Georgetown has a Roman Catholic university,
with a library of 25,000 vols., an extensive philosophical
apparatus, and a museum of natural history; a nunnery,
with a female academy ; botanic garden, and various other
literary institutions. The aqueduct which conveys the
Chesapeake and Ohio canal over the Potomac is a stupen¬
dous work, 1446 feet in length ; the piers, nine in number,
and 36 feet above high-water, are of granite, resting upon
the solid rock 17 feet below the bottom of the river. The
manufactures are considerable and flourishing. In 1850
there were 59 establishments in operation, among which
were numerous flour-mills, a rolling-mill, and a cotton-fac¬
tory. Georgetown carries on an extensive foreign and coast¬
ing trade. On 30th June 1852 its registered shipping
amounted to 2955 tons, and its enrolled and licensed to
23,241 tons. Pop. (1850) 8366.
GEO
Georgetown, the capital of a district of the same name George-
in the State of South Carolina, North America, stands on the
W. shore of Winyaw Bay, a little below the confluence of
the Great Pedee, the Black, and the Waccamaw rivers,
about 15 miles from the sea. The confluence of these
three navigable rivers renders its position advantageous for
trade, but the entrance to its harbour is obstructed by a
bar. The shipping of the port on 30th June 1852 amounted
to 1896 tons registered, and 2696 tons enrolled and licensed.
It has a court-house, jail, several churches and seminaries,
abank, &c. Pop. (1850) 1628.
GEORGIA, one of the original states of the United
States of North America, in the southern division of the
union, lies between N. Lat., 30. 22. and 35., and between
W. Long. 81. and 85. 53. from Greenwich. It is bounded Extent and
on the N. by the States of Tennessee and North Carolina, boun(iai'ies-
N.E. by South Carolina, from which it is separated by the
Savannah river, S.E. by the Atlantic Ocean, S. by Florida,
and W. by Alabama. It is about 300 miles long from N.
to S., and 256 broad, containing 58,000 square miles. The
population in 1800 was 162,101, in 1850, 906,101 ; 521,488
whites, 2931 free coloured, 381,682 slaves. The state is
divided into 97 counties.
The coast of Georgia, for four or five miles inland, is a Face of the
salt marsh, mostly uninhabited. In front of this, towards country,
the sea, there is achain of islands of gray, rich soil, covered, in
their natural state, with pine, hickory, and evergreen oak, and
yielding, when cultivated, sea-island cotton. The principal
of these islands are Tybee, Warsaw, Ossabaw, St Catherine’s, Islands.
Sapello, St Simon’s, Jekyl, and Cumberland. The land
bordering on the salt marsh is of nearly the same quality as
that of the islands. In the rear of this margin commence
the pine barrens. The rivers and creeks are bordered with
swamps or marshes, which, at every tide, for 15 or 20 miles
from the coast, are either wholly or partially overflowed.
These constitute the rice plantations. The pine barrens
extend from 60 to 90 miles from the sea, beyond which the
country becomes uneven, diversified with hills and moun¬
tains, and possesses a strong rich soil. This section pro¬
duces cotton, tobacco, Indian corn, wheat, and other kinds
of grain. The north-western part of the state is moun¬
tainous, and abounds in sublime and picturesque scenery.
Georgia was the last settled of the original thirteen states Historical
of the American confederacy, the first colony having been sketch,
planted by Oglethorpe at Yamacraw Bluff' (now called Sa¬
vannah) in 1733, more than 100 years after the settlement
of most of the original colonies, and 63 years after that of
South Carolina, her nearest neighbour. Three years after¬
wards some Germans founded Ebenezer-on-the-River, about
25 miles above Savannah. The settlement of Darien wras
commenced about the same time by some Scotch High¬
landers. The infant colony was involved in some severe
contests with the Spaniards of Florida, who claimed the
country as far as the thirty-third degree of north latitude.
In 1739 Oglethorpe invaded Florida, took Fort Diego, and
besieged St Augustine, but was obliged to raise the siege
and return. The Spanish in turn invaded Georgia in 1742,
but being alarmed by a stratagem of Oglethorpe’s, they re¬
treated without coming to blows. Slaves were first ad¬
mitted into the colony in 1749. The proprietors, harassed
by the difficulties that surrounded them, gave up the pro¬
vince to the crown in 1752, when Dr Franklin was appointed
its agent near the British government. In 1761 the Che¬
rokee Indians were attacked by Colonel Montgomery, on
which occasion the savages so bravely resisted, that, though
Montgomery claimed the victory, he thought it advisable
to retreat. The following year Colonel Grant burned their
towns, laid waste their country, and reduced them to sue
for peace. Georgia entered warmly into the revolution,
and during parts of 1778, 1779, and 1780, was in the hands
of the British troops. Savannah was captured by them
GEORGIA.
565
Rivers.
Chief
towns,
Minerals.
Georgia. December 29, 1778; and the combined American and
—French armies were repulsed in an attempt to retake it in
October 1779, with a loss to the allies of’ 1100 men. In
1838 the Cherokee Indians were removed from the state to
the Indian territory, beyond the Mississippi, and Georgia
came into the possession of the long coveted Indian reser¬
vation.
The rivers are the Savannah, 500 miles long, bounding
the state on the N.E., navigable for ships 17 miles to Sa¬
vannah, and for steamboats 250 miles to Augusta; the
Altamaha, which is navigable for large vessels 12 miles to
Darien, is formed by the junction of the Oconee and the
Ocmulgee, which are navigable to Macon and Milledgeville
for steamboats ; the Ogeechu 200 miles long, and navi¬
gable for sloops 40 miles ; Flint River, which rises in the
N.W. part of the state, and after a course of about 300
miles, joins the Chattahoochee, forming the Appalachicola;
the Chattahoochee, on the west border of the state, is navi-
gable 300 miles by steamboat to Columbus; the St Mary
River is in the S.E. part of the state. Savannah is the
largest and chief commercial town. Pop. (1853) 20,000.
Augusta is on the Savannah River, just below the falls, and
is the enterpot for the agricultural exports of the upper
country. Pop. (1853) 12,000.
Milledgeville, the seat of the state government, is situa¬
ted near the centre of Georgia. Pop. (1850) 2216. The
other principal towns are Athens, Atlanta, Columbus, and
Griffin.
Previous to the discovery of the gold mines of Califor¬
nia, Georgia was one of the El-Dorados of America; but
though her mines are almost forgotten by the richer yields
of the new state on the Pacific, a time may come again
when slow and patient industry may be content to develop
the golden treasures of this region. The tract containing
the gold mines has its centre in Lumpkin county, in the
northern part of the state ; and at Dahlonega, in this county,
a branch mint has been established, which coined in 1851
$351,592 in gold. Besides this precious metal, Georgia
contains some silver, copper, iron, lead, manganese, tita¬
nium, graphite, antimony, and zinc; also granite, marble,
gypsum, limestone, coal, syenite, marl, burrstone, soapstone,
asbestos, slate, shale, tripoli, fluor-spar, barytes, tourmaline,
arragonite, kaolin, epidote, porcelain clay, ruby, opal, augite,
cyanite, emerald, prase, cornelians, chalcedony, agate, jasper,
amethyst, precious garnets, schorl, zircon, rose quartz, beryl,
and even diamonds. Fossils are found in abundance in the
S.E. counties near the sea.
While the inhabitants of southern and middle Georgia
are being parched with heat, frequently so intense as to
prevent comfortable rest, even at night, the more northern
climate among the mountains is such as to render neces¬
sary a blanket in order to comfortable repose. A more
lovely heaven does not smile upon the classic land of Italy
than upon the favoured inhabitants of Georgia. The di¬
versity of soil is not less than that of climate, from the rich
alluvions near the sea-coast and rivers, to the thinner soil of
the pine barrens (not nearly so sterile as their name implies),
and the rougher mountain regions. The good and bad lands
of Georgia are so intermingled that it is difficult to describe
them by districts. In the south, on the coast, are the islands
with their light sandy soil, but fertile in se^-island cotton
and on the mainland are the rich alluvions, but interspersed
with swamps, which, however, yield rice in abundance.
The bottom lands of the rivers are exceedingly fertile, and
produce rice, cotton, Indian corn, and sugar.
Further west, about 60 miles from the coast, commence
the pine barrens, at present mostly valuable for their timber
and naval stores, but easily cultivated and productive, should
occasion require. In the south-west the soil is light and
sandy, but fertile and productive in cotton; the sugar cane
is also sometimes cultivated successfully. The middle re¬
Climate,
soil, and
produc¬
tions.
gion consists of a red loamy soil, once productive, but owing Georgia,
to a bad system of culture, much impoverished. Its pro-
ducts are cotton, tobacco, and the various kinds of grain.
The Cherokee country in the north, once in possession of
the Indians of that name, and containing land among the
most fertile in the state, particularly in its valleys, which,
though worked by the Indianafor ages past, are still capable
of producing from 50 to 70 bushels of grain to the acre.
Our summary of the natural resources and physical charac¬
teristics of this state, bring us to the conclusion that it is
surpassed by no Atlantic or Gulf state, to say the least, in
the elements of a rapid growth in agriculture, manufactures,
and commerce. The prime articles of cultivation in Georgia
are cotton, rice, sweet potatoes, and Indian corn ; besides
which large quantities of live stock, wheat, oats, tobacco,
wool, peas, beans, Irish potatoes, fruits, market products,
butter, cheese, hay, sugar, molasses, bees’ wax and honey,
and some rye, barley, buckwheat, wine, grass seeds, hops,
flax and silk, are produced. In 1850 there were on this
state 51,759 farms, containing 6,378,475 acres of improved
land, averaging about 120 acres to a farm, and producing
I, 088,534 bushels of wheat, 53,750 of rye, 30,080,099 of
Indian corn, 3,820,044 of oats, 1,142,011 of peas and beans,
227,379 of Irish potatoes, 6,986,428 of sweet potatoes,
II, 501 of barley, 38,950,691 pounds of rice, 432,924 of to¬
bacco, 199,636,400 of cotton, 990,019 of wool, 4,640,559
of butter, 46,976 of cheese, 23,449 tons of hay, 1,644,000
pounds of cane sugar, 732,514 of honey and bees’ wax,
216,150 gallons of molasses, live stock valued at $25,728,416,
orchard products at $92,776, market goods at $76,500, and
slaughtered animals at $6,339,762.
There were in the state in 1850, 35 cotton factories, with Manufac-
a capital invested of $1,736,156, employing 873 males and tares.
1399 females, and producing 7,209,292 yards of sheetings,
and 4,198,351 lbs. of yarn, valued at $2,135,044 ; 3 woollen
factories, with a capital of $68,000, employing 40 males
and 38 females, manufacturing 340,660 yards of cloth, va¬
lued at $88,750; 3 establishments making pig-iron, with a
capital of $26,000, employing 138 persons, producing 900
tons of pig-iron, &c., valued at $57,300; 4 establishments,
with a capital of $35,000, employing 39 persons, and making
415 tons of castings, valued at $46,200; 3 establishments,
with a capital of $9,200, employing 27 persons, and manu¬
facturing 90 tons of wrought iron, valued at $15,384; 330
flouring and grist mills, 389 saw mills, 49 printing offices, 5
daily,3 tri-weekly and semi-weekly, and 3 7 weekly newspapers,
and 6 monthly publications. Capital invested in manufac¬
tures $5,363,490; value of manufactured articles $7,084,585.
On the first of January 1854, there were 15 railroads, Railroads.
884 miles of which were completed and in operation, and
445 miles in course of construction.
There are five colleges in Georgia—Franklin College at Education,
Athens, Oglethorpe College at Milledgeville, Emory College &c.
at Oxford, Mercer University at Penfield, and Wesleyan
Female College at Macon, having an aggregate number
of students in 1852 of 596. There is also a theological
seminary at Penfield, and a medical school at Augusta.
There were also 219 academies, 9059 pupils, 1254 schools,
32,705 scholars, 38 libraries, 31,788 volumes. There are
also an institution for the blind, an asylum for the deaf and
dumb, and the Georgia State Lunatic Asylum. There were
in the state in January 1853, 17 banks, with an aggregate Banks
capital of $5,329,515.
There were in the state in 1850, 821 Baptist churches, Religion.
5 Christian, 1 Congregational, 19 Episcopal, 5 Free, 2 Friends,
8 Lutheran, 735 Methodist, 1 Moravian, 92 Presbyterian,
8 Roman Catholic, 16 Union, 3 Universalist, and 7 other
sects, the whole having 1723 churches ; total value of church
property $1,269,159.
The governor is elected by the people for two years, and Govern-
receives a salary of $3000 per annum. The Senate consists ment.
566 GEO
Georgia. 0f 47 members, and the House of Representatives of 139,
V'—'^ both elected for each session of the legislature, each mem¬
ber receiving 05 a-day. The legislature meets biennially
on the first Monday of November (odd yeai’s), at Milledge-
ville. All the free white male inhabitants, 21 years old
and upwards, who shall have resided within the county in
which they vote six months preceding the election, and shall
have paid taxes in the state for the year previous, have the
right of suffrage. The state of Georgia is entitled to eight
members in the national House of Representatives, and to
ten electoral votes for the president of the United States.
The judges of the supreme court are elected for six years
(one every two years) by the general assembly, and are re¬
movable upon address of two-thirds of each house. Judges
of the superior court are elected for four years by the people
of the district over which they preside, with jurisdiction ex¬
clusive in criminal cases and in land cases, and concurrent
in all other civil cases. Justices of the inferior courts are
elected by the people for four years; justices of the peace
are elected by the people in districts. Each county elects
an ordinary, who holds office for four years, and has the or¬
dinary jurisdiction of a judge of probate, and is paid by fees.
In the year 1837 a branch of the United States mint was
established at Dahlonega in Georgia; since which period
the production of gold in that state has averaged about
#300,000 per annum.
Georgia is one of the great cotton-producing states of the
south. We annex the official returns of acres in cultiva¬
tion, &c., in the year 1852:—
Number of bales of 400 lbs. each  740,000
Labourers employed  187,000
Acres in cultivation f  1,500,000
Additional area suitable to cotton cultivation  3,000,000
Number of labourers needed  375,000
Gross additional bales of 400 lbs  1,500,000
GEORGIA is a kingdom on the southern slopes of Mount
Caucasus, remarkable not only for the excellence of its climate
and the fertility of its valleys, but as having subsisted as a
separate kingdom for more than 2000 years, notwithstand¬
ing the various invasions and spoliations to which it has been
Georgia exposed. Georgia Proper is the Iberia of the ancients, but
Proper. the territory of its kings was at one time extended over the
whole Caucasian isthmus south of the chain of the Cau-
Name. casus. The origin and date of its present appellation does
not seem as yet to have been very satisfactorily ascertained.
The Georgi mentioned by Pliny and Pomponius Mela were
merely agricultural tribes, so designated in order to distin¬
guish them from their nomadic neighbours on the other side
of the river Panticapes ; they were besides far to the N.W.
of the Caucasus, near the Tauric Chersonese or Crimea.
The true origin of the present name seems to be the desig¬
nation given to this country in the 11th and 12th cen¬
turies by the Arabs and Persians, who called it Gurj,
Gurj-i-stan, or Gurg-i-stan, i.e., “ Land of Wolvesa
name most appropriate to a region so thickly wooded. Wahl,
however, in his Vorder und Mittel Asien, derives it from
Kur or Gur, the Persian for the river called Cyrus
(Kvpos) by the Greeks. But that stream was never called
Gurj. By the Georgians themselves, their country was
called Khartli, but now Virk; by the Armenians it is named
Vrastan ; and by the Russians, Grusin, and the inhabitants
Grus-ya; but the native historians preserve the name Ivema,
i- e., Iberia, which was introduced by the ecclesiastics whose
profession led them to study Greek.
Divisions, The whole territory w'as anciently divided into Upper and
ancient and Lower Iberia,—the former comprehending Khartli, Khak-
modern. heti, and part of Sa-atabago ; the latter, the remainder of
Sa-atabago with Imerethi, Ming-reli, and Guriel. Georgia,
however, taken in its largest sense, may be said to be bounded
on the N. by the snowy ridges of the Caucasus, on the E.
and W. by the Caspian and the Euxine seas, and on the S
R G X A.
by the rivers Choroki, Kur, and Eresn, anciently called re- Georgia,
spectively the Bathys, the Cyrus, and the Araxes. The
area, anciently divided into Colchis, Iberia, and Albania,
now embraces the following territories:—Lazheti, Guriel,
Ming-reli, Imerethi, Khartli or Georgia Proper, Kacheti,
Ganjah, Karabagh, Shekhi or Nukha, Shirvan, Mughan,
and Talish.
Georgia Proper has an area of about 26,000 square miles, Area and
with an estimated population (in 1855) of 600,000. The population,
principal town is Tiflis, the ancient metropolis of Georgia,
the chief seat of the commerce of the country, and at pre¬
sent the seat of government for all the Caucasian provinces
of Russia. (See Tiflis.) The physical features of Geor¬
gia will be found under the articles Caucasus and Trans¬
caucasia ; and the trade and commerce under Tiflts.
Adopting the Armenian genealogies, the Georgians trace History,
their origin to Thurgamos, a great-grandson of Noah. Con¬
sidering this, however, as fabulous, or at least very impro¬
bable, we may safely conclude that they are the descend¬
ants of the aborigines of the mountains of Pambaki. Their
earliest emigrants pushed northwards and occupied the fer¬
tile valleys which extend from this chain to the Caucasus.
Georgian historians tell us that their country Khartli de¬
rives its name from Khartlos, one of their earliest chief¬
tains, and that all their tribes are called Thargamossiani—
names which they have adopted since the introduction of
Christianity in order to give a biblical origin to their race.
According to the Armenian traditions, Thargamos, the
grandson of Japhet, had eight sons, of whom the second
was Khartlos, who established himself on the southern de¬
clivities of the Caucasus, and was the founder of the Geor¬
gian nation. Stephen Orpetian, archbishop of Sioony, who
lived in the third century, alleged that this son of the patri¬
arch built at the foot of Mount Armaz a fortress to which
he gave the name of Orpeth. This circumstance is worthy
of being noted, as it will serve for a starting point in the
history of the race of the Orpetians, veritable mayors of the
palace of the kings of Georgia. Mtskethos, the eldest son
of Khartlos, founded, near the confluence of the Aragvi and
the Kur, a town to which he gave his own name, and which
served as the capital to his successors down to the year
470 a.d. Some fragments of the chronology of the kings
of Georgia are found scattered through the historians of
Persia and Byzantium ; but we shall not help to rescue their
obscure names from the oblivion winch cannot too soon
shroud their useless lives. Only the most remarkable per¬
sonages and events merit our notice as falling in with general
authentic history.
The Georgian chronicles mention Farnavaz as the first
chieftain who took the title of king in Georgia. He lived
about 300 b.c. One of his successors, of the name of
Aderki, divided his dominions into two states—Armazel and
Mtsket, which, at his death, he bequeathed to his two sons ;
but in the sixth generation the king of Armazel united them
again. A king named Mirvan built the fortress of Dariel,
and threw up a rampart in order to protect Georgia against
the invasions of the Alans and the Khazars. This, how¬
ever, did not prevent the Alans, in the following century
(b.c. 100), from twice crossing the Caucasus from N. to S.
in order to overrun Armenia and Media. At the end of the
third century a.d., King Aspagur abolished the custom of
immolating children to the idols, and thus prepared the
way for the reception of Christianity among his subjects.
From 265 till 318 Mirian was king, when a female slave,
whom the Armenian chronicles call Nina, came into
Georgia, and brought with her the faith of Christ which
she exemplified most attractively in her whole life. The
king Mtsketha caused a chapel to be erected in a wood,
where precious relics were deposited ; and Mirdat, his son,
replaced this edifice by a stone church. In a.d. 469, the
king, Vakhtang Gurgastan, abandoned his capital of Mtsketha
GEORGIA. 567
Georgia, for a new city which he had raised on the site of an an-
cient village named Tphilissi or Tphiliskalaki, i.e., the
“ warm town,” on account of its thermal springs. This town
still continues the capital of the kingdom, and now bears
the abbreviated name Tiflis. During the seventh century
Islamism was introduced among the Georgians as well as
among the other surrounding nations; and in a.d. 684 the
Kalif Valid sent into the Caucasus an army of 3000 men,
under the command of his brother Muslimeh, who seized
Derbend after a memorable battle in which the famous
Mussulman hero Kriklar was slain. His mausoleum is yet
to be seen near Derbend, and the Lesghians still perform
their pilgrimage to it. From this time down to the end of
the ninth century the Arabs continued their incursions into
Georgia, Shirvan, and Daghistan, where they compelled
those who fell into their power to embrace Mohammedan¬
ism. In the year 861 they seized Tiflis ; but soon after
this exploit their power and influence began to decline.
They had, however, transferred several colonies into Cau¬
casus ; and even now there is an Arab people to the north
of Derbend, whose location there dates back to this coloni¬
zation. Passing over a long catalogue of petty sovereigns,
concerning whom even their own historians are not agreed,
we come to some events concerning the interesting race of
the Orpetians. The Georgians long groaned under the
yoke of the infidels. Their sovereigns, compelled to follow
the dictates of a foreign despot, no longer retained the sha¬
dow of authority, nor dared to assume the title of king;
they called themselves simply patricks (i. e., patricians) or
mamasakhlisi {i. e., patres-familias). During these times
of their subjection, a great revolution broke out in the
eastern countries bordering on Tatary, and extended even
to the mountains of Caucasus. In consequence of this re¬
volution one part of the reigning family emigrated, and pass¬
ing from one country to another, arrived at the foot of the
Caucasus. The chief of these illustrious travellers was a
prince of noble mien, brave and courageous, who, becom¬
ing aware of the sad position of the Georgians, still more
and more oppressed by the Persians, proffered them his
services, and laid his plans for their immediate deliverance
from their tyrants. Fortune seconding his courage, he soon
accomplished his design for the deliverance of the Geor¬
gians, who, recognising the immense obligation which the
illustrious strangers had conferred upon them, decreed great
honours for them all, but especially for their noble chief.
Among other domains the king granted him the fortress of
Orpeth, whence was conferred upon him and his descend¬
ants the surname of Orpetian. This noble family has ever
since rendered to Georgia the most signal services; it has
furnished to the crown its firmest supporters, and to the
people their bravest defenders. Converted to the Christian
faith, the Orpetians have at all times nobly defended it
against the attacks of the Mohammedans, and thus acquired
so much renown that their power was sufficient alone to
place upon the throne the weak kings who succeeded ob¬
scurely under their protection. In a.d. 1049, during the
reign of the Georgian king David, the Seljook Tui’ks made
an irruption into Asia Minor and the Caucasian provinces.
David in terror retired to the mountain fastnesses for safety ;
but the sbalasar or constable, Libarid Orpetian, bravely
advanced to meet the host of the infidel, followed only by a
handful of soldiers to whom were united some battalions of
Armenians and Greeks. He gave battle to an army at
least twenty times more numerous than his own, routed
them completely, and bore away their standards as a trophy
of total victory. This brilliant exploit excited violent jea¬
lousy among the Georgian nobles, who, with deep ingrati¬
tude, leagued against the deliverer of their country and as¬
sassinated him. This dastardly deed was not long una¬
venged. The army of the Turks was scattered but not
destroyed; and when it returned to the charge, the Chris¬
tians, deprived of the Orpetian, dared not to make head Georgia,
against it, and were mostly cut to pieces. Thus Georgia
fell under the power of the Seljooks ; Tiflis had a garrison
thrown into it, and the shattered remains of the Georgian
army took refuge in the mountains. Libarid, however, had
left one son, Ivane I. This inheritor of paternal renown
was recalled by king David “ the Brave” (second of the
name), and re-instated not only in possession of his patri¬
mony, but besides received the fortress of Lorhi. In a.d.
1160, David III., who had governed with wisdom and mo¬
deration, died and left a son, still a youth, named Temna,
whom he entrusted to the sbalasar, Ivane Orpetian III.,
leaving the regency to George his own brother. At the
time of the prince attaining to his majority, the nobles, dis¬
content with the administration of George, sought out Or¬
petian, and pressed him to cause the true king to be pro¬
claimed. Ivane acceded to their wish ; but the regent, not
wishing to surrender his power to the heir, it was necessary
to have recourse to arms. George retired into Tiflis, where
Ivane besieged him ; but, obliged to retreat, he retired with
his ward into the fortress of Lorhi, and sent his brother
Libarid and his two sons to ask succours from the Atabeks
of Persia and Armenia. The regent immediately laid
siege to Lorhi, which he reduced to the last extremity. The
presence of the young prince alone still inspired the besieged
to continue the desperate defence, when he, seized with a
panic, deserted his own cause, and letting himself fall to the
foot of the ramparts, ran to cast himself at the feet of his
uncle, imploring his pity, and begging only life. The con¬
queror, whom we may now call George III., granted his
request; but deprived him of his eyes, and so mutilated his
person that all hope of his leaving offspring was taken away.
The war was thus rendered unnecessary ; and Orpetian
therefore consented to surrender on condition that no evil
was to come to him. George assented that it should be
so ; and yet as soon as he had him in his power he treated
him in all respects as brutally as he had done his own
nephew. Not even content with that, he drew forth the
relations of Ivane and massacred them all, regarding
neither age, sex, nor infancy. At last, wishing to anni¬
hilate, if possible, even the remembrance of the race of the
Orpetians, he caused their names to be effaced from all the
inscriptions in the churches, as well as from the chronicles
and histories. Libarid, the brother of the unfortunate Ivane,
quitted the country; his two nephews followed him into
exile ; and one took refuge with the Atabek Ildigooz, the
other with the Emir of Kondsag. It was not long after,
during the reign of Thamar, daughter and heir of George
HI., that one of them, named Libarid, consented to re-enter
Georgia and the fortress of Orpeth was restored to him.
He was the progenitor of the succeeding and still distin¬
guished Orpetians. The reign of Thamar is the most glo¬
rious period in the history of Georgia. This princess, whom
her grateful subjects called Mephe, a name only suitable to
the sovereigns of the other sex, acquired great historic cele¬
brity. She might rank with Semiramis of Babylon, Cathe¬
rine of Russia, and Elizabeth of England. She called into
her service the illustrious scions of the famous house of the
Orpetians, expelled the Persians who had invaded her ter¬
ritories, conquered all the country lying between the Kur
and the Araxes, rendered several neighbouring princes
tributary to her, and extended her dominion from the Black
to the Caspian Sea. Her son George IV., surnamed Lascha
(thick-lipped), seconded by Ivane Orpetian, undertook
several successful wars against the tribes lying beyond
the southern boundary of Georgia, and compelled them
to embrace Christianity. But in a.d. 1220, the Mongols,
whom the generals of Zinghis-Khan conducted, entered
Armenia, and crossed over the Caucasus, which they tra¬
versed completely, spreading devastation and death in
every direction. The old age of George IV. was embroiled
GEORGIA.
568
Georgia, and embittered by a succession of sad misfortunes which
v—present no historic interest. He left a son in his minority
(who afterwards reigned under the name of David IV.), and
entrusted his education to his sister Rusudan. This prin¬
cess seized the crown in 1224. During her reign, the
Mongols again entered the Caucasian isthmus and com¬
mitted dreadful ravages. From this time up to the foun¬
dation of the new Persian kingdom (a.d. 1500), the history
of Georgia is mixed up with that of the conquests of Zenghis-
Khan and of Timoor-Lang (Tamerlane). Only now and
then may be seen the flash of some heroic attempt to free
the country from its oppressors, inspired rather by the
despair of the oppressed than by any determined hopeful
effort to regain their independence. Momentary successes
left to the oppressed a time to breathe ; but ever and anon
the cruel conquerors returned with the destructive sweep
of the tempest. Several heroic combats, from 1305 till
1346, obtained for George VI. the title of “Most Illustrious.”
Again, in 1388, Timoor ravaged Georgia and carried away
the king Bagrat, who, during his captivity, feigned conver¬
sion to Islamism ; and thus having gained the confidence
of his conqueror, he requested an army in order to re-enter
his own kingdom for the purpose of restoring the inhabitants
to the faith of Mohammed. The Mongol warrior fell into
the snare and granted the army. As soon as Timoor dis¬
covered the treachery, he became furious as a lion, and re¬
entered Georgia, where, in three successive expeditions, he
devastated the towns, the cultivated lands, and the monas¬
teries ; slaughtered the inhabitants ; destroyed not fewer
than 700 villages; while George VII., son and successor of
Bagrat, concealed himself in the most inaccessible fastnesses
of the Caucasus. At last, in 1404, Timoor finally aban¬
doned this unfortunate country, and George descended from
his mountain terreat, taking in succession Tiflis and the
principal fortresses occupied by the Persians, and had the
pleasure of reigning a few years in tranquillity over his be¬
loved but desolated country, still reeking with the blood of
its slaughtered inhabitants. Ten years afterwards, Alex¬
ander, of the house of Bagrat, united under his dominion
all the Georgian countries.
From 1500 to 1703, i. e., to the reign of Vakhtang VI.,
the last king of the chief branch of the family of Bagrat,
twelve princes reigned, of the name of David, Luarsab,
Simon, or George, all tributaries to Persia, sometimes in
a state of rebellion, but always the unhappy victims of in¬
testine dissension. In 1618 Shah-Abbas carried captive
50,000 Georgians of both sexes, and dispersed them over all
the Persian territories. The kingdoms of Khakheti, and
of Khartli were formed from the fragments of Georgia, but
have since been dismembered and again re-united. At this
epoch the provinces were governed by khans. At length
(1703) Vakhtang VI., who attached his name to a code long
venerated, and one of the most warlike sovereigns of the
Caucasus, broke from obscurity by displaying the most bril¬
liant virtues, until he was conquered, and, having exhausted
all his resources, he threw himself into the arms of Russia,
and retired to Astrakhan to die in peace. Fora long period
the religious zeal of the Georgians, and the horror they have
always manifested of Mohammedanism, led them secretly to
court the alliance of Russia. This wary power had, since
the reign of Ivan Vassilievitch, extended her dominions even
to the foot of the Caucasus; and from the year a.d. 1555,
several Cheerokeese tribes had recognised themselves as her
vassals. In 1586 a king of the Khakheti put himself un¬
der the protection of the Czar Fodor; and three years after¬
wards a Georgian ambassador was sent to implore his aid
against the Turks. Such solicitations being often repeated,
the Russians soon coveted the possession of these Cauca¬
sian provinces, and in recent times have amply gratified
their desires. In ] 722 Peter the Great crossed the defile
of Derbend and laid siege to Old Shamaki, where some of
his subjects had been treacherously assassinated by the Georgia.
Persians. A treaty granted him the possession of the pro-
vinces bordering on the Caspian Sea ; but some years after
they were restored to Nadir-Shah. At last, Heraclius II.
came to the throne of Georgia. He, wishing to rid himself
of the domination of the Persians, constituted himself a
vassal of Catherine II. of Russia by the treaty of Georgievsk
(July 24, 1783). Twelve years afterwards a Persian army
ravaged his estates in order to avenge his desertion ; Aga-
Mohammed Khan besieged Tiflis, gave it up to pillage, put
all to fire and sword, and carried off 20,000 prisoners. From
Russia, Heraclius received only an inefficient assistance ;
he soon sank, however, overwhelmed with grief, and died
in 1798. His son George had a reign equally unhappy and
turbulent, constantly engaged in fighting against the moun¬
tain tribe of the Lesghis and the Persians, until at length
he implored the protection of Paul I., and then died with
the sad certainty that he was the last king of Georgia. At
first the queen Maria, his widow7, wished to oppose the pre¬
tensions of Russia, and even stabbed the officer Tzitzianoff,
who was sent to conduct her to Moscow, but she at length
surrendered; and shortly afterwards her son David (a.d.
1800) gave up the entire kingdom, and with his mother
retired to St Petersburg.
From this date Georgia merges into the history of the
Russian empire. In 1810 the chief of Imerethi made an
abortive attempt to shake off the Russian yoke, but he was
compelled to flee to Turkey, and his principality thence be¬
came a province of Russia. Under her all-grasping domi¬
nion fell several other petty states successively; and her
conquests during her last wars w ith Persia and Turkey have
been confirmed by the treaty of Turkmanchai in 1828 with
Persia, and by that of Adrianople in 1829 with Turkey.
Since these treaties were signed Russia has been engaged
in endeavouring to subjugate the highland tribes in order to
consolidate her power, and to assimilate the education, laws,
and government to that of the rest of the empire. In this
she was steadily working out her purpose w'hen the war broke
out which has already wrought many changes in this country,
and is likely to work many more before the restoration of peace.
In almost all the large villages of Khakheti stand strong villages,
stone towers, which are said to have been built by the nobles
of the country as a defence against the Lesghians. In the
palmy days of Georgia, not only the mountains of Lesghis-
tan, but those of Daghistan (Schamyl’s country), were sub¬
ject to it; but since the conquest by Timoor, Georgia has
become more and more enfeebled, while the hardy moun¬
taineers in their turn made continual attacks on their neigh¬
bours, especially the rich Khakhetians, whom they regarded
wuth the same feelings of contempt and envy that Roderick
Dhu may have felt for a thriving Lowland farmer on the
banks of the Forth.
The natives of Georgia—forming about four-fifths of the Natives,
entire population—belong to the pure Caucasian race, and
have always been as much celebrated as the Circassians for
the fine athletic frames of the men and the beauty of the
women. For both sexes these qualities have created a
large demand—the males to serve in the armies, and the
females to become inmates of the harems of the Turks.
From this horrid traffic the Georgian nobles long derived
their chief revenue, valuing their serfs only for the money
which they could obtain for them in the Turkish markets.
Since the interference of the western powers of Britain and
France in 1854 the traffic has been much checked. Large
numbers of the celebrated Mamelukes were Georgians. U n-
der the Russian dominion, the distinction w'hich divided the
whole population into the two classes, nobles and serfs
(nearly the same as masters and slaves), though still sub¬
sisting, has been much modified. The power of life and
death which the nobles claimed, and exercised without
scruple, has been expressly abolished. The Georgians
GEO
Georgia, belong nominally to the Greek Church; but both clergy
and people are fearfully ignorant. The Bible was translated
Religion. ’n*:0 tbeir native tongue as early as the beginning of the fifth
century; and the benefits, though as yet little perceptible,
promise to become greatly extended by means of a good
printing press which the Russians have established at Tiflis.
Language. J he Georgians pretend that their language, so far as ety-
mology is concerned, is a perfectly complete and inde¬
pendent idiom. Monsieur Brosset, however, shows that the
Georgian tongue is one of the great Indo-Germanic family,
and proves this by a careful comparison of the rootsappearing
in Georgian writings of different ages, especially those found
in their most ancient books. Accordingly, this language
may fairly be stated to hold a middle place between San¬
scrit and Pehlvi or ancient Persian. But in its formation
there has been a large implantation of Indian radicals on
the ancient Median stock. In the present Georgian language
there is a large intermixture of Armenian, but only as bor¬
rowed words from a foreign idiom. The accumulation of
consonants in Georgian gives a rugged harshness to the
pronunciation, which renders it an excellent language for
public speaking. There are certain fixed laws for the for¬
mation of their compound words; and it is especially rich
in grammatical inflexions. Its declensions are very simple,
being the same for nouns, adjectives, and pronouns ; but it
employs some pronouns either isolated or inseparable, either
in the nominative or accusative, which are subject to very
complicated rules. The theme or root of the verb is found
in the third person singular of the perfect tense, as in the
Shemitic tongues, and consists of from one to five radical
consonants, with one or two vowels having uniform sounds.
Each person has its peculiar characteristic; and the tenses
of the indicative mood are seven, of which three are past
and three future; while certain particles serve to give the
indicative a conditional or subjunctive meaning. In Georgia
Dialects, there are five principal dialects—the Khakhethi, the Imere-
thi, the Ming-reli, the Guri, and the Khartli. The purest,
say the native scholars, is spoken by the Phchavs and the
Khvsovs, who dwell north of the Khakhethi, on whom they
depend. The knowledge of Turkish and Persian is so ge¬
neral in Georgia, that writers often use the synonymous
terms from these languages instead of the pure Georgian.
There are often to be met with also, especially in the jour¬
nals of Tiflis, many French and Latin words, mostly bor-
Prosody. rowed from Russian sources. “ The prosody of Georgian
poetry is similar to that of the Greek and Latin—founded
on the tones and accents,” says Eugenius, in his Tableau
Historique de la Georgie. “ The limited number of the
syllables,” on the contrary, according to Brosset, “ with the
final rhyme, which has been borrowed from the Turks, is
the only rule of Georgian versification. The most ancient
Books. Georgian book now known is the translation of the Bible,
executed in the eighth century by St Euphemius or Euthy-
mius; and the most celebrated original monument of this
Poem of literature is the Poem of Tariel, composed by General
Tariel. Rustevel, who lived in the reign of Thamar. The complete
title of this curious poem is, “ The Man Clothed in the Skin
of a Tiger,” or, “ The Amours of Tariel and of Nestan Dare-
jan.” It displays a rare fecundity of invention, and a singu¬
lar richness of imagination ; and it seems to be in great part
drawn from Persian sources. In another composition the
same poet has celebrated the exploits of Thamar. The
Georgians have two heroic poems—the Baramiani, and
the Rostomiani. They also still hold in high estimation
Visramiani and Darejaniani, two prose romances whose
respective authors were Sarg of Thmogvi, and Mosi of
Khoni. The collection of hymns, religious as well as
national, by the patriarch Antoni, enjoys deservedly great
popularity. The Code of Vakhtang, and also the Chronicle
of Vakhtang, are among the most important prose remains
in the Georgian language.
VOL. x.
G E R 569
Klaproth, Tableau Historique, Geographique, Ethnographique, Georgia
et 1 olitique du Caucase, 8vo, Paris, 1827 ; Chronique Glorgiennc,
translated by Brosset the younger, 8vo, Paris, 1831; Vakhucht, Gerard.
Description de la Glorgie, translated by M. Brosset, 8vo, St Peters- v. ^ <
burg, 1841; Sir Robert Ker Porter, Travels in Georgia, London ;
Eichwald, Reise in den Kaulcasus; Gamba, Voyage dans la Russie
Meridionals; Baron von Haxthausen, Transcaucasia—Sketches of
the Nations and Races between the Black Sea and the Caspian, Lon¬
don, 1854; Guldenstadt, Reisen nach Georgien; Missionary Re¬
searches in Armenia, 8vo, London, 1834 ; Dictionnaire Geographique,
Paris, 1828; [spencer’s Travels in the Western Caucasus, 2 vols.,
London, 1838 ; Paolini and Irbach, Georgian and Ralian Diction¬
ary, Rome, 1629; Ghai, Georgian Grammar in Russ, 8vo, Peters-
burg, 1802; J. S. Vater, Grusinsche Oder Georgische Sprachlehre,
8vo, Halle, 1822 ; &c., &c.
Georgia, Gulf of, an inlet of the sea on the W. coast
of North America, separating the island of Vancouver from
the mainland, and communicating with the Pacific on the
N. by Queen Charlotte’s Sound, and on the S. by the Strait
of Juan de Fuca.
GEORGIC (Lat. georgicus, yewpyiKos, rustic — de¬
rived from yg, earth, and cpyov, work), a poetical composi¬
tion on the subject of husbandry, containing rules expressed
in a pleasing manner, and embellished with all the beauties
and elegancies ol poetry. Virgil has particularly excelled
in this style of composition.
GEORGIUM SIDLES. See Herschel.
GERA, the capital of a cognominal lordship in the prin¬
cipality of Reuss, stands in a valley on the banks of the
Elster, 35 miles S.S.W. of Leipzig. In 1780 Gera was
almost wholly destroyed by fire, and since that time it has
been rebuilt in a more regular manner ; the streets are in
general wide, crossing each other at right angles, and many
of the houses are handsome edifices. It has several public
squares, a fine town-hall, five churches, two hospitals, a
gymnasium, normal school, orphan asylum, house of correc¬
tion, and a public library. Gera has long been noted for
its industrial activity. Its manufactures comprise woollen,
cotton, and silk goods, oilcloth, leather, hats, tobacco, soap,
beer, porcelain and other earthenware, bricks, musical in¬
struments, carriages, &c. In the neighbourhood are some
baths much frequented. Pop. 11,255.
GERACE, a town of Naples, province of Calabria Ultra,
on a hill near the coast, 30 miles N.N.E. of Cape Spartivento.
In the middle ages this was a place of great strength, but
frequent earthquakes, and particularly that of 1783, have
reduced its citadel to ruins. The cathedral, a handsome
Gothic edifice, was overwhelmed by the same catastrophe,
and now only a small portion of its crypt remains available
for public worship. In the vicinity are the remains of the
ancient city of Locri Epizephyrii. Gerace seems to have
been built in a great measure of the materials of the ancient
city,—the fine marble columns of the cathedral are evi¬
dently spoils of ancient temples. Pop. 4800.
GERANIUM, a genus of plants of the nat. ord. Gera-
uiaceae, containing a vast number of species, many of which
are cultivated in our gardens for the beauty of their flowers.
Mostof thecultivated species belong to the sub-genus Pelar¬
gonium, and are natives of southern Africa, where they
abound, and form a striking feature in the peculiar vegeta¬
tion of that region. See Botany, vol. v., p. 187.
GERARD, Alexander, author of the Essays on Taste
and Genius, was born at Chapel-Garioch, in Aberdeen¬
shire, in 1728. After the usual preliminary studies he gra¬
duated as M.A. at Marischal College, and then began the
study of theology, which he prosecuted at Aberdeen and
Edinburgh. In 1752 he was appointed professor of natural
philosophy in Marischal College, and contributed powerfully,
by his voice and pen, to remodel the system of academic
study then pursued in Aberdeen. Eight years later he ex¬
changed that chair for the more honourable one of divinity,
and in 1771 left Marischal for King’s College, where he
remained till his death in 1795.
4 c
570 G E It
Gerard Gerard is chiefly remembered by his Essay on Taste
II (which was rewarded with the gold medal of the Edinburgh
Gergal. Philosophical Society in 1756), and his Essay on Genius.
These and the other works of their author exhibit a sound
judgment and extensive reading. They exhibit, however,
no rare or valuable qualities of mind, and are seldom or never
relieved by a ray of fancy or a burst of eloquence. Besides
these works, Gerard published two volumes of Sermons and
a Dissertation on the Evidences of Christianity.
Gerard, Francois, a distinguished French historical
painter, born at Rome of humble parents in 1770, died at
Paris in 1837. He was a pupil of the celebrated David, whom
he followed for a time as his model both in politics and art.
Abandoning the sphere of politics, however, he Anally de¬
voted himself heart and soul to painting, and under the first
Napoleon attained high eminence. The best of his ideal
pieces are probably his Belisarius and his Psyche, the first
of which is well known in Europe by engravings. Equally
popular were his Battle of Austerlitz and his Entrance of
Henry IV. into Paris. All these pictures are now in the
public galleries of France. Though they still look well,
they have evidently suffered from the lapse of time; some
of them even seem doomed to share the fate of Reynolds’
masterpieces, and disappear altogether from the canvas.
Gerard was a remarkable portrait painter ; and some of the
best likenesses of the distinguished personages of his time
are by his hand. It is perhaps too much to claim for
Gerard the possession of great original genius, but he had
a fine fancy and an exquisite taste, grouped his figures ad¬
mirably, and, though far from being a striking or even a
correct colourist, he yet disposed his colours so well as gene¬
rally to produce a harmonious effect.
GER ARDE, John, a surgeon in London, and the greatest
herbalist of his time, was many years chief gardener to Lord
Burghley, who had the best collection of plants in the king¬
dom, among which were a great number of exotics intro¬
duced by Gerarde. In 1597 the latter published his Her¬
bal, which was printed at the expense of J. Norton, who
procured from Frankfort the same blocks in wood which
were used in the Herbal of Tabernsemontanus. In 1663
Dr Thomas Johnson published an improved edition of
Gerarde’s book, which met with such approbation in the
university of Oxford that they conferred upon him the de¬
gree of doctor of physic. The descriptions in the Herbal
are plain and familiar; and both these authors have laboured
more to make their readers understand the characters of
the plants than to inform them that they themselves under¬
stood Greek and Latin. The Herbal of Gerarde is now
considered only as a literary curiosity. The figures in
general express very accurately the characters of the plants
which they are intended to represent. Gerarde died about
the year 1607.
GEREZ, Serra de, in Portugal, a mountain chain,
consisting of a spur of the mountains of Asturias, and run¬
ning between the basins of the Douro and the Minho to the
W. of Montalegre. This Serra is the finest in N. Portugal,
except the Soajo. It is generally composed of a succession
of lofty granite peaks, and stretches about 20 miles from N.
to S. The Murro de Burageiro, 4296 feet above sea-level,
is the culminating point. On his retreat before Welling¬
ton in 1809, Marshal Soult led his army through a terrific
gorge forming one of the passes in this chain.
GERGAL, a secular town of Spain, province of Granada,
and bishopric of Almeria, is situted at the foot of the Sierra
de Baza, on a rugged site in the form of an amphitheatre.
Gergal contains the Santa Fuente, celebrated as a cure for
cutaneous eruptions, besides a large parish church, a chapel,
a granary, a prison, and a town-house. The principal manu¬
factures are counterpanes, glass, oil, white wax, earthen¬
ware, &c.; and the trade consists chiefly in oil, wine,
and hardware, with Castile, Galicia, and Murcia. The
GER
distance from Almeria is 24 miles, and the pop. (1855) St Ger-
nearly 6000. main-en.
GERMAIN-EN-LAYE, St, a town of France, de- -W6
partment of Seine-et-Oise, on an eminence on the left bank r " .
of the Seine, 10 miles W.N. W. of Paris. The streets are c™s*m
wide, handsome, and well paved, and the houses lofty and v , t
well built. It originated in a chapel and monastery of St
Germanus, built by King Robert in the eleventh century,
in the midst of the forest then called Silva Ledia. The
royal palace, for which the town is chiefly noted, was origi¬
nally built by Charles V. in 1370. It was rebuilt by Francis
L, and improved and embellished by succeeding monarchs,
and especially by Louis XIV. This was the favourite
residence of Marguerite de Valois, Henry II., Henry IV.,
and Francis I., and the birth-place of Charles IX. and
Louis XIV. James II. of England spent here the last
years of his life. It is now used as a military prison. A
fine terrace, about a mile and a half in length, and nearly
100 feet wide, extends along the brow of the hill and com¬
mands a delightful prospect. The parish church contains a
monument, erected at the expense of George IV., over part
of the remains of James II., which were found in making
some alterations in the church. St Germain has three hand¬
some squares, a corn market, theatre, and public library ;
and manufactures of woollens, leather, and horse-hair
goods. Pop. 12,527. The forest of St Germain occupies
an area of 8900 acres, and is traversed by numerous roads,
the aggregate length of which is estimated at about 1180
miles.
GERMAN (Lat. germanus, a brother), in matters of
genealogy implies whole, entire, or own. Thus brother-
german denotes a brother by the same father and mother.
Cousins-german are those in the first degree, i.e., the chil¬
dren of brothers or sisters. Among the Romans we find
no instance of marriage between cousins-german before the
time of the emperor Claudius, when it became common.
Theodosius prohibited such marriages under severe penal¬
ties, including even fine and proscription.
GERMAN, San, a town in the island of Porto Rico,
near the west coast. In the vicinity cotton and coffee are
are produced ; and cattle are reared in large numbers. The
town stands on the Guanajive or Guadianilla, and was
founded in 1511. The jurisdiction of San German com¬
prises fourteen parishes, with nearly 12,000 inhabitants.
The species of resin which answers the purposes of pitch is
produced here from the tabernaculo tree.
GERMAN SILVER, the name given to an alloy of
nickel, zinc, and copper, which is much used as a substitute
for silver plate, &c. Its beauty and resemblance to silver
depend on the preponderance of nickel, up to a certain
point. The imitation may be so perfect as to evade detec¬
tion by the eye; but friction applied to this alloy at once
develops a coppery odour. The proportions recommended
are—nickel 25, zinc 25, copper 50.
GERMANICUS, Caesar, an illustrious Roman general,
and one of the most virtuous and noble characters in the
history of the empire, was born 15 B. c. He was the son
of Claudius Drusus Nero and Antonia, daughter of Mark
Antony, and niece of the emperor Augustus. He was thus
the brother of the emperor Claudius, and the nephew of the
emperor Tiberius, who adopted him in compliance with the
request of Augustus. In his twenty-second year he went
to assist his uncle in the war against the Dalmatians and
Pannonians. For his services in these campaigns he was
rewarded with a triumph on his return to Rome. About this
time he married; and by his wife Agrippina, who was a grand¬
daughter of Augustus, he had nine children, two of whom
afterwards became notorious—Caius Caligula as emperor,
and Agrippina as mother of Nero. After another campaign
against the Germans in a.d. 11, Germanicus returned to
Rome, where he was made consul without having held the
GEE GEE 571
Germani- lower grades of public office. In the following year he
eus. was sent by Augustus to take command of the legions on
the Rhine. When the news of Augustus’ death reached
these troops in a.d. 14, they broke out into open mutiny,
the veterans claiming their discharge, and the young sol¬
diers demanding an increase of pay. It was only with the
utmost difficulty, and the use of fictitious letters purporting
to have been received from Tiberius, that Germanicus was
enabled to crush the outbreak. Hardly was it quelled when
another, still more formidable, broke out. The general
threw up his command in disgust, and prepared to leave the
camp with his wife and family. This conduct brought the
soldiers to their senses. Discipline was restored, the ring¬
leaders of the mutiny were put to death by the soldiers
themselves, while the legions demanded to be led forthwith
to battle against the Marsi and Bructeii on the other side of
the Rhine. Seizing the moment of enthusiasm, Germani¬
cus marched upon the foe, and routed them with great
slaughter. Similar success attended his arms in the follow¬
ing year when he marched against Arminius, the conqueror
of Varus; but another campaign and two bloody battles
had to be fought before full vengeance could be taken for
the slaughtered legions. On the trophy which commemo¬
rated the rout of the famous German chief, the Roman
general, modestly and prudently omitting all mention of
himself merely inscribed “ The army of Tiberius Caesar,
having conquered the nations between the Rhine and the
Elbe, consecrates this monument to Mars, Jupiter, and
Augustus.” Jealous of these successes, and alarmed by
Germanicus’ increasing popularity with the army, Tiberius
recalled him to Rome ; and though he prayed for one year
more to finish the work he had so well begun, the tyrant
was inflexible. In a.d. 17 Germanicus returned to Rome,
and was honoured with a splendid triumph. In the follow¬
ing year he shared the consulate with Tiberius, and was
sent to the east to quell the tumults and insurrections there.
His movements, however, were watched and checked by
the spies and creatures of his imperial master. One of
these, Cn. Piso, governor of Syria, a man of haughty and
violent temper, strained every nerve to thwart the plans
and embitter the life of Germanicus, and succeeded only
too well in his design. After accomplishing his mission to
the east, Germanicus suddenly fell ill at Antioch, and on
his deathbed declared to his wife and family that he be¬
lieved himself the victim of hostile intrigue and malice.
His friends, whether rightly or not cannot now be known,
construed his words into a suspicion of poison. Certain it
is, that with his dying words he called upon his family and
friends to avenge his murder. Tacitus, however, to whose
graphic pen we owe the best narrative of Germanicus’ life,
seems to incline to the opinion that poison was not found St Ger-
necessary to shorten the days of him to whom the Romans mans
looked forward with hope and faith as their future sovereign. ^ 11
The insults and annoyances to which he was hourly exposed town11
were found enough. v 
J he character of Germanicus shows with a double lustre
in the dark era of tyranny and cruelty in which he lived.
Though, as a commander, he was fierce and stern in carrying
out the orders of Tiberius against the enemies of the em¬
pire, as a man he displayed remarkable clemency towards
his foes. His military talents were of the first order, and
his successes in war were as brilliant as they were useful.
But it was chiefly his personal virtues that endeared him to
the Roman people. That he was disinterested is shown by
his obstinate refusal to contest the imperial crown with his
uncle, though he might have secured it without much diffi¬
culty. His sense of duty, his chastity, his munificent libera¬
lity, his attachment to his friends, and his great personal
accomplishments, made his early death the subject of uni¬
versal lamentation throughout the whole Roman empire.
At the time of his death, vvhich happened in a.d. 19, he had
only reached his thirty-fourth year. The grief in every
part of the world to which his fame had reached was intense,
and the honours paid to his memory were almost without
example in Roman history. Germanicus long enjoyed a
considerable reputation as an author. There have been
various editions of his remains. The best is that of Orelli,
appended to the Phcedrus of that critic, Zurich, 1831.
(Tacitus, Anna!, i., ii.; Dion Cassius, lib. xxxvii.; Beau¬
fort’s Historic de Germanicus Ccesar, &e., &c.)
GERMANS, St, a market-town and parish of England,
county of Cornwall, 22 miles E.S.E. of Bodmin. It stands
on the slope of an eminence near the river Tidi, and con¬
sists chiefly of one street. From 931 to 1049 it was the
seat of a bishopric, afterwards united with that of Crediton,
and from this union arose the see of Exeter. The parish
church, formerly conventual, was once much more exten¬
sive. It consists of a nave and two aisles. The W. front
has two towers, between which is the entrance formed by a
deep Norman arch. The inhabitants are engaged chiefly
in agriculture and fishing. Previous to the Reform act it
returned two members to parliament. Market-day, Friday.
Pop. of parish (1851) 2967.
GERMANTOWN, a post-town in Philadelphia county,
state of Pennsylvania, North America, on the Germantown
branch railroad, 6 miles N.W. of Philadelphia. It con¬
sists of one broad street, 4 miles in length, with several
others crossing it at right angles. Many of the upper classes
of Philadelphia have country seats here, some of which are
of great beauty and elegance. Pop. (1853) about 7000.
572
GERMANY.
Germany. Tins name was given by the Romans to a country inha-
bited by various tribes of different names, but nearly alike
in manners, customs, language, and religion. But they
comprehended under it not only the cduntry now called
Germany, but also Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland,
Livonia, and Prussia. The modern inhabitants call them¬
selves Deutsch, and their country Deutschland ; but, as to
the origin, meaning, and primary application of both names
(German and Deutsch), German antiquaries are far from
being agreed, though most of them seem to be of opinion
that German is a genuine Deutsch word, compounded of
ger, or gerra, a spear, and man, and consequently meaning
spearman, or warrior. Deutsch seems to have been known
to the Carlovingians, and it first occurs in a document of the
year 813 ; but it is only since the time of the emperor Otto
I. (a.d. 936-73) that it has been in use as the general
name of the German nation.
The Rhine on the west, and the Vistula on the east,
seem to have been generally considered as the boundaries
of Germany ; whilst on the north it extended along the
ocean and the Baltic Sea, and on the south was termi¬
nated by the river Danube. But such boundaries were by
no means definite ; for many German tribes inhabited the
southern banks of the Rhine as far as the Scheldt. Be¬
tween the Rhine and the Moselle were the Ubii; and higher
up, but beyond the latter river, were the Treviri, and then
the Triboci, the Neimetes, and the Vangiones. The Me-
diomatrici were planted along the Moselle, near the site of
the present city of Metz ; and above them, on the Rhine, in
the present Swiss canton of Basel, were the Raurici or Rau-
raci. The ancient nations of Vindelicia were settled be¬
tween the sources of the Rhine and of the Danube. No-
ricum was inhabited by several tribes between the rivers
Drave and Danube, and comprehended the provinces now
known by the names of Austria, Styria, Carinthia, Tyrol,
and Bavaria. Beyond the Danube, to the westward of the
Marcomanni, the country was occupied by the Hermunduri,
and extended to the north along the Hercynian Mountains
to the river Sala. A nation beyond the Hercynian Moun¬
tains, known then as the Boiohemum, and in modern times
as Bohemia, were in contact with the Quadii, whose terri¬
tory, now called Moravia, touched, on its southern part, the
Danube. These two tribes, with the Marcomanni, and
some smaller clans, were comprehended under the general
name of Suevi, a people who at a subsequent period forced
their way into Spain, and established themselves in that
peninsula as a warlike and independent nation. The Suevi
were a powerful nation, who extended themselves along
the Hercynian Forest, through which they penetrated, and
occupied a tract of land extending from the Vistula to the
Elbe. Among their possessions were the divisions which
subsequently obtained the names of Saxony, Brandenburg,
Lusatia, and Silesia. One subdivision of them, called the
Semnones, grew sufficiently powerful to seize some of the
richest provinces of Gaul; whilst another, the 2Estii, pos¬
sessed the borders of the Baltic Sea, whence they drew
much amber, of which they made use in traffic with the
surrounding tribes. These last, according to Tacitus, wTere
worshippers of the mother of the gods, and relied on her
for protection. They are said to have been more indus¬
trious than the rest of the Germans in the cultivation of
their lands, and at a very early period produced corn. Their
amber was reported to have been obtained by diving in
the rivers and the sea. This substance was then highly
estimated; and at a subsequent period, in the reign of
Nero, a Roman knight is stated to have purchased for that
emperor, of the iEstii, at one time thirteen thousand Germany,
pounds wreight, amongst which was a single piece weighing
thirteen pounds. At a still later period, a letter is found in
Cassiodorus, in which Theodoric, king of the Goths, gives
thanks to the Alstii for a present of amber, and in return
assures them of his friendship and protection.
In the interior of Germany, the Cimbri and the Saxons
were possessed of the country north of the Elbe ; whilst on
the south side of that stream the Chauci were the masters of
the district through which the Weser flows, and were in con¬
tact with the two smaller tribes of the Cherusci and Chamavi.
The Frisii were distinguished as the Upper and the Lower,
and were separated from the Chauci by the river Ems, and
from each other by a branch of the Rhine ; whilst beyond
the Yssel were some migratory tribes, the Bruckteri and
the Marsi. The Uspetes were established on the river
Luppia, now the Lippe; and beyond that stream were the
Usipetes, who were celebrated for changing their residence,
and were thence to be found in other districts. The Teucteri
wrere settled on the Rhine, in the country of the Menopii;
and next to them the Jubones, near the modern Juliers.
The Catti or Cotti inhabited parts of Hesse and Thurin¬
gia, extending from the Hartz Mountains to the Rhine and
the Weser. Their southern neighbours were the Sedusi,
bordering on Suabia, where they came in contact with the
Marcomanni, who have been already mentioned.
Such are the best accounts which can be collected from
Caesar, Tacitus, and Ptolemy, respecting the localities of
the various tribes who inhabited Germany before the period
of the intercourse between them and the Romans. It has
been justly remarked, that whilst modern nations are fixed
and permanent societies, connected amongst themselves by
laws and government, and bound to their native soil by arts
and agriculture, the German tribes were only voluntary and
fluctuating associations of soldiers, almost of savages ; and
the same territory often changed its inhabitants in the
course of conquest or of emigration. A victorious state
often communicated its own name to a vanquished people.
Sometimes crowds of volunteers flocked from all parts to
the standard of a victorious leader ; his camp became their
country, and some event soon gave a new but general name
to the mixed community. Thus the distinctions of fero¬
cious invaders were perpetually varied by themselves, and
naturally confounded the astonished subjects of the Ro¬
man empire.
It is probable that the accounts of the numbers of the
German people, as transmitted by early writers, are gross¬
ly exaggerated. In great and civilized states, millions of
subjects pursue their peaceful avocations in silence and ob¬
scurity ; but in a state of rude republicanism, or of civil
commotions, almost every member of the community is
called into active exertion ; and thus, with their irregular
divisions, their restless motions, their profusion of kings
and warriors, and numerous contests, they present to our
minds an appearance of numbers very far beyond the reali¬
ty, which is still further strengthened by the most splendid
appellations being frequently and repeatedly applied to in¬
considerable objects. When the Romans first became ac¬
quainted with Germany, about the year 640 from the build¬
ing of their capital, or more than 100 years before the com¬
mencement of the Christian era, the natives had advanced
but a few steps from the savage state. Even in the subse¬
quent age, as Tacitus affirms, they were so ignorant of the use
of letters as to be unable to transmit from one generation to
another any annals of their country, or any knowledge of
the agreeable or useful arts of life. In an extent very far
GERMANY.
Germany, surpassing modern Germany, Ptolemy speaks of ninety
f — * towns or cities , wliilst d acitus asserts, as a well-known fact,
that in his time they had no cities, and that they affected
to despise the buildings constructed by Roman industry, as
places of confinement rather than of security. Their dwel¬
lings were not even contiguous, nor formed into villages,
but each of these barbarians fixed his independent dwelling
on any spot which a plain, a wood, or a stream of good
water, invited him to settle on ; and in constructing his hut,
neither stone, brick, nor tiles were employed. Built of tim¬
ber, they were very low, and covered with straw, having a
hole to allow of the emission of the smoke.
T he clothing was of the simplest kind, notwithstanding
the inclemency of the climate in a territory covered with
woods, and not ameliorated by cultivation. In the more
northern parts scanty garments of furs were used ; and in
the south some coarse linen, spun and woven by the females.
Their food consisted chiefly of wild animals, or of the flesh
of their large herds of cows and of horses, which were near¬
ly in the state of their original wildness. A small quantity
of corn was the only produce of the soil; the use of gardens,
orchards, and artificial meadows, was unknown ; nor could
any great improvement in agriculture have existed, where
a new division of the land took place annually, and a great
pai t lay waste and without any tillage. The Germans seem
to have learned the process of brewing or of distillation, as
they made intoxicating liquors from wheat and barley, in
the use or abuse of which they indulged to the greatest
excess in social meetings and public assemblies. Drink¬
ing and gambling were their highest gratifications. They
gloried in passing whole days and nights at the table; and
the blood of guests, often of friends and relations, stained
their drunken assemblies. The desperate gamester often
staked his person and his liberty on the cast of a dice, and
then patiently submitted to the decision, and was sold into
slavery by his more fortunate competitor.
^ Notwithstanding the grossness of manners amongst the
Gci man tribes, the females were held in high estimation j
and whilst the men were brave, the women were chaste.
Polygamy was not in use excepting amongst the princes ;
and amongst them only for the sake of multiplying their
alliances. Divorces were prohibited by manners rather
than by laws. Adulteries were punished as rare and inex¬
piable crimes ; nor was seduction justified by example and
fashion. The unpolished wives of the Germans partook of
few of those gratifications wRich tend to inflame the pas¬
sions, and their fidelity was in some measure secured by the
exposure to which they were subject in the open huts, and
by poverty, solitude, and the painful cares of domestic oc¬
cupation. Besides these restraints, the Germans treated
their women with esteem and confidence, consulted them
on every occasion of importance, and fondly believed that
in their breasts resided a sanctity and wisdom more than
human. Some of these interpreters of fate, such as Velle-
da in the Batavian war, governed, in the name of the dei¬
ty, the fiercest nations of Germany. The rest of the sex
were respected as the free and equal companions of sol¬
diers, associated even by the ceremony of marriage to a
life of toil, of danger, and of glory. In their great inva¬
sions, the camp of the barbarians was filled with a multi¬
tude of women, who remained firm and undaunted amidst
the sound of arms, the various forms of destruction, and
the honourable wounds of their sons and husbands. Faint¬
ing armies of Germans have more than once been driven
back upon the enemy by the generous despair of the wo¬
men, who dreaded death much less than servitude. If the
day was irrecoverably lost, they well knew how to deliver
themselves and their children, with their own hands, from
an insulting victor. Heroines of such a description may
claim admiration, but they can scarcely inspire the passion
of love. They who attempt to imitate the sterner virtues
of man must lose the attractive softness of their own sex,
which is their principal charm. Conscious pride taught the
German matrons to suppress every tender emotion which
stood in competition with honour; and the first honour of
the sex has ever been that of chastity.
I he Germans were a warlike people, notwithstanding
which their government was a species of democracy, al¬
though a few of the tribes on the shores of the Baltic ac¬
knowledged the authority of kings ; but such kings owed
tneir power as frequently to their valour or their eloquence
as to their descent; and with all of them the power was tem¬
pered by the prevalence of popular assemblies. The assem¬
bly of the warriors of the tribe was convened at stated sea¬
sons, or on sudden emergencies. When a youth had at¬
tained the age of manhood, he was introduced into the ge¬
neral council of his countrymen, solemnly invested with
a shield and a spear, and adopted as an equal and worthy
member of the commonwealth, [n such assemblies, the
trial of public offences, the election of magistrates, and the
great affairs of peace or war, were determined by indepen¬
dent votes. Sometimes these important questions were
previously considered and prepared in a committee or se¬
lect council of the principal chieftains. The magistrates
might deliberate and persuade, but the people only could
resolve and execute; and hence the resolutions were for
the most part hasty and violent. They too often turned
away with indignant contempt from the remonstrances of
justice and policy, and signified by a hollow murmur their
dislike of such timid councils. But when a popular orator
proposed to vindicate the meanest citizen from either fo¬
reign or domestic injury, or called upon his countrymen to
follow some enterprise of danger and of glory, the applause
of the assembly was displayed by a loud clashing of shields
and spears ; for the Germans always assembled in arms, and
it was to be dreaded lest an irregular multitude, inflamed
by faction and strong liquors, should use their arms to
enforce as well as to declare their furious resolutions.
A general of the tribe was elected on occasions of danger;
and if the danger was pressing and extensive, several tribes
concurred in the choice of the same general. The bravest
WArrior was named to lead his countrymen into the field by his
example rather than by his commands ; but this power, how¬
ever limited, was still invidious. It expired with the war,
and in time of peace the German tribes acknowledged not
any supreme chief. Princes were, however, appointed in
the general assembly, to administer justice, or rather to
compose differences, in their respective districts. In the
choice of these magistrates, as much regard was shown to
birth as to merit. To each was assigned by the public a
guard and a council of a hundred persons ; and the first of
the princes appears to have enjoyed a pre-eminence of rank
and honour which sometimes tempted the Romans to com¬
pliment them with the regal title.
The comparative view of the powers of the magistrates,
in two remarkable instances, is alone sufficient to represent
the whole system of German manners. The disposal of
the landed property within their district was absolutely
vested in their hands, and they distributed it every year
according to a new division. At the same time they were
not authorized to punish with death, to imprison, or even
to strike, a private citizen.
The Germans respected only those duties which they
imposed on themselves. The most obscure soldier resist¬
ed with disdain the authority of the magistrates. “ The
noblest youths,” says Tacitus, “ blushed not to be num¬
bered amongst the faithful companions of some renowned
chief, to whom they devoted their arms and service. A
noble emulation prevailed among the companions to obtain
the first place in the esteem of their chief, among the chiefs
to acquire the greatest number of valiant companions. The
glory of such heroes diffused itself beyond the narrow Li-
573
Germany.
574 G E R M
Germany, mits of their own tribe. Presents and embassies solicited
their friendship, and the fame of their arms often ensured
victory to the party they espoused. In the hour of dan¬
ger it was shameful for the chief to be surpassed in valour
by his companions, and shameful for the companions not to
equal the valour of their chief. To survive his fall in
battle was indelible infamy. The chiefs combated for vic¬
tory, the companions for the chief. The noblest warriors,
whenever their native country was sunk in the laziness of
peace, maintained their numerous bands in some distant
scene of action, to exercise their restless spirit, and to ac¬
quire renown by voluntary dangers. Gifts worthy of sol¬
diers, the warlike steed, the bloody and ever-victorious lance,
were the rewards which the companions claimed from the
liberality of their chief. The rude plenty of his hospitable
board was the only pay which he could bestow, or they would
accept. War, rapine, and the freewill offerings of his
friends, supplied the materials of this munificence.” This
institution, however it might accidentally weaken the seve¬
ral republics, invigorated the general character of the Ger¬
mans, and even ripened amongst them all the virtues of
■which barbarians are susceptible ; the faith, valour, and
hospitality so conspicuous long afterwards in the ages of
chivalry.
The religion of the Germans was as gross as that of
other nations in the same low stage of civilization. They
adored the sun and the moon, the fire and the earth, to¬
gether with those imaginary deities who were supposed to
preside over the most important occupations of human life.
They were persuaded that, by some ridiculous arts of di¬
vination, they could discover the will of the superior beings,
and that human sacrifices were the most precious and ac¬
ceptable offering to their altars. They seem to have adopt¬
ed no images as visible objects of worship, nor to have con¬
structed any edifices for the celebration of religious rites.
Their only temples were dark and ancient groves, conse¬
crated by the reverence of successive generations. Their
secret gloom, the imagined residence of an invisible power,
by presenting no distinct object of fear or worship, im¬
pressed the mind with a still deeper sense of religious hor¬
ror ; and the priests, rude and illiterate as they were, had
been taught by experience the use of every artifice which
could preserve and fortify impressions so well suited to
promote their own interest.
The German priests had assumed a jurisdiction even in
temporal concerns which the magistrate could not venture
to exercise ; and the haughty warrior submitted to the
lash of correction, when it was inflicted, not by any hu¬
man power, but by the immediate order of the god of war.
Thus the defects of civil policy were sometimes supplied
by the interposition of ecclesiastical authority. The lat¬
ter was constantly exerted to maintain silence and de¬
cency in the popular assemblies, and was sometimes ex¬
tended to a more enlarged concern for the national wel¬
fare. A solemn procession was occasionally celebrated in
what are now the countries of Mecklenburg and Pome¬
rania. The unknown symbol of the earth, covered with a
thick veil, was placed on a carriage drawn by cows; and
in this manner the goddess, whose common residence was
in the island of Rugen, visited several adjacent tribes of
her worshippers. During her progress the sound of war
was hushed, quarrels were suspended, arms laid aside, and
the restless Germans had an opportunity of tasting the
blessings of peace and of harmony. The truce of God, so
often and so ineffectually proclaimed by the clergy of the
eleventh century, was an obvious imitation or continua¬
tion of this ancient custom.
But the influence of religion was far more powerful to
inflame than to moderate the fierce passions of the Ger¬
mans. The consecrated standards, long preserved in the
groves of superstition, were placed in the front of the
: ANY.
battle ; and the hostile army was devoted with dire exe-Germany,
crations to the gods of war and of thunder. With the
Germans cowardice was the most unpardonable of sins.
A brave man was the worthy favourite of the martial dei¬
ties. He who had lost his shield was banished alike from
the civil and the religious assemblies of his countrymen.
Some of the northern tribes seem to have embraced the
doctrine of transmigration ; others imagined a gross para¬
dise of immortal drunkenness. All agreed that a life
spent in arms, and a glorious death in battle, were the
best preparations for a happy futurity, either in this or
another world.
That singular order of men, the bards, have attracted
to them the attention of all who have attempted to inves¬
tigate the antiquities of the Celts, the Scandinavians, and
the Germans. It is not easy, however, to calculate the
enthusiasm of arms and glory which they kindled in the
breasts of their audience. It was in the hour of battle,
or in the feast of victory, that the bards celebrated the
glory of the heroes of ancient days, the ancestors of those
warlike chieftains who listened with transport to their
artless but animated strains. The view of arms and of
danger heightened the effect of the military song ; and
the passions which it tended to excite, the desire of fame,
and the contempt of death, were the habitual sentiments
of a German mind.
Such is the description of the manners, characters, and
propensities of the ancient Germans, as delineated by Ta¬
citus, and by which, in spite of their climate, their want of
learning and the arts, and the absence of fixed laws, they
were formed into a people of military heroes, and enabled
to carry on formidable hostilities, during more than two
centuries, with the mighty power of the Romans.
The early history of the Germans, like that of all na¬
tions who had no written records, is involved in much ob¬
scurity. The first knowledge of their transactions was
that of the invasion of the country by the Gauls, com¬
manded by Segovesus, king of the Celtae ; whilst his bro¬
ther Bellovesus marched with another army into Italy;
both of which divisions are said to have been directed by
the flight of birds. Segovesus crossed the Rhine, and
gained a settlement near the Hercynian Forest. The Ger¬
mans, however, soon acted on the offensive, and expelled
the Gauls, and, by the assistance of the Belgae, one of their
most warlike tribes, gained possession of some territory to
the west of the Rhine, where they were enabled to fix and
maintain themselves so firmly as never to be driven out,
and whence they extended themselves to the sea-coasts
of Britain, and even drove its inhabitants into the inte¬
rior. The Germans and the Gauls, thus brought into
contact with each other, continued to hold vacillating in¬
tercourse, sometimes at war, at other times in alliance in
opposition to the power of the conquering and disciplined
Romans. The Germans, under the name of Cimbri, then
invaded the territory of Rome, and spread such terror,
that Marius, by a deviation from the law, was appointed
consul to command an army against them. After various
marches during some years, in 102 before Christ, Ma¬
rius, with an army of 52,000 men, attacked the barbarians
on the banks of the Rhone, and, though they are said to
have mustered 300,000 foot and 15,000 horse, completely
defeated them, with a loss of 150,000 killed and 60,000
prisoners. Many, preferring death to slavery, underwent
military execution; and a few were scattered over Gaul,
or crossed the Danube, and so escaped to their own coun-
try-
After Julius Caesar had completed the subjugation of
Gaul, and extended his conquest to the Rhine, he first
became acquainted with the German name. Ariovistus,
the leader of a tribe that dwelt to the south of the Da¬
nube, attempted to fix his establishment in Gaul, but was
GERMANY.
575
Germany, defeated by Caesar, and, with the loss of 80,000 men, was
driven across the Rhine, though two tribes of his followers
remained on the west side of that river; and the fugitives
who returned augmented the numbers of the German
tribe of the Marcomanni. Caesar built a bridge over the
Rhine, and twice passed that river at the head of his
army, not with the view of permanent conquest, but to
secure his province of Gaul against the attacks of the
barbarians ; and he also took many of the Germans into
his pay, first in the war with the Gauls, and afterwards
in the civil contest with Pompey. The civil wars, which
occupied first Caesar and Pompey, and afterwards Mark
Antony and Brutus and Cassius, left the Germans op¬
portunities to attempt incursions. The confederation of
the Segambri passed the Rhine, and having repelled the
attack of Agrippa, settled themselves on the western side
of that river; but a few years afterwards they were de¬
feated by Lollius the legate of Augustus, when, 14 years
before Christ, Drusus, the son-in-law of the emperor, con¬
structed several fortresses along that river, to prevent the
incursions of the Germans. He proceeded with success,
and penetrated as far as the Elbe. He died in the year
8 before Christ, and was succeeded by Tiberius, who dur¬
ing his command not only sustained the power which
Drusus had acquired, but extended it towards the north;
and, by intrigues among the natives, as much as by his
force, induced many of the tribes to solicit peace, and
excited others to enter into the military service of Rome.
The body-guard of Augustus was composed of German
volunteers, amongst whom was the distinguished noble
whose name has descended to posterity, being sometimes
called Hermanns, and at others Arminius, who received
the privileges of a Roman citizen and the dignity of a
Roman knight. He was the son of Sigmer, a prince of
the Cherusci, and had been educated in Rome, and early
appointed an officer in the army of Augustus, but is said
never to have lost the relish for the customs of his ances¬
tors, nor his zeal for the independence of his country;
and during the course of his instruction in arts and in
arms he warmly cherished the hope of adapting these in¬
structions to the purpose of freeing his country from the
Roman yoke. He felt a confidence that all the discipline
of the Roman armies would be unable in a fair field to re¬
sist the raw bravery of his unpolished countrymen.
The best legions of Rome were intrusted to the com¬
mand of Quintilius Varus, with the superintendence of
the territories on the right bank of the Rhine, which had
been added by Drusus to the Roman dominion. He was
confident in the power of his military superiority, and
thought, in addition to that, to secure obedience by chan¬
ging the customs and principles of the Germans, and thus
converting them into useful subjects. For this purpose he
took with him a great number of civil officers, lawyers,
and men of letters, to introduce the new order of things.
These measures roused the jealousy of a people enamour¬
ed of their freedom, and disseminated the seeds of insur¬
rection amongst all the tribes situated between the Rhine
and the Elbe. Arminius availed himself of this spirit to
form alliances in opposition to Varus, amongst all the mili¬
tary leaders of the districts. It happened most opportune¬
ly for the purpose of Arminius, that, in the year 9 a. d.,
a general revolt broke out on the Roman frontiers of Dal¬
matia and Pannonia. It is doubtful if this was connected
with the plans of Arminius, but it helped to strengthen
the confederacy which had been entered into by those
tribes which were in possession of the country bounded
by the Rhine, the Saale, and the Elbe. This confederacy
was not broken up by the treason of one of the chiefs, Se-
gestes, the leader of the Catti, who communicated to the
Roman commander the plan and the detail of the intend¬
ed insurrection, which was received by Varus with the
contempt which reliance upon the TVumbers and discip- Germany,
line of his troops had inspired. Arminius redoubled his
assiduities to remove suspicion, if any existed, of his fide¬
lity to the Roman cause, and succeeded, by pointing the
attention of Varus to some irruptions which, at the insti¬
gation of the confederacy, had broken out on the banks of
the Weser. These small but concerted disturbances were
intended to inveigle the Roman commander to advance
into the interior of the country; and the leaders of the
German troops in the pay of Rome, who were involved in
the confederacy with Arminius, by the display of unbound¬
ed zeal and obedience, agreed in urging the Roman com¬
mander not to wait for further displays of resistance, but
to advance with his three legions and the auxiliaries, and
to extinguish the rebellion in its focal point. In vain did
Segestes repeat his warnings. Nothing could shake the
confidence of Varus in Arminius, and the confederates and
the Romans plunged deeper and deeper into the heart of
the country, where the snares had been laid for their de¬
struction. Near the sources of the river Lippe, in the
country of the Bructeri, after a long and wearisome march
through woods and morasses, the Romans saw themselves
enclosed on every side in a hollow surrounded by hills
whose summits were all occupied by the natives. At this
moment intelligence arrived that Arminius with the rear
division, consisting of stipendaries, which he commanded,
had declared against the Romans, and had been the mov¬
ing spring of the whole operations. Varus saw clearly
destruction before him ; for though discipline and courage
might prolong the contest, it could inspire no hopes of a
successful issue.
Three days of suffering and ineffectual hostilities com¬
pelled the Romans to submit. Varus chose death rather
than disgrace. Three Roman eagles were taken ; and a
limit was thus set to the advances of the Romans towards
the north, which they were never afterwards enabled to
pass. The Germans disgraced their victory by useless
cruelties. Some of the men of letters and artists who
were taken had their hands cut off, and others were blind¬
ed. The site of this memorable event cannot be clearly
ascertained by any records, but it is generally placed by
the antiquarians of Germany near the sources of the rivers
Lippe and Ems, not far from where now stands the small
city of Detmold. The event occurred in the ninth year
of our era.
When Arminius had thus restored the ancient freedom
to his country, he destroyed the fortresses which the Ro¬
mans had constructed on the Rhine, the Elbe, and the
Weser, and exerted himself to rouse the military spirit of
the Germans, and taught them to rely on that spirit rather
than on the strongest fortifications. A civil war soon
broke out amongst the natives themselves, and the party
opposed to Arminius was headed by Segestes. That
prince applied to the Romans for assistance, and was aid¬
ed by their general Germanicus, when he was surround¬
ed by the troops of Arminius. His deliverance was ef¬
fected with but little loss on either side ; but the wife of
Arminius was taken prisoner by Segestes, and on being
carried before the Roman general, maintained a spirit and
dignity which is highly applauded by Tacitus. The treach¬
ery of Segestes animated the exertions of Arminius, and
he was offered assistance by his uncle Inguiomar, a leader
of a tribe, and celebrated as a warrior. Arminius at¬
tempted also to gain to his party his brother Flavius, who
like himself had been educated in Italy, but who resolute¬
ly maintained his fidelity to the Roman power. Arminius
desired a meeting with Flavius, and they saw and convers¬
ed with each other across the river Weser. The expos¬
tulations and the inducements of Arminius were ineffec¬
tual ; the brothers became exasperated against each other,
and would have proceeded to feats of arms if they had not
576
G E R M A N Y.
Germany, been separated by the stream, and at length been borne
away from the scene by their respective partisans.
Germanicus the Roman commander once more attack¬
ed the army of Arminius, and gained a splendid but use¬
less victory on the plain of Idistavius, on the banks of the
Weser; but having excited the suspicious jealousy of the
Emperor Tiberius, the necessary succours were withheld,
and Arminius was soon enabled again to make head against
the Romans, and caused them to suspend their attempts
on the freedom of Germany. This temporary tranquillity,
however, gave rise to an intestine war.
Marobodus, a leader of the Marcomanni, but who had
been educated in the court of Augustus, was enabled by
his address and his power to unite many tribes of the
Suevi in a confederacy with his own nation, which collec¬
tively assumed the name of the Marcomanni. At the
head of this powerful league he attacked and conquered
the nation of the Boii, seated in the south of Bohemia
and a part of Franconia, and founded a formidable state,
which extended over the Hermundurins, the Quadi, the
Longobards, and the Semnones, and could bring into the
field 70,000 warriors. Augustus had given orders to Ti¬
berius to suppress with twelve legions the power of Maro¬
bodus, but a general insurrection of the Dalmatian tribes
compelled him to conclude a peace which secured to him
no benefit. The subsequent disasters of the Romans in
Western Germany suspended all attacks on the Marco¬
manni, who continued to excite insurrections in the south
of Germany.
Two great powers were thus formed, the Marcomanni
and the Cherusci, the one under Marobodus and the
other under Arminius. Between these, dissensions speedi¬
ly arose. On one side the Longobards and the Semnones,
wearied by the oppressions of Marobodus, deserted his
party and united with the Cherusci; and on the other side
Inguiomer, the uncle of Arminius, from jealousy of his
nephew, was induced to pass from his party to that of the
Marcomanni. After a war between these two confedera¬
tions, which was carried on with all that systematic regu¬
larity which the two commanders had learned in the Ro¬
man legions, the Cherusci remained conquerors. Tiberi¬
us, instead of giving that aid to Marobodus which he eager¬
ly asked, left him exposed during two years to the attacks
of Catualda the Goth, who compelled him to abandon his
territory and seek refuge amongst the Romans ; and Catu¬
alda was soon exposed to the same fate by the hostilities
of the Hermundurins, who had obtained the lead among
the confederates which were headed by Arminius.
I he death of Arminius occurred in the year 21 a. d.,
at the age of thirty-seven years, during the twelve last of
which he had gloriously and happily conducted the af¬
fairs of his country with the applause of his followers, to
whom, after his death, he continued an object of the high¬
est veneration. He was indeed suspected of designs to
introduce royalty and to assume the kingly dignity, but
it is now impossible to confirm or refute the charge which
has been brought against his memory.
After the death of their leader, the Cherusci, owing to
internal disputes, gradually lost the rank they had held,
and at length allowed the Romans to nominate a king of
their country, who assumed the name of Italicus, and was
the last branch of the family of Arminius. Under him
they quarrelled with their allies the Longobards, and soon
sunk down into an insignificant tribe, inhabiting the dis¬
trict to the south of the Hartz Mountains. About the same
time, in the west of Germany, the Catti raised themselves
to a state of some consideration, and, whilst the Romans
were occupied in suppressing an insurrection of the Frisii,
seized the fortresses constructed on the Rhine. They were
assailed by Galba, and induced to cede the territory includ¬
ed between the Lahn, the Maine, and the Rhine, to the
Romans, who parcelled it out among the most meritorious Germany,
of their warriors. In the year 58 the Catti and the Her- ■'r'-'
munduri contended for the salt springs on the river Saale
in Franconia. The numerous followers of Marobodus and
of Catualda had established themselves about the same
time on the Danube, between the rivers Gran and Morava,
and there, under Vannius, whom they had received as a
king from the Romans, founded a new kingdom, which
was soon felt to be oppressive to the people. Although
Vannius had found allies in the Sarmatian Jaziges, yet he
could not resist the confederacy formed against him by
the Hermunduri, Lygerii, and the Western Quadi, but fled
from his kingdom and took refuge with the Romans, when
he was succeeded by his nephew Sido, who had performed
some important services for the Emperor Vespasian. In
the west the Batavians, by an obstinate struggle, shook the
Roman power, which was only retained by extraordinary
exertions. About this period began the war which final¬
ly terminated in the downfall of Rome. The Suevi were
attacked by the Lygerii, and applied for aid to Domitian,
who sent them a hundred horse soldiers, the smallness of
which number was deemed an affront, and induced them
to form a confederacy with the Jaziges, which threatened
Dacia and Pannonia. Domitian was defeated, but Trajan
proved more successful; but afterwards war broke out more
fiercely under Antoninus Philosophus. The barbarians
disquieted the empire on two sides without cessation. On
one side small but numerous hordes of the Goths arrived
in Dacia to establish themselves by force of arms; but
these were removed by having a still better country point¬
ed out to them in a southern direction. But the more
terrific hostilities were those carried on by the Marco¬
manni, who had combined with the Hermunduri and the
Quadi. Marcus Aurelius contended with them during
his whole life; and Commodus purchased a peace with
them in 180 a. d. At the same time the Catti laid waste
Rhsetia and Gaul, and the Cherusci drove the Longobards
back on the Elbe, and advanced themselves under the
name of Franks. About the year 220 a. b. new tribes of
Germans assailed the falling empire. The Visigoths, the
Gepides, and Herulians, attacked the Romans in Dacia;
whilst about the same time a new race called the Ale-
manni, a mixed tribe, of Sclavonic origin, made their ap¬
pearance in Southern Germany, in opposition to whom
was constructed the celebrated Vallum Romanorum, the
traces of which are still visible from Jaxthausen to Ohrin-
gen. Ihe power of Rome gradually sunk, partly from the
constant and increasing hostilities of the Germans and
other barbarous tribes, and partly from internal dissensions.
As that empire was weakened, the Franks advanced to
Spain, and under Probus conquered also the Batavian pe¬
ninsula. Thus the Franks and Alemanns remained the
most powerful of the German nation. The former of these
lost the Batavian territory to the Saxons, and the latter
were humbled before the Romans in the last victory ob¬
tained by that mighty people. At the beginning of the
fifth century the barbarians assailed the empire on every
side. Ihe Vandals, Suevi, and Alani became masters of
Gaul and Spain. They were followed by the successful
Burgundians and the Western Goths ; to the Burgundians
succeeded the Franks, to the Western Goths succeeded the
Eastern Goths, and to them the Lombards. Then began
that stream of emigration which poured from the north to
the south, and, as a conquering power, became the foun¬
ders of the subsequent European kingdoms. A new change
was given to the face of Europe by those vast emigrations
of people, mostly Germans, though some came from coun¬
tries farther eastward than Germany, which gradually over¬
spread and subdued the west, introduced new forms of so¬
ciety, and framed languages, which, with but little varia¬
tion, have continued till the present time. The new states.
GERMANY.
577
Germany, formed out of what had previously been portions of the
W’“Y'W' Roman empire, though often at war with each other, and
differing in smaller matters, chiefly arising from difference
of soil and climate, were united in one similar system of
policy and domestic government, and had those common
habits strengthened by the providential introduction of
the Christian religion, to which, though varying in some
points of faith, they all in process of time professed adhe¬
rence. We have here space only for a slight sketch of
the history of those emigrations the beneficial effects of
which we now enjoy, and to which, during a period of
more than a thousand years, Europe has been indebted
for the great advancement in the arts and the policy of
civilization which has raised it above the other portions
of the habitable globe.
These emigrations, which thus revolutionized Europe,
began from the Frozen Ocean, extended themselves to
the Atlantic Sea, and stretched over a portion of Northern
Africa. They continued from the year 375, when the
Huns first broke into Europe, till 568, when the Lom¬
bards had completed their conquest of the Roman empire.
The causes of these excursions of whole tribes were vari¬
ous, arising in some cases from excessive population, in
others from the pressure of more remote tribes, and in
all from the charms of the beautiful and well-cultivated
provinces which the Romans had gradually added to their
dominions. At a more early period single tribes in small
parties had changed their domicils, and thereby prepar¬
ed the way for the greater emigrations. The constant
conquests of the too extended empire began in the
middle of the third century to make it totter under its
own weight. Some powerful emperors, indeed, especi¬
ally Constantine and Theodosius, suspended its fall; but
others, under the pressure of circumstances, and from
short-sighted policy, had taken parties of the barbarians
into their pay, and, as a reward for their military services,
had granted them lands to establish themselves on, on
the frontiers of the empire. In this way settlements were
granted to the Franks in Belgian Gaul, and to the Alani,
the Vandals, and the Goths, in Dacia, Pannonia, and
Thrace.
Many individuals of skill and courage were appointed
to offices of high power and trust, and two of them, Ruf¬
fin and Stilicho, to the command of armies. The conse¬
quence of this was, that as they improved in education,
they became fully acquainted with the weakness of the
Roman government, and accustomed themselves to con¬
sider it as a prey, on which in due time they might seize.
The first movement towards the emigrations was given
from the farthest part of Northern Asia, where a wild and
warlike tribe, probably of Mongul or Kalmuck origin,
were settled on the confines of China. These, expelled
from their own settlements about the end of the first cen¬
tury, extended themselves towards the west, and drove the
Alani, a tribe from Caucasus, out of Asiatic Sarmatia, and
also dislodged the Western Goths, who were settled in an¬
cient Dacia, and in the district between the Dniester, the
Danube, and the Vistula. A portion of the Alani, after
long wanderings, arrived on the Danube in what is now
Hungary; connected themselves there with the Vandals,
an original north German colony, who had been planted
there about one hundred years, and, together, pressed
forward into Germany, where they further strengthened
themselves by a union with the 8uevi, another German
tribe which had been settled on the Upper Danube. These
three populations, thus united, pressed forward to the
Rhine, passed that river into Gaul, captured Mayence,
Strasburg, and other flourishing cities, and devastated the
whole country.
After these united people had in a few years spread
desolation over a great part of Gaul, they pressed on to-
voi.. x.
wards the Pyrenees, and entered Spain. They subdued German.v*
nearly the whole of that country about the year 411, di- J
vided it by lot amongst themselves, and left a very small
portion of it only in the possession of the Roman garri¬
sons. They however retained their former discipline and
courage, and formed an alliance with some of the Western
Goths who had penetrated into Spain, and attacked the
conquerors. The Alani, who had founded a kingdom in
Lusitania, now Portugal, were completely overcome in
418 ; and the remnant of them, after their defeat, received
protection from the Vandals; and hence from that time
their name is no more to be found. They carried on the
war with the Romans, and thereby gained the ascendency
over them, when, in 427, they formed the resolution to
pass over into Africa. The kingdom founded there by
Genseric, after maintaining itself a hundred and five years,
was at last subdued by Belisarius, the general of the Greek
emperor Justinian. The Suevi, who after the departure
of the Vandals remained in Spain, extended and maintain¬
ed their power till they were defeated and scattered by
the Western Goths in 584. The Huns, with whom these
movements had originated, established themselves in 377
in Pannonia, whence, conducted by their king Attila, they
made a wasting campaign in Gaul; but that leader having
met with a signal defeat in 451, turned towards Italy, and
could scarcely be induced to spare Rome itself and to
quit Italy. After his death in 453 the kingdom of the
Huns disappeared, its inhabitants having been scattered
and lost among the tribes of the Goths and Gepides.
The most dangerous enemies of the Romans were the
Goths, to whom reference has before been made. They
were a tribe of Germans originally established in East
Prussia, on the shores of the Baltic, but had extended
themselves through Poland, to the Black Sea, and had
spread themselves over the Roman provinces on the Da¬
nube. In the third century, Rome found it necessary, or
at least convenient, to allow of their establishment in Dacia.
This powerful nation, the first amongst the Germans who
embraced the Christian religion, was divided into two
branches. The Eastern Goths were established on the
river Don and the Black Sea, and the Western Goths be¬
tween the Dniester, the Danube, and the Vistula. As
they were assailed by the advancing Huns, and compelled
to abandon their settlements about the year 375, the Ro¬
mans conceded to them other settlements in the interior
of their empire. The Western Goths, under their king
Marie, attacked the Romans in Italy in 403, several times
assailed Rome itself, and conquered and plundered it in
410. His successor Ataulfled his followers into Gaul in
411, and from thence into Spain, where was erected the
largest Gothic kingdom, which from 624 comprehended the
whole of the Peninsula, with a part of France and some
portions of Africa, and was only terminated in 711, by the
victory of the invading Moors at the battle of Xeres.
The Eastern Goths had been settled by the Romans in
the country of Moesia, now known by the names of Bul¬
garia and of Servia. Odoacer, the chief of two German
tribes, the Heruli and the Rugieri, who had served under
the Roman standards, became the master of Rome and of
all Italy. But he was subdued by Theodoric king of the
Western Goths, who thus succeeded to supreme power in
Italy in the year 493.
Though Theodoric was one of the greatest characters
of his age, the kingdom he founded proved but of short
duration. The Emperor Justinian, after his successes in
Africa, attacked the power of the Goths, and by his gene¬
rals, first Belisarius and afterwards Narses, once more, in
554, restored Italy to the dominion of the Greek empire.
The Gothic sovereigns then disappeared, and in a few
years no trace of them remained except their name, which
has been applied to a peculiar style of architecture.
4 D
578
GERMAN Y.
Germany. A few years after the fall of the Gothic kingdom, the
greater part of Italy fell under the power of the Longo-
bards or Lombards. According to some accounts, they
were a tribe from Scandinavia, but according to others, a
branch of the great German family of the Suevi, who in
earlier times had inhabited those parts on the Elbe which
are now known as Luneburg, and who had, after various
excursions, been settled in Pannonia about 527. They
advanced from thence, in 568, towards Italy, and under
their king Alboin made a conquest of nearly the whole
peninsula; a feat which was easily effected, owing to its
desolate and depopulated condition. The chief opposition
they encountered was from the city of Pavia, which, af¬
ter a siege of three years, was captured in 572, and made
the capital of the kingdom. Lombardy flourished during
two centuries, till it fell under the power of the Emperor
Charlemagne in the year 774.1
The history of Germany between the years 560 and
670 is wholly destitute of the materials necessary to
frame a consecutive narrative. The only writer of the
period was Gregory bishop of Tours, and his attention was
wholly engrossed by the events of the Frank kingdom
which had sprung up in Gaul, and had begun to decline,
the manners, laws, and customs of which he has faithfully
represented. The only part of his voluminous work which
relates to Germany, is an account of an alliance formed be¬
tween the Bavarians and Longobards, which offended the
Franks, and proved the cause of hostile movements, which,
however, were speedily and pacifically terminated in 589.
From the death of Dagobert in 632, the dominions of the
Frankish kings of the Merovingian race were gradually
diminished. One portion after another fell into the hands
of great lay or ecclesiastical feudatories; but these cir¬
cumstances seem to have had little effect on the German
tribes. They scarcely interfered in the Frankish contests ;
and though not without internal controversies and conten¬
tions, these were of local and temporary importance only,
and seldom produced extensive or calamitous convulsions.
Preparations for defence against the Franks were carried
on; some fortresses were constructed, and military disci¬
pline was maintained. But the most distinguished feature
of the century, was the spread of the Christian faith. A
saint from Ireland, with his assistants, laboured amongst
the German tribes with great diligence and success.. The
cross of Christ had been planted among them, and publicly
acknowledged as their standard; but the remains of hea¬
thenism, with its superstitions, were cherished by the
great mass of the rude people, and the sacred rites of
the Druids were performed in their hallowed groves.
Columban indeed found almost everywhere Christian
priests, but their knowledge was slight, many of their ce¬
remonies were idolatrous, their faith was wavering, and,
what to the Irish saint was most annoying, their depen¬
dence on the see of Rome slightly if at all acknowledged.
The success of the Irish missionaries is much lauded
by the monkish writers of the ages that followed their
exertions; and whatever effect they may have produced
upon the manners and morals of the Germans, it must be
acknowledged that they were successful in bringing that
people into that close connection with the great head of
the Christian church, which became, in a succession of
centuries, under the guidance of Providence, one of the
means of their advancement in civilization.
During the same period was laid the foundation of
those small sovereign states which successively grew up
in Germany under ecclesiastical and lay chiefs, who bore
the titles of archbishops, bishops, abbots, princes, dukes,
counts, margraves, landgraves, and barons. These, in Germany,
process of time, had the indirect choice of the emperor,
who assumed the title ol Chief of the Holy Roman Em¬
pire, and was elected to that dignity by princes called
electors, who were independent, though nominally the
household officers of the reigning emperor. The emperor
Charlemagne was the real founder of the holy Roman em¬
pire, although that name was not given to it until a later
period. He was of the race of the Frankish kings, the
son of Pepin and the grandson of Charles Martel, and,
jointly with his brother Carloman, ascended the throne of
Gaul in 768. He was one of those extraordinary charac¬
ters calculated to change the face of the civilized world.
The history of his actions, during a long and glorious reign
of forty-seven years, would relate his transactions in
France, Spain, Italy, and Germany, but must here be re¬
stricted to those which relate to the last of those coun¬
tries. (See article France.) The death of Carloman in
771 gave him the sole command of France, and his autho¬
rity extended over Italy and a portion of Germany. He
wished to obtain more power in that direction, and re¬
solved to attack the Saxons, and made religion one of the
pretexts for his attempt. The Saxons were a pagan peo¬
ple settled in Holstein and Westphalia, between the Weser
and the Elbe, and, like all people in a barbarous state,
thought themselves warranted by this independence in
making incursions on their neighbours. They were fre¬
quently defeated, and made treaties of peace, which they
soon broke, and thus continued until they were complete¬
ly subdued in 803, when Charlemagne settled some of
them in Flanders, and others in Switzerland, whilst the
country was occupied by a Vandal tribe from Mecklen¬
burg.
This long resistance of so weak a power was owing to
the enlistments of the troops of Charlemagne being but
for one year, and to the other wars in which he was en¬
gaged with the Lombards, the Danes, and the Saracens, as
well as with some of the feudatories in his patrimonial
dominions. He had long nourished the desire to become
emperor of the West, and had negotiated a treaty of mar¬
riage with Irene, empress of Constantinople, which would
have led to a general union of all Christendom under one
head, but which was frustrated by the death of that prin¬
cess. He was, however, in the year 800, crowned in Rome,
by Pope Leo III. and acknowledged as emperor of the
West in all the extensive dominions he had obtained. He
reigned as emperor fourteen years, and died in 814, at
Aachen or Aix-la-Chapelle in Germany, which had been
early selected as his favourite residence.
The German empire may be dated from the treaty of
Verdun in 843, by which the Frankish kingdom was di¬
vided. Lorraine was added to it in 924. Otto the Great
brought the kingdom of Italy in 961, and the imperial do¬
minions in that country in 962, into close connection with
the empire of Germany, which then for the first time re¬
ceived the appellation of the Hoi}7 Roman Empire. But
the Italian states were rather feudatories than subjects of
that empire, and this slight bond was in a few years dis¬
solved. Bohemia was a part of the empire under Otto,
and continued to be so considered until a later period.
For a short time the kings of Denmark owned allegiance
on account of Jutland, and the king of Poland on account
of Silesia, a state of things which continued till 1355.
Hungary was also a part of the empire from 1045 till the
reign of Henry IV. Prussia likewise, the possession of
the Teutonic order, stood in the same relation to the em¬
pire from 1230 to 1525, and Livonia from 1205 to 1556.
^ See Luden s Gcschichtc dcs DcutscJtcn
lus Germaniccc stirpis, S^c. 1812.
Volkes, 2 und 3 Theil; also Sartorius De occupatione et divisione agrorum Rornanorum per barba-
GERMANY.
Germany. The Emperor Conrad II., in 1033, united a part of
the kingdom of Lower Burgundy with the empire, which
thus comprehended Franche-Comte, Dauphine, the Ly-
onnois, West Switzerland, Provence, and Savoy. These
portions were, however, one after another separated from
it; and in 1648, when Switzerland and the United Ne¬
therlands were declared independent, none of them re¬
mained to the empire but Savoy, Mompelgard, and the
bishopric of Basel. The principles which regulated the
intercourse of the emperor with the several princes, and
of those princes with each other, were grounded, not, as
in other states, on charters granted by the chief, but on
resolutions adopted at various times amongst the several
states in general assemblies. The most memorable of these
resolutions were, ls£, that of internal peace in 1495; 2<//y,
the Golden Bull, so called from having a seal of gold ap¬
pended to it. This was agreed to under the Emperor
Charles IV. in 1356, and confirmed at two subsequent diets
or assemblies, which were held at Nuremburg and Metz.
The chief object of it was to secure to the several states
the right of independent voting in the election of an em¬
peror. 2>dly, The treaty of Passau in 1552, or rather that
concluded in consequence of it at Augsburg in 1555.
This treaty established religious peace, and conferred on
the several sovereigns who had embraced the Lutheran
religion the free exercise of it in their dominions; and to
the subjects the right to change their religion, and to
leave the dominions without permission from the princes.
kthly. The treaty of Westphalia, concluded in 1648, which
extended freedom of religion to those who had embraced
the reformed or Calvinistic religion, as well as to the Lu¬
therans.
Germany was divided, in 1500, under the Emperor
Maximilian I. into six circles, viz. Franconia, Bavaria,
Suabia, Upper Rhine, Westphalia, and Saxony. These
were increased in 1512 to ten, by adding to them the cir¬
cles of Austria and Burgundy, and forming two circles
out of that of Saxony, and two out of that of the Rhine.
But Lausatia, Silesia, Bohemia, Moravia, and other coun¬
tries, though encompassed by the empire, were never¬
theless not included in it. Each of these circles had at
its head an ecclesiastical and a lay prince, who assembled
the states of the circle, communicated between the em¬
peror and them, and called their attention to the civil or
military affairs of the body. Besides these, each circle had
a military chief, generally denominated the field-marshal,
who commanded the forces, and had the care of providing
subsistence, arms, and other stores. In the assembly of
the states a majority decided every question ; but the de¬
cision required to be conformable to the general laws of
the empire.
After the reformation of religion at the treaty of West¬
phalia, the circles were divided into Catholic, Protestant,
and mixed. The circles of Austria, Bavaria, and Bur¬
gundy belonged to the first; to the second appertained
Saxony; and to the third the remainder.
The imperial dignity was retained by the family of
Charlemagne till the year 888. After that time it was
elective, although for a long period there was a general
adherence to the family which had been once chosen.
At the commencement, the emperor was elected by the
whole of the princes, whether lay or ecclesiastical; but
during an interregnum, which lasted from 1197 to 1272,
the highest or arch-princes, called kurfursten, assumed the
exclusive right of electing, and by a subsequent union
amongst themselves, at the election of Charles IV. in
1356, secured the power they claimed. Frankfort was
the place of election to which the Archbishop of Mentz
summoned the princes or their ambassadors who were
allowed to vote ; but none of them was to be attended by
more than two hundred followers, of whom only fifty were
579
permitted to be armed. All strangers, even sovereigns, Germany,
and the ambassadors of foreign potentates, were command- >—
ed to leave the city on the day of election. After the
choice had been concluded, the person chosen, or his re¬
presentative for him, was required to take the prescribed
oaths to maintain the golden bull and the several capitula¬
tions. He was then led into St Bartholomew’s Church, and
declared emperor. The early emperors were crowned by
the pope or his delegates, and several of them made toilsome
marches to Rome, chiefly for that purpose. Till they received
that coronation they were only, styled kings ; and the popes
carried their arrogance so far as to claim the right, not merely
ot confirming and crowning, but even of electing and de¬
posing the emperors. In 1338, however, the electors as¬
serted their right to elect the emperor independently of the
pope, and this became a law of the empire.
It became usual, during the lifetime of an emperor, to
choose a successor to the imperial dignity; and the person
so chosen was designated king of the Romans. This in¬
stitution first arose in 1220, when Henry VII., a son of the
Emperor Frederick II., was elected. He was bound to take
oaths similar to those enjoined upon the emperor ; but dur¬
ing his lifetime he was forbidden to mingle in the public
business of the empire. In case of the death, of the minority,
or of a protracted absence of the emperor, the golden bull
had provided that the Prince of Saxony should exercise vi¬
cariate power in Saxony and Westphalia, and the Prince of
Alsace similar power in Franconia, Suabia, and the Rhe¬
nish circles. They could call assemblies, collect and con¬
trol the finances, and administer justice ; but they had no
power to grant imperial dignities or feudal estates. In
neither of the circles of Austria or Bavaria was any provi¬
sion made for the exercise of this vicariate power.
The states of the empire, or general assembly, consisted
of the clergy and laity, who held their property direct from
the empire. The first comprehended the archbishops, bi¬
shops, prelates, abbots, abbesses, and the masters of the Teu¬
tonic and St John’s orders; the second included arch-princes,
dukes-princes, landgraves, margraves, burgraves, grafts or
counts, and the free imperial cities. After the peace of
Westphalia, the states were divided into the Catholic and
the Protestant portions, who on many subjects deliberated
and resolved separately. Whilst the inferior princes exer¬
cised the executive and legal authority within their own
states, those greater affairs which related to the empire in
general, and to the respective connection of one sovereignty
with another, were brought under the notice of the gene¬
ral assembly, in which the emperor presided either perso¬
nally or by his commissary, who was always a prince of the
empire, and who was attended by an assessor. The assem¬
bly was divided into three benches or colleges, in which
every thing was decided by a majority of voices; but at a
subsequent sitting they were united, and then the majority
of the three benches determined the final resolution. Many
subjects were intrusted to the examination of imperial de¬
putations or committees. The power of making war or
concluding peace belonged to the assembly, but was some¬
times intrusted solely to the emperor, though only in press¬
ing emergencies. The emperor had originally the power
of nominating to the ecclesiastical dignities ; but the popes
gradually so intruded their authority, as to reduce the mo¬
narch’s power to almost a shadow. After the peace of
Westphalia, the empire was divided between the three re¬
ligions. In the Catholic states, the pope and the bishops
had usurped the judicial power, and administered it accord¬
ing to the canon law. In the Protestant parts, all the ju¬
ridical power of the church was abolished, and the affairs of
religion were left to the management of consistories chosen
from among the subjects, in most cases on the nomination
of the princes.
The power of coining money appertained originally to
GERMANY.
580
Germany, the emperor, but was gradually obtained by several of the
chiefs of the respective states; but the fineness and the
weight of the coin were directed by the authority of the
emperor and the general assembly. The tolls on certain
rivers and roads, the regulation of the great fairs of Frank¬
fort, Brunswick, and Leipsic, and the conveyance of letters
bv post, as well as providing post-horses, were the regalia
of the emperor ; and the latter were granted hereditarily to
the Prince of Taxis, whose successors, even to the present
day, have some power and some profit connected with
them. The degrees in the universities were conferred in
the name of the emperor ; and, through a prince named by
him, called the Pfalzgrave, the doctors, licentiates, advo¬
cates, solicitors, notaries, and other legal officers, were ad¬
mitted to practise their professions in the courts of law.
The finances of Germany, viewed as one empire, were
under the direction of the general assembly. The contri¬
butions were called Roman months, each of which amount¬
ed to a force of 20,000 infantry and 4000 cavalry ; and the
number of these months which were granted to the em¬
peror was adapted to the occasion that required them.
These were divided among the several states, and called
their contingents. They were, however, in process of
time, frequently converted into payments in money, at sti¬
pulated rates. In later times each Roman month was
estimated at 128,000 florins, or about L.12,000 sterling.
This tax was paid either at Augsburg, Frankfort, Nurem-
burg, or at Leipsic, and the collectors of it were called
Pfenning-meister.
Many of the individual princes were under greater or
less restraint in the exercise of power, from the rights of
their state assemblies; and when there was a collision be¬
tween them, an appeal was made to the imperial tribunals.
To those courts the princes were answerable for the debts
they incurred, and by them their dominions were on some
occasions put in a state of sequestration ; but in other of
the principalities there were no assemblies of the states,
and consequently less limitation of powers, though in them
the sovereign could be brought under the authority of the
imperial chamber, and obliged to fulfil his engagements.
This sketch of the ancient constitution of the German
empire is interesting, from the length of time which it last¬
ed, and from having, during ten centuries, with all its com¬
plexity and impediments, preserved, among the many inde¬
pendent states of which it was composed, a feeling of na¬
tionality, which is still cherished by all who are descended
from the rude and ancient tribes of German origin. This con¬
stitution gave to Germany but little other unity, and less
power, and rendered the greatest of the European king¬
doms the weakest of them all. It kept them, however, from
suffering the misery of a conquered and an oppressed peo¬
ple, and has led them to a degree of intellectual culture,
in which they have been equalled by few, and exceeded by
no other nation. Perhaps the distribution of the territory
in such small sovereignties was one of the most effectual
means of advancing and securing that reformation of reli¬
gion, which all Protestants regard as one of the greatest
blessings to the whole human race.
The history of Germany in modern times is so much
connected with that of the rest of Europe, especially dur¬
ing the wars of the last and the present centuries, thatanar
ration of it would only be a repetition of what is to be found
in this work under the heads of Europe, France, and es¬
pecially Britain ; and to them the reader is referred.
The peace of Presburg in December 1805 first gave oc¬
casion for the dissolution of the ancient constitution of Ger¬
many. By that treaty the Dukes of Bavaria and Wurtem-
berg were raised to the rank of kings, and the Prince of
Baden to that of an independent sovereign. Soon after¬
wards (28th May 1806) the arch-chancellor of the empire
declared to the assembled diet, that, though contrary to
law, he had nominated Cardinal Fesch, the uncle of Bona* Germany,
parte, as his coadjutor and successor; and on the 12th of
July the new kings of Bavaria and Wurtemberg, and six¬
teen other princes, formally announced to the Emperor
Francis II. their separation from the empire, and invited
the other princes to join them in a new alliance. The Em¬
peror Francis on the 6th of August issued a declaration of
his withdrawing from the head of the empire, abandoning
the title of Emperor of Germany, and assuming that of
Emperor of Austria.
In the room of this dissolved constitution, of nearly a
thousand years’ continuance, the several states which had
been accomplices in its destruction, with some others
added to them, formed what was called the Confederation
of the Rhine, which, by February 1808, had received the
adhesion of most of the princes, and placed Bonaparte at
its head, undei the title of protector. Two years after¬
wards, the protector, by his sole decree, united the rivers
Scheldt, Meuse, Rhine, Ems, Weser, and the mouths of the
Elbe, to France, and robbed of their dominions several of
the smaller princes, whom he had contracted to defend.
With these augmentations he continued his aggressions
till the dispersion of his army in Russia.
As the events which produced the deliverance of Ger¬
many from the yoke of France belong to the history of
that country as much as to this, our notices of it here
must be brief. After the destruction of that vast army
which penetrated into Russia, almost all the states of the
north of Germany, with Prussia at their head, declared
war against France. An army was quickly collected from
the French conscription, and, with a wonderful celerity,
Bonaparte, at its head, was enabled to penetrate into Sax¬
ony, to threaten Prussia, and exhibit a force which he
supposed would overawe Austria. The battles of Lutzen
and Dresden, in 1813, produced an armistice, during the
continuance of which negotiations for peace between Rus¬
sia and Prussia on one side, and France on the other, were
carried on under the mediation of the Emperor of Austria.
But as peace could not be concluded, Austria was induced
to join the allies against France. During these periods a
spirit had risen in Germany which animated all classes of
its inhabitants, so that those powers which still clung to
the interests of France could place no reliance on the
support of their subjects. Bonaparte, overpowered by
numbers, with an army of raw troops from his own do¬
minions, and with troops of doubtful fidelity from the do¬
minions of his allies, was surrounded, and, after being com¬
pelled to retreat from Dresden, fought the important
battle of Leipsic against the armies of Russia, Austria,
Prussia, and Sweden. The issue of that battle was not
considered as doubtful even from, its commencement; but,
during the contest, the Saxon division of the army march¬
ed from their station in the French line, and took up their
position with the Prussians. The result of the battle was
a hurried retreat from Leipsic to the frontier of France,
which was then the river Rhine. On the retreat to the
Rhine, the shattered remains of the French army were
intercepted by the forces of Bavaria. A battle was fought
at Hanau, about twelve miles from Frankfort, which,
though gained by the French, tended only to hasten their
flight, and led to the loss of much that remained of their
stores, arms, and ammunition.
By the end of the year 1813, the French were totally
expelled from every part of Germany, and the occupation
of Paris by the allies, early in 1814, led to general tran¬
quillity. The Congress of Vienna soon afterwards met, and
never was a body of plenipotentiaries plunged into such
a labyrinth of difficulties. The great extent of country
which had been delivered, and was without any govern¬
ment; the number of claims urged either from previous
possession, or from active service in effecting the deliver-
GERMANY.
581
ance; were such as to perplex with difficulties which ap¬
peared to be nearly insuperable, and, in whatever way they
were terminated, must necessarily have left great dissatis¬
faction. They were, however, so settled as to leave Ger¬
many in the state described in the preceding pages; and
whether they could have been adjusted with more regard
to the principles of equity is not for us to decide.
The return of Bonaparte from Elba produced most gi¬
gantic efforts upon the part of all those smaller sovereigns
who had been reinstated in their dominions by his down¬
fall. The number of troops actually mustered and pre¬
pared to march when the battle of Waterloo took place
and suspended them, amounted to more than 1,200,000
men. They were not indeed all armed, but many more
men could have been raised if arms for them could have
been procured. These efforts, added to the costly exer¬
tions made in the war of the deliverance, have encumber¬
ed with debts almost every state, as is noticed in the de¬
tailed account of them. These debts, however, have not
been solely created by the events in question. The ephe¬
meral kingdom of Westphalia, formed for Jerome Bona¬
parte, extended over Hanover, Brunswick, and Cassel, as
well as the circle from which it was denominated. Dur¬
ing his government, all the different portions of his king¬
dom had incurred vast debts in executing his projects.
These debts were owing to individuals or corporate bodies
within the dominions attached by the congress to their new
sovereigns ; and the princes, for the sake of the people, were
compelled to assume the debts, and provide means for their
liquidation, and the payment in the mean time of the in¬
terest. Thus the ungrateful task of providing for the
expenditure attending the subjection of their states, as
well as for their liberation, became one of the first duties
on their resumption of power. This odious consequence
of former circumstances has been industriously improved
by the enemies of tranquillity, and has created considerable
discontent.
These feelings of discontent were chiefly confined to
writers in periodical papers of the smaller kind, and to as¬
sociations amongst the young men in those universities in
which the discipline was the most relaxed. The demon¬
strations of this dissatisfied state of the public mind were
few, and scarcely noticed except in narrow circles. The
murder of Kotzebue by Sandt, and a similar attempt on
the life of Ibell, the minister of Nassau, were tokens of
great excitement amongst a few fanatics ; but the judicial
inquiries which followed these transactions seemed to
the governments to prove that the mischievous views of
insurrection or assassination were confined to a very nar¬
row circle. There was no interruption to the full exer¬
cise of the powers of the law, nor any necessity for in¬
creasing the military establishments. The Revolution in
Paris in 1830 produced, however, considerable excite¬
ment in several parts of Germany, particularly in Hano¬
ver and in Saxony, and also in Brunswick, though in the
latter country it was more owing to the personal charac¬
ter and conduct of the sovereign, which led to his deposi¬
tion and to the investing of the power in the hands of his
brother. In Hanover, the suspension of the university of
Gottingen, and the mild but firm measures of the govern¬
ment, soon led to tranquillity; and in Saxony, though some
mischief was effected, it was but of short duration, and
the kingdom soon returned to that tranquil state which
was habitual to the greater part of its inhabitants.
So matters continued till 1848, when the spirit of the
French Revolution of that year soon spread over Germany,
and awakened the slumbering consciousness of the German
people. The effects were seen in various political agitations
and commotions, and in the important concessions made hy
the terrified princes to the demands of the’r subjects. On
the 2d of March the subject of a general representation of Germany,
the states of Germany, was discussed in the assembly of
the states of Baden, and on the 5th of that month, fifty-one
German notables met at Heidelberg, passed various resolu¬
tions, appointed a committee of seven to prepare the plan
of a new German parliament, and called a preliminary meet¬
ing, or Vor-parlament, to meet at Frankfort on the 30th.
This vor-parliament met accordingly, and determined the
mode of election for the great national assembly, which was
appointed to meet at Frankfort on the 18th of May. When
the assembly met, they received a message from the federal
diet, expressing the desire of the latter to act in friendly
unison and co-operation with the representatives of the
nation. The assembly’s chief occupation for several weeks
was to determine the nature and limits of the authority that
it was deemed necessary to lodge in some sort of central
executive government, and the result of their deliberations
was the appointment of the archduke John of Austria to
the provisional office of regent, vicar, or administrator
{Reichsverweser) to administer the central government till
the election of an emperor ; and, so completely were the
princes humbled, that this appointment was immediately
confirmed by the diet, as so instructed by their respective
governments. The archduke accepted of the office of vicar,
and was formally installed at Frankfort 12th July. At
the end of June the committee to whom had been in¬
trusted the task of preparing the draft of a constitution for
United Germany, presented their report to the assembly,
and the following were its principal provisions. Germany
was to form an empire, comprising not only all the states of
the confederation, but also the extra-federal provinces of
Schleswig, Posen, East and West Prussias, and Austria; and
the existing sovereignties were to be limited and subordinated
down to the point at which their action might be found com¬
patible with the perfection of imperial unity. The head of
the empire vTas to be a kaiser or emperor, whose office was
to be hereditary and his person inviolable, but whose powers
were to be controlled by a diet of two chambers. The up¬
per chamber of the diet was to be constituted by the reign¬
ing subject sovereigns or their deputies, and a deputy from
each of the four free cities, with a complement of as many
imperial councillors, with certain qualifications, as should
raise the number of the members to 200. The latter
were to be appointed by the sovereigns or diets from the
citizens of any German state, to serve for twelve years, one-
third going out every four years by rotation. The lower
chamber was to consist of representatives elected by the
people in fixed proportions according to population, but by
methods to be determined by the governments of the re¬
spective states. The members were to be elected for six
years, but one-third was to retire every two years. The
diet was to hold its sittings, and the emperor to reside, at
Frankfort. The emperor’s dignity was to be maintained
by a civil list voted by the diet. He was to exercise the
executive power in all the business of the empire; to no¬
minate and appoint the officers of the state, of the army and
navy, and of the staff of the national guard. He was to
have a voice in proposing measures to the diet, and the
right of affirming their acts. His ministers were to be re¬
sponsible, and no edict was to have legal force without the
signature of one of them. In the emperor and parliament
together was to be vested the national representation of Ger¬
many with respect to foreign states, the disposal of the
army, the right of conducting negotiations and concluding
treaties, making peace or declaring war. Provision was
also made for the establishment of an imperial court of
justice, to have the cognisance of all disputes between the
citizens of different states ; between the German states and
princes; and between princes and their diets ; and of all
imperial fiscal matters. Free municipal institutions were to
582
GERMANY.
Germany, fog guaranteed ; a national guard was to be instituted ; there
was to be unrestricted freedom of public meetings ; and ab¬
solute freedom of religion, science, and the press.
Such were the outlines of this memorable constitution.
The members of the assembly, however, being men better
acquainted with theoretical speculation than with practical
business, wasted their time in idle discussions, and the only
one of their acts worth further notice was their offering the
imperial crown to the king of Prussia, which his majesty felt
himself constrained to decline. In May 1849 the assembly
split into two parties, one of which transferred its sittings to
Gotha, and the other to Stuttgard, and so the bubble burst.
The vicar resigned his office in December; the princes have re-
covered their sovereignties, and the bund has been renewed.
Situation Germany may be considered in two points of view, either
and bound- politically, as the country included within the limits of the
arms. Germanic confederation ; or ethnologically, as the country
inhabited by the people who speak the various branches and
dialects of the Deutsch or German language. In the latter
respect, the Deutsch or German nations are found to ex¬
tend in a compact mass along the shores of the German
Ocean and the Baltic or East Sea, from a point between
Calais and Gravelines, near the Straits of Dover to the Gulf
of Riga, and from that long line of boundary southwards,
with dimensions continually narrowing to the Alps and the
Adriatic Sea. Politically considered, Germany is situate
between 45. and 54. 50. N. Lat. and 5. 43. and 20. 50. E.
Long., bounded N. by the German Ocean, Denmark, and
the Baltic Sea; E. by West Prussia, Posen, Poland, Gali¬
cia, Hungary, and Croatia ; S. by the Gulf of Venice, Italy,
and Switzerland; W. by France, Belgium, and Holland.
Its whole extent, including rivers and lakes, is about 246,770
square English miles, which is about the 16th part of
Europe, the 215th part of the whole dryland, and the 800th
part of the whole surface of the globe.
Face of the The southern and the central parts of Germany are oc-
country. CUpiet} by numerous ranges of hills and mountains, some¬
times separated only by narrow valleys, and elsewhere form¬
ing large elevated plains or table-lands, while the northern
portion of the country sinks into a wide sandy moorish plain,
but little raised above the level of the sea. The Tyrol and
the south-eastern provinces of Austria are occupied by
branches of the Alps, which present long narrow valleys,
dismal precipices, cataracts, and glaciers ; and the northern
border of this alpine region may be defined by the towns
of Bregenz, Southofen, Fuessen, Traunstein, Salzburg,
Gmunden, Steier, St Polten, and Baden. Immediately
to the northward lies the valley of the Danube, wdiich
stretches almost across the breadth of Germany, declining
from an elevation of about 2200 feet, near the source of the
river, to about 350, on the borders of Hungary. In passing
through Bavaria the valley expands into a plain of consi¬
derable extent, which, at Ratisbon on its eastern border,
has an elevation of about 1000 feet, and gradually rises as
it approaches the mountains that surround it. Further
north the middle region of Germany is occupied by various
ranges of hills, terminating northwards in a line drawn
through the towns of Aachen, Duren, Krefeld, Dortmund,
Soest, Paderborn, Bielefeld, Teklenburg, Bentheim, Furste-
nau, Rehburg, Hanover, Braunschweig, Magdeburg, Dessau,
Halle, Weissenfels, Wurzen, Meissen, Bautzen, Goerlitz,
Liegnitz, Breslau, Ramslau, and Rosenberg. These hills
form a series of elevated valleys and table lands, the most
remarkable of which is the valley of Bohemia, which has
all the appearance of having been a lake before it was drained
by the bursting of its mountain barriers. This region is
much diversified by picturesque scenery, and abounds in
verdant and well-wooded valleys, watered by clear streams.
I he banks of the Meyn, the Fulda, and the Moselle, are
remarkable for their varied scenery, and the valley of the
Rhine unites the grandeur of a fine landscape with the ap¬
pearance of a highly fertile country. To the northward Germany,
again of the hilly region, the country sinks into plains, which
fall very gradually from an elevation of about 300 feet at
the foot of the hills to the level of the sea. These plains
extend through Lower Silesia, Lusatia, Brandenburg, Po¬
merania, Mecklenburg, Holstein, Hanover, and the lower
part of Westphalia. To the west of the Elbe the flat coun¬
try is almost entirely destitute of trees, and presents only a
succession of level tracts, covered with heath and juniper,
and of moors consisting chiefly of deep beds of turf inter¬
sected by rivers which flow in depressions from 100 to 200
feet below the general level of the plains. To the east of
the Elbe the country is more sandy, but the sandy tracts
are covered with pines, and interspersed with fertile spaces
of sometimes considerable extent. The beds of the rivers
also are generally wider and less deep than in the western
part of the plain. Through the northern part of this plain
a higher tract may be traced from west to east, from Old-
eslo in Holstein to Schwedt on the Oder, about 70 miles
from the sea. Eastward of the Oder it continues for some
distance due east, then gradually approaches the sea, ter¬
minating on the banks of the Niemen near Grodno. It
seems to have formed at one time the shore of the sea, and
it is on its northern sides that are found those numerous
erratic blocks or boulders that have attracted so much of
the attention of geologists. Though it does not rise into
hills, it forms the watershed between a number of small
streams that run direct to the Baltic, and others that run
southward to the Elbe, the Oder, and the Vistula. To the
alpine region belong the territories of Liechtenstein, Tyrol,
Southern Bavaria, Styria, Salzburg, Carinthia, and Illyria;
to the middle region, Baden, Wurtemberg, Hohenzollern,
the greater part of Bavaria, the northern portions of Austria,
including Bohemia and Moravia, Hessen, Nassau, Luxem¬
burg, Schwartzburg, Reuss, Saxony, and Anhalt; to the
low country, Hanover, Oldenburg, Braunschweig, Lippe,
Holstein, Mecklenburg, and nearly the whole of Prussia.
The Rhaetian Alps extending eastward from Switzerland, Mountains
occupy the provinces of Vorarlberg and Tyrol, where they and
are divided into two branches by the valley of the Inn the
northern branch being called the Algauer Alps, the south¬
ern the Tyrolese Alps, through which lies the Brenner Pass,
with a summit elevation of 4700 Paris feet above the level
of the sea. In the same chain is the highest mountain of
Germany, the Orteler-spitz, the elevation of which is esti¬
mated by various authorities at between 11,800 and 14,004
Paris feet. Further east, the Noric and Carnic Alps, with
their various branches, occupy the greater part of the Aus¬
trian territory south of the Danube.
Westward of the Rhine the Vosges mountains extend
into the lower palatinate of Bavaria, under the names of the
Wasgau mountains and the Hardtwald, the highest of which,
the Donnersberg (Fr. Mont Tonnere), rises to 2223 feet.
The Hochwald and the Hundsruck (dog’s back) fill up the
rest of the country between the Rhine and the Moselle.
To the north of the latter river the country is occupied by
the Eifel mountains and branches of the Ardennes, whose
range eastward is cut through by the valley of the Rhine.
In the N.E. angle formed by the Rhine, in its course from
the Lake of Constance to Mentz, and to the N.W. of the
Upper Danube, the country is traversed by the various di¬
verging ranges of the Schwartzwald or Black Forest, in
Swabia, the Rauhe Alp, the Odenwald, and the Steiger-
wald, which are terminated northwards by the valley of the
Meyn. North of that river, between the Rhine, the Saale,
and the Elbe, are the Taunus, the Westerwald, the Ohre-
berg in Nassau, Flesse, and Rhenish Prussia ; the Rodhaar
and Eggsgebirge, in Westphalia and Waldeck ; the Osning
or Teutoburgemald, in Lippe, Westphalia, and Hanover;
the Hohe Rhon and the Spessart, in Bavaria and Electoral
Hesse; the Vogelgebirge in Upper Flesse; the Franken-
GERMANY.
583
Germany, wald, Thuringerwald, and the Hartz, in Bavaria, the Saxon
duchies, and Hanover. East of the Meyn and the Saale on
the Fichtelgebirge, in the upper palatinate of Bavaria; the
Boehmerwald on the south-west, the Erzgebirge on the
north-west, the Riesengebirge or Sudetic Mountains, and
the Geisenkergebirge, on the east and north-east, and the
Zdarsky-Hory, on the south-east of Bohemia. The Erzge¬
birge are connected with the Fichtelgebirge by the Egerge-
birge, whose highest points rise only to 2381 and 2335 feet.
None of these mountains attain an elevation comparable
to that of the Alps; and the central knot, the Fichtelge¬
birge, which send their rivers to the German Ocean, and
the Baltic and Black Seas, are less a connected range of
mountains than an elevated plateau, with a mean elevation
of little more than 2000 feet. Their highest point, the
Schneeberg, is estimated by different authors between 2599
and 3303 feet.
Geology.
The principal points of elevation in or among the other
ranges are these :— Eng. feet.
The Hohnacht, in the Eifel range  2349
Ernstberg, in the Schneifel or Schnee-eifel  7497
Laacher-see   748
Feldberg, in the Schwartzwald   4966
Belchen ,,   4656
Herzogenhorn „   4592
Kandel „   4165
Kesselberg „   3417
Seekopf „   3204
Kniebis „   3097
Belchen Pass „   3631
Kilben Pass „       3521
Kniebis Pass „   2734
Kinzigthal Pass „    2670
Peldsee and other lakes, in the S. Wald. ...1532 to 3632
Katzenbuckel, in the Odenwald    2328
Sieglitzberg, in the Prankenwald   2456
Hohe-kulm „     2424
Beerberg, in the Thuringerwald  3272
Schneekopf „   3257
Inselsberg ,,    3044
Gickelhahn „   2819
Blissberg ,,    2849
Eissenberg „   2884
Finsterberg „   3097
Wurzelberg „   2530
Hartz plateau, general elevation....  1922
Brocken or Blocksberg, in the Hartz  3746
Heinrichshohe „   3375
Village of Hohngeiss „    2051
Klausthal „   1869
Geiersberg, in the Speissart  2029
Great Feldberg, in the Taunus   2892
Little Feldberg „   2563
Hunan, in the Westerwald    2745
Siebengebirge (Lowenberg), in the Westerwald  1602
Crest of the Erzgebirge, nowhere below  2136
Plateau of Gottesgabe, the most elevated town in ] gg-’g
Germany, in the Erzgebirge   j
The Keilberg „  4019 to 4163
Fichtelberg „   3973
Schwarzwald, near Joachimsthal  3951
Schneekopf „   3909
Riesengebirge  1708 to 4272
Schneekoppe or Riesenkoppe   52541
The nucleus of the Alps consists of granite. Along the
southern slopes of the Rhsetian Alps, and in the valley of
the Adige (Etsch), the peaks are composed of primary
rocks, and rugged masses of dolomite or magnesian lime¬
stone look at a distance like buildings in ruins. This for¬
mation overlies porphyries, which seem to have undergone,
through the action of great heat, a modification that appears
even in limestone, having changed its primitive compact
into a granulated texture, and destroyed the organized
bodies that it contained. At the base of the Styrian Alps,
freestone, clay, and shell-marl, accompanied with large de¬
posits of fossil vegetation, are found in the valley of the
Muhr. These mountains contain no thermal water, but a Germany,
great number of chalybeate springs. The Alps of Salzburg
are composed of granite and other primitive rocks, and their
summits are lost in the clouds, though their elevation ap¬
pears less than that of the limestone mountains below them,
an optical illusion occasioned by the abrupt slopes of the
latter. To the west of the lower part of the Ens there are
fine marbles and rock salt; to the east, mines of lead, silver,
iron, and coal. To the north of the Danube, in the valley
of the river March, the low plains are covered with allu¬
vium and detrital matter. On the adjoining slopes of the
Gesenke, Karpathian, and Sudetic mountains, there are
isolated basins of the coal formation, composed of freestone,
schistose clay, clay-ironstone, porphyries, metalliferous lime¬
stone, containing lead, iron, and zinc, rocks composed of
ancient shells, clay, gypsum, and beds of rock salt. The
adjoining summits consist of granite; but schistose and
micaceous rocks appear in the lower parts. In Silesia, the
alluvial plains abound with bluish clay.
The constitution of the Bohemian mountains is essen¬
tially different in several respects. The Boehmerwald con¬
sists of small-grained granite, micaceous rocks, slate-schist,
and syenite. These rocks present very rugged tops, with
pyramidal and needle-shaped peaks, separated by deep ra¬
vines. Forests occupy their upper parts, while their bases
are covered with pools and marshes. The summits and
rounded flanks of the Riesengebirge indicate the former pre¬
sence of volcanic fires; they contain freestone and basalt,
surrounded with limestone full of fossil shells. The southern
slopes of the Erzgebirge show also many traces of volcanic
agency. Their porphyries have undergone some violent
upheavings; the celebrated mineral waters of Carlsbad and
Tbplitz spring from among them, and the ferruginous
waters of Bochin and Eger, and several others less cele¬
brated, rise from ground that bears the marks of igneous
origin. Near Eger is the Rammerberg, a conical hill co¬
vered with lava and scoriae. The substructure of the Erzge¬
birge is granitic, and its mineral wealth, particularly on the
Saxon side, is of such importance as to have given the chain
the name it bears, which means metalliferous mountains.
The eastern part, however, of the Erzgebirge, towards the
Elbe, becomes a sandstone range, which bears the name of
the Saxon Switzerland, and is much celebrated for its gro¬
tesque rocks, romantic valleys, and sublime and picturesque
views. Towards the centre of Bohemia, near the banks of
the Moldau, the primitive micaceous rocks are covered with
alluvium, in which are found fossil wood and iron ore. “ In
the country round Prague there is a most complete and
symmetrical exposure of the whole silurian system, whether
as respects the clear order of the strata, or the vast abun¬
dance of organic remains.” In the mountains of Moravia,
particularly towards the north, the freestone is so easily de¬
composed as to exhibit everywhere at a distance the forms
of extensive ruins.
The course of the Danube divides Bavaria into two great
geological districts. On the south, from the Lake of Con¬
stance to the mouth of the Inn, extend vast tracts of the
same epoch as the formations of the Paris basin, reposing
upon the older rocks that underlie the granite of the Alps.
To the north of the river there is a large development of
oolitic rocks, chiefly of the later, middle, and newer periods,
amongst which are the remarkable and valuable lithogra¬
phic limestones of Solnhofen, rich in fossils of various kinds.
The alluvial and transported soil of this region contains the
bones of extinct species of animals. In the valley of the
Regen are found the bones of tapirs and rhinoceroses ; in
the valley of the Meyn the bones of gigantic elephants ;
and the caverns of the limestone rocks of the Steigerwald
contain immense masses of the bones of lions, hyaenas, and
1 “ Winderlichs Deutschland.” Leipsic, 1852.
584 G E R M A N Y.
Germany, various ruminant animals scattered in the alluvial clay. De-
posits of the same kind abound in the valley of the Neckar.
The calcareous schists of the valley of the Altmuhl contain
the remains of crocodiles. The banks of the Regnitz and
the Meyn consist of primitive limestone and other quartz
deposits. The nucleus of the Schwartzwald seems to con¬
sist of granite, but in some places the granitic rocks support
secondary limestone. The spaces which extend northward
are composed of old sandstone. The slopes that overlook
the Rhine are formed of soil posterior to the chalk.
To the north of the Meyn the hills are composed of pri¬
mitive limestone, flanked with sandstone. To the east and
west they contain volcanic deposits, which form on the one
side the chains of the Vogelsberg and the Westerwald, and
on the other, to the west of the Rhine, the basaltic group
of the Eifel. Among these oceanic and volcanic products
granitic summits and table lands occasionally appear; but
to the north of the Thuringerwald granite becomes less
and less frequent, till there is no further trace of it. At
the mouth of the Aller the old limestone terminates; and
to the north and the west all the plains that fall to the North
Sea, as far east as the Elbe, are covered with immense beds
of sedimentary deposits, or with beds of sand lying upon
chalk, limestone, sandstone, and gypsum, which mix at last
along the shores of the Baltic, with the sandy and marshy
soil of Pomerania. This great plain has every appearance
of having been, at no very distant epoch, covered by the
sea; in many places its surface still consists of bare sand,
but in the Isle of Rugen, and several places in Pomerania,
Hanover, Luneburg, and Holstein, there are to be found
isolated masses of rock belonging to the chalk or muschel-
kalk formations.
In the S.W. and N.W. of Germany the new red sand¬
stone formation has been more fully developed than in Eng¬
land or France. It has been called by German writers
Trias, or the triple-group, because it is separable into three
distinct formations called the Keuper, the Muschelkalk, and
the Bunter-sandstein. This last consists, as the name im¬
plies, of various coloured sandstones, dolomites, and red
clays, with some lias, especially in the Hartz, and of calca¬
reous pisolite, or roestone, the whole sometimes attaining a
thickness of more than a thousand feet. In Wurtemberg,
the keuper, and in Baden, the muschelkalk, attain the same
thickness.
According to Sir R. I. Murchison, rocks which have been,
or may be classified as silurian, devonian, carboniferous, and
permian, occupy detached districts in the S.E. of Prussia,
Saixony, and the smaller states westward, and spread over
large tracts in the northern territories of Austria, particu¬
larly in Bohemia and Moravia. Palaeozoic rocks abound in
Thuringia, Franconia, Saxony, and the adjacent principali¬
ties, the older sedimentary formations occupying a con¬
siderable region on the north-western flank of that devious
chain of granitic gneissose, and other crystalline rocks that,
ranging from N.E. to S.W., divides Saxony from Austria,
and trends into the Fichtelgebirge of Bavaria. From that
chain these deposits descend into, and spread over, a broad
and comparatively low undulating tract, which, in its cen¬
tral part, is cut transversely by the river Saal, as it flows
from Hof on the S.E. to Saalfeld on the N.W. On their
N.W. boundaries these rocks rise again into the lofty emi¬
nences of the Thuringerwald, the whole succession having
a dominant strike from the S.W. to N.E. In this way the
newer strata may be said to occupy a broad trough ranging
lengthwise from Renneburg and Gera on the N.E. by
Schleitz, Plauen, and Hof, to Upper Franconia on the S.W.,
whilst the older rocks of the series, rising up on both sides,
are often found in a highly metamorphic state, but chiefly
on the S.E. flank of the depression. The lower silurian
rocks of the Thuringerwald and of the Saalfeld tract, are
penetrated at intervals by porphyries and greenstones, and
irregularly overlapped towards the S.E. flanks by masses of Germany,
devonian age.
In advancing westward from central Germany to the
Hartz and Rhenish Prussia, nearly all traces of the silurian
rocks are lost, whilst devonian and carboniferous deposits
become vastly more expanded. The grauwacke of the
Plartz is now ascertained to be no older than the devonian
era. The Brocken itself is composed of a comparatively
modern granite, which has become decomposed into chaotic
piles called Felsen-meer.
The convoluted and broken rocks that present such an
antique slaty aspect, and, crowned with castles, form the
chief features of the gorges of the Rhine and the Moselle,
and all the territory on the right bank of the Rhine, from
the Taunus, S.E., to the coal-fields east of Dusseldorf on
the N.W., including the duchy of Nassau, and having its
northern frontier in Westphalia, bounded on the E. by the
secondary rocks of Hessia, which range southwards by Mar¬
burg and Giesen to Frankfort, formerly considered to be a
tract of undivided grauwacke, is now found to consist of the
devonian and lower carboniferous systems. On the left
bank of the Rhine the same succession occurs between the
lower devonian rocks of the Hundsruck on the S.E. to the
coal-tracts of Aachen and Belgium on the N.W. It is only
by deflecting westward into the mountainous region of the
Ardennes that the slaty rocks, rising from beneath all the
other deposits, are met with. The upward succession, from
the devonian to the carboniferous, is clear on both banks of
the Rhine.—[Murchison!s Siluria.)
The coal measures are widely distributed in many parts
of Germany, as Bohemia, Saxony, Silesia, Rhenish Bavaria,
and Rhenish Prussia, from the last of which Holland is sup¬
plied with coals.
No part of Europe yields a greater variety or abundance
of mineral productions, and in no part of the world are the
mines worked with so much skill or so much economy.
Precious stones are discovered in many parts ; rock-crystal,
amethysts, topazes, are found in Bavaria; calcedony, agate,
petchstein, and porcelain-jasper, in Bohemia; barytes in
many parts ; marbles, gypsum, and alabaster, in Bohemia;
alum, near Toplitz; rock-salt and Glauber salts in various
parts; and abundance of the earths calculated for making
earthenware, from the coarsest description to the finest por¬
celain. Fossil coal is found in many districts, and much of
it is consumed; but the cheapness of wood, and the preju¬
dices of the people against the use of it in their houses, have
operated to prevent the mines from being completely ex¬
plored or worked to anything approaching the extent of
which they are capable. Gold is procured, though in very
small quantities, by washing, in Salzburg, in Bohemia, in
the Rammelsberg, and in Silesia. Silver and cinnabar are
raised from the mines of the Erzgebirge in Saxony. Iron,
copper, tin, lead, calamine, bismuth, cobalt, nickel, titanium,
arsenic, and almost every other mineral, is more or less
raised from the mines. The abundance of mineral sub¬
stances everywhere scattered, and which it would be diffi¬
cult to enumerate, has promoted the study of mineralogy,
and given birth to the school of Freyburg, whence the pupils
of Werner carried the science to every part of the world.
The great abundance of mineral springs, hot, cold, bitter, Mineral
acid, salt, is a peculiar characteristic of Germany. The springs,
■warm waters of Aix-la-Chapelle, Pyrmont, Carlsbad, Toplitz,
Baden-Baden, Bruckenau, Kissingen, and Wiesbaden, at¬
tract every year crowds of visitors. Those of Ischel,
Baden near Vienna, and many more, though less resorted
to, are nowise inferior. The acidulated springs of Selters,
Driburg, and Rohitschs, the bitter waters of Seidschutz,
Seidlitz, and other places, and the long series of salt springs
that follow the base of the northern Alps, are sufficient
proofs that Germany abounds with mineral veins or deposits
of the most various kinds. The country is, moreover, gene-
GERMANY.
585
Germany, rally well supplied with good and wholesome water for the
ordinary purposes of life. The only exceptions consist of
some marshy tracts in Westphalia, and of some of the colder
valleys of Salzburg.
Soil. The soil is generally productive. The plains in the
north have indeed much arid sandy land; but nature has
provided some rich and fruitful soils along the borders of
the rivers, where the most abundant harvests are gathered.
The south has also on its mountains much barren or slightly
productive land ; but the beautiful valleys and plains among
the hills rival in fertility the best alluvial lands on the banks
of the northern rivers. In general the soil in the north is
heavy, and in the south light; the former most adapted for
corn, and the latter for vines. The best soil is in the middle,
between the mountains and the sandy plains. In Bohemia,
Silesia, Franconia, Saxony, and on the Rhine, the propor¬
tion of good soil is much greater than in the north or the
south.
Rivers. Germany has seven large rivers which pass through it to
the sea, and in their course receive about 500 smaller
streams, about sixty of which are navigable, either naturally
or by means of artificial improvement. These are the
Danube, Rhine, Weser, Elbe, Oder, Etsch or Adige, and
Ems, which will be found described under their own names.
Lakes. The chief of the German lakes is the Boden See, or Lake
of Constance, on the borders of Switzerland. (See Con¬
stance.) To the eastward, among the valleys of the Alps,
are several lakes of inconsiderable dimensions, as the Wal-
chen, Kochel, Ammer, Wurm or Starenberger, Tegern,
Schleier, Chiern, Grundel, Hallstadter, Traun or Gmun-
den See, Mond, and Kammer or Alter, lakes.
Along the southern shores of the Baltic or East Sea there
is a number of lakes, which form the western portion of
an innumerable series, extending through Prussia into Rus¬
sia and Finland, and occupying comparatively higher ground
than the adjoining plains and river channels. Some of
these are of considerable extent, as the lake of Schwerin in
Mecklenburg and the Spirding See in East Prussia, the lat¬
ter, however, beyond the political limits of Germany. At
the eastern base of the Hartz are the salt and the sweet
lakes (Salzige and Siisse Seen), and to the north of Min-
den, to the east of the Weser, is a considerable sheet of
water called the Steinhuder Meer ; and to the west of the
Weser is a smaller lake called the Bummer See.
Climate. The climate of Germany is very uniform in respect of
the degrees of cold or heat experienced in its different re¬
gions ; for though there is a difference of 9° of latitude be¬
tween its southern and northern borders, that difference is
compensated by the different elevations of the country, the
northern part being lowland on the sea, while the midland
and southern regions rise to a considerable elevation. This
is indicated by the following table of places from north to
south.
Stralsund..
Berlin 
Gotha   
Baireuth ..
Ratisbon..,
Munich....
Innsbruck
Latitudes.
54T9'
52o30'
50°57'
49°57'
49° V
48°10/
47T6'
Eleva¬
tion
above
the sea
in feet.
51
140
1010
1119
1260
1733
1905
(Fahrenheit.)
Mean temperature of the
Climate.
Year. Winter. Sum
47°
48°
46°
46°
48°
48’
50°
30°
31°
29°
29°
31°
34°
29°
63°
64°
60°
61°
64°
65°
64°
The mean temperature of the coldest month varies from
29° at Munich to 26° at Stralsund ; and of the warmest
month, from 67° at Innsbruck to 62° at Gotha.
The climate, however, of some parts of Germany is
milder than the table would indicate ; fora great part of the
north-western provinces is open to the influence of the sea,
VOL. x.
and experiences the benefits of the same western breezes Germany
that soften the climates of Britain and Norway. The valley 's,
of the Rhine, likewise, being deeply sunk between ranges
of mountains, enjoys the finest climate, having the highest
annual temperature, a mild winter, and not too hot a sum¬
mer. A similar climate is enjoyed in the south-eastern
part of Germany, the lowlands of Austria, where the mean
temperature of the year is 51° at Vienna; of the winter, 33° ;
of the summer, 69° ; of the coldest month, 30° ; and of the
warmest month, 71°
In Germany the prevalent winds are westerly, or a little
to the south of west. Blowing from warmer climates and
trom the sea, they carry much vapour with them, which,
coming in contact with the cold air of the Alps, produces a
great deal of rain, particularly in the basin of the Danube.
The number of rainy days in each year is about 150, but
the greater number of them happens in summer, and the
smaller in autumn. From the coast of the North Sea to the
plain of Bavaria, the number of foggy days is about 40;
but at the foot of the Alps the number increases to 133 or
135. Storms of thunder and of hail are not frequent; they
happen oftenest in Lower Silesia, and least frequently in
Lower Austria. The quantity of rain that falls yearly on
the plains is, in the basin of the Rhine, 25 inches (Paris);
of the Weser, 25; of the Elbe and the Oder, 22 ; and of
the Danube, 30.
Except the Alps, none of the German mountains rise to
the snow-line. In the southern Tyrol that line is found at
an elevation of 8760' feet; in the Alps of Salzburg and
Styria, at 8505.
From what has been said respecting the face of the coun¬
try, and its diversities of elevation, it will readily be under¬
stood that no general accounts of the climate will be pro¬
perly or strictly applicable to every particular region. The
whole country may be divided into three zones. The first
of these comprehends the northern plains, the climate of
which is not cold, but humid and variable. They are
exposed to every wind, and to the fogs and storms of two
seas. The north-western plains are subject to frequent rains
and devastating hurricanes from the North Sea; but the
influence of the Baltic on the north-eastern plains is
much less, and their climate though colder is less moist
and less variable. The second zone comprehends the
middle portion of Germany, including Moravia, Bohemia,
Saxony, Franconia, Swabia, Flessia, and the country on the
Rhine. The mountains of this region form in some degree
a barrier against the direct effects of the maritime climate
of the lowland. The sky is not so obscured by mists, and
the regularity of the seasons is not so much disturbed by
winds and storms ; but the general elevation of this country
renders the climate colder than it is in other countries in
the same latitude but nearer the level of the sea. This
region is, however, the most agreeable in Germany, and may
be divided into three parts: the first comprising Hesse and
Saxony, where the grape yields only an acid and imperfect
wine, but the peach and the apricot flourish. In the second,
comprising Bohemia, Moravia, and part of Franconia, from
the height of the mountains the winter’s snow is of longer
continuance, but the effect of the summer’s heat is more
sudden and powerful, so that early and abundant har¬
vests depend in a great measure on favourable exposures.
In the third, which comprises the countries on the Meyn,
the Neckar, and the Rhine, the grape is of better quality,
woods of chestnut and almond trees grow, and the sum¬
mers are warmer and less variable than in the northern
provinces of France. The climate, indeed, of these coun¬
tries is finer than any other in Germany, and is the most
salubrious and most agreeable of any in Europe. The
third general zone is that of the Alps, whose elevated
heights and rapid declivities connect very different climates.
Thus the culture of the vine ceases in Bavaria and Upper
4 E
586 GERMANY.
Germany. Austria, but is resumed with fresh vigour in the neighbour-
hood of Vienna. In the valleys of Styria and Carniola
fields of maize or vineyards are in close contiguity to the
glaciers and perennial snows of the Tyrol and Salzburg.
In general, the climate of Germany is very healthy. In
the south, however, under the influence of the Alps, the
air is raw and cold, whilst in the plains and open valleys a
climate equal to that of the finest parts of Italy is en¬
joyed. The northern provinces are colder, damper, and
more ungenial, and, near the stagnant lakes that abound in
the Baltic provinces, unwholesome. The weather besides
undergoes extreme variations, and frost is frequently felt at a
late period of the year. It is also often very severe through
the winter, and even the great rivers Rhine and Danube
are frequently frozen over from November to March.
Vegetable Germany is suitable for the cultivation of all the kinds
produc- 0f USeful plants that belong to the temperate zones; and,
owing to the equality of the climate, they are spread
over all the country. The highlands of the middle region
as well as the northern lowlands grow the different species
of cereals; and in the eastern part of the latter region
there are tracts of land which will bear comparison with those
that are called the granary of Europe. Wheat, rye, barley,
and oats are the cereals most generally cultivated; but
in some districts to these are added spelt, buckwheat,
millet, emmer (Triticum dicoccum), einkorn {Triticum
monococcum), and maize. The potato is largely cultivated,
not merely for food, but for the purpose of distillation
into brandy. Beans, pease, vetches, and lentils are also
produced abundantly. The common beet {Beta vulgaris)
is largely cultivated in some districts for the production of
sugar. Flax and hemp are cultivated, though not to so
great an extent as formerly, for manufacturing into linen
and canvas, and the expression of oil. In many districts
tobacco is the most productive and most profitable object
of culture. To these are to be added rapeseed and pop¬
pies, and above all cabbages, of which the Germans make
a favourite mess called Sauer-kraut.
The fruits of temperate climates are largely produced ;
apples, pears, cherries, and plums are everywhere common.
The more delicate fruits, as apricots and peaches, only grow
in the warmer districts on the Rhine and the Danube,
where likewise are to be found the true chestnut, the com¬
mon almond, and the fig-tree growing in the open air.
The olive-tree is only to be found on the Italian side of
the Alps. Vines are grown to a large extent in the west
and south, particularly along the Middle Rhine and the
Lower Danube. On the Upper Danube, as far down as
Austria, no vines thrive ; and though vines are grown in the
valley of the Saale, on the Weser, and in Silesia, they are
in small quantity, and of inferior quality. On the contrary,
the lower slopes of the hills along the Rhine from Basel to
Coblentz, in Baden, the Palatinate, and Hesse, and above
all in Nassau, are literally covered with vines. There are
produced the celebrated Andesheimer, Hochheimer, and
Johannisberger. The wines of the lower Meyn, particu¬
larly those of Wurzburg, are of the best kinds; those of
the upper Meyn and the valley of the Neckar are rather
inferior. The Moselle wines are lighter and more acid
than those of the Rhine.
The forests, as well in the plains as in the mountains,
produce an abundance of juicy berries of the most various
kinds, including strawberries, bilberries, raspberries, and
cranberries. The heaths of the north-western plains afford
abundant food for bees, which produce large quantities of
honey and wax.
The woods are extensive, especially among the hills, where
the finest forest-trees of the temperate zone grow to per¬
fection ; and on this account it is that so many of the
mountain-ranges have the word wald attached to their
names, as the Schwartzwald, the Rohmerwald, the Thu-
ringerwald, &c. The elevated plateaux are less wooded Germany,
than the hills; but the eastern region of the northern low-
lands abounds with extensive woods. A narrow strip along
the shores of the Baltic is covered with oaks and beeches ;
further inland coniferous trees are the most prevalent, parti¬
cularly the Scotch fir (Kiefer). Birches are also widespread.
Woods on the mountains consist chiefly of firs, pines, and
larches, but contain also silver-leaved firs, beeches, and
oaks. Chestnuts appear on the terraces of the Rhine
valley, and in Swabia and Franconia. Quite woodless is
the whole north-west of Germany, where the people find
compensation for the want of wood in their boundless fields
of turf or peat.
Wild animals of numerous kinds abound all over Ger- Animals,
many, to the great injury of agriculture; among these
may be mentioned particularly the roe, stag, hare, and boar.
The fallow deer and the wild rabbit are more rare. Of
other wild animals, the Alps produce wolves, bears, and
lynxes. The wolves are likewise a scourge of the Scheifer-
gebirge, on the west of the Lower Rhine, to which they
find their way from the French territory. The chamois
and marmot are numerous in the Alps ; the wild goat,
or ibex, is seldom met with. Foxes, martens, weasels,
badgers, and otters abound everywhere ; the hamster par¬
ticularly at the foot of the Hartz.
Of domesticated animals, horses, oxen, sheep, and swine
are the principal objects of attention in Germany. They
are bred everywhere, as well in the plateaux as in the
lowlands, but more successfully in the latter. The coast-
lands of the North and the East seas are celebrated for the
excellence of their cattle. Saxony, Silesia, Bohemia, and
Moravia feed the finest sheep ; Westphalia and the districts
bordering on tbe lowlands furnish excellent swine. The
ass is found in the hill-countries only, and the mule among
the Alps. The hilly regions are also favourable for the
breeding of goats. The finest breed of German horses is
to be found in Mecklenburg and north Hanover, mixed
indeed, it is admitted, with English blood, but not im¬
proved. The pure Mecklenburg horse is particularly ex¬
cellent, the Holstein horse is larger and heavier, and often
purchased for the Mecklenburger, but is not so enduring.
The Hessian horse is large and strong, of little beauty, but
spirited, and a good worker. Horses are mostly brought from
Westphalia, Friesland, and north Holland. Various other
breeds might be named; but, generally speaking, those
of North Germany are better than those of the south.
The feathered tribes are everywhere abundant in the fields,
woods, and marshes. Partridges, snipes, thrushes, quails,
wild geese, bustards, grouse, blackcocks, woodcocks, wild
ducks, widgeons, and teal abound everywhere. The Leipzig
larks are known all over Germany ; thrushes, sparrows, bull¬
finches, and serinfinches are plentiful, the last especially in
the Hartzwald. Bohemia is celebrated for its pheasants,
bustards, and mountain-cocks. Geese and ducks are found
mostly in the flat districts, where the great abundance of
standing water affords ample scope for their increase. The
lammergeir and the golden eagle are found only, with the
chamois, among the highest Alps. Tame geese are bred
in large flocks, particularly in Pomerania. The length of
time during which the migratory birds remain in Germany
differs considerably with the different species. The stork
remains about 170 days ; the house-swallow 160; the snow-
goose 260 ; the snipe 220. In Northern Germany these
birds arrive from twenty to thirty days later than in the south.
The waters of Germany abound with fish; but tbe genera
and species are few. Carp and the salmon tribes are the
most abundant; after them rank the pike, the eel, the shad,
the loach, the perch, the lamprey, and many others.
Besides frogs, Germany has few varieties of amphibia.
Of serpents there are only two kinds, but both poisonous.
In Southern Germany the edible frog {Buna esculentd)
GERMANY.
Germany, and the Helix pomatia are used as food. The most re-
V*-'' markable animal of Germany is the olm {Proteus a?iguinus),
which is found in the lake of Zirknitz, the cave of Adelsberg,
and the lake of Sittich.
The rearing of bees is chiefly attended to in the heaths
of Hanover, where they abound. The cultivation of the
silkworm has been attempted, but has either entirely failed,
or had at best very indifferent success ; the black mulberry,
which grows in Germany, being less suited to them than the
white. Of late an attempt has been made to extend the cul¬
tivation of silkworms in Lusatia and the Mark of Branden¬
burg, but it seems not yet to have become an object of
general attention.
ints'k1*" Germany is inhabited by people of two distinct families,
Deutsch and Slavs. The former are the more numerous,
and exclusively occupy the northern, western, and south¬
ern provinces ; the latter prevail in the east, where, besides
forming the bulk of the population of Bohemia and Moravia,
they have likewise colonized in the alpine valleys of Styria
and Illyria, on the northern slope of the plateau of Upper
Silesia, on the plateau of Lusatia, and on the coasts of Po¬
merania. In the latter province they are called Kassubes ;
in Lusatia, Wends; in Bohemia, Czechs; in Moravia,
Slowaks, Hannaks, Chrowats, &c. The Slavic population
bears the proportion to the Deutsch of about 2 to 13. But,
besides these principal stocks, there are also groups of people
of other families,—Italians, in the valleys on the south side
of the crest of the Alps, in the Tyrol, Friuli, and Istria;
French, in a small district of the Lower Rhine, to the west
of that river, and in several parts of the northern lowlands,
in small colonies, where, however, they have acquired the
German manners and customs, language, and way of think¬
ing. Greeks and Armenians are to be found in the Aus¬
trian provinces ; Jews are scattered over all Germany, and
gypsies wander about as nomades or vagabonds. The total
number of all races was estimated, in 1854, at 43,286,116,
being an increase of only 13,121,716 since 1816, or less
than 1 per cent, per annum. The increase, however, in
North Germany has been in a ratio double of that of the
south, which seems to have nearly reached the maximum of
its capabilities of supporting population, and it is from that
region principally that during this period several millions of
people have emigrated to America and elsewhere abroad.
The Roman writers described the Germans as large and
powerful men, with blue eyes and yellow hair. These cha¬
racteristics are still preserved among the people of the high¬
lands of Middle Germany and the adjoining borders of the
northern lowlands. In general the Northern Germans are
taller and more slender than those of the south ; and, in¬
stead of the yellow hair and blue or light gray eyes of the
former, the latter have dark gray or brown eyes and brown
hair. The inhabitants of the Alps, even the women, are
distinguished for their large bones and great bodily strength.
In the flat land the forms are not so angular as in the
south ; but the northerns are not on that account inferior in
bodily strength.
The German is earnest, quiet, and somewhat listless;
he is considered, however, industrious and persevering in
everything he undertakes, honest and frank in expression,
simple in his manners. “ To be always true and honest”
is his motto, and his courage is equal to any emergency.
Gifted with a deeply penetrating spirit of observation, and
naturally inventive, the exact sciences have been always
his favourite object of study, while at the same time he has
not neglected the fine arts. The Germans have been the
authors of many useful inventions, among which, those of
gunpowder and printing have been attended with the most
important results.
The German loves his country, but for a long time it
has been more the love of home than true patriotism
that has been most obvious in the character of the Ger¬
man people. The splitting of Germany into so many Germany,
states, and the difference of interests thence necessarily
arising, increased by difference of political and commercial
institutions, have essentially contributed to lessen their
general patriotism, though in the minds of many enthusiasts,
notwithstanding the failure of the great experiment of 1848,
the union of the whole German race into one great nation
is contemplated as not only desirable, but as even still
within the limits of probability.
The German and the Slavonic languages are of course Languages,
the prevalent ones ; but in southern Tyrol and the Adriatic
coast-land Italian is spoken, and in the small district round
Malmedy in the Lower Rhine French is most general.
The German language is divided into two great branches,
the High (Hoch) Deutsch and the Low (Platt) Deutsch ;
the former being the language of books and the educated
classes, while the latter is spoken by the lower classes. The
Low Deutsch is divided into many dialects, which, accord¬
ing to the situations of the places where they are spoken,
maybe called Upper Dutch and Lower Dutch {ober-deutsche
und nieder-deutsche). The ober-deutsche dialects are spoken
in the alpine and middle highland regions of Germany by
a greater number of people than the nieder-deutsche.
Among these dialects may be noticed the following:—
The Alemannic, the language of the German Swiss,
which has spread itself within the political limits of Ger¬
many, into the north-western region of the Alps, the
Black Forest, and the valley of the Rhine, as far down
as Baden-Baden. Rough guttural tones are its charac¬
teristics.
The Swabian dialect prevails between the Black Forest
and the Lech, and from the Alps to Kocher, consequently
in the greater part of the kingdom of Wiirtemburg and as
far as Augsburg. Its characteristics are nasal sounds, and
a peculiar but pleasing ringing soft sing-song utterance.
The Bavarian dialect, which is broader and more nasal
than the Swabian, and slurs over a great many sounds, is
spoken in the plateau of Bavaria, and the adjoining region
of the Alps, as far as Austria and Carinthia.
The Frankish dialects are very manifold. In place of
the broad and strong tones of the Bavarian and Swabian,
they have more flexibility and sharpness. They are dis¬
tinguished into East Frankish and West Frankish : the for¬
mer prevailing in Bohemia, the Voigtland, and the western
portion of the Erzgebirge ; the latter in Hesse, as far as the
Taunus, and across the Rhine, in this middle part of its
course. Both are subdivided into a variety of minor dialects.
The Upper Saxon dialect which forms the transition
from the ober- to the razeefer-deutsch, is spoken in Thurin¬
gia, the whole of Saxony (except the Upper Erzgebirge),
Lusatia, and Silesia, with differences of tone and expres¬
sion in the different districts.
The Nieder-Deutsch dialects are spoken by the people of
the whole of the northern plains, from the hill country to
the sea, and from the eastern borders of Germany to the
western. They are the proper platt-deutsche, in contra¬
distinction to the ober-deutsche, out of which the hoch-
deutsche, or written language, has been framed. Two prin¬
cipal dialects may be distinguished in this nieder-deutsche,
viz., the Loiver Saxon and the Westphalian, the latter of
which approaches, in some of its branches, to the hardness
of the ober-deutsche, while the former exhibits great soft¬
ness, flexibility, and euphony, but at the same time a want
of power. The Lower Saxon branch extends from the east
side of the Weser eastward throughout the plain of Germany,
and is divided into the Holstein, Hamburg, Mecklenburg,
Pomeranian, Brandenburg-Markish, and Luneburg varie¬
ties, the last of which is spoken through Brunswick and
Hanover east of the Weser. The Westphalian branch
prevails from the Weser westward to the Rhine, not only in
the plains but also in the adjacent hill country. Its varie-
588 GERMANY.
Germany, ties are the Munster, the Osnaburg, and the Sauerland
dialects. The Flemish and Dutch dialects are spoken in a
small corner of Germany, where the Rhine passes into its
delta.
The mixture of Westfrankish, Westphalian, and Dutch
has produced a particular dialect called the Lower Rhenish,
which is spoken on the Lower Rhine, particularly to the
west of the river.
The Frisian language, which differs considerably from the
Deutsch dialects, is spoken on the shores of the North
Sea, between the Eras and the Elbe, not however always in
its original purity, but much intermixed with the West¬
phalian and Lower Saxon dialects, which are its immediate
neighbours.
The Germans have spread themselves and their language
in numerous colonies beyond the proper bounds of their
fatherland, not only in Europe but also in America. Since
the twelfth century they have occupied the shores of the
Baltic provinces of both Prussia and Russia, imposing their
language as well as manners and customs upon those re¬
gions. Numerous German colonies are also to be found
on the banks of the Volga, the shores of the Black Sea,
and beyond the Caucasus. German miners inhabit the
Urals; and it was Germans that in the tenth century car¬
ried the first elements of civilization to the Magyars, by
settling in Transylvania, where their descendants still form
an industrious community. Germans have crossed the At¬
lantic in swarms; there are said to be now upwards of five
millions of them settled in the United States, and emigra¬
tion is still continuing on a large scale.
Of the Slavonic languages, the Polish is spoken in Upper
Silesia, and the Czech in Bohemia and Moravia, in various
dialects. The dialect spoken in Prague and its vicinity is
the finest and purest, and has now become the language of
writing and books. Other dialects of the Slavic tongues
are spoken in Carniola, Carinthia, and Styria,and the eastern
regions of the alpine valleys, and in Lusatia.
Hanks and Noble, burgher, and peasant are the three ranks or
classes. classes that form the population of Germany. The nobility
are divided into the higher and the lower; the burghers,
according to their occupations, into many branches; the
peasantry mto still more, which, in the several states and
their constituent parts, exhibit many differences, arising
from the political and civil arrangements of the particular
districts.
The German civil law, in its present state, secures to
every German the privilege of changing his residence from
one German state to another, of becoming its subject, and
even of entering into its civil or military service, unless his
obligation to the military service of his native state stands
in the way. He has likewise the privilege of acquiring and
possessing landed property beyond the limits of the state
where he lives, without being subjected to more burdens
and taxes on that account. He is also free of any transit
dues on his property passing into another state, unless there
be particular treaties on this subject between the one state
and the other.
To the high nobility belong all those princely and grcif-
lich (of the rank of count or earl) families, which, before
the establishment of the existing political constitution, were
immediate feudatories or princes of the empire, in the en¬
joyment of territorial possessions, of which they were sove¬
reigns. The heads of these families form now the first rank
in the state to which they belong ; and they and their fami¬
lies are the most privileged class, particularly in respect of
taxation. In respect of their persons, families, and posses¬
sions, they still retain most of the old rights and privileges
attached to their estates not inconsistent with the sovereign
power and the higher rights of the state governments.
Among these may be mentioned the unlimited right of living
in any German state, or in any foreign state at peace with
Germany; of making obligatory engagements respecting Germany,
their estates and family x-elations, freedom from military ser- v^/
vice, the exercise of civil and criminal jurisdiction on their
estates in the first instance, and, when their territory is large,
in the second instance also, jurisdiction in the forests, and in
matters of local police, and connected with the churches and
schools and other institutions, but always according to law.
Many of the same sort of privileges were also allowed to the
other nobles of the empire, wdio are not of this first and most
highly privileged class. But of the more invidious of these
privileges, especially that of exemption from military service
and taxation, the old nobles, as they are called, were de¬
prived in 1848.
Christianity was introduced into Germany in the seventh Religions,
century, and Mentz became the ecclesiastical metropolis of
the empire. The Reformation, in the sixteenth century,
divided the Germans into three denominations, the Catholic,
the Lutheran, and the Reformed; but in recent times the
two latter are scarcely to be discriminated, and in most of
the states they have become united under the name
of the Evangelical Church. The difference of religions,
however, occasions no difference in the enjoyment of civil
and political rights. The Catholics are the most numerous
in the south of Germany, the Protestants in the north.
They stand to each other in the proportion of about 22 Ca¬
tholics to 15 Protestants. In south-eastern Germany there
are a few thousand members of the Greek Church ; and
scattered over all the country about 300,000 Jews. The
spiritual affairs of the Roman Catholic Church are adminis¬
tered by nine archbishops and their thirty-one suffragan
bishops, namely:
Archbishoprics. Bishoprics.
Vienna  St Poelten, Graetz, Gurk, Leoben.
Salzburg  Linz, Brixen, Trent.
Gorz  Laibach, St Andree-lavant, Gradiska,
Trieste, Citta-nova.
Prague  Leitmeritz, Budweis, Konig-graetz.
Olrniitz  Brunn, Breslau.
Freising Passau, Augsburg, Regensburg.
Bamberg Eichstadt, Wurzburg, Speier.
Freiburg Mentz, Fulda, Rottenburg, Limburg.
Cologne  Treves, Munster, Paderborn, Hildesheim.
The archbishops and bishops are the representatives of
the pope in all spiritual affairs and matters of conscience;
but they are not allowed to publish any papal bull without
the express permission of the state governments. Occa¬
sional outbreaks, however, still serve to show that the spirit
of the long-during contest between church and state is only
slumbering, and not extinct; and the supremacy and other
inadmissible claims of the church are still asserted with as
much zeal, if not with the same success, as in the middle
ages. Mentz and Treves, formerly the sees of archbishops
wdio were prince-electors of the empire, have been de¬
graded into suffragan bishoprics.
The Evangelical Church acknowledges the headship of the
state, and submits to the rule of the spiritual officers and
boards appointed by government. These consist of a minis¬
ter of church affairs, consistories, and of general superin¬
tendents, who, in the Prussian states, generally bear the
title of bishops. There is a bishop of the Greek Church in
Trieste ; and the spiritual concerns of the Jews are superin¬
tended by land-rabbis.
In the intelligent practice of agriculture some of the industry.
Germans are not behind the most advanced of the other
countries of Europe. Mecklenburg, in particular, and Hol¬
stein are distinguished for their excellent husbandry; and
in Hanover, Brunswick, Bohemia, Saxony, and some parts
of Prussia and Austria, it is scarcely inferior. Generally
speaking, agriculture is the principal occupation of the Ger¬
mans, particularly in Bavaria, Wiirtemberg, Baden, Hesse,
Nassau, Hanover, Brunswick, Oldenburg, Prussia, An¬
halt, Holstein, and Mecklenburg; while in the Saxon
G E E M A N Y.
589
Germany, duchies, Schwartzburg, and Reuss, some districts of Prus-
sia, Bohemia, and the kingdom of Saxony, manufactures
employ at least an equal, and in some cases even a greater,
number of the people. The greatest contrast in respect
of agriculture is to be seen in Mecklenburg and Wiir-
temberg. In the former farming is conducted on a large
scale ; in the latter, as well as in other provinces, the
land is divided into small parcels, cultivated by small pro¬
prietors or tenants, who follow ancestral usages, and are
unprovided with means to make any improvements, by
draining or otherwise. In the former the Schlagwirth-
schaft prevails, according to which one immense field is
covered with wheat, while another is covered with oats, a
third with clover, a fourth is being ploughed and harrowed,
and a fifth is feeding herds of cattle, the common size of
farms being so much as 500,000 square ruthe, or almost
2000 acres; in the latter, everything is grown chequerwise,
in small patches, more like gardening than farming, the
usual size of Wurtemberg farms being only from 5 to 20
square ruthc, or from ^th to -j^th of an acre.
There are three systems of husbandry at present prac¬
tised in Germany. In the first, called the three-field hus¬
bandry, while one field is sown with winter corn, and an¬
other with summer corn, a third lies fallow ; but some¬
times, instead of a fallow the third field is sown with green
crops, pease, potatoes, &c. In the second system, called
the four-field husbandry, the principle is that the same field
shall not be occupied two years together with corn, without
at least one fallow intervening ; as, for example, one year,
rye; second, clover; third, oats or barley; fourth, pota¬
toes ; fifth, again winter corn. This is also called the rota¬
tion system (Fruchtwechselivirthschaft). The third system,
called the Schlag or Koppelwirthschaft, practised in Hol¬
stein and Mecklenburg, divides a farm into a number of
large parcels of equal size (stucke, koppeln, or scMdge),
which, after several years’ continuous bearingofgrain or other
produce, are allowed for several years more (3 to 7) to lie
fallow7, or in grass for summer pasture. For these two
countries this system is found very suitable, for the popu¬
lation is there comparatively thin.
In the different provinces of Germany different kinds of
corn obtain the preference and are most cultivated, as in
the following list, where the different articles follow each
other in the order in which they are named.
Bavaria,—Rye, oats, barley, spelt, wheat.
Wurtemberg and Baden,—Spelt, oats, barley, rye, wheat,
maize.
Hesse,—Rye, barley, oats, wheat, spelt, maize.
Mecklenburg,—Wheat, barley, rye, oats.
Brunswick,—Barley, rye, wheat, oats.
In Germany generally, and in Mecklenburg in particular,
the production of corn is greater than the consumption.
Assuming the productiveness of the kingdom of Saxony as
a standard, Germany could maintain about 54,000,000 of
inhabitants, or 12,000,000 more than at present. The cul¬
tivation of the potato is now largely extended, particularly
in Prussia. In the north-east of Germany buckwheat is also
cultivated ; but the cultivation of oil plants, pease, beans,
turnips, and other roots, flax, hemp, and hops, is not large
enough to disperse with the importation of these articles.
About three-fourths of the Germans are employed in agri¬
culture ; and many parts of the country are crowded with
small proprietors or tenants, who necessarily live in a state
lower than that of hired labourers. Of the great bulk of
the people the food is of the poorest kind—rye-bread or
potatoes ; and it is chiefly owing to this general misery that
Germany can export corn in most years. In bad seasons
the distress is sometimes dreadful; the agricultural popu¬
lation having no means of procuring foreign supplies,—no¬
thing to give in exchange for bread.
Naturally, in accordance with climate and other physical
circumstances, the production of wine and fruits {Obst-und Germany.
Weinbau) is greater in the south and west than in the north
and east. The districts on the Rhine, the Lower Maine, and
the Neckar are the best; but, even in the south of Ger¬
many, there are districts, as in Old Bavaria, between the
Inn and the Lech, that are less productive of fruit than even
Mecklenburg and Brandenburg. In both quantity and
quality, however, the south excels the north, where the best
kinds of fruit only ripen with difficulty. The principal
places for the production of wine have been already noticed.
The quantity is estimated at about 3,000,000 of eimers,
worth about 18,000,000 of thalers = about L.3,000,000
sterling yearly.
The cultivation of forest trees is now more scientifically
practised in Germany than in any other country, and the
care of the government is now directed to the restoration of
the forests, which, till recently, were completely neglected
and left exposed to every kind of destructive agency. In
all the states likewise, institutions for the promotion of
agriculture, in all its branches, have been or are being
formed.
The relative proportions of ground occupied in agricul¬
tural and other natural productions in the different states is
shown in the following table.
Austria 
Prussia 
Bavaria 
Wiirtemberg..
Baden 
Hesse 
Mecklenburg.
Brunswick 
Nassau 
Saxony  
Hanover 
Agricul¬
ture.
340
48-0
41-0
390
350
500
75-0
350
39-0
1-2
0-5
0-4
1-2
1-6
1-2
2-0
Gar.
den-
ing.
P7
1-0
1-0
30
2-6
0-2
0-2
2-0
1-4
70
40
Mea¬
dows.
5- 1
65
14-0
12-8
9-7
110
9-0
6- 0
9-0
Pas¬
tures.
15-5
11-0
5-0
5- 2
6- 4
1-2
2-8
3-0
5-0
Wood
and
Forests.
26-0
24-0
30'6
30-8
32- 0
33- 6
8-0
32-0
40-0
26-0
15-0
15-5
90
70
8-0
11-7
30
60
20
2-6
4-0
45'0
The following table shows the absolute quantities (in
English acres) of the ground so occupied.
State.
Agricul¬
ture.
Garden-
land.
Wine-
land.
Woods and
Forests.
Austria 
Prussia 
Bavaria 
Wurtemberg .
Baden 
Elect. Hesse...
G. D. Hesse ...
Nassau 
Saxony  
Weimar 
Coburg Gotha.
Altenburg 
Meiningen 
Hanover 
Brunswick 
Oldenburg  
Mecklenburg-i
Schwerin...!
Meek. Strelitz
Luxemburg...
Limburg 
Holstein 
Lauenburg ....
Other States...
15,322,812
18,867,581
8,326,641
2,045,859
1,444,628
876,228
976,561
433,396
1,838,939
494,944
278,837
212,597
249,187
2,752,413
340,030
464,939
2,242,261
425,826
281,360
152,666
1,463,793
173,484
1,186,636
5,217,162
3,074,151
2,589,024
686,369
391,129
256,757
266,851
121,123
412,578
81,380
34,696
23,972
43,528
1,606,154
74,440
155,190
287,038
43,528
61823
164 022
316’688
29,650
237.201
362,110
493,958
213,859
94,628
34,696
447,906
365,895
4,415
104,090
18,294
7,570
10,724
13,247
168,438
15,771
27,126
40,374
7,570
10,093
8,201
25,234
4,418
35,327
415,732
38,421
79,487
64,347
53,307
788
23,341
9,462
4,415
473
1,766
1,198
Totals  60,851,618 16,174,454 2,513,944 692,737 40,341,433
15,850,837
8,866,652
5,622,170
1,493,862
1,227,641
948,153
685,107
493,327
1,131,121
225,214
140,049
66,239
226,476
1,302,082
299,655
232,099
372,834
135,633
199,294
32,804
167,807
29,650
592,727
Great attention has been paid for the last 30 or 40 years
to the breeding and rearing of all sorts of useful animals,
and every encouragement and facility have been given by the
governments to the improvement of the breeds. The fol¬
lowing table, from Winderlich’s Deutschland, shows the
number of the principal kinds of stock in the German states,
in or about 1848.
GERMANY.
590
Germany.
Metals and
minerals.
Manufac¬
tures.
The whole Austrian territory produces yearly about
7000 marks of gold, whereof five-sixths in Hungary and
Transylvania; silver, 180,000 marks, whereof three-fifths
in Hungary and Transylvania; copper, 15,000 centners,
whereof four-fifths in Hungary and Transylvania; iron,
2,000,000centners,whereofonlyone-seventhin Hungary and
Transylvania; quicksilver, 6000 centners; lead, 110,000;
cinnabar, 1000; zinc, 12,000; tin, 950; coal, 7,500,000;
salt, 5,500,000; cobalt and nickel, 20,000; arsenic, 1800;
sulphur, 18,000; alum and vitriol, 160,000; graphite,
35,000; and about as much sulphuric acid. Of the Ger¬
man provinces, Bohemia produces silver, tin, iron, vitriol,
and coal, the last equal to three-fifths of the produce of the
whole empire ; Austria and Styria produce half of the whole
quantity of iron; Illyria, the quicksilver and most of the
lead ; and Galicia most of the salt.
Prussia:—No gold ; 23,000 marks silver ; 40,000 cent¬
ners of lead ; 36,000 of copper; 230,000 of zinc ; 7000 of
smalt; 3360 of arsenic; 35,000 of vitriol; 4,500,000 of
iron; 46,000,000 of stone-coal; 11,000,000 of brown-coal;
l,750,000ofsalt; and stone-quarries tothevalue of1,500,000
thalers, = L.240,000. Silesia produces zinc, iron, coal, ar¬
senic, vitriol, and sulphur ; Saxony, silver, copper, iron, &c.;
the Rhine provinces, iron and coal; Westphalia, coal, and
some metal and salt. Nearly 3,000,000 tons of coal are ex¬
tracted yearly from the coal-field on the banks of the Ruhr ;
and 4 miles above Bonn are the large brown-coal mines and
alum works of Friesdorf.
The produce of the other states amounts to about 60
marks of gold, and 125,350 marks of silver; 1,200,000
centners of iron ; and the various other articles above men¬
tioned in comparatively small quantities.
In many branches of manufacturing industry the Ger¬
mans have reached a high degree of excellence. German
linen is known to the whole world ; and the linens of
Bielefield and Silesia in particular are equally valued in
America as in Europe. Of late years, however, the in¬
troduction of cotton, and the high prices obtained for corn,
have tended greatly to lessen the cultivation of flax, which
was formerly a principal staple of agricultural industry, and
the linen manufacture has suffered in consequence. With
the improvement of the breeds of sheep within the last half
century, the woollen manufacture has made great progress,
the German cloth being now not merely equal but even
superior in quality to the cloths of England and Belgium.
The chief seats of the cloth manufacture are in Branden¬
burg, Saxony, Bohemia, Moravia, and the Prussian Rhenish
provinces, from which it is exported to all parts of the world.
The cotton manufacture has been established and is rapidly
extending in Saxony, Austria, and along the Rhine; the
silk manufacture is carried on successfully in Vienna, Ro-
veredo, Gorz, Berlin, Elberfeld, Erefeld, and other places.
M orks in metal, especially iron and steel, are produced in
great perfection, and large quantities in Styria, Austria,
Rhenish Prussia, Westphalia, and the district of the Hartz ;
brass work, in Rhenish Prussia, Bavaria, and Brandenburg;
gold and silver work in Augsburg, Vienna, and Berlin.
Pottery and glass-making have reached a high degree of
perfection ; the porcelain of Vienna, Berlin, and Meissen is
much in request, on account not only of the fineness of its
material, but also for the tasteful elegance of its forms and
ornaments. Bohemian glass is to be met with in all parts
of the world. T he manufacture of leather is particularly ex¬
tensive in Rhenish Prussia ; of soap, tallow wares, and wax,
in many places. Paper-making is carried on to a great ex- Germany,
tent, and of late has been very much improved in quality, y ^ '
Sugar-refining is carried on in Hamburg, Berlin, Potsdam,
and other places ; brewing of beer, to a great extent in
Bavaria; and ardent spirits (Branntwein), to a still greater
extent in the north. Ship-building and the connected trades
are of little importance ; but German industry is much dis¬
tinguished in the making of mathematical, physical, surgical,
and musical instruments ; the chief seats of these branches
of trade being Munich, Vienna, Berlin, and Cassel. Ger¬
man clocks and wooden articles, manufactured in the Tyrol
and other mountain provinces, are exported to all parts of
the world.
The great progress which the Germans have made in
manufacturing industry since 1815, is chiefly the result of
extraordinary exertions on the part of the German govern¬
ments. In every district industrial schools have been esta¬
blished or extended; and in all the chief towns there are
schools and institutions for instruction in the higher branches
of art, where pupils are trained in both theory and practice,
at the expense of the government. Numerous societies also
have been formed for the promotion of art and industry.
The commerce of Germany has always been extensive ; Commerce,
but the abolition of the innumerable state custom houses
and tolls, and the long-continued peace, have given an im¬
mense impulse to its activity. Germany exports corn and
timber to England and the Netherlands; linen to Spain,
Portugal, Poland, Russia, America, and Africa; woollen
cloth to Western Asia, and even to China; iron wares to
every part of Europe ; and lead to France. The exporta¬
tion of fat cattle to England is also becoming a great trade.
The other principal articles of export are horses, glass wares
of all kinds, cobalt, galmei (siliceo-carbonate of zinc), pot¬
ash, porcelain, hides and skins, honey, wax, lime, gypsum,
copper, horns, bones, rags, millstones, turnip seed, swine’s
bristles, vitriol, tin, and spirits. The chief articles of im¬
port are sugar, coffee, tea, cacao, rice, vanilla, rum, and
other colonial produce, spices, drugs, dried fish, cheese,
tobacco, olive-oil, and southern fruits, French, Spanish, and
Portuguese wines and liqueurs, cotton, raw silk, cotton and
silk stuffs, leather, train oil, and many smaller articles. The
intercourse within Germany is much facilitated by excellent
carriage roads; and all the chief towns are now connected
by railways. The principal rivers are also made available
for the transport of bulky commodities, and were connected
by several canals, before the introduction of the far superior
method of locomotion by railways.
The principal seats of the inland trade are Vienna,
Prague, Reichenberg, Brunn, Olmiitz, Troppau, Linz,
Steyer, Salzburg, Gratz, Botzen, Roveredo, and others, in
the Austrian provinces ; Berlin, Breslau, Cologne, Magde¬
burg, Frankfort-on-the-Oder, Naumburg, Posen, Trau-
stadt, Aachen, Coblentz, Elberfeld, Erfurt, Munster, Min-
den, and others, in the Prussian territory; Leipzig, in
Saxony ; Munich, Augsburg, and Nurnberg, in Bavaria;
F rankfbrt-on-the-Maine, Cassel, Brunswick,Hanover, Mentz,
&c. But of all these places four hold the first rank ; Vi¬
enna for the south-east; Augsburg, for the south-west;
Frankfort-on-the-Maine for the northwest; and Leipzig for
the north-east. Large fairs are held twice or thrice a year
in Leipzig, the two Frankforts, Brunswick, and other places ;
but it is only in those named that these fairs are of much
importance. Those of Leipzig are celebrated for the sale
and exchange of books. Great wool-markets are likewise
held in Berlin, Breslau, Dresden, Magdeburg, Prague,
Stettin, &c.
The principal commercial seaports are Hamburg, Bre¬
men, and Embden on the North Sea; Liibeck, Rostock,
Stettin, Dantzig, Konigsberg, and Memel on the East Sea ;
and Trieste on the Adriatic. Hamburg is one of the prin¬
cipal commercial towns of Europe, and with its neigh-
GERMANY.
Germany, hours Altona (in Holstein), Bremen, and Embden and the
Baltic ports, connects Germany with the countries of the
north and west, and with America, India, &c. Trieste forms
the communication with the south of Europe and the Levant.
Commerce was not a little impeded by the different
money systems of different parts of Germany ; but, on the
other hand, it was much facilitated by the establishment of
banks and exchanges in the principal towns. Of late years
also the postal system has been very greatly improved, but
the German governments have not yet seen their way to
591
the adoption of the British penny postage. They cannot Germany,
indeed expect, in the circumstances of their country, that
enormous increase of the number of letters that would com¬
pensate the diminution of rates.
The internal trade of Germany has been greatly facili¬
tated by the formation of the customs unions and commer¬
cial treaties, of which an account has already been given in
the article Europe.
The following table shows the proportions of revenue
drawn by the different states.
An Account showing the ■proportion of the Revenues of the German Customs Union raised in the different States re¬
spectively, in the year 1851, and the distribution thereof according to Population. Compiled from the official “ Cen-
tralblatt der Abgabenf fyc., Berlin, 1852. By J. G. Fliigel, United States Consul, Leipsig.
States.
Prussia  thalers*
Luxemburg 
Bavaria 
Saxony 
Wurtemberg 
Baden  
Hesse Cassel 
Hesse Darmstadt 
Thuringian States....
Brunswick 
Nassau 
Frankfort a 
Total
Population.
16,669,153
189,783
4,526,650
1,894,431
1,805,558
1,360,599
731,584
862,917
1,014,954
247,070
425,686
29,728,385
Amount of
common gross
receipts.
15,572,929
77,114
1,210,539
2,119,847
348,527
652,625
433,046
412,803
391,793
390,143
74,829
861,492
22,545,687
Import duties.
Amount of
common nett
receipts for
distribution.
14,347,476
HO,445
904,991
1,995,287
330,237
353,482
342,256
402,501
391,793
229,523
71,310
636,384
Amount payable
to each State
according to its
population.
20,005,240
Less 10,4456i
19,994,795
11,211,383
127,645
3,044,546
1,274,161
1,214,387
915,115
492,051
580,383
682,640
166,175
286,309
19,994,795
Export and
transit duties
payable to
each State,
according to
its popula¬
tion.
244,203
2,241
53,463
29,736
21,325
16,070
8,641
10,192
15,931
3,534
5,028
410,364
Import, export, Balance due to or from the
and transit j common fund which each
duties payable ! state has had
to each State, !
according to its
population. Xo pay. | To receive.
11,455,586
129,886
3,098,009
1,303,897
1,235,712
931,185
500,692
590,575
698,571
169,709
291,339
20,405,159
3,111,161
786,761
63,289
649,541
136,011
2,166,021
899/766
534,069
157,434
191,371
306,489
219,591
4,610,752 4,610,752
* The thaler is very nearly worth 2s. lid. of our money; more exactly, it is equal to 2s. lO’Sld.
a Frankfort is regulated by a specific arrangement, and not by population, b A special payment by Prussia, on account of the Union.
Mental cul- In respect of mental cultivation the German nation stands
tivation, in a high rank ; and according to Professor Berghaus it may
and moral be without vanity, that Germany stands on the highest
con i ion. gtep tjie jajjgj. 0f civilization. In no country of Europe,
he continues, are education and true enlightenment so gene¬
rally spread over all classes of society, from the richest to
the poorest, as in his fatherland. This result has been
brought about only in recent times, and it is ascribed to the
unceasing exertions of the state governments to free their
people from the darkness of ignorance and superstition.
There is not a village in Germany that has not its school
to spread intelligence among its people ; but the present or
probable effects of this universal teaching upon the moral
condition of the country form still a grave subject of dis¬
cussion among German philosophers. In a moral point of
view there are great differences among the Germans, and
it is admitted that there are among them some extremely
lamentable moral (or mmoral) phenomena highly deserving
of general attention, with a view to amendment. In this
respect it may be said generally that the Northern Germans
are more moral than those of the south, though, whether
that is to be ascribed to the prevalence of Protestantism in
the former, and of Popery in the latter, is a question we will
not presume to determine.
For the purposes of education there are, especially in
Protestant Germany, numerous schools or institutions for
elementary instruction in all the towns, for both the higher
and the working classes. For the higher civic professions
and employments there are real professional and commer¬
cial schools, seminaries for the training of schoolmasters,
gymnasiums and lyceums for the higher branches of educa¬
tion, and for the highest of all there are twenty-three uni¬
versities, to which may be added the German University of
Kbnigsberg, in East Prussia, making in all twenty-four’
The institutions preparatory for the universities are the
gymnasia, in which the educational course consists chiefly
of classical studies, that is to say, Greek and Latin, with
French, mathematics, and a considerable portion of the na¬
tural sciences. The basis of their constitution lies in re¬
mote times, and there have been but few and slight altera¬
tions in their plans of study since the beginning of the pre¬
sent century. Owing, however, to the smallness of the
emoluments, and the consequent low estimation in which
the office of teacher is held, there is not a sufficient number
of qualified competitors to supply the vacancies that occur.
The government has been obliged in consequence to raise
their emoluments, and thereby obviate this increasing evil.
A more recent class of institutions are the real-schulen (or
high town schools), in which Latin is the only ancient lan¬
guage taught, the other branches being modern languages,
especially French and English, mathematics and natural
philosophy. These schools have for a long time enjoyed
much approval as preparatory institutions for many depart¬
ments of civil life. Industrial schools are of still more re¬
cent origin. They have been established by government
in the larger towns of every province; the one half of the
expense of maintaining them being defrayed by the go¬
vernment, and the other half by the municipality. Their
purpose is purely industrial; drawing, mechanics, mathema¬
tics, physics, and chemistry, are the subjects taught; lan¬
guages are excluded.
The following tables contain the names of the twenty-
four universities ; the dates of their respective foundations ;
the number of professors and other teachers ; the number
of students that attended them during the winter session of
1853-4, and the numbers that attended each branch :—
592
GERMANY.
Germany.
N ames.
Berlin ..
Bonn ...
Breslau.
Erlangen ...
Freiburg....
Giessen 
Gottingen ..
Gratz 
Greifswald.,
Halle 
Heidelberg
Jena 
Innspriick
Kiel 
Kdnigsberg
Leipzig 
Marburg ....
Munich 
Olmiitz  
Prague 
Rostock ....
Tiibingen .
Vienna  
Wurzburg .
Dates of
founda¬
tion.
1810
1818
1702
1810
1743
1457
1607
1737
f 1586
(1826
1456
1694
1386
1557
1673
1826
1655
1553
1409
1527
1826
1581
1827
1348
1419
1477
1365
1403
Totals.
Number of
Professors
and
Teachers.
173
87
96
48
41
58
111
29
54
71
87
69
22
42
64
113
61
98
13
88
31
81
113
47
1697
Number of
Students.
2,204
888
789
479
376
380
699
429
222
650
718
380
278
142
326
807
268
1,810
203
1,415
111
742
2,614
706
17,636
The teachers consisted of the following classes, viz., 1. Or¬
dinary professors ; 2. Extraordinary professors ; 3. Honorary
professors ; 4. Private teachers or tutors ; 5. Language and
exercise-masters. The students consisted of—
1. Students of Protestant theology  1692
2. ... Roman Catholic theology  1606
3. ... law, statecraft, and forestry  6394
4. ... medicine, surgery, and pharmacy  3644
5. ... philosophy and philology  2592
6. ... not matriculated  1708
In the matter of education Prussia is the ruler and guide,
and whatever is established or pursued in that kingdom
comes sooner or later into operation in other states. Since
the beginning of the present century education has occu¬
pied the attention and received anew impulse at the hands
of the other governments; but it is only since 1848 that
the school organization of Prussia has been transplanted into
the Austrian territory, where, however, it still continues to
experience the opposition of the nobles and clergy. The
ignorance which formerly prevailed among the lower classes
has almost entirely vanished in Northern Germany at least,
and there is no class in which scholarly culture and scien¬
tific attainments may not be expected. The constant care,
however, and determination of the government to make all
partakers of a certain amount of education has made it seem
necessary to constrain all parents by fines or other punish¬
ments to send their children to school. Peculiar attention
is at present being paid to educational institutions, and the
governments are seeking to reform them so as to prevent
the recurrence or continuance of those evils that are be¬
lieved to have flowed from them, and to have occasioned,
in a great degree, if not entirely, the popular outburst in
1848.
Mental cultivation and the general diffusion of know¬
ledge are largely promoted by means of numerous public
libraries established in the capitals, the university towns, and
other places. The most celebrated public libraries are those
of Vienna, Berlin, Gottingen, Munich, Dresden, Hamburg,
Wolfenbuttel, Stuttgart, Frankfort-on-the-Maine, and Wei¬
mar. Besides the public ones there are throughout Germany
many private libraries of extraordinary richness in literary Germany,
treasures of all kinds. There are also numerous societies v
and unions, among which the most distinguished are the
academies of sciences at Berlin and Munich, and the so¬
ciety of sciences at Gottingen, which are state institutions.
With scientific collections of all kinds every place is richly
provided, either at the public expense or by the favour of
private persons. The observatories of Altona, Berlin, Bres¬
lau, Gottingen, Mannheim, Munich, Prague, Seeberg near
Gotha, Vienna, and Konigsberg in Prussia, are distin¬
guished for the promotion of astronomy and other branches
of physical science. The taste for astronomy is very great
in Germany, as is evidenced by the existence of many pri¬
vate observatories, among which those of Gibers at Bre¬
men, and of Beer near Berlin, are the most celebrated. In
this department Germany can boast of the names of Co¬
pernicus, Kepler, Herschel, Gibers, Bessel, and many
others.
The fine arts likewise are carefully fostered. There are Fine arts,
academies at Berlin, Dusseldorf, Munich, and Vienna, whose
object it is to spread a taste for painting, sculpture, archi¬
tecture, and music, and to improve the technics of art. The
taste for art has struck deep root among all the educated
Germans, particularly in the north, and is directed and re¬
presented by three schools, those of Berlin, Dusseldorf, and
Munich, which have produced some of the finest proofs of
German genius. Besides the academies, there are nume¬
rous art-museums and collections of pictures and antiqui¬
ties, particularly in Berlin, Cassel, Dresden, Munich, and
Vienna. In sculpture German genius has of late years
greatly excelled, as in the works of Dannecker, Schwan-
thaler, and Kiss; and architecture has received the greatest
encouragement in the erection of both public and private
buildings of great magnificence, of which the late king
of Bavaria showed the most munificent example in the
embellishment of his capital Munich, and the erection
of the German Valhalla, near Ratisbon, though the at¬
tempt to adapt the Grecian temple style, without regard
to climate and other circumstances, to modern buildings,
intended for very different purposes, has failed as completely
there as it has everywhere else.
The activity of the German mind on the wide fields of Book
art and science has, through the effect of general inter- trade-
course and exchange of ideas, produced a liveliness of
which the Germans believe there is no parallel to be found
in any other country of Europe. The German book trade,
in respect of the position it has gradually acquired since the
Reformation, must be considered as a prime mover in the
mental culture of Germany; while, in a material point of
view, it has acquired an extent and importance elsewhere
unknown. Thousands of people find in it employment
and maintenance, as printers, typefounders, machine-
makers, paper-makers, and bookbinders; and the pro¬
ductions of the press are spread over all Germany with the
most marvellous rapidity. Leipzig is the central point of
this important branch of industry. The general taste for
the beautiful has had its effect on the art of printing, in
requiring the use of fine, close, white paper, clear type,
and elegant binding, instead of the gray-brown blotting paper,
and worn out and broken type, that were formerly used.
The periodical press is very active; but political discus¬
sion is not free. On political subjects freedom of speech
does not suit the German governments, and offences of this
kind are very severely punished, as happened in 1854
with Gervinus in Baden. On religion, however, and philo¬
sophy, the utmost freedom of publication is allowed; and
the effect has been almost to root out ancestral faith and
dogmatic theology from the minds of most educated people,
though, of late years, an evangelical reaction seems to have
made, or to be making, considerable progress. Hie publi¬
cation of Kalendars, which have been of late years vastly im-
593
GERM A N Y.
Germany, proved, is of much importance in the instruction of the
people. Almost every town in Germany has its own daily
newspaper, and of these five have acquired a European
reputation, if not for the excellence, at least for the im¬
portance of their contents. These are the Austrian Ob¬
server and the Prussian State Gazette, the organs of their
respective governments ; the Hamburg Correspondent, and
the Augsburg and Leipzig General Gazettes. Of the
number of weekly newspapers and popular instructive pub¬
lications, their name, says Dr Berghaus, is legion. The
higher branches of learning and of art are equally well at¬
tended to by their respective journalists.
No field of knowledge has been left uncultivated by the
Germans ; but much of the best talent of the country has
been wasted in the attempted cultivation of the barrenest of
all fields, that of speculative philosophy, or, if it be not a
contradiction in terms to call it so, the science of the un¬
knowable. In this science the most eminent professors
have been Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, whose doctrines,
promulgated during the first thirty years of the present
century, almost entirely superseded those of the sober-
minded Kant, and prevailed to a wide extent; for in Ger¬
many, as elsewhere, says Schlosser, whenever a new direc¬
tion is taken in philosophy or theology, a new head of a
sect appears, or a new school is formed, a multitude of fol¬
lowers at once adopt, and devote themselves to, the new
prophets with blind zeal and madness. The doctrines of
these philosophers have, in succession, superseded each
other, only to be superseded themselves in turn by some
new phase of Idealism, or systematized play of words. The
Hegelians have split into sects, or factions, and Kant is
again in the ascendant. The Germans, however, seem to
be awakening from their dreams, and to be now directing
their attention more and more to the cultivation of the
concrete, the positive, and the practical, instead of the ab¬
stract, the speculative, and the mystical, which have oc¬
cupied so long the attention of their fathers. Specu¬
lative philosophy is said indeed to be almost already dead.
There is not one celebrated professor to represent it in any
German university. The governments dislike and dis¬
courage it; and the lectures of its remaining adherents are
delivered in empty halls. Notwithstanding, however, this
unfortunate predilection of the German mind for the specu¬
lative and the useless, Germany can boast of many names
that have acquired pre-eminent distinction in the cultiva¬
tion of physical science, and in philology, now no longer
confined to Greek and Latin, but become of paramount
importance in enabling us to trace the affinities of nations,
and the early history of the earth’s inhabitants. In this
latter department the names of Adelung, Klaproth, Grote-
fend, William Von Humboldt, Bopp, Grimm, Lassen, and
Lepsius, have become familiar even in Britain.
In theology, which, as treated by the Germans, must be
considered as a branch of speculative philosophy, and not
the least barren portion of it, they have been pre-eminently
busy, the country swarming with theologians, and biblical
critics and commentators, who have carried the Protestant
principle of private judgment to its natural but very utmost
extreme. In the art of explaining away the obvious mean¬
ing of the Bible they have never been excelled. Their
theology, indeed, and criticism have degenerated into neo¬
logy and rationalism, and even into a wide-spread pantheism,
which seems to be the inevitable result of Hegel’s princi¬
ples carried out to their legitimate consequences. Super¬
naturalism, however, still asserts its right to hold the mind in
bondage, and a strong evangelical party have roused them¬
selves to oppose the prevalent scepticism and infidelity, with
what success remains to be seen. Roman Catholic theo¬
logy likewise still clings to the authority of the fathers and
the decrees and canons of the church.
In the cultivation of their native tongue, the Germans
VOL. x.
long remained behind other nations. The language of Germany
books dates from the Reformation, but it has been only since
the middle of the eighteenth century that it has been stren¬
uously and systematically cultivated. This cultivation be¬
gan with Gellert (171 <5-1759), Lessing (1729-81), Klop-
stock (1724-1803), and Wieland (1733-1813). Since their
time the language has been cultivated to the utmost; and
the rich fancy of the Germans has expressed itself in lyric
poetry, ballads, idylls, fables, and epics. Lessing was the
founder of dramatic poetry and true representation, which
have been cultivated to excess. Novels, tales, and romances
have given employment to thousands of persons, and pastime
to millions of readers, but not always to the moral improve¬
ment of the nation. The multitude of writers in the de¬
partment of belles-lettres defies enumeration.
Other German prose writers have been neither fewer nor
less able than the poets and romancers, but their names
have not had the good fortune to be so far renowned as
those of Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, Richter, Tieck, and
others. In history and geography many excellent works
have been produced. In classical and biblical literature
many Germans have acquired distinguished reputation as
critics and editors. Many others have exhibited the most
indefatigable zeal in ransacking all the treasures of ancient
and modern learning; collecting materials for new judg¬
ments on every point of history, philosophy, science and art;
and throwing, perhaps, as much doubt as light on many
established opinions, venerable for their antiquity.
As settled by the treaty of Vienna in 1815, Germany Political
was divided into forty sovereign states, or portions of states ;state-
but the number is now reduced to thirty-five, as stated in
the following table :—
Table of the Thirty-Five Sovereign States.
NAMES.
Area in
square Eng¬
lish miles.
Austrian provinces 
Prussian provinces 
Bavaria 
Hanover  
Wiirtemberg   
Saxony  
Hesse-Cassel   
Baden  
Mecklenburg-Schwerin ..
 —— Strelitz 
Hesse-Darmstadt 
Oldenburg  
Luxemburg   
Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach
 Coburg-Gotha ...,
 Meiningen-Hildburg-
bausen  
 Altenburg 
Holstein and Lauenburg .
Nassau 
Brunswick   
Anhalt Dessau-Cdthen...,
Bernburg  
Waldeck
Lippe-Detmold • 
Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt.
    Sondershausen
Reuss, elder 
 younger 
Schaumburg-Lippe.
Liechtenstein 
Hesse-Homburg ....
Hamburg 
Liibeck  
Bremen  
Frankfort  
75,979
71,987
31,392
14,769
7,632
5,772
4,439
5,918
4,815
767
3,761
2,421
2,308
1,419
799
888
510
3,719
1,757
1,507
666
340
461
437
410
359
145
448
206
53
166
151
142
106
91
Totals,   246,740 43,286,116
Population
in
1852.
12,919,300
12,937,228
4,559,452
1,819,253
1,733,269
1,987,832
755,350
1,356,943
542,763
99,750
854,314
285,226
394,262
262,524
150,451
166,364
132,849
550,000
429,060
267,177
111,759
52,641
59,697
106,615
69,038
74,956
34,896
79,824
29,000
7,000
24,941
211,250
48,425
88,000
73,150
Title of
Sovereign.
Kaiser.
King.
Elector.
Grand-Duke
Duke.
Prince.
Landgrave.
City.
The Saxon princedom of Gotha became extinct in 1826
4 F
594 Gr E R
Germen by the decease of the last grand-duke, and Ids territories
II were divided by compact among his collateral relatives, the
Gerona. prjnceg 0f Coburg, Meiningen, and Hildburghausen, the
last of whom ceded Hildburghausen to Meiningen, and
assumed instead the additional title of Altenburg, from the
chief town of that portion of the Gotha territory that fell to
his share. The prince of Coburg-Saalfeld likewise ceded
Saalfield to Meiningen, and received Gotha in its stead. In
1846, the lordship of Kniphausen was absorbed in Olden¬
burg; in 1847, Anhalt-Cothen became annexed to Anhalt-
Dessau; and in 1849, the two princes of Hohenzollern ab¬
dicated the government of their states in favour of their
kinsman, the king of Prussia.
Confedera- These states exhibit every form of government from ab-
tion. solute autocracy to democracy; but even in those that are
constitutional the authority of the sovereign is but feebly
limited by his states. They are all united into a bund or
confederation, the object of which is the maintenance of the
external and internal security of Germany, and the inde¬
pendence and inviolability of the several states. The con¬
federation is represented by the diet which is composed of
the plenipotentiaries of all the states, and is the constitu¬
tional organ of its w ill and action ; but the diet has no
power of self-action, the plenipotentiaries that compose it
acting only according to the special instructions of their re¬
spective sovereigns; and there is no central executive go¬
vernment to carry its resolutions into effect. In fact it has
been found that there is no power of ensuring the combined
action of the members for any object or purpose whatever,
either civil or military; though, having many interests in
common, and the territories of the smaller states, in multi-
G E R
farious parcels, being so intermingled1 that with most of Gerontes.
them separate action would be impossible, they naturally
follow the same course of policy, modified by the influence
of the powerful neighbours at whose mercy they would
seem to lie.
The management of the ordinary business of the bund is
entrusted to an ordinary and permanent diet, at which the
plenipotentiary of Austria presides; but there are only 17
votes to be divided among the 35 states, Austria, Prussia,
and the larger states having one each, and only six being
allotted to the smaller states and cities. When fundamental
laws are to be made or changed, when measures are to be
taken that relate to the federal act itself, when changes of
organic institutions or other arrangements of general interest
are to be adopted, when war or peace is to be made, or when
a new member is to be admitted, the diet becomes a gene¬
ral assembly, a plenum, in which 70 votes were originally
distributed among the members in classes, Austria, Prussia,
Bavaria, Saxony, Hanover, and Wiirtemberg, having each
four; five others having each three ; three having each
two; and the smaller states each one vote.
The diet holds its sittings at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, and
has ostensibly at its disposal, in terms of the federal act,
a numerous army, of wdiose constitution and efficiency we
have already given an account in the article Europe.
{Das Europa'ische Staaten System, &c., Von Dr Heinrich Berg-Authori-
haus.—Vol. iv. of his Allgemeine Lander und Volkerkunde.—Das ties.
Deutsche Land und seine Bewohner, von Carl Winderlich. Leipzig,
1852. Deutschland und das uhrige Europa. Vom Dr Freiherr Fried¬
rich Wilhelm von Reden. Wiesbaden, 1854. Universal Lexikon,
&c. von H. A. Pierer, Vierter Band. Altenburg, 1850; articles
Deutschland, &c.) (w. J. & J. L—IE.)
GERMEN, or Germ, in Botany, the name formerly used
for the ovary or seed-bud.
GERMINATION. See Botany, v., pp. 162-7-
GERONA, anciently Gerunda, a city of Spain, w^as w^ell
fortified till the French invasion of the Peninsula in 1808.
It is the capital of the modern province of the same name—
one of the four into which Catalufia has recently been di¬
vided. It stands on a declivity, and at the foot of a steep hill
surmounted by the fortress of Monjui, near the junction of
the Ter and the Ona, 54 miles N.E. of Barcelona. The
name of Gerona, is thought by many to be a compound of
the Celtic ger, “ near,” and ond, “ confluence.” The form
of Gerona is nearly triangular; and it is defended by the
Monjui, which is a square fort 720 feet on each side, with
bastions and outworks of various kinds. The city wall is
now in a very dilapidated state. Gerona boasts that it is
the city in which St Paul and St James first rested when
they came to Spain. During the time of the Moors it gene¬
rally took part with them, though not unfrequently it changed
sides. Its Emir Soleyman was in alliance with Pepin so
early as 759 a.d. It was taken by Charlemagne in 785 ;
but the Moors regained and sacked it in 795. Soon after,
it was recovered by its counts, and then passing to Aragon,
it gave the title of prince to the king’s eldest son. The
most remarkable and interesting relic of the Moorish period
is an elegant bath in the Capuchin Convent: it is a light
pavilion rising from an octangular stylobate. The modern
town contains three plazas. The part of the city situated
on the left bank of the Ona is called the Mercadal, and is
very ancient, but now much dilapidated—the results of the
French siege and bombardment. The bishop’s see was
founded so early as 786 a.d. by Charlemagne ; and the an¬
cient cathedral was pulled down and rebuilt in 1316. The
approach to this cathedral is very handsome and imposing.
There is a superb flight of 86 steps, raised by Bishop Zuazo
in 1607, leading to the faqade, which rises in tiers, order
above order, and terminates with an oval rose-window. The
upper story of the hexagonal belfry tower commands a fine
panoramic view. In the cathedral are the tombs of Ramon
Berenguer II., and his wife Ermesendis, who died in 1058
a.d. In the archives in the cloister are some early MSS.
and a copy of the Bible written in 1374 by Bernardin Mu-
tina for Charles V. of France, but ascribed here to Charle¬
magne.
Gerona has been several times blockaded. In the war
of the succession, Philip V. came against it with 19,000
troops, and abolished its university and its liberties. Again,
in June 1808 with 300 men of the Ulster regiment under
O’Daly, Gerona beat off Duhesme with 6000 men. Once
more, in May 1809, it was besieged by the French with
35,000 troops under Verdier, Augereau, and St Cyr, who
bombarded the city ; and though the resistance was dogged
and desperate, at last famine and disease effected what force
of arms could not accomplish, compelling the governor Al¬
varez to capitulate on 12th December 1809. In this siege
the French spent 20,000 bombs, 60,000 balls, and lost
15,000 men. The manufactures are coarse woollen and
cotton goods, hosiery, paper, and soap. The trade of the
city is, however, very insignificant. Every one here seems
to live alone, giving the place a very melancholy look.
It has no theatre, no public amusements, no common ren¬
dezvous. The population amounts to about 8000, of whom
one-fourth are priests, monks, nuns, and students. (3Iemo-
nas, por J. A. Nieto y Samaniego, Tarragona, 1810; Be-
sumen de las Grandezas, por Juan Gasper Roig y Yalpi,
fol. Barcelona, 1678 ; Ford’s Handbook of Spain).
GERONTES, in Grecian Antiquity, the members of
the yepovata, or council of elders in the states of Doric origin
i For example, the grand-duchy of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach consists of at least 10 parcels perfectly separated from each other by the
territories of other states, Hamburg and Lubeck each of 7 or 8. In short, the 35 states are divided, within Germany, into more than
150 separate parcels of territory, all inextricably mixed together.
G E R
G E R
595
Gerrha generally; in a more limited sense applied to the senators
II of Sparta. The constitution of the Gerusia was essentially
GBrs. aristocratic. It corresponded to the fiovXyj or democratic
“■"V’"’' assembly of the Ionic states of Greece. No one was elected
into it who was not sixty years of age. The conditions
were also of a very exclusive nature. In theory, the office
was held to be the reward of virtue, and none were admitted
to it but persons of known character and distinguished posi¬
tion. The Gerusia comprised in all thirty members, re¬
turned by the thirty “ obae,” or u phratrise,” into which the
three tribes that constituted every Doric state were sub¬
divided. The method of their election was peculiar. The
candidates presented themselves in succession before their
constituents, who received them with applause proportioned
in intensity according to their respective merits. Persons
were stationed in an adjoining room to note the applause
without knowing by which of the candidates it was elicited.
The candidate most applauded was declared successful.
An election was a matter of great importance, and the re¬
sult was always watched with great anxiety. The powers
ol a councillor were great. His term of office was for life,
and his authority was irresponsible.
It is not easy to define with exact precision the extent
of the functions of these councillors. They were partly
legislative, partly executive, and partly judicial. As a
criminal court they could punish without appeal by death
and civil degradation. They appear to have also taken a
general care of the lives and morals of the citizens, and
made provision against the dangers of wealth and luxury by
maintaining the ancient strictness of discipline and austerity
of manners.
GERRHA, near the modern El-Katif, one of the chief
cities of Arabia, stood on the N.E. coast of Arabia Felix,
and became a great emporium for the trade of India and
Arabia. The site is about 25 English miles from the
shore of the Sinus Gerrhaicus, now Elwah Bay, on the W.
side of the Persian Gulf, 240 miles from the mouth of the
Tigris. The inhabitants were considered originally to have
been Chaldeans who had been expelled from Babylon.
Niebuhr considers it the modern Koneit. There was a
small place of the same name on the N.E. frontier of Egypt,
about 8 miles from Pelusium.
GERS, a department of France, so called from the river
of that name by which it is intersected. It is composed of
parts of the old provinces of Gascony and Guienne; and
is bounded N. by the department of Lot-et-Garonne, E.
by Tarn-et-Garonne and Haute-Garonne, S. by Hautes-
Pyrenees and Basses-Pyrenees, and W. by Landes. It lies
between 43. 17. and 44. 5. N. Eat., and between 1. 10. E.,
and 0. 18. W. Long., being about 72 miles in length from
E. to W., and 53 in breadth from N. to S., and having an
area of 2425 square miles. This department is hilly, par¬
ticularly in the south, where it is mostly covered with rami¬
fications of the Pyrenees. Some of those in the north attain
a height of nearly 1200 feet above the level of the sea, but
they rapidly decrease in height towards the south. The
principal of them run from N. to S., and are separated from
each other by longitudinal valleys, each having its own
peculiar stream. Thirty-eight water-courses mark out as
many valleys of great beauty and fertility, opening in width
from a few yards in the southern to three or four miles in
the northern extremities. The greater part of this depart¬
ment belongs to the basin of the Garonne, while a small
portion in the W. is drained by the Adour. The chief
affluents of the former are the Save, Gimone, Arratz, Gers,
and Bai'se; and those of the latter, the Arros, Midou, and
Douze, the last two uniting and taking the name of Midouse
previous to joining the Adour. None of these rivers is
navigable within the department. The climate is temperate
and salubrious, but very changeable. The coldest month
is January, but from October to May, rain, frost, and snow
are not unfrequent. In May and June the weather is Gerson.
warmer, and during July and August is very hot. Of this
department rather more than is arable, about j-th in vine-
yai'ds, -j^th in natural pasture, ^th in woods and forests,
tVth in heath and moorland, and 3Vd in rivers, ponds, and
canals. The soil is not of great fertility, but is tolerably
well cultivated, and the grain produced is more than suffi¬
cient for home consumption. Wheat, maize, oats, and rye,
are the principal grain crops. The quantity of wine annually
produced is about 24,000,000 gallons, of which about one-
third is used for home consumption, and the remainder is
chiefly manufactured into brandy known by the name of
Armagnac. Horned cattle, sheep, mules, swine, game, and
poultry, particularly ducks and geese, are abundant. The
minerals and manufactures of this department are unim¬
portant. It is divided into five arrondissements as follows :
Cantons. Communes. Pop. 1851.
Auch   6 85 61,925
Lectoure   5 72 51,125
Mirande   8 152 83,113
Condom  6 87 69,901
Lombez  4 71 41,415
29 467 307,479
GERSON, Jean Charlier de, chancellor of the Uni¬
versity of Paris, surnamed the Most Christian Doctor, was
born in 1363 near Reims, in Champagne, in the village of
Gerson, from which he took his name. He was educated
at the college of Navarre in Paris, and there distinguished
himself so highly that he was chosen to succeed the famous
Pierre d’Ailly as chancellor of the university, and canon of
Notre Dame. These appointments Gerson owed to the
influence of his friend the Duke of Burgundy. When that
nobleman, however, tarnished his good name by the murder
of the Duke of Orleans, none denounced his conduct more
severely than Gerson who owed him so much ; and the
duke’s partizans, enraged at what they considered his in¬
gratitude, broke into his house and pillaged it, and would
have slain himself, had he not fled for refuge to the vaults
of Notre Dame. Undaunted by these demonstrations,
Gerson, as soon as he resumed his functions, attacked be¬
fore the church and the university of Paris the doctrine of
Jean Petit, a hireling apologist of the murder of Orleans
as a legitimate act, on the ground that the murdered man
was a tyrant; and that tyrannicide was not only lawful but
praiseworthy. In the schism which long divided the church,
Gerson was often employed on missions to the popes at
Rome and Avignon ; and by his treatise De Unitate Ec-
clesiastica contributed to bring about the result afterwards
attained by the Council of Pisa, when the rival popes Gre¬
gory XII. and Benedict XIII. were both deposed in favour
of Alexander V. At this time, also, Gerson wrote his
famous essay De Auferibilitate Eapce, in which he advo¬
cated, not as has been sometimes thought the suppression
of the papal office, but the right of the church to depose
any particular pope, when the interests of peace and unity
require it. At the Council of Constance he appeared as
ambassador of Charles VI., and exercised immense influ¬
ence, especially in effecting the deposition of Pope John
XXIII. who had succeeded Alexander V. The object of
all his writings and speeches at this time was to vindicate
the power of the church over its temporal head as well as
its members; to prove the necessity of councils, general as
well as special, and their right to meet without the papal
consent, if that be needlessly withheld ; to extirpate simony,
at this time very common, &c. He was also successful in
establishing the supremacy of the church in matters of
doctrine and discipline as the basis of the decrees of the
council. On the same occasion he distinguished himself in
the discussions with John FIuss; and though the spirit of
the age was still too strong upon him for him to use his in¬
fluence in preventing the martyrdom of that theologian and
596 G E S
Gerund his party, yet many acts of his life show his religious zeal to
II have been wonderfully free from bigotry or superstition.
Gesenius. jn j-^g essay Contra Sectam Flagellantium, he denounced
the abuses of these fanatics and their leader, whom he en¬
deavoured to reclaim by friendly remonstrance. Again, in
his work De Probatione Spirituum, he laid down rules for
distinguishing false revelations from true. He applied these
rules in the case of St Bridget, whose revelations were then
making a great noise in the world. Gerson proved these
pretended prophecies to be false, but the influence of the
famous Cardinal Torquemada saved their author from the
consequences of her imposture. Instead of returning home
from Constance, Gerson, well assured that the powerful fac¬
tion of the Duke of Burgundy were plotting his destruction,
fled for refuge into Germany. Disguised as a pilgrim, he
sought the mountains of Bavaria, where, in imitation of
Boethius, he wrote his De Consolations Theologies, partly
in prose and partly in verse. From Bavaria he passed into
Austria, where the duke offered him an asylum. At the
abbey of Mdlek where he resided were found after his death
many copies of his works, especially that on the Consolation
of Theology. Appended to one of these was found for the
first time a MS. of the Imitation of Jesus Christ, which
circumstance gave rise to the idea that Gerson was the au¬
thor of that famous work. Many competent authorities still
incline to support the claims advanced in favour of the
learned Frenchman. After a residence of several years in
Germany, Gerson returned to France, and fixed his resi¬
dence at the convent of the Celestins at Lyons, of which
his brother was prior. Here he employed the remainder of
his days in teaching and catechising the little children
whom he daily collected in the church of St Paul, and
from whom he exacted no other fee than that they should
repeat on his behalf the simple prayer, “ Seigneur, ayez
pitie de votre pauvre serviteur Gerson.” In the midst of
these humble functions Gerson died, 12th July 1429, at
the age of sixty-six. ( Biog. Univ.; DEnfant's Hist, of the
Council of Constance, &c. &c.)
GERUND {gerundium, from gerere, to bear), in Latin
Grammar, a verbal noun of the neuter gender, in form no¬
thing else than the four oblique cases singular of the neuter
of the gerundive or participle of necessity. It governs the case
of its verb, and in signification supplies the place of a decli¬
nable infinitive active. See Zumpt’s Lat. Gram. § 655, &c.
GERUSIA, in Antiquity, the assembly of elders at
Sparta. The term was also applied to like councils in other
Dorian states. See Gerontes.
GERVAISE, or Gervase, of Tilbury, an historian of
the thirteenth century, was a native of Tilbury in Essex,
and nephew of Henry II. The exact date of his birth has
not been ascertained. Having visited part of Europe, he
arrived about 1208 at the court of Otho IV., emperor of
Germany, who received him with the greatest distinction,
and appointed him marshal of the kingdom of Arles. Ger¬
vase died about 1218. His principal works are—Otia 1m-
periali, libri tres,, a work which is also known under the
titles Mappa sive Descriptio Mundi, and De Mirabilibus
Orbis ; Illustrationes Galfridi Monemuthensis, libri iv.;
Historia Terrce Sanctce ; De Origins Burgundiorum;
Facetiarum liber, dedicated to Henry II. of England ; Tri-
columnium Anglice ; and, Metrica Descriptio Balneorum
Puteolanorum. The compilation of the Exchequer book,
entitled Liber Niger Scaccarii, was ascribed, though on in¬
sufficient evidence, to Gervase. Bale and Pitts differ con¬
siderably in their accounts of Gervase’s works, the greater
part of which still remain in manuscript, and are but little
known.
GESENIUS, Friedrich Heinrich Wilhelm, a dis¬
tinguished German orientalist and biblical critic, was born
in 1786 at Nordhausen, in Hanover. He was educated at
the gymnasium of that town, and afterwards at the univer-
G E S
sities of Helmstadt and Gottingen. In 1806 he became Gesne?.
magister legens, and repetent in the latter university, where
he continued for three years. His studies had early been
turned to the oriental languages; and the need which he
soon perceived of a better mode of treating both the gram¬
mar and lexicography of the Hebrew, led him to devote
himself exclusively to the elucidation of the Old Testament.
This determination he formed during his residence at Got¬
tingen, where he already made preparations for his Hebrew
lexicon. In 1809 he was appointed professor of ancient lite¬
rature at Heiligenstadt, wdience in the following year he was
transferred to Halle. After holding a subordinate office
there for a year, he was chosen in 1811 ordinary professor
of theology. Many offers were subsequently made to him
of high preferment elsewhere, but he clung to Halle during
the remainder of his life, and never left it except for an oc¬
casional literary journey to England or France or some part
of Germany. It was at Halle that he died, Oct. 23, 1842.
The great literary objects to which the life of Gesenius
was devoted were first the lexicography and then the gram¬
mar of the Hebrew tongue. At the early age of twenty-
six he had completed his dictionary of the Old Testament,
a work exhibiting a depth of research, a command of mate¬
rials, and a sagacity in using them, that immediately placed
its author in the first rank of modern philologists. Gesenius
himself in after life came to regard this as a juvenile effort,
and disavowed many of the views and results embodied in
it. The lexicon wTas followed in 1813 by a grammar, which
in its successive editions has continued to be the current
and almost the only grammar of the Hebrew tongue in
common use in the schools of Germany. In 1815 he con¬
ceived the idea of a thesaurus of the Hebrew language.
This work he was unable to execute on the scale which he
had originally proposed, and it finally took the form of a
manual or lexicon for schools. In that same year appeared
his History of the Hebrew Language, which, however, has
been long since superseded by his own researches, as well as
those of other scholars. Gesenius’ next work was published
under the title of Lehrgebaude, a systematic work on Fle-
brew grammar, a vast and valuable storehouse of the facts
of Hebrew, but defective in so far as it enters little into the
philosophy of the language. During these and the succeed¬
ing years Gesenius was amassing materials for his The¬
saurus, of which the first fasciculus appeared in 1827.
Various causes prevented him from bringing out the parts
regularly, and death surprised him before he had quite com¬
pleted the whole work. The only other important w ork of
Gesenius which remains to be mentioned is his Commentary
on Isaiah, on which he has brought to bear all his learning
and ingenuity. His opinions as to the origin, history, and
prophetical character of this book are strongly tinged with
those rationalistic views with which he had allowed himself
to become imbued in early life. The services which Gese¬
nius rendered to literature by his writings were not his only
or indeed his greatest ones. To him alone is due the re¬
vival of Flebrevv learning in Germany, where it had almost
fallen into abeyance since the time of the Buxtorfs. When
he opened his course at Halle, he had only ten students ;
for some years before his death their numbers had increased
to 500 annually. As a lecturer he was natural and animated,
and always perfectly clear and intelligible. In respect of
these latter qualities, indeed, his mind seemed as if cast in
an English rather than a German mould. (Robinson’s
Bibliotheca Sacra ; Encycl. of Religious Knowledge ; En-
cycl. des Gens du Monde, &c.)
GESNER, Conrad, a celebrated naturalist, surnamed
the Pliny of Germany, and, for his time, a prodigy of ap¬
plication, knowledge, and sagacity, was born at Zurich on
the 26th March 1516. He was the son of Vasa Gesner, a
furrier, and Barbara Frick, persons who, besides being poor,
had several other children, so that he would not have been
G E S
Gesner. able to continue his studies had it not been for the assistance
of his maternal uncle John Frick, a minister, who formed his
taste for literature, and gave him his first ideas of botany.
But this uncle having died, and his father having been
killed in 1531 at the battle of Albis, where the celebrated
reformer Zwinglius also perished, young Gesner found him¬
self obliged to seek his fortune in a foreign country. Fie
accordingly went to Strasburg, where, by means of a salary,
he for some time seconded the labours of Capiton ; then,
having obtained some assistance from the canons of Zurich,
he repaired to Bourges, and there commenced the study
of medicine. At the age of eighteen, having occasion to
visit Paris, he indulged without guide and without restraint
his passion for all kinds of study, being assisted in his
poverty by John Steiger, a young Bernese of patrician
family, with whom he was connected by the ties of friend¬
ship. From Paris he returned a second time to Strasburg,
whence, in 1536, he was recalled to Zurich to occupy in
the college of that place the petty employment of regent.
But the magistrates having soon perceived that he was
formed for less obscure and more important labours, made
him in 1537 a new grant to enable him to continue his
medical studies at Bale ; and it was in this city that he
began to labour for the public by superintending an edi¬
tion of the Greek Dictionary of Favorinus. The follow¬
ing year the senate of Berne having founded an academy
at Lausanne, Gesner was appointed to that institution, and
taught Greek there for three years. He then passed a
year at Montpellier, where he became intimately connected
with the celebrated physician Laurent Joubert, and the
great naturalist Rondelet. At length, in 1541, he was re¬
ceived as doctor in medicine at Bale, where he completed
some extracts from the Greek and Arabian authors on
botany and medicine, which were published the same year
at Zurich, and the succeeding one at Lyons. Soon after¬
wards he published a Catalogue of Plants in four languages,
in which he gave proofs of very extensive knowledge in
botany, and indicated several vegetables which were then
new. Some journeys in the Alps of Switzerland and Savoy
enabled him to discover other plants which w^ere also new,
and led him in 1542 to write a little book on milk, accom¬
panied by a letter on the beauty of the mountain scenery.
The same year he translated from the Greek a Treatise on
Syllogisms, and other philosophical works ; which were fol¬
lowed in 1543 by the Maxims of Stobaeus, and in 1544 by
the Allegories of Heraclides of Pontus, the Discourse of
Dion Chrysostom on Homer, and a “ purified ” edition of
Martial. In 1545 he made a journey to Venice and to
Augsburg, where he formed an acquaintance with several
men of merit, and had an opportunity of consulting many
rare works and valuable manuscripts. It was then that he
began to bring out his famous Bibliotheque Universelle,
the first great bibliographical work which the moderns had
produced. The titles of all the works then known in
Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin, whether extant or lost,
and often a summary of their contents, with a judgment of
their merits, and some specimens of their style, formed the
substance of this collection. The first volume, published
at Zurich in 1545, is classed in the alphabetical order of
the names of the authors ; the second, which is arranged
in the order of the materials, and divided into nineteen
books, appeared at the same place in 1548, under the title
of Pandects ; the twenty-first book, devoted to theology,
was published the following year ; but the twentieth, which
was to treat of wmrks on medicine, has not been printed,
because the author did not conceive it so complete as it
ought to be, or as the subject required. The Library of
Gesner has been abridged by Lycosthenes, and completed
by Simler and by Fries, Zurich, 1583, in folio. During
the same time he occupied himself with editions or trans¬
lations of different small Greek treatises; in particular, he
N E E. 597
published a corrected edition of Hermolaus Barbaro, a Gesner.
critical Preface on the works of Galen, another on the
History of Plants by Tragus, a Treatise on the Mineral
Waters of Switzerland and Germany, and a Description of
Mont Pilat near Lucerne. But amidst these diversified
labours he lost no opportunity of collecting and arranging
materials for a great work on Natural History, of which he
had conceived the plan from his earliest youth. Numerous
friends whom his merit had procured him over almost all
Europe, sent him figures and notices of the productions of
their various climates, and sometimes the natural objects
themselves, which he caused to be painted and engraved.
As often as he had leisure, he also travelled in Switzerland
and in Germany. He had long desired to visit the coasts
of the North Sea, but the religious war which broke out in
1551 constrained him to return home without having ac¬
complished the object of his wishes. Gesner has written
on the three kingdoms of nature, but his History of Ani¬
mals is the most considerable of his works on natural history,
and that which will ensure him the most enduring reputation.
It is divided into five books, which are commonly bound in
three volumes folio. The first book, printed originally at
Zurich in 1551, treats of viviparous quadrupeds ; the second,
printed in 1554, of oviparous quadrupeds; the third, printed
in 1555, of birds ; the fourth, printed in 1556, of fishes and
other aquatic animals ; and the fifth, a posthumous publi¬
cation, which appeared at Zurich in 1587, of serpents.
There was to have been a sixth book on insects, but it is
doubtful whether Gesner had commenced preparing it, and
all that remains consists of some inedited figures of butter¬
flies. Besides these first editions of the different parts of
the History of Animals, there appeared several others,
some of which, considerably amplified, were printed during
the author’s lifetime, or after his death, in Latin, German,
and French, and also various abridgments under the titles
of leones Animalium, leones Avium, Nomenclator Aqua-
tilium, &c. In this great work the author arranges ani¬
mals in the alphabetical order of their Latin names, and
gives details respecting each, divided into eight heads, viz.,
its denominations in the different languages, ancient and
modern ; its description, internal as well as external, and
the countries it inhabits ; the duration of its life and of its
growth, with the epoch of its fecundation and birth, and
the number produced at a birth ; the maladies to which it
is subject; its peculiar habits and instincts ; its utility ; the
aliments on which it subsists ; the remedies which it supplies;
and, lastly, the images which it furnishes to poetry and
eloquence, as well as the epithets which have been applied
to it. This work may be considered as the basis of all
modern zoology. Copied almost literally by Aldrovand,
and abridged by Johnston, it has served as the foundation
of works much more recent; and more than one celebrated
author has borrowed from it, without acknowledgment,
nearly all his erudition. Another important service rendered
by Gesner to zoology consists in his edition of a complete
translation of the works of TElian, which he published in
1556, immediately after his volume on fishes. His new
notes on the text, which had long occupied his attention,
appeared for the first time in the edition published by A.
Gronovius, London, 1744, two vols. folio, as those on
the Historice Diversce did in the edition of Leyden, 1731,
4to. His Enchiridion Historice Plantarum, printed at
Paris in 1541, is not deserving of much attention ; it is a
youthful performance of Gesner, and is merely a compila¬
tion. His real botanical works, after having passed in
manuscript into different libraries, were, about the middle
of the last century, acquired by Trew, a botanist of Nurem¬
berg, and published by Schmiedal, physician to the mar¬
grave of Anspach, Nuremberg, 1754 and 1770. They
consist of Commentaries on the fifth book of Valerius Cordus,
Fragments of a History of Plants, commenced according
598 G E S
Gessner. to the plan of Gesner, by his pupil, Wolf, and a great num-
v-"-' ber of figures which he had designed, with the relative notes
and descriptions. The little treatise of Gesner on the figures
of fossils, stones, and gems, Zurich, 1565, 8vo, attracted
attention to the subject of petrifactions and crystals ; and
we find from his letters, that he had made experiments
on several minerals, and was not ignorant of the electrical
qualities of certain precious stones. Lastly, in his Mithri-
dates de differentiis Linguarum, Gesner, not confining
himself to the comparison of different languages, threw out
several very ingenious ideas respecting language generally,
which have since been more fully developed. His own
acquisitions as a linguist were in fact very considerable.
He possessed a knowledge of the three learned languages,
had some knowledge of Arabic, understood French, Italian,
and Flemish, and had laboured much to improve the German
language. So many useful works having secured to Gesner
merited consideration, the magistrates of Zurich, in the
year 1555, created him public professor of natural history.
But he did not long enjoy this mark of esteem. A pesti¬
lential malady, which had commenced at Bale in the spring
of 1564, and extended itself to Zurich, where it re-appeared
the following year with great fury, at length smote Gesner.
During these two years he had bestowed great care on the
persons who were affected with this disease, and had even
written a dissertation on the best method of treating it;
but a bubo having showed itself under his right armpit,
although it occasioned him but little pain, he considered
himself as doomed to fall a victim to the prevailing malady;
and, accordingly, having caused himself to be carried into
his cabinet, that he might put his works in order, he died
there, while thus occupied, on the 13th of December 1565,
aged only forty-nine years and some months. He bequeathed
his library and his manuscripts to Gaspar Wolf, his pupil,
whom he charged to publish all that could be extracted
from his papers calculated to advance any branch of the
natural sciences. (Eloges de M. de Thou; Memoires de
Niceron ; Biographic Universellei) (j. B—E.)
GESSNER, Solomon, a Swiss painter and miscella¬
neous writer of considerable note, was born at Zurich in
1730. His early- life gave no indication of the talents
which afterwards made him famous. A residence in a
romantic part of his native country awakened in him a love
of poetry; and a volume of Idyllen, which both had and
deserved success, encouraged him to fresh literary effort.
His next attempt, the Death of Abel, was still happier and
more successful than his Idylls. The story is based upon
the narrative in the book of Genesis, and reflects the spirit
of the Bible with wonderful closeness. The principal
charm of the work, however, lies in its touchingly simple
and pathetic descriptions of patriarchal manners. Some of
the female characters are portrayed with beautiful truth
and delicacy The male characters, however, are deficient
in force and individuality; and the descriptions of nature,
though often very fine, are too numerous, and bear too great
a likeness to each other. His pathetic scenes are some¬
times spun out to a tiresome length, and the speeches of
his dramatis personce are often too detailed and languid to
please any but a German reader. Gessner’s other poem
of the First Navigator is characterized by the same ex¬
cellences and defects. All these pieces were speedily trans¬
lated into the principal modern tongues, and their author
became an especial favourite in France. Though often
invited to exchange Switzerland for that country he
steadily refused, and spent the remainder of his life in the
energetic and successful pursuit of his business as a book¬
seller. His leisure hours were devoted to his favourite arts
of painting and engraving, in both of which he attained
very considerable eminence ; and his house was the ren¬
dezvous of the leading artists and literary men of his native
town. After his death, which happened in .1 788, his fel-
G II A
low-citizens erected a handsome monument with a bust in Get*
his honour in one of the finest promenades in Zurich, at ||
the confluence of the Lint and Limmat. There have been Ghauts,
numerous editions of Gessner’s works both in French and 's—
German.
GETiE. See Dacia.
GETHSEMANE (seemingly from two Hebrew words
denoting an oil-press'), the name of a small field, or garden,
just out of Jerusalem, over the brook Kidron, at the foot
of the Mount of Olives. That which is now pointed out
as the garden in which our Lord underwent his agony, oc¬
cupies part of a level space between the brook and the foot
of the Mount, and corresponds well enough in situation and
distance with all the conditions which the narrative requires.
It is about fifty paces square, and is enclosed by a wall of
no great height, formed of rough loose stones. Eight very
ancient olive-trees now occupy this enclosure, some of which
are of very large size, and all exhibit symptoms of decay
clearly denoting their great age. The garden belongs to
one of the monastic establishments, and much care has been
taken to preserve the old trees from destruction. Dr
Robinson admits the probability that this is the site which
Eusebius and Jerome had in view; and, as no other site is
suggested as preferable, we may be content to receive the
traditional indication.
GEX, a town of France, capital of a cognominal arron-
dissement, department of Ain, on the road from Paris to
Geneva, 10 miles N.N.W. of the latter. It has an active
trade in cheese, corn, wine, and charcoal, and contains
2710 inhabitants.
GEYSER {i.e., raging or roaring), the name given to
certain boiling springs in Iceland. These are particularly
described under Iceland, and Physical Geography.
GHADAMES. See Gadames.
GHARA, in Hindustan, a river formed by the united
streams of the Beas and Sutlej from their confluence at
Endreesa to the confluence of the Chenaub, in Lat. 29. 18.,
Long. 71. 6. The length of course between these points
is about 300 miles. See Sutlej. (e. t.)
GHAUTS. The term Ghaut signifies properly a pass
through the mountains, or a place where boats land. But
it has been applied to designate the mountainous chains
which run in a direction nearly north and south through
southern India. These are divided into the Eastern and
Western Ghauts. The eastern ridge commences in the
south at a point within about 20 miles of Cape Comorin,
where it appears to issue from the termination of the West¬
ern range. From the point of convergence the Eastern
Ghauts take a northerly direction, and may be characterized
rather as detached groups and clusters of hills than as a
regular range until they reach the latitude of 11. 40., when
they assume the character of a continuous chain. The ridge
then skirts the coast of Coromandel in a north-westerly di¬
rection to the vicinity of the city of Madras. At Naggery,
in Lat. 13. 20., it forms a junction with the chain which
crosses the peninsula in a south-westerly direction to the
Neilgherries, where, according to some authorities, the point
of junction between the two great ranges of Coromandel
and Malabar should be regarded as taking place, instead of
at Comorin as before stated. The course of the Eastern
Ghauts north of the point of junction with the transverse
range, is continued in a northerly direction, and terminates
in the vicinity of Balasore, where they unite with the Vin-
dhya mountains, and thus constitute one side of the triangle
on which rests the table-land of the Deccan. In regularity
and grandeur the Eastern Ghauts bear no comparison with
those of Western India; their average elevation does not
exceed 1500 feet. The intermediate table-land has con¬
sequently a gradual slope to the eastward, as indicated by
the drainage of the country in that direction. All the prin¬
cipal rivers—the Godavery, Cauvery, Kistna, and Pennaur,
r
Ghauts.
G II A
though deriving their sources from the base of the Western
' Ghauts, find their way into the Bay of Bengal through fis¬
sures in the Eastern Ghauts. According to Captain New-
bold, the mean elevation of the table-land around Banga¬
lore and Nundidroog above the sea is 3000 feet; northerly,
towards Hyderabad, it sinks to 1800 feet; and a little south
of Bangalore it falls by rather abrupt steps 1400 feet to
the level of the plains of Salem ; whence to Cape Co¬
morin the mean height of the country is about 400 feet.
The average height of the low country between the Ghauts
and the sea, on both the coasts of Coromandel and Mala¬
bar, may be roughly estimated at 200 feet, rising at the
base of the mountains to 800 feet. On the Coromandel
side the slope to the sea is gentle, exhibiting the alluvial
deposits borne down from the higher portions of the table¬
land. Granite, gneiss, and mica slate, overlaid by clay slate
and hornblende, constitute the geological strata of these
mountains.
Ghauts, Western. This great chain of mountains runs
along the peninsula of Hindustan, from Cape Comorin to
the Taptee or Surat river, at the distance of not more than
60 or 70 miles, and in some places not above 40 from the
western shore of the Indian peninsula, namely, the coasts
of Malabar, Canara, &c.; and they are frequently visible
from the sea, to which at one point they approach within
six miles. By this peculiar configuration of the country all
the great rivers of the peninsula of India run down the
eastern slope of these mountains into the Bay of Bengal,
there not being sufficient space for the collection of any
great body of water on the western declivity, which is of
greater elevation, and more abrupt in its ascent. These
hills extend about 800 miles in length, forming a continuous
line, with the exception of a break in the ridge about 16
miles wide, where the river Paniany takes its course from
the Coimbetore country to the sea; and here it is well
known that ships which navigate the Malabar coast during
the N.E. monsoons commonly experience a stronger gale
in the neighbourhood of Paniany than elsewhere—a circum¬
stance which Major Rennell ascribes to this opening in the
Ghaut Mountains. The range has an average height of
4000 feet above the level of the sea; but this degree of ele¬
vation is considerably exceeded at particular points, Bonas-
son peak being 7000 feet above the sea-level, and that of
Dodabet in the Neilgherries having an elevation of 8700.
At the extreme south near Cape Comorin, and at the point
of convergence with the range from the opposite coast, the
Western Ghauts terminate abruptly in a peak about 2000
feet above the sea. The average height of the low country
between the Western Ghauts and the sea may be roughly
estimated at 200 feet, rising to 800 at the base of the moun¬
tains. This tract, which is called the Coast of Malabar, is
marked by a succession of irregular hilly spurs, from the
Ghauts descending to the sea in abrupt cliffs. The altitude
of this mountain chain is sufficient to intercept the great
body of the clouds which are alternately impelled across the
continent of India by the S.W. and N.E. monsoons; and
accordingly these winds occasion a rainy season on one side
of the mountains only, so that while the periodical rains are
deluging the country on one side, the weather is serene and
dry on the other. But it is only a particular tract of country
that is sheltered from rain by the ridge of the Ghauts; for
the clouds do pass over, but at too great a height and too
much attenuated to be condensed into rain. At a greater
distance, bowever, they collect into masses, and occasion a
rainy reason in the countries farther to leeward. Thus, at
Nagpoor, in the centre of the Deccan, the seasons differ but
little from their usual course in Bengal and on the western
side of India. They have a rainy season occasioned by the
S.W. monsoon, though it is not so violent as in Bengal.
At the mouth of the Godavery, and in the neighbourhood,
the S.W . monsoon occasions a rainy season, when the God-
G H A 599
avery is swollen and overflows; and this country is about Ghazee-
the same distance to leeward of the Ghauts as Nagpoor. pore.
Major Rennel suggests that the clouds which occasion the
rainy season at the mouth of the Godavery may come from
Cape Comorin, though from the prevalence of westerly
winds this appears doubtful. But it is certain that the
clouds which bring rain at Nagpoor must pass over the
Ghauts. Madras lies in the sheltered tract, though at least
300 miles to leeward of the Ghauts. The country near the
mouth of the Godavery is about 200 miles further. It would
be curious, if we had facts for such a speculation, to trace
the limits between wet and dry, and thus to ascertain the
influence which this elevated and extensive mountain chain
exercises on the climate of the Indian peninsula; but with¬
out fuller and more minute information we can scarcely
enter into such an inquiry.
The Western Ghauts, about the fifteenth degree of north
latitude, although they are steep and stony, are by no means
rugged or broken with rocks. On the contrary, in the Pro¬
vince of Canara the stones are buried in a rich mould, and
in many places are not visible until they are dug up. Thus,
instead of the naked, sun-burnt, rocky peaks, so common in
the eastern chain, these mountains are clothed with stately
forests. Dr Buchanan mentions that he had nowhere seen
finer trees, nor any bamboos that could be compared to
those he saw there. These bamboos compose a large
part of the forest; they grow in detached clumps, with
open spaces between, and equal in height the most stately
palms, which are also found in great abundance. There is
no underwood nor creepers to interrupt the traveller who
may choose to wander in any direction through these woods.
But there are numerous tigers, which, besides the un¬
healthiness of the climate, renders any long stay there un¬
comfortable. About midway up the mountain the teak be¬
comes common ; but it is very inferior in size to other trees.
Roads have been formed through these mountains with
great labour, out of a bed of loose rock. These roads are
ploughed up by torrents during the rainy season, which wash
away their softer parts, and leave single rocks of four or five
feet diameter standing in the centre. The difficulty for¬
merly experienced in penetrating these mountain passes
was very great. In 1791, when the Bombay army was ad¬
vancing to the Mysore through the Poodicherrim pass, it
required two days to draw up twenty light field-pieces two
miles, and three weeks to bring up the other artillery to the
top of the Ghauts. (e. t.)
GHAZEEPORE, a town of Hindustan, and the capital
of the district of the same name, situated within the juris¬
diction of the lieutenant-governor of the north-western pro¬
vinces. The town is built on the left bank of the Ganges,
which is here crossed by ferry, and, according to Bishop
Hebei’, is as wide as the Hooghly in the vicinity of Cal¬
cutta. At the eastern extremity of the town is the palace
of Meer Cossim Ali, the Nawaub of Bengal, who rendered
himself infamous by the massacre of his British prisoners
The building is at present a custom-house, its numerous
apartments being converted into store-rooms and habita¬
tions for the guards and officials. At the west end of the
town are the military cantonments; and in their vicinity is
the cenotaph monument to Lord Cornwallis, who died here
in 1805. A government stud is maintained close to the
town, and the races annually held here are reckoned among
the best in India. According to the census of 1853, the
population of the town amounts to 38,573.
The district, of which this town is the chief place, em¬
braces an area of 2181 square miles. It is one of the
most fertile districts in India, remarkably well supplied with
w ater, being bounded and traversed by several noble rivers,
among which are the Ganges, Goggra, Karamnassa, and
Tons. Besides grain of all kinds, it produces cotton and
sugar, as well as opium and very fine indigo; and it has long
600 G H E
Ghee been celebrated for its attar of roses and rose water. The
entire population is returned at 1,596,324, of whom
Ghent. ],438,085 are Hindus and 158,239 Mohammedans. Gha-
zeepore, with other territory, was ceded to the East India
Company in 1775 by the Vizier of Oude. The town of
Ghazeepore is in Lat. 25. 32., Long. 83. 39. (e. t.)
GHEE, a kind of butter much used by the natives of
India. It is prepared by boiling fresh-drawn milk (gene¬
rally that of buffaloes) in earthen pots for an hour or more,
and adding, after it has cooled, a little curdled milk called
tyre, in order to promote its coagulation. When this pro¬
cess is completed, the curdled mass is churned for half
an hour, some hot water is added, and the operation of
churning continued for half an hour longer, when the but¬
ter forms. Its tendency to become rancid may be obviated
by boiling it until all the water that may be mixed with it
is evaporated, and then adding some tyre and salt, or betel
leaf, and excluding it from the air in closed jars. In this
way it may be preserved for many months. Ghee is an
article of considerable commercial importance in many parts
of India, though from its strong smell and flavour it is con¬
sidered unpalatable by Europeans.
GHEEL, a town of Belgium, province of Antwerp, 26
miles E.S.E. of the town of that name. Lunatics and idiots
are sent from all parts of Belgium to Gheel, where they are
boarded with the inhabitants, and employed in manual
occupations chiefly agricultural. In 1851 they amounted
to 931. Pop. about 7000.
Name, GHENT (in Latin Ganda, French Gand, Flemish
features, Gend, German Gent), a city of Belgium, standing on the
and aspect. rivers Scheldt and Lys, whose numerous branches tra¬
versing the town form canals in all directions, and so inter¬
sect each other as to partition the town into twenty-six
islands, which are connected by forty-two large and forty-
six small bridges. The number of fine promenades forms
another striking and pleasing feature of Ghent. Of these
the most remarkable is the Coupure, formed by rows of
trees extending along the Bruges Canal. In general the
town is well built, and occupies a larger area than most
European towns in proportion to the number of houses and
the population. The general aspect of the city, without
being highly picturesque, is very agreeable. M hen Charles
V. was recommended by the cruel Alva to raze it to the
ground on account of its rebellion, which had given him so
much trouble, he is said to have taken him to the top of
the Beffroi (Belfry Tower), and showing him the vast city
spreading out beneath, asked, “ How many skins of Spanish
leather (Alva was a Spaniard) would it take to make such
a glove (gant1') ?” thus rebuking the duke’s atrocious sugges¬
tion. And truly interesting is the prospect from this eleva-
Dimen- tion. The walls extend nearly eight miles in circumference,
sions,— inclosing a large space interspersed with gardens, or-
squares chards, and corn-fields, as well as with canals and rivers.
buildings0 ^ie number of the squares and width of the streets permit
the eye to range over more than mere roofing and chimneys.
Besides the towers and steeples of numerous churches, and
the imposing pile of the town-hall close by, in the distance
is seen the site and ruined walls of the citadel, erected by
Charles V. to overawe the rebellious citizens. Beyond this,
if we continue the survey, lies the Great Beguinage, one
of the largest nunneries in the world, with its streets and
squares ; and following the line of ramparts still further to
the left near the Coupure promenade, the Maison de Force,
a vast building resembling awheel in its ground plan, with
the prison-church steeple rising in the centre. At every
turn in Ghent the eye is arrested by the picturesque appear¬
ance of the houses and the fantastic variety of gable-ends
rising step-like, or ornamented wdth scrolls and carving.
Most of the canals are bordered with magnificent quays, and
G H E
some of them with beautiful rows of trees. The streets in Ghent,
general are wide and straight, and the greater number of
them have been modernised. Almost all the houses are
constructed on the Italian model, and are large, with ample
portes-cochers, spacious court-yards, lofty stair-cases, tall
windows, and frescoes and bas-reliefs occasionally on the
exterior. Here and there, on the quays and in the narrower
streets, are to be seen the gloomy old residences of “ The
men of Ghent,” with their sharp tilted roofs and mullioned
windows sunk deep into the walls. The most remarkable
among the numerous squares are the Marche-du-Vendredi,
where in early times the counts of Flanders were inaugu¬
rated and the trades unions used to assemble, but now the
weekly market is held ; the Kauter (the Flemish of “ field”)
or Place d’Armes, a large square within the town, planted
with trees and surrounded with large buildings, among
which are the three clubs—the military, the nobles, and the
merchants; the Plaine de St Pierre, especially used for
reviews and military exercises; the corn market, near the
centre of the town : the Place de Pharailde, near the Marche
aux Poissons, where the old turreted gateway called the
Oudeburg or ’s Gravensteen (“ the Count’s Stone,” i. e.
castle) still stands hard by ; and the Plaine des Recollets,
with its numerous elegant mansions and fine hotels. Near
the Marche-du-Vendredi is the enormous cannon, eighteen
feet long and ten in girth, and nearly three feet wide at the
mouth, formed like Mons Meg in Edinburgh Castle, and
surnamed Dulle Griete, “ Mad Margaret.”
Principal public buildings.—The Cathedral of St Bavon
(Flem. Baefs), an enormous structure, in its exterior rather
heavy, but in its internal proportions and decorations one of
the most splendid churches in Belgium. It has a large
crypt, a beautifully carved pulpit, many interesting monu¬
ments and fine paintings, and is surmounted by an elegant
tower 272 feet high. It was founded in 944 ; the choir and
crypt were rebuilt in 1228 ; and the whole was finished in
the beginning of the sixteenth century. It was at first de¬
dicated to St John; but in 1540 received the name of St
Bavon, when Charles V. caused to be removed to it the col¬
legiate chapter of the abbey of St Bavon ; and in 1560 the
church was constituted a cathedral. The choir and tran¬
septs are lined with black marble, and the balustrades are of
white or variegated marble, in the Grecian style ; but these,
though elegant, are very unfit for a Gothic church, ihe
gates of the chapels are of brass, and every vacant space is
ornamented with a painting or a statue. Ihe arms of the
knights of the Golden Fleece are affixed over the choir at a
considerable elevation. The last chapter of this order was
held here by Philip II. of Spain in 1559. Ihe high altar
is adorned with a statue of St Bavon in his ducal dress, and in
front of it are four tall copper candlesticks which belonged^ to
Charles I., and still bear the royal arms of England. The
twenty-four chapels of this cathedral contain pictures of the
highest excellence. The most ancient church in the city is
that of St Nicholas, but it is now much altered by conflagra¬
tions and repairs. Other churches worthy of mention are St
Michael’s, an elegant light structure on the bank of the Lys,
in the centre of the city; the parish church oi St James, and
many others, some of which are very ancient, and mostly all
contain pictures and sculptures of great excellence. I he only
Protestant place of worship is the English church, on the
Braband Dam. The university of Ghent is an elegant
modern edifice, with a noble Corinthian portico after the
model of the Pantheon at Rome, and founded by W illiam
I., king of Holland, in 1826. The museum of natural his¬
tory is extensive, but it has no collections of any remark¬
able excellence. The library contains upwards of 60,000
volumes, and the number of students averages 350. Not
far from the Beffroi stands the Hotel-de-Ville, with two
1 Combien il fallait de peaux d’Espagne pour faire un gant de cette grandeur ?
GHENT. 601
Ghent, facades in totally different styles of architecture, having
V—' been built at intervals between 1480 and 1620, according
to several different plans. The Beffroi or Belfry Tower,
which originally served as a watch-tower, and contained
the tocsin-bell, is one of the most ancient buildings in the
town, and dates from a.d. 1182. To be allowed to erect
a belfry was one of the earliest privileges obtained by the
citizens of Ghent, hence they long regarded this tower
as a monument of their power and wealth. The gilt
dragon-weathercock on the top of it was a trophy brought
from Bruges in 1382, on the conquest of that town by the
men of Ghent under Philip van Artevelde.
Manufac- The cotton manufacture is extensively carried on in Ghent,
ture and employing about L.1,800,000 of capital, engaging upwards
trade. 20,000 persons, and annually producing about 1,000,000
pieces of plain and printed calicoes. Sugar-refining is also
extensively carried on. The other important manufactures
are common and table linens, flannels, serges, woollen cloths,
silks, ribbons, lace, thread, hosiery, wax-cloth, oil, chemicals,
armour, mathematical, physical, and surgical instruments,
hardware, bronze and crystal, carriages, paper, tobacco,
blue, starch, delft, &c. The important branches of trade
are in corn, oil, seeds, Flemish linens, and wine. About
20,000 pieces of linen are exposed for sale every Friday,
and the annual fairs are very numerously frequented, besides
the horse fairs held in Mid-Lent and on 23d July. The
Govern- great general fair is held in August. The governor of the
ment. province resides in Ghent, which is also the seat of a tri¬
bunal of first resort, as well as of a court of appeal, which
has jurisdiction over all the province of Flanders. Ghent
also gives title to a bishop, and is the headquarters of the
first of the four divisions of the army of Belgium.
The Casino, whose destination is social, literary, and
scientific, is a handsome building standing near the Cou-
pure. The new theatre, in the corner of the Place d’Armes,
is a fine erection, containing magnificent concert and ball
rooms, and cost the town L.1,000,000. Besides these
public buildings may be named, as worthy of notice, the
Palais de Justice and the post-office. The modern citadel
is situated on Mont Blandin, at the end of the elevated
ground on which the western part of the city stands. It
commands the course of the Scheldt and the Lys, and is
one of the chain of fortresses defending the Belgian fron¬
tier. Ghent communicates with the sea by the Ternuzen
Canal, a grand canal which enters the Scheldt at Terneuse.
This confers on the city all the advantages of a sea¬
port; vessels drawing seventeen feet water can unload
in the basin under its w'alls; and at Sas van Gend, fif¬
teen miles north of the city, there are sluices by means
of which the whole country could be laid under water.
The railways from Ostend to Liege and Brussels, and
from Amiens to Amsterdam through Antwerp, pass through
Ghent.
History. The origin of Ghent is uncertain. Tradition ascribes it
to the Vandals, who, in their irruption into Belgium, built
a fort, named from them Vanda, afterwards changed into
Ganda, whence Gandavum Castrum, which seems to be
borne out by the existence of a fort on the left bank of the
Scheldt, within Ghent, still bearing the name of Vande-
laers Kasteel (Vandal’s Castle). In the seventh century it
is first mentioned as a town, but seems not to have acquired
much importance till the twelfth, when its fortifications
w'ere completed, and it occupied only the space between the
Scheldt and the Lys. At the end of the thirteenth century,
however, it had become nearly as large as at present, so
large indeed as in some measure to justify the pun of Charles
V.—Je mettrais Paris dans man Gand (gant). About
630 a.d., Dagobert sent St Amand to Ghent to convert
its inhabitants from paganism. This saint founded twro
monasteries in honour of St Peter—one on St Peter’s
Mount, and the other near the Antwerp Gate. In process
VOL. x.
of time the second of these monasteries became richly en- Ghent,
dowed by some of the wealthier converts, among whom
was one St Bavon, whose name became attached to this
part of the city as well as to the abbey, of which some parts
of the ruins may still be seen. Baldwin Ironarm, first Count
of Flanders, built a fortress at Ghent, which was called
’s Gravensteen (Count’s Castle); and he as well as his suc¬
cessors encouraged persons skilled in manufactures, especially
of linen and woollen. The Flemish nobles, about the end
of the twelfth century, sold their possessions to their vassals
in order to have the means of equipping themselves for the
crusades. By this means the vassals became enfranchised;
and the inhabitants of the Flemish towns, at the same time,
having already become wealthy by their extending trade
and improving manufactures, were enabled to purchase im¬
portant commercial and political privileges, which were the
foundation of the wonderful prosperity and liberty enjoyed
by these communities during the middle ages. It was under
these favourable circumstances that the “Men of Ghent”
established their form of municipal government. They
adopted a public seal, established a court of justice, elected
sheriffs, joined the association of the Hanse Towns, and
obtained the free navigation of the Rhine from the empe¬
ror Frederick I. In 1180 Ghent obtained a charter from
Count Baldwin of Hainault, with great privileges, and be¬
came the capital of Flanders. Under these favourable
circumstances so rapidly did Ghent increase in wealth and
population, that by the end of the thirteenth century it sur¬
passed the capital of France. At the commencement of
the fifteenth century, in time of war, Ghent furnished
20,000 armed men, and had upwards of 40,000 engaged in
the woollen manufactures alone. And many were the
proofs furnished by the artizans and manufacturers of
Ghent that these peaceful occupations in nowise diminished
their valour. With increasing wealth and free institutions
they waxed turbulent, and being led on by Jacques van
Artevelde and his son Phillip (1332-1382), they raised
frequent insurrections against the counts of Flanders,
and during the succeeding century against the dukes of
Burgundy. To this unfortunate spirit of turbulence and
dissension, however, not only the city of Ghent but other
large Flemish towns must trace their subsequent decline.
Charles V. w;as born here in 1500, and eighteen years after¬
wards succeeded to the most extensive monarchy that had
existed in Europe since the time of Charlemagne. The
site of the palace in which he was born is now occupied by
the Cour des Princes, a recently formed street. During his
reign the city had a population of 175,000, inhabiting 35,000
houses. In 1557 Maria the sister of Charles V., who then
governed the Netherlands, demanded from Flanders an ex¬
traordinary subsidy of 1,200,000 gold florins, of which Ghent
was to raise one-third; but the inhabitants having already
been heavily taxed in order to aid the emperor in his war
with France, refused to comply with this new demand, and
attempted resistance, but were immediately reduced to sub¬
mission. The sad consequence of this ineffectual attempt
on the part of the citizens was that Charles V. deprived
them of all their valuable privileges, besides confiscating
the property of many of the leaders in the revolt, and con¬
demning others to death. Not only so, but above all
this the citizens had to pay for the erection of a citadel to
keep them in bondage. On the formation of the confede¬
ration for the expulsion of the Spaniards from the Nether¬
lands, a congress was convened in Ghent; and the document
known as “ the Pacification of Ghent” was publicly signed
by the confederates met in the Town-Hall, Nov. 8, 1576.
Three days after, the Spanish garrison in the citadel capitu¬
lated to the citizens. Though this citadel was afterwards
nearly destroyed (1584), yet parts of it may still be seen near
the railway station towards the east of the city. But again,
unfortunately, did Ghent submit to the Spanish dominion
4 G
602
G H I
Ghiberti.
Gheriah by signing the capitulation of Sept. 17? 1584. On this
disastrous occasion one-third of the inhabitants left the
town, and the citadel was rebuilt. The Belgian provinces
in 1598 were severed from the dominion of Spain in favour
of Isabella, daughter of Phillip II., wife of Albert, son of
the emperor of Germany. After a siege of six days, Louis
XIV., in 1678, took Ghent. Under the French, as well
as afterwards during the campaigns of the Duke of Marl¬
borough and the commotions of the French Revolution, it
suffered much ; but the advantages of its position, as well
as the intelligence and industry of its citizens, seem to ren¬
der it superior to all calamities. From 1792 till the over¬
throw of the power of Napoleon, Ghent was the capital of
the department of the Scheldt. In 1814 Flanders became
part of the kingdom of the Netherlands; and the same
year the treaty of peace was signed here between Great
Britain and the United States of North America, which
put an end to the revolutionary war. In 1815, on
the return of Napoleon from Elba, Louis XVIII. took
refuge in Ghent; and in the revolution of 1830, this city
with the rest of Flanders was comprised in the new king¬
dom of Belgium. The city seems now as prosperous as
ever, and is increasing in population as well as in all the
elements of wealth and power.
Ghent stands in Lat. 51. 3. 12. N., and Long. 3.43. 51. E.,
at the intersection of the railways connecting Lille with
Antwerp, and Ostend with Malines, from which towns it is
respectively distant 42, 32, 38, and 33 miles. The popu¬
lation in 1851 wras 106,704.
GHERIAH, a fortress of Hindustan, in the south of
India, on a rocky promontory in the southern Concan,
about one mile long, and a quarter of a mile broad. It is
joined to the main land by a narrow neck of land ; and lies
about a mile from the entrance of a capacious harbour,
formed by the mouth of a river which descends from the
Western Ghauts. It was taken possession of by the Mah-
rattas in the seventeenth century; and in 1707 Conajee
Angria had established an independent sovereignty here,
and possessed a numerous piratical fleet. The depreda¬
tions of these pirates drew on them the vengeance of the
British; and in 1756 Angria’s fleet was destroyed by
Admiral Watson and Colonel Clive. Gheriah having sur¬
rendered, it was given up to the Peishwa under the treaty
concluded in the same year with the Mahrattas; and upon
the overthrow of that potentate in 1818 the place escheated
to the British with the rest of his dominions. Distant south
from Bombay 170 miles. Lat. 16. 32., Long. 73. 22. (e.t.)
GHIBELIN, the name of a celebrated faction in Italy,
which was opposed to that of the Guelphs. Their origin
is involved in some obscurity ; but according to the gene¬
rality of authors they arose about the year 1240, upon the
excommunication of the emperor Frederick II. by pope
Gregory IX. The Ghibelins were in favour of the emperor,
while the Guelphs adhered to the pope. Authors are at
variance respecting the precise date and cause of their
origin. Maimbourg says that they arose in consequence of
a quarrel between two ancient and illustrious houses on the
confines of Germany—that of the Henris of Gibeling, and
that of the Guelphs of Adorf. However this may be, their
feuds long distracted Italy, so that the history of that
country for the space of several centuries is little more than
a detail of their mutual violence and slaughter. For further
particulars see Italy, and Guelphs.
GHIBERTI, Lorenzo, an Italian sculptor, whose life
marks an era in the history of modern art. He was a native
of Florence, but it is not known in what year he was born.
Vasari assigns his birth to the year 1380 ; but some original
documents brought to light by Baldinucci place it two years
earlier. While still very young, Ghiberti was taught draw¬
ing and the arts of modelling and casting metals by his
step-father Bartoluccio, a goldsmith. The goldsmiths of
G II I
Florence were at this time highly celebrated. He is be- Ghilan.
lieved to have afterwards received lessons in painting from v--
Starnina, which he turned to account by painting a fresco
in the Malatesta palace at Rimini, when compelled to leave
Florence by the plague which devastated that city at the
end of the fourteenth century. His success in this effort
tempted him into the study of the pictorial art, when a
circumstance occurred which gave him the opportunity of
proving himself the first sculptor of his own day, and one
of the most remarkable of all times. The Society of Mer¬
chants of Florence opened a competition for a pair of bronze
doors for the Baptistery of St John’s, to rival those erected
about half a century before by the famous Andrea Pisano.
Artists from all parts of Italy entered the lists, and seven
were finally chosen to make trial of their skill, among whom
were Brunelleschi, Donatello, and Ghiberti. Each of these
artists was allowed a large fee and his expenses for an
entire year, at the end of which period he was to present a
panel of gilt bronze representing in bas-relief the sacrifice
of Isaac. On the trial day the judges and competitors were
unanimous in awarding the palm to Ghiberti, who, when
he began his work, was invited by his employ ex's to spai’e
neither time nor expense in turning out a work worthy of
his own genius and of the state. The gates, when finished,
contained twenty panels, each with a relief representing
some Scripture subject, and were pronounced by Michaed
Angelo as worthy to be the gates of Paradise. Some of
the best of modern critics have denied that these gates
are in all respects superior to those of Andrea Pisano, ad*
mitting indeed that they display greater invention and a^
higher skill, but pronouncing them inferior on the score of
simplicity and correctness. Another objection is that the
designs have been conceived rather in the spirit of painting
than of sculpture, and that the artist’s endeavour to repre¬
sent perspective by various degrees of relief is wrong, in so far
as the outermost figures cast shadows on those immediately
behind them, though these inner figures are intended to be
a considei'able distance fi'om the former. These defects,
however, detract but little from the intrinsic merit of Ghi¬
berti’s masterpieces. These doors were set up in 1424 ; and
four years later he received a commission to execute two
others in a still richer style. This second engagement
occupied eighteen or twenty years. It was not till 1446
that he completed his task. Some of Ghiberti’s other
bi’onzes are worthy of special notice, sxxch as his statues of
Saints John, Matthew, and Stephen in the church of Or-
San-Michele at Florence, and the shi’ine of St Zenobius
in the cathedral of that city. Ghiberti practised success¬
fully some of the other branches of art, particularly that oi
painting on glass. Some of the finest windows in the cathe-
di-al and other churches of his native city wei'e his handi¬
work. The exact date of Ghiberti’s death is unknown.
His will bears the date of 1455, and as he was at that time
seventy-seven years of age, it is not likely that he long sur¬
vived.
GHILAN, a province of Pei’sia, lying along the h.W.
shore of the Caspian Sea. It is bounded on the N.E. by
the Caspian, S.E. by the pi’ovince of Mazaunderan, S. by
Irak-Ajemi, W. by Azerbijan, and N. by the Russian dis¬
trict of Talish. It is about 120 miles in length by 50
in breadth, being between 36. 25. and 37, 45. N. Lat.,
and between 48. 35. and 50. 47. E. Long : area, estimated
at 5000 square miles. This is one of the most beautiful
of the Pei'sian pi’ovinces, being covered with lofty moun¬
tains and magnificent forests, forming a striking conti'ast to
the parched plains of the rest of Persia. In many places,
however, it is swampy and unhealthy. It is hemmed in on
the S. and W. by the Elburz range of mountains, which
rises to the height of from 6000 to 9000 feet, and can be
crossed only by extremely steep and difficult passes. Ihe
interior and much of the coast line ai*e intei'sected by morasses
G H X
Ghirlan- and thickly covered with forests of oak, boxwood, mulberry,
daio and walnut trees. The only river of importance is the
Jl . Kezil-Oozen, which descends from the Elburz mountains
izn1', with the rapidity of a torrent, and flows with a meandering
course through Ghilan to the Caspian. The soil is fertile,
yielding abundantly rice, wheat, hemp, hops, and many
kinds of fruit, as lemons, oranges, peaches, grapes, and
pomegranates. Silk, however, is the most celebrated of
the productions of this province, and constitutes the prin¬
cipal employment of the inhabitants. It is annually exported
in great quantities to Irak, Ears, Kerman, and Russia.
Ghilan was ceded by Persia to Russia in 1724, taken by
Catherine in 1780, and restored to Persia in 1797.
GHIRLANDAIO. See Corradi, and Painting.
GHIZNI, an ancient and celebrated town and fortress
of Afghanistan, on the western extremity of a range of
hills running east and west, and rising a moderate height
above the plain. As the plain itself lies very high, the site
has an elevation of 7726 feet above the sea. The shape of
the whole inclosed fortress is nearly an irregular square, and
the total circuit is about a mile and a quarter. The face
of the rock on which the walls are built is about 35 feet
high and scarped nearly perpendicularly: the walls are
about the same height, so that the parapet is 70 feet above
the ditch. This wall is flanked by numerous towers, and
surrounded by a fausse-braye. A wet ditch runs along the
bottom of the steep on which the wall is built, and obtains
a supply of water from the river of Ghizni, which flows
round the western angle and is crossed by two bridges.
The citadel in the north of the town is an irregular square,
with a magazine in the west quarter, and a granary in the
east. Three miles to the N.E. of Ghizni are the ruins of
the old city, destroyed in the middle of the twelfth century
by the prince of Ghoor. Amidst the destruction which
overtook nearly all besides, the conqueror spared the tomb
of the renowned Mahmood of Ghizni, the ruler of Persia,
Turkestan, Afghanistan, and a considerable part of India.
The tomb is a rude structure, consisting of an oblong cham¬
ber 36 feet long and 18 wide, with a mud cupola. The
grave-stone is of marble, covered with inscriptions, and is
highly polished—the result of being handled by numerous
visitors during several centuries. The interior is hung with
ostrich eggs, peacock feathers, and other trumpery. The
apartment in which repose the relics of the mighty victor
was, previously to the British invasion, closed by the gates
which it is believed he triumphantly removed from the
temple of Somnath in Guzerat. These gates, to which an
undue importance has been attributed by Christian, Hindoo,
and Mussulman, are of sandal wood, 18 feet high, each 5
feet broad and 3 inches thick, very beautifully carved in
tasteful arabesques. As Mahmood is said to have removed
these gates in 1024, they must, in this view, be above 800
years old, yet they are still in perfect preservation. In
1842, when the British under General Nott dismantled
Ghizni, they carried off these gates with the view of re¬
storing them to their original place in the temple at Pattan
in Guzerat. Probably the earliest authentic notice which
history affords of Ghizni is of the date 976, when it was
made the seat of government by Abustakeen, an adventurer
of Bokhara. He was, after a short interval, succeeded by
Subuctageen, the father of the renowned Mahmood the
destroyer. Few pursued the career of conquest with more
perseverance or success than Mahmood, whose empire ex¬
tended from the Tigris to the Ganges, and from the Indian
Ocean to the Oxus. It fell to pieces on his death ; and in
1151 his capital Ghizni was stormed by Allahudeen, Prince
of Ghoor, who massacred the inhabitants on the spot, with
the exception of those of rank, w'hom he conveyed to
Ghoor, and there butchered, using their blood to moisten
the mortar with which he constructed his fortifications.
From that period Ghizni ceased to be independent; and at
G I A 603
the time of the British invasion it was held by a garrison of Ghoor
3000 men, under the command of Mahomed Hyder Khan, ||
son of Dost Mahomed Khan. On the 23d of July 1839 it Giannone.
was stormed by the British army, amounting to 4863 men,
commanded by Sir John Keane: 514 of the garrison were
killed, 1500 prisoners taken, with a loss on the part of the
captors of only 17 killed. In place of the tedious process
of breaching, for which the assailants were but ill prepared,
Captain Thomson, of the Bengal Engineers, undertook to
blow in one of the gates with gunpowder. An opening
was thus made for the entrance of the storming party, who
after a severe struggle within the town succeeded in plant¬
ing the British colours on the citadel. In 1842 Ghizni was
surrendered by the British garrison to the Afghans; and
shortly after, in the same year, it was retaken by the army
under General Nott, by whom it was dismantled and imme¬
diately evacuated. Lat. 33. 34., Long. 68. 18. (e. t.)
GHOOR, Ghore, or Ghour, a large district of Afghan¬
istan, situated between the 35th and 37th degrees of N.
Lat., and the 67th and 69th degrees of E. Long. This was
formerly one of the Persian governments; but in the 12th
century its chiefs became independent, overturned the Ghiz-
nian empire, and carried their arms as far as Benares. One
of their slaves, named Cuttub, founded the Mohammedan
kingdom of Delhi about 1206. This country was overrun
in the 13th and 14th centuries by the armies of Genghis
Khan and Tamerlane, and it is now in possession of the
Usbec Tartars. The Ghory tribe, being of pastoral habits,
have emigrated to the vicinity of Peshawur, and are now
subdivided into three tribes. Its chief towns are Ghoor and
Firoy Koh. Ghoor is the name of the capital, and was once
the residence of a long line of sovereigns. It was taken
by the king of Kharezm, and was subsequently sacked by
the armies of Genghis and Tamerlane, from which it has
never recovered, and is now’ scarcely known. Long. 67.
48. E., Lat. 35. 45. N.
GHOST. See Apparitions.
GIANNONE (in Latin Jannonius), Pietro, a cele¬
brated Neapolitan writer and historian, was born at Ischi-
tella, a small town in the province of Capitanata. Having
acquired the elements of a liberal education under the pa¬
ternal roof, he was sent by his father, at the age of eighteen,
to Naples, there to complete his studies, and particularly to
study jurisprudence. Being placed under the immediate
tuition of the learned Dominico Aulisio, he applied himself
with great ardour to the study of jurisprudence on philoso¬
phical principles, and soon gave proofs of his capacity for
investigating and illustrating the sources of that science by
several learned dissertations De Originibus Juris. Llis in¬
quiries, however, having disclosed to him much respecting
the origin and mutations of laws, and the vicissitudes of na¬
tions, which had escaped the penetration of ordinary juris¬
consults, he conceived the design, with the approbation of
Argento, of writing a civil history of the kingdom of Naples,
comprehending an account of the origin and progress of its
laws and government, and an exposition of the causes which
led to the gradual abolition of ancient customs and institu¬
tions. But this work, interrupted from time to time by the
affairs of the bar, was not completed until after the lapse of
twenty years, and only appeared in 1723, under the title of
Istoria Civile del Regno di Napoli, in four volumes 4to.
Giannone took as his guide Angelo di Costanzo, whose
history of Naples, which was then accounted the best, he
almost entirely transfused into his work; but his distin¬
guishing merit consists in the valuable expositions he has
given relative to the ecclesiastical and civil constitution,
and to the laws and customs of the kingdom. Although
the style is neither correct nor elegant, the philosophical
spirit, the erudition, and the profound research, which this
history exhibits, secured it a high reputation. The freedom
with which he treated ecclesiastics generally, and the bold-
604 G I A
Giannone. ness with which he discussed several topics relating to the
origin of the papal power, raised a storm against him, which
neither the authority of the viceroy, Cardinal Althann, nor
the credit of the municipality of Naples, of which he had
been elected advocate, could allay, or even mitigate. “ I
know not, indeed,” said Argento, when speaking to him on
this subject, “ whether I should congratulate you or con¬
dole with you ; for I very much fear lest the crown of laurel
which now encircles your brows should become a crown of
thorns.” Having been several times insulted by the popu¬
lace, and at length excommunicated by the archiepiscopal
court, Giannone, seeing his work placed in the index ex-
purgatorius, left Naples on the 29th of April 1723, and
went to seek an asylum at Vienna. The Emperor Charles
VI. regarded him at first with an unfavourable eye ; but the
protection of such men as Prince Eugene, the Chancellor
Zinzendorf, the celebrated Count de Bonneval, and the
Chevalier Garelli, first physician to the emperor, procured
him a pension of a hundred florins on the secretaryship of
Sicily. During his stay at Vienna, where he enjoyed the
favour of the great and of men of letters, he laboured at a
work entitled II Triregno, ossia del regno del Cielo, della
Terra, e del Papa, which occupied him nearly twelve years,
and to which he only put the last touches at Geneva. This
work, in which man is successively represented in the state
of nature, under the law of grace, and under the temporal
dominion of the popes, comprehends ten epochs, the first
three of which extend to the ninth century; but the re¬
mainder has not been completed. Don Carlos having
ascended the throne of Naples and of Sicily in 1734, Gian¬
none lost his pension and all his hopes. Being constrained
to quit Vienna, he retired to Venice, where he was received
with every mark of distinction. He refused the appoint¬
ment of counsellor of the republic, and the chair of Roman
law in the university of Padua, ingenuously confessing that
he was not in a condition to explain the laws in the Latin
language, according to the usage of the schools. But the
repose which he hoped to enjoy at Venice was not of long
duration. Denounced as unfavourable to the pretensions
of the republic over the Adriatic, he endeavoured to avert
the storm by publishing a Lettera intorno al dominio del
mare Adriatico ed ai trattati seguiti in Venezia tra Papa
Alessandro III. e VImperador Federigo Barbarossa ; but
as the state inquisitors had taken umbrage at the prolonged
visits paid by him to the ambassadors of France and Spain,
his removal was decided on, and, in the night ot the 23d
September 1735, sbirri seized and conducted him in a small
boat to the frontiers of the territory of Ferrara. The ap¬
prehension of still greater misfortunes now induced him to
change his name to that of Antonio Rinaldo, under which
be sojourned at Modena, Milan, and Turin, and arrived
with his son at Geneva on the 5th of December. His re¬
putation, which had preceded him in different cities, pro¬
cured him in the last-mentioned place the most satisfactory
reception on the part of Dr Turretin, the minister Vernet,
and the bookseller Bousquet, who furnished him with the
means of living at his ease. In 1736 he was preparing to
print a volume of supplement to his history, when, having
been conducted by a perfidious friend to pass Easter in a
catholic village belonging to the king of Sardinia, he was
arrested by order of that sovereign, and his manuscripts
were seized and sent to Rome. He was himself conducted
to the castle of Miolan, and thence to the fort of Ceva. Af¬
terwards, his Sardinian majesty ordered him to be trans¬
ferred to the citadel of Turin, where he passed twelve con¬
secutive years in trouble and agitation. It was in this for¬
tress that, giving ear to the persuasions of Father Prever
of the Oratory, Giannone retracted, on the 4th April 1738,
the maxims in his history which had been condemned. But
this submission did not procure him his liberty ; for he died
in prison on the 7th of March 1758, aged seventy-two years.
G I A
In 1760 his posthumous works were published at Lausanne,
in one volume 4to, under the title of Opere Postume in
difesa della sua Storia. civile del regno di Napoli, con la
di lui professione di fede. The History of Giannone was
translated into French by Louis Bochat of Lausanne ; and
among the re-impressions of the work may be distinguished
that which appeared with illustrations by the Abbe Cestari.
It has been highly commended by Gibbon in his Extraits
de mon Journal (Miscellaneous Works, vol. v., p. 413, 8vo
ed.). “ The candour, penetration, and freedom of this ex¬
cellent lawyer,” says he, “ will ever ensure to this work the
esteem of all wise men. But,” he adds, “ churchmen are
not always of the number.” In the number of the refuta¬
tions which have appeared, it is only necessary to mention
the Riflessioni morali e teologiche sopra VIstoria civile
del regno di Napoli, by Eusebio Filopatro (Father San-
Felice, a Jesuit), in two volumes 4to, an extract of which
may be seen in the Memoires de Trevoux for January
1730. (Fabroni, Vitce Italorum, vol. xiii. v. Petrus Jan-
nonius—Biog. Univ.) (j. b—e.)
GIANT, a person of extraordinary stature. The word is
derived from gig as, the Latinized form of the Greek ytyas,
which is probably made up of yiveoftai and yij = yyyevrj?, thus
signifying “ the earth-born,” in allusion to classical fable.
In the Old Testament the appellation of giant is bestowed
upon various races of men ; but it is generally supposed to
have reference to violence and strength rather than to actual
stature. It nevertheless seems evident that the Anakim
and some other tribes denominated giants were also re¬
markable for their comparative stature, in the same way
probably that particular races at the present day are dis¬
tinguished from others by their superior strength and pro¬
portions. Of the existence of individual giants of great
size, the particulars related of Og and Goliath leave no
room for doubt; but such instances may properly be re¬
garded as extraordinary deviations from the standard pro¬
portions, of which there have occurred examples more or
less remarkable in all ages, even down to our own times.
It is a current opinion in ancient authors generally that the
primitive races of men greatly surpassed others in stature;
and at an early period, under favourable circumstances,
individuals and even tribes may have attained an unusual
stature. It would seem that the possibility of a race of
giants, comparatively speaking, cannot wTell be denied, since
there is a known tendency in the human frame to perpetu¬
ate peculiarities which have been once evolved. The inha¬
bitants of Potsdam, for example, who are descended to a
great extent from the famous regiment of tall grenadiers
which Frederick of Prussia took so much pains to bring
together, are still remarkable, it appears, for exceeding the
average height. But apart from such considerations, many
things concur to show that the average size of the human
race never differed materially from what it is at present.
We have evidence of this in the remains of human beings
found in tombs; and the mummies of Egypt attest that the
people of that country two or three thousand years ago were
not superior in size to its present inhabitants. To the same
effect may be adduced the size of ancient armour, architec¬
tural dimensions, and the measures of length derived from
the human form which have been transmitted to us from
antiquity. Such ancient writers as are free from the influ¬
ence of fable are found to give a concurrent testimony.
That great diversity as to height and size prevails in the
human family is well known. The inhabitants of northern
latitudes are below the ordinary standard, many of them
scarcely exceeding four feet; while in temperate climates
the height of the human race ranges from four feet and a
half to six feet; and instances are not wanting of indivi¬
duals who have measured eight or even nine feet. (See
Prichard’s Ilistorg of Mankind, and Lawrence’s Lectures
on Man.)
Giant.
G I A
G I A
605
Giant’s Some writers, among whom is Maclaurin, have attempted
Causeway, to demonstrate mathematically the impossibility of the ex-
^ istence of giants exceeding certain dimensions, dependent
on the limits of the strength of materials ; but it is evident
that arguments of this kind are not necessarily conclusive,
because a great increase of stature might be attended with
a proportional increase of strength in the constituent parts
of the body. But again, the difference that does exist in
this respect in the bones and other parts of animals, though
considerable, is not found to be so great as to favour the
supposition of the possibility of excessive deviation from the
ordinary standard. Strabo makes mention of the skeleton
of a giant sixty cubits in height, and Pliny tells us of an¬
other of forty-six cubits. The progress of comparative
anatomy has done much to dispel the errors that have been
propagated on the subject of giants; and there is now little
danger of the bones of fossil elephants, whales, and other
large animals being mistaken, as they so frequently have
been, for those of human beings. It is a curious fact that
Buffon, in his great work, has figured and described the
bones of an elephant as human remains. In not a few
instances have the dimensions of supposed giants been cal¬
culated from a single bone or a few teeth ; and on such data
the imagination would find little difficulty in rearing a super¬
structure sufficiently astounding. Kircher (de Mundo Sub-
terraneo, viii. 4) exposes an instance of this kind with
regard to the body of the giant so minutely described by
Boccaccio as found in the fourteenth century in a cave
near Trapani in Sicily. It was reported to be 200 cubits
in length, and a single tooth was said to weigh 100 ounces ;
but when Kircher visited the place he was shown no other
remains than the teeth, which probably were those of a
mastodon. This author has given a comparative scale of
five reputed giants, in which Goliath (whose height has
been variously estimated from about 8 feet to 11) scarcely
overtops the ankle of the giant of Trapani.
GIANT’S Causeway, a vast collection of columnar ba¬
salt in the county of Antrim, on the northern coast of Ire¬
land. It is divided into the Little, the Middle, and the
Large or Grand Causeways, divided from each other by
whin-dykes, composed of amorphous basalt. The Grand
Causeway consists of a most regular arrangement of innu¬
merable polygonal columns of basalt, almost all of a hexa¬
gonal figure ; one, however, has been found with only three
sides, and several with nine. Though the polygons are
somewhat irregular, the faces of the adjacent pillars are
equal, and fit so compactly, that although perfectly distinct
from top to bottom, no space is unoccupied, and water will
lodge in the cavities until it evaporates, without any portion
sinking between the columns. Each pillar is perfect in it¬
self, consisting of articulations, the internodes of which vary
from a few inches to some feet; sometimes the concavity,
sometimes the convexity is uppermost, in some instances
both ends are concave, in others both convex, but the joints
of the separate portions of the columns are always accu¬
rately adjusted to each other. The diameter of the pil¬
lars is as various as their length and figure, but the general
measurement is from 15 to 20 inches. The columns are of
an unequal height and breadth ; some of the highest, visible
above the surface of the strand, and at the foot of the im¬
pending angular precipice, are about 20 feet. How deep
they are fixed in the strand has not been discovered. This
grand arrangement extends nearly 200 yards, visible at low
water, but how far beyond is uncertain. The breadth of
the principal causeway, which runs out in one continued
range of columns, is in general from 20 to 30 feet; at one
or two places it may for a few yards be nearly 40. In this
account are not included the broken and scattered pieces
of the same kind of construction which are detached from
the sides of the Grand Causeway, as they do not appear to
have ever been contiguous to the principal arrangement,
though they have frequently been taken into account when Giant’s
estimating the width. The highest part of the causeway is Causeway,
the narrowest. The columns of this narrow part incline
from the perpendicular a little to the westward, and form a
slope on their tops, by which an ascent is made at the foot
of the cliff, from the head of one column to the next above,
gradatim, to the top of the great causeway, which, at the
distance of half a dozen yards from the cliff, obtains a per¬
pendicular position, and, lowering in its general height,
widens to between 20 and 30 feet, and for nearly 100 yards
is always above water. The tops of the columns for this
length being nearly of an equal height, they form a grand
and singular parade, rather inclining to the water’s edge,
but easily walked on. Below high-water mark the platform
lowers considerably, and becomes more uneven, so that a
firm footing can only be maintained with difficulty. At the
distance of about 150 yards from the cliff it turns a little to
the eastward for 20 or 30 yards, and then sinks into the sea.
The Little Causeway is first approached from the sea,, next
comes the Middle Causeway, which is commonly called the
Honeycomb by the local guides; but the chief object of
attraction is the Grand Causeway, which is formed of the
upper surface of the first or lowest range of columnar basalt
laid bare. The ends of the pillars may be distinctly traced
both on the east and west sides of the causeway resting on
the ochre bed, upon a concave depression of which the whole
causeway probably stands, so that in the centre only are
the columns perpendicular to the horizon, those at the ex¬
tremities leaning over towards the middle. The causeway,
properly so called, consists of three piers or moles jutting
out into the sea, the greater being visible to the extent of
300 yards at low water, the other two not more than half
that distance.
The cliffs connected with the causeway, especially in the
bay to the eastward, exhibit in many places the same kind
of columns, shaped and jointed in all respects like those
of the Grand Causeway. Some of them are seen near the
top of the cliffs, which in general, in those bays to the east
and west of the causeway, range from 140 to 390 feet in
height; others again are observed about midway, and at dif¬
ferent elevations from the strand. A very considerable ex¬
posure of them is seen in the very bottom of the bay to the
eastward,about lOOroods from the causeway, where the earth
has evidently fallen away from them upon the strand, and
exhibits a most curious arrangement of many of these poly¬
gonal columns in a perpendicular position, supporting in
appearance a cliff of different strata of earth, clay, rock, &c.
to the height of about 130 feet or more above. Some of
these columns are between 30 and 40 feet high, from the
top to the sloping bank below them ; and, being longest in
the middle of the arrangement, and shortening on either
hand, they have obtained the appellation of organs, from a
rude likeness in this particular to the exterior or frontal
tubes of that instrument. The most remarkable of these
cliffs is the Pleaskin, the summit of which is covered with
a thin grassy sod, under which lies the natural basaltic rock,
having generally a hard surface, somewhat cracked and
shivered. At the depth of 10 or 12 feet from the summit
this rock begins to assume a columnar shape, and forms a
range of massy pillars of basalt, which stand perpendicular
to the horizon, presenting in the sharp face of the promon¬
tory the appearance of a magnificent gallery or colonnade,
upwards of 60 feet in height. This colonnade is supported
on a solid base of coarse black amygdaloid, nearly 60 feet
thick, with many of the cavities empty; but though com¬
paratively irregular, it may be plainly observed to affect a
peculiar figure, tending in many places to run into regular
forms, resembling the shooting of salts and many other sub¬
stances during a hasty crystallization. Under this great
bed of stone stands a second range of pillars between 40
and 50 feet in height, less gross and more sharply defined
606 G I A
Giaour than those of the upper story ; many of them, on a close
II view, emulating even the neatness of the columns in the
Gibbon. Gjant’s Causeway. This lower range is borne on a layer
"'—‘v—^ of red ochre, which serves as a relief to show it to great
advantage. These two admirable natural galleries, together
with the adjacent mass of irregular rock, form a perpendi¬
cular height of 170 feet; from the base of which the pro¬
montory, covered over with rock and grass, slopes down
to the sea for the space of 200 feet more, making in all a
mass of nearly 400 feet in height, which, in beauty and
variety of colouring, in elegance and novelty of arrange¬
ment, and in the extraordinary magnitude of its objects,
cannot readily be rivalled by anything of the kind at pre¬
sent known.
In association with the scenery and natural curiosities of
the Giant’s Causeway, are the ruins of the castles of Dun-
severick and Dunluce, situated high above the sea on insu¬
lated crags ; the swinging bridge of Carrick-a-Rede, over
a chasm of 80 feet deep, and connecting a rock, which is
used as a salmon-fishing station, with the mainland. Fair-
head, about 550 feet in height, is the highest promontory
on this coast; it is composed of columnar greenstone, and
some of the pillars exceed 200 feet in height, forming the
finest object on the whole line of coast.
To the geologist, the mineralogist, or the observer of na¬
ture in her more singular and fantastic moods, the Giant’s
Causeway and its neighbourhood is of surpassing interest;
but as remarked by Inglis, “ The traveller who visits the
Giant’s Causeway, expecting to find nature in her most ma¬
jestic form, and associating, as I did, with the name, some¬
thing very sublime, will certainly be disappointed; but if
he goes to see something very curious—something calcu¬
lated to excite wonder and admiration, he will undoubtedly
leave the Causeway fully satisfied.”—Hamilton’s Letters from
the Coast of Antrim; Dubourdiewr’s Statistical Survey of
Antrim ; Dr Richardson’s Letter in the Transactions of
the Royal Irish Academy, &c. &c. (h. s—R.)
GIAOUR, a Turkish w7ord signifying dog, used by the
Turks to designate any unbeliever in Mohammedanism,
but more particularly a Christian. Though originally an
epithet of contempt, it is now often applied without any
intentional insult.
GIAVENO, a town of Italy, kingdom of Sardinia and
province of Susa, on a hill near the Sangone, 16 miles
W.S.W. of Turin. It has manufactures of linen, cotton,
and silk goods ; several tanneries and iron forges ; and some
trade. Pop. (of commune) 8866.
GIBBET (Fr. gibet; Arabic, gibel, a mount or emi¬
nence), a gallows, or a machine in form of a gallows, on
which notorious criminals are hung in chains, as spectacles
in terrorem.
GIBBON, Edward, one of the most celebrated histo¬
rians of any age or country, was also his own historian. He
has left us one of the most piquant autobiographies ever
written. In the following sketch the chief incidents of his
life will be condensed from that authentic source : for more
than facts, even for the setting of these, it would be unwise
to trust to any man’s autobiography—though Gibbon’s is as
frank as most. There are points on which vanity will say too
much, and perhaps others on which modesty will say too little.
Gibbon was descended, he tells us, from a Kentish family,
ancient, though not illustrious. His grandfather was a man
of ability, an enterprising merchant of London ; one of the
commissioners of customs in the latter years of Queen Anne;
and, in the judgment of Lord Bolingbroke, as deeply versed
GIB
in the “ finance and commerce of England” as any man of Gibbon,
his time. Pie was not always wise, however, either for
himself or his country; for he became deeply involved in
the South Sea scheme, and lost the ample wealth he had
amassed, at the explosion of that tremendous bubble (1720).
As a director of the company, he was suspected of fraudu¬
lent complicity, was taken into custody, and heavily fined;
but L.10,000 were allowed him out of the wreck of his
L.60,000, and with this his skill and enterprise soon con¬
structed a second fortune.1 Pie died at Putney in 1736,
leaving the bulk of his property to his two daughters—nearly
disinheriting his only son, the father of the historian, for
having married against his wishes. This son (by name
Edward) was educated at Westminster and Cambridge, but
never took a degree ; travelled; became member of parlia¬
ment, first for Petersfield, then for Southampton ; joined the
party against Sir Robert Walpole, and (as his son confesses,
not much to his father’s honour) was animated in so doing
by “ private revenge” against the supposed “ oppressor” of
his family in the South Sea affair. If so, revenge, as usual,
was blind; for Walpole sought rather to moderate than to
inflame public feeling against the projectors.
His celebrated son was born at Putney, Surrey, 27th of
April 1737. Plis mother was the daughter of a London
merchant. Gibbon was the eldest of a family of six sons
and a daughter, yet was the only one who survived child¬
hood ; and his own life in youth hung by so mere a thread
as to be a thousand times despaired of. His mother, be¬
tween domestic cares and constant infirmities (which, how¬
ever, did not prevent an occasional plunge into fashion¬
able dissipation in compliance with her husband’s wishes),
did but little for him. Plis true mother, if the expression
may be permitted, was his maiden aunt—-Catherine Porten
by name—who tenderly nursed his infancy, and, whenever
his feeble health allowed, took care that his mind should
not be neglected. “ Many anxious and solitary days,” says
Gibbon, “ did she consume with patient trial of every mode
of relief and amusement. Many wakeful nights did she
sit by my bedside in trembling expectation that each hour
would be my last.”2 At seven he was committed for eighteen
months to the care of a private tutor, John Kirkby by name,
and the author, among other things, of a “ philosophical
fiction” entitled the Life of Automathes. The illustrious
pupil speaks gratefully of his tutor, and doubtless truly, so
far as he could trust the impressions of his childhood. Of
the “ philosophical fiction” he says, “ The author is not
entitled to the merit of invention, since he has blended the
English story of Robinson Crusoe with the Arabian romance
of Hai Ebn Yokhdan, which he might have read in the
Latin version of Pococke. In the Automathes I cannot
praise either the depth of thought or elegance of style ; but
the book is not devoid of entertainment or instruction.”3
At nine (1746), during a “lucid interval of health,” he
was sent to a school at Kingston-on-Thames; but the usual
breaks of sickness intervened, and his progress, by his own
confession, was slow and unsatisfactory. “ My timid reserve
was astonished by the crowd and tumult of the school; the
want of strength and activity disqualified me for the sports
of the play-field By the common me¬
thods of discipline, at the expense of many tears and some
blood, I purchased the knowledge of the Latin syntax; and
not long since I was possessed of the dirty volumes ot
Phcedrus and Cornelius Nepos which I painfully construed
and darkly understood.”4
In 1747 his mother died, and he was taken home. After
1 No less than three of the family intermarried with the Actons of Shropshire. “ I am thus connected,” says Gibbon, “ by a triple
alliance with that ancient and loyal family of Shropshire baronets. It consisted about that time of seven brothers, all of gigantic stature ;
one of whom, a pigmy of six feet two inches, confessed himself the last and least of the seven; adding, in the true spirit of party, that
such men were not born since the Revolution.”—Memoirs, vol. h, p. 10.
2 lb., p. 19. 2 lb., p. 21, 22.
4 lb., p. 22.
GIBBON.
Gibbon, a short time his father removed from Putney to the “ rustic
solitude” of Buriton, and young Gibbon accompanied him.
There probably his health was benefited, and his mind cer¬
tainly received its first decided stimulus. In these early
years, under the care of his devoted aunt, he first acquired,
he tells us, that passionate love of reading “ which he would
not exchange for all the treasures of India.” He read at
will; and there are minds to which it is the best possible
schooling. To be turned loose to graze in the free moun¬
tain pasture, to “browse” at pleasure—as Charles Lamb
expresses it—in a library of wholesome literature, tends
more than anything else, if not to discipline, to stimulate
their powers ; and often not only tinctures, but determines
their whole future. It was so with Gibbon. After detailing
the circumstances which “ unlocked” for him the door of
his grandfather’s “ tolerable library,” he says, “ I turned
over many English pages of poetry and romance, of history
and travels. Where a title attracted my eye, without fear
or awe I snatched the volume from the shelf.” 1 In 1749,
in his twelfth year, he was sent to Westminster, still i-esiding,
however, with his aunt, who, unwilling to live a life of de¬
pendence, had opened a boarding-house for Westminster
School. u In the space of two years (1749-50), interrupted
by danger and debility, I painfully climbed into the third
form; and my riper age was left to acquire the beauties of
the Latin and the rudiments of the Greek tongue.”2 The
continual attacks of sickness which had retarded his pro¬
gress induced his aunt, by medical advice, to take him to
Bath ; but the mineral waters had no effect. He then re¬
sided for a time in the house of a physician at Winchester;
the physician did as little as the mineral waters; and, after
a further trial of Bath, he once more returned to Putney,
and made a last futile attempt to study at Westminster.
Finally, it was resolved that he would never be able to en¬
counter the discipline of a school; and casual instructors, at
various times and places, were provided for him. The
snatches of his youth that could be given to mental effort
were doubtless pretty well filled up by himself, and, for the
reasons already assigned, perhaps not unpropitiously, in rela¬
tion to the peculiar character of his intellect and the require¬
ments of his subsequent career.
Towards his sixteenth year he tells us that all his infirmi¬
ties suddenly vanished. “ Nature,” as he frigidly expresses
it, “ displayed in my favour her mysterious energies.” His
education was now resumed under the roof of Francis, the
translator of Horace; of whose negligence as a tutor the
historian speaks most strongly. “ The translator of Horace,”
says he, “ might have taught me to relish the Latin poets
had not my friends discovered in a few weeks that he pre¬
ferred the pleasures of London to the instruction of his
pupils.”3
Gibbon was then sent to finish his education (before it
had been properly begun) at Oxford, where he matriculated
as gentleman commoner of Magdalen College, April 1752.
His description of his intellectual condition at that time is
curious enough :—“ I arrived there with a stock of erudition
which might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree of igno¬
rance of which a schoolboy might have been ashamed.” It
was natural. He had read extensively, though at random ;
and, his memory being tenacious, he had amassed much
knowledge, though of a very miscellaneous character. It
seems, however, that during the three previous years his
youthful mind had received a determinate direction, either
from its own secret tendencies, or from the class of works
on which he accidentally lighted, or more probably from
both causes. His taste was already fixed where it never
afterwards wavered—on history.
His list of the books which, during the previous three years
of self-prompted and wandering study, he had more or less
607
devoured, is amazingly miscellaneous; but we have no space Gibbon,
to give it. The reader may find it in the Memoirs. Many v. ■~v—
of them, both for their extent and dryness, would have been
repulsive enough to most lads of his age. Most of the classical
historians accessible in translations, not forgetting a “ ragged
Procopius” which chanced to fall in his way, and “many crude
lumps,” as he oddly expresses it, of the most voluminous
modern historians, as Davila, Rapin, Father Paul, Machia-
vel, were hastily gulped—giving in those days, doubtless,
but little trouble in the digestion. “ I devoured them,” he
says, “ like so many novels; and I swallowed with the same
voracious appetite the descriptions of India and China, of
Mexico and Peru.”4 At the same period his fancy kindled
with the first glimpses into oriental history, the wild “ bar¬
baric” charm of which he never ceased to feel. India,
China, Arabia, and especially the career of Mohammed,
successively attracted his attention. Ockley’s book on the
Saracens “first opened his eyes” to this last subject; and
with his characteristic ardour of literary research, he forth¬
with plunged into the French of D’Herbelot, and the Latin
of Pococke’s version of Abulfaragius—sometimes “ guess-
ing,” and sometimes understanding—now swimming, now
wading up to his chin, and now plunging out of his depth
altogether. His first introduction to the historic scenes
which afterwards formed the passion of his life took place
at the same period. In 1751 he notes his “discovery” of
a “common book”—Echard’s Roman History.5 “To
me,” he says, “ the reigns of the successors of Constantine
were absolutely new; and I was immersed in the passage
of the Goths over the Danube, when the summons of the
dinner bell reluctantly dragged me from my intellectual
feast.”
He seems even then to have adopted the plan of study
he followed in after-life and recommended in his Essai sur
VEtude ; that is, of letting his subject rather than his author
determine his course ; of suspending the perusal of a book
to reflect, and to compare the statements with those of other
authors; so that he often read portions of fifty volumes
while mastering one. Where the mind has vigour and per¬
severance to adopt this course, it is, without doubt, the most
profitable of all modes of reading. A man rarely forgets
what he has taken so much trouble to acquire. The chase
itself, too, and the variety of forms in which knowledge is
presented, afford a thousand links by which association aids
memory.
But Gibbon’s huge wallet of scraps stood him in little
stead at the trim banquets to which he was invited at Ox¬
ford; and the wandering habits by which he had filled it
absolutely unfitted him to be a guest. He was not well
grounded in any of the elementary branches which are es¬
sential to university studies, and to all success in their pro¬
secution. It was natural, therefore, that he should dislike
the university, and as natural that the university should
dislike him. Many of his complaints of the system were
certainly just; but it may be doubted whether any univer¬
sity system would have been profitable to him, considering
his antecedents. He complains of his tutors, too, and in
one case with abundant reason ; but, by his own confession,
they had equal reason to complain of him, for he indulged
in gay society, and kept late hours. His observations,
however, on the defects of our university system in general,
are acute and well worth pondering, however little relevant
to his own case. Many of these defects, in the case of
our own universities, have been removed since his time,
and some very recently. He remained at Magdalen about
fourteen months. “To the University of Oxford,” he says,
“ I acknowledge no obligation; and she will as cheerfully
renounce me for a son as I am willing to disclaim her for
a mother. I spent fourteen months at Magdalen College;
4 Memoirs, vol. i., p. 25.
2 lb., p. 27.
3 lb., p. 28.
4 lb., p. 30.
c lb., p. 30.
608 GIBBON.
Gibbon, they proved the fourteen months the most idle and unpro-
Stable of my whole life.”1
But little as he did as a student, he already meditated
authorship. In the first long vacation—“ during which,”
he says, (whimsically enough,) “ his taste for books began to
revive,,—he resolved to write a treatise on The Age of
Sesostris A in which (and it was characteristic) his chief
object was to investigate the probable epoch of that semi-
mythical monarch’s reign. “ Unprovided with original
learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in
the arts of composition, I resolved to write a book.” He
long afterwards (Nov. 1772), but wisely, no doubt, “com¬
mitted the sheets to the flames.”
Literary ambition almost uniformly displays its early
energy in some such crude project, and Gibbon was no
exception to the rule.
This period of his life was also signalized by another pre¬
mature attempt to solve difficulties beyond the age of six¬
teen. He read Middleton’s Free Inquiry ; and this, strange
to say, repelled him from Protestantism, and gave him a
bias towards Rome; he read Bossuet’s Variations of Pro¬
testantism, and Exposition of Catholic Doctrine, and these
completed his conversion ; “ and surely,” he adds, “ I fell
by a noble hand.” In this notable victory, however, of the
Bishop of Meaux over a youth of sixteen, there is nothing
wonderful; nor was Bossuet the only champion of Rome
who helped to lay him low, for he attributes not a little to
the perusal of the works of Parsons, the Jesuit. But the
inexperience, perhaps waywardness, of youth, and impa¬
tience to have doubts hushed and quelled, if not removed,
had probably more to do with this transient conquest than
all the above controvertists put together.
No sooner converted, than he confessed. He certainly
practised none of the reserve of the Jesuit to whom he had
been so much indebted. On June 8th, 1753, he records
that he “privately abjured the heresies” of his childhood
before a Catholic priest in London, and announced the same
to his father in a somewhat grandiloquent effusion which his
spiritual adviser much approved, and in which it is probable
he had some share. “ Gibbon,” says Lord Sheffield, “ de¬
scribed the letter to his father, announcing his conversion,
as written with all the pomp, the dignity, and self-satisfac¬
tion of a martyr.”3
His father heard with indignant surprise of this act of
juvenile apostacy ; and indiscreetly giving vent to his wrath,
the authorities at Oxford dismissed the neophyte. It is cu¬
rious to read Gibbon’s rather complacent estimate in after¬
life of this “ sacrifice of self-interest to conscience.” It is
expressed in terms which might almost tempt one to think
that he scarcely contemplated his subsequent changes with
equal satisfaction. Yet he also seems to have felt that the
infirmities of reason which this escapade implied needed
some apology, and that the applause of conscience hardly
compensated for the reflections on his logic. He therefore
justifies his apostacy by the parallel vacillations of Chilling-
worth and Bayle. “ He could not blush,” he says, “ that
his tender mind was entangled in the sophistry which had
seduced the acute and manly understandings of a Chilling-
worth or a Bayle ;”4 of whom he takes care to inform us
that the latter was twenty-two, and the former of the “ ripe
age” of twenty-eight years, when caught in the meshes of
Romanism.
In short, he attaches rather too much importance to the
fluctuations of sixteen. As a fact in the history of his own
mind, however, it is of interest; in any other light, of no
importance whatever. “To my present feelings,” he tells
us in his Memoirs, “ it seems incredible that I should ever
believe that I believed in transubstantiation that is, if he
were interpreted rigorously, “ he could not believe that he
could ever believe that he believed in transubstantiation.” Gibbon.
If that were his meaning, he had certainly cured himself of
all superfluous facility of belief.
It was now high time that his education, so nearly finished
in name, should be begun in earnest. But as one chief
object of his father was to secure in the course of it his
reconversion to Protestantism, he was consigned (1753)
to the care of a Calvinist minister at Lausanne—a M.
Pavilliard, of whom Gibbon speaks in strong terms of
affection and esteem, and who appears to have deserved
them. There was one slight obstacle, to be sure, to the
intercourse of tutor and pupil; M. Pavilliard appears to
have known little of English, and young Gibbon knew
nothing of French. But this difficulty was soon removed by
the pupil’s diligence; the very exigencies of his situation
were of service to him, and he studied the language with
such success, that at the close of his five years’ exile he
declares that he “ spontaneously thought” in French rather
than in English, and that it had become more familiar to
“ ear, pen, and tongue.” It is well known that in after
years he had doubts whether he should not compose his
great work in French; and it is certain that his familiarity
with that language, in spite of considerable efforts to coun¬
teract its effects, tinged his style to the last.
Under the judicious regulations of his new tutor a syste¬
matic course of study was marked out, and was most ar¬
dently prosecuted ; the pupil’s progress was proportionably
rapid. With the systematic study of the Latin and Greek
classics he conjoined that of French literature, which he
read largely though somewhat indiscriminately.
Nor was the object his father primarily had at heart less
effectually attained.
To his large reading of the classics he added a diligent
study of logic in the prolix system of Crousaz, and further
invigorated his reasoning powers, as well as enlarged his
knowledge of metaphysics and jurisprudence, by the perusal
of Locke, Grotius, and Montesquieu. He also read about
this time Pascal’s Provincial Letters, and at sixty he de¬
clares he had reperused them almost every year with new
pleasure. It is one of the “three books” which, by his
own confession, probably contributed, in a “ special sense,
to form the historian of the Roman Empire.” From Pas¬
cal, he flatters himself, he “ learned to manage the weapon
of grave and temperate irony, even on subjects of eccle¬
siastical solemnitya grand mistake as regards both the
adroitness with which he used and the subjects on which he
employed the weapon. There is as much difference between
the light grace of Pascal’s irony and the heavy, laboured
movement of Gibbon’s, as between an Arab courser and
a Flanders war-horse.—He also studied mathematics to
some extent, though purely in compliance with his father’s
wishes. He advanced as far as the conic sections in the
treatise of L’Hopital. He assures us that his tutor did not
complain of any inaptitude on the pupil’s part, and that the
pupil was as happily unconscious of any on his own ; but
here he broke off. He adds, what is not quite clear from
one who so frankly acknowledges his limited acquaintance
with the science, that he had reason to congratulate him¬
self that he knew no more. “As soon,” he says, “as I
understood the principles, I relinquished for ever the pur¬
suit of the mathematics; nor can I lament that I desisted
before my mind was hardened by the habit of rigid demon¬
stration, so destructive of the finer feelings of moral evi¬
dence, which must, however, determine the actions and
opinions of our lives.”5
There is no doubt that the sort of evidence with which
the future historian was called to deal has to do with pro¬
babilities and not “rigid demonstration;” but whether he
would not have sometimes computed its elements with
1 Memoirs, vol. i., p. 34.
2 lb., p. 41.
3 lb., p. 46.
4 lb., p. 47.
6 lb., p. 66.
IG I B
Gibbon, more impartiality and precision if he had had a little further
training in the exact sciences, may be a question.
Under the new influences which were brought to bear
on him, he resumed in less than a twelvemonth his Pro¬
testantism. “ He is willing,” he says, to allow M. Pavil-
liard a “ handsome share in his reconversion,” though he
stoutly avows that it was principally due “ to his own
solitary reflections.” He particularly congratulated himself
on having discovered a “ philosophical argument” against
“ transubstantiation.” It was, “ that the text of Scripture
which seems to inculcate the real presence is attested only by
a single sense—our sight; while the real presence itself is
disproved by three of our senses—the sight, the touch, and
the taste.”1 It is possible that the unconscious influence of
the threats of disinheritance, and the exchange of his “ hand¬
some apartments at Magdalen” for the meanness and dis¬
comforts of his Swiss home, may have been quite as effica¬
cious as this curious enthymeme. Thus was he converted
to Romanism in his sixteenth year, and recanted his recan¬
tation in his seventeenth. The changes were doubtless
important to him, and it was natural that he should give
them some prominence in his “autobiography;” but rela¬
tively to the great questions they involve, the oscillations of
such a youthful mind, however intelligent, are of as little
moment as the transfer of a cypher from one side of an
equation to the other.
Two circumstances specially signalized his residence at
Lausanne—he saw Voltaire, and he fell in love. “ Virgi-
hum vidi tantum” says he; but his admiration of Voltaire’s
writings was great, and exerted a rather equivocal influence
on his poetic tastes. It led to an excessive estimate of the
French drama, and abated, he scruples not to declare, his
“ idolatry for the gigantic genius of Shakspeare.” Vol¬
taire’s writings also probably gave him a false bias in matters
of infinitely more importance than those of literature.
His love affair—his first and only one—was transient
enough. The young lady, in the bloom of sixteen, the
daughter of a Swiss pastor, was Mademoiselle Curchod,
afterwards the wife of the celebrated M. Necker. She was,
as Gibbon declares (and we know it on better testimony
than a lover’s eyes), beautiful, intelligent, and accomplished.
Her charms, however, do not seem to have made any in¬
delible impression on our young student, whose sensibility,
to say the truth, was never very profound. On his father’s
expressing his disapprobation, he surrendered the object of
his affection with as little resistance as he had surrendered
his Romanism. “ I sighed,” he says, “ as a lover, but obeyed
as a son.” It would be invidious to institute comparisons
as to the merit of “faithful love” and filial devotion; but,
if the one be unrewarded by fortune, and the other stimu¬
lated by menaces, it is a difficult choice, no doubt, for any
but a hero; and Gibbon neither then nor afterwards was
a hero. “Without my father’s consent,” he plaintively
says, “ I was destitute and helpless.”
Unwearied application to study was the best “ remedium
amoris” if indeed he stood in need of any remedy. In
any case, his diligence was most commendable, and no one
can read the account of the three last years he spent at
Lausanne, and especially the all but incredible toils of the
last eight months, without perceiving that the foundations
of that vast erudition which the Decline and Fall de¬
manded, were effectually laid; or hesitate to give our stu-
BON. 609
dent a worthy place with the Scaligers, Huets, and Leib- Gibbon,
nitzes, of the preceding century. Though there may be a
little unconscious exaggeration in his statement of the
achievements of these miraculous eight months, we are
tempted to give it in a note for the encouragement or
despair of other youthful students.2
In 1758 he returned to England, and was kindly received
at home. But he found a stepmother there; and this ap¬
parition on his father’s hearth at first rather appalled him.
The cordial and gentle manners of Mrs Gibbon, however^
and her unremitted study of his happiness, won him from
his first prejudices, and gave her a permanent place both
in his esteem and affection. He seems to have been much
indulged, and led a very pleasant life of it; he pleased
himself in moderate excursions, frequented the theatre,
mingled, though not very often, in society; was sometimes a
little extravagant, and sometimes a little dissipated, but
never lost the benefits of his Lausanne exile ; and with the
exception of a few transient youthful irregularities, settled
into a sober, discreet, calculating epicurean philosopher,
who sought the summum honum of man in temperate,
regulated, and elevated pleasure. The two years after
his return to England he spent principally at his father’s
country seat at Buriton, in Hampshire, only nine months
being given to the metropolis. He has left an amus¬
ing account of his employments in the country, where his
love of study was at once inflamed by a library rich
enough to make him contrast its treasures with the poverty
of Lausanne, and checked by the necessary interruptions
of his otherwise happy domestic life. After breakfast “ he
was expected,” he says, “ to spend an hour with Mrs Gib¬
bon—read the paper to his father in the afternoon—was
often called down to entertain idle visitors—and, worst of
all, was periodically compelled to return the visits of their
more distant neighbours.” He says he dreaded the “ re¬
currence of the full moon,” which was the period generally
selected for the more convenient accomplishment of such
formidable excursions.
His father’s library, though large in comparison with
that he commanded at Lausanne, contained, he says,
“ much trash,” which he gradually weeded out, and trans¬
formed it at length into that “ numerous and select” library
which was “ the foundation of his works, and the best com¬
fort of his life both at home and abroad.” No sooner had he
returned home than he began the work of accumulation, and
records that, on the receipt of his first quarter’s allowance,
a large share was appropriated to his literary wants. “ He
could never forget,” he declares, “ the joy with which he
exchanged a bank note of twenty pounds for the twenty
volumes of the Memoirs of the Academy of Inscriptions?
It may not be unprofitable here to remark that the princi¬
ples on which he selected his admirable library are worthy
of every student’s attention. “I am not conscious,” says
he, “ of having ever bought a book from a motive of osten¬
tation ; every volume before it was deposited on the shelf was
either read or sufficiently examined.” The account he
gives of his mode of study is also deeply instructive, but
there is not space for it here.
In London he seems to have seen but little select so¬
ciety—partly because his father’s habits opened to him but
little that he cared for—partly from his own reserve and
timidity, increased by his foreign education. This had
1 Memoirs, vol. i., p. 58.
He says in his Journal, December 4, 1755,—“ In finishing this year, I must remark how favourable it was to my studies. In the
space of eight months, from the beginning of April, I learned the principles of drawing; made myself complete master of the French
and Latin languages, with which I was very superficially acquainted before, and wrote and translated a great deal in both • read Cicero’s
Loistles Ad Familiar as. his Brutus, all bis Orntirvne bio  i a   m  , . . _
J X  14, Ail A Vij (X11 Vi YY l KJ d 11 Cl LI Clli olcl L1
Epistles Ad 1 amiliares, his Brutus, all his Orations, his Dialogues Be Amicitid and Be Senectute ; Terence, twice • and Pliny’s Epistles
In French, Giannone’s History of Naples, and 1’Abbe Bannier’s Mytholoyy, and M. De Bochat’s Mer, ‘ ’ J B
  - - „  ^   swr Nwisse, and wrote a very
ample relation of my tour I likewise began to study Greek, and went through the grammar. I began to make very large collections
of what I read. But what I esteem most of all, from the perusal and meditation of De Crousaz’s Logic, I not only understood the princi¬
ples of that science, but formed my mind to a habit of thinking and reasoning I had no idea of before”—Memoirs p 61
VOL. X. 4 H ’
610 GIB
Gibbon, made English habits unfamiliar and the very language in
v gome degree strange. And thus it was that he draws that
interesting picture of the literary recluse among the crowds
of London : “ While coaches were rattling through Bond
Street, I have passed many a solitary evening in my lodg¬
ing with my books. My studies!were sometimes inter¬
rupted with a sigh, which I breathed towards Lausanne;
and on the approach of spring I withdrew without reluc¬
tance from the noisy and extensive scene of crowds without
company, and dissipation without pleasure.”1 He became
acquainted, however, with Mallet—by courtesy called the
“ poet”—and through him gained access to Lady Hervey’s
circle, where a congenial admiration, not to say affectation,
of French manners and literature, made him a welcome
guest. In one respect Mallet gave him good counsel. He
advised him to addict himself to an assiduous study of the
more idiomatic English writers—Swift and Addison, for
example—with a view to unlearn his foreign idiom, and
recover his half-forgotten vernacular;—a task, which he
never perfectly accomplished. Much as he admired these
writers, LIume and Robertson were still greater favourites,
as well from their subject as for their style. Of his admira¬
tion of Hume’s style—of its nameless grace of simple ele¬
gance—he has left us a strong expression, when he tells us
that it often compelled him to close the historian’s volumes
with a feeling of despair.
In 1761 Gibbon, after many delays, and with many
flutterings of hope and fear, gave to the world, in French,
his maiden publication, composed two years before. It
was partly in compliance with his father’s wishes, who
thought that the proof of some literary talent might intro¬
duce him favourably to public notice, and “ secure the re¬
commendation of his friends.” But in yielding to paternal
authority, Gibbon frankly owns that he complied, “ like a
pious son,—with the wish of his own heart.”
The subject of the Essai sur VEtude de la Littera-
ture was suggested, its author says, by a refinement ot
vanity—“ the desire of justifying and praising the object
of a favourite pursuit.” Partly owing to its being written
in French, partly to its character, the essay excited more
attention abroad than at home. Gibbon has criticised it
with the utmost frankness, not to say severity ; but after
every abatement, it is unquestionably a surprising elfort for
a mind so young, and contains many thoughts which would
not have disgraced a thinker or a scholar of much maturer
age. The account of its first reception and subsequent
history in England, deserves to be cited as amongst the
curiosities of literature. “ In England,” he says, “it was
received with cold indifference, little read, and speedily
forgotten : A small impression was slowly dispersed ; the
bookseller murmured, and the author (had his feelings
been more exquisite) might have wept over the blunders
and baldness of the English translation. The publication
of my history fifteen years afterwards revived the memory
of my first performance, and the essay was eagerly sought
in the shops. But I refused the permission which Becket
solicited of reprinting it: the public curiosity was imper¬
fectly satisfied by a pirated copy of the booksellers of
Dublin; and when a copy of the original edition has been
discovered in a sale, the primitive value of half-a-crown
has risen to the fanciful price of a guinea or thirty shil¬
lings.”2
J ust before the publication of the essay, Gibbon entered
a new, and, one might suppose, a very uncongenial scene
of life. He became a captain in the Hampshire militia; and
BON.
for more than two years led a life of march and counter- Gibbon,
march in the southern counties of England. Hampshire,
Kent, Wiltshire, and Devonshire, formed the successive
theatres of what he calls his “ bloodless and inglorious cam¬
paigns.” He, nevertheless, justly describes it as a life of
“ military servitude,” as the term of service was prolonged
far beyond the period he had contemplated, and the mode
of life utterly alien from all his pursuits as a scholar and a
student. “ In the act,” says he, “ of offering our names and
receiving our commissions, as major and captain in the
Hampshire regiment (June 12th, 1759), we had not sup¬
posed that we should be dragged away, my father from his
farm, myself from my books, and condemned during two
years and a half (May 10, 1760 to December 23, 1762),
to a wandering life of military servitude.”3 He has left us
an amusing account of the busy idleness in which his time
was spent; but, considering the circumstances, so adverse
to study, one is rather surprised that our military student
should have done so much, than that he did so little ;4 and
never probably before were so many hours of literary
study spent in a tent. In estimating the comparative
advantages and disadvantages of this wearisome period
of his life, he has summed up with the sagacity of a man of
the world, and the impartiality of a philosopher. Irksome
as were his employments, grievous as was the waste of time,
uncongenial as were his companions, solid benefits were to
be set off against these things ; his health became robust,
his knowledge of the world was enlarged, he wore off some
of his foreign idiom, got rid of much of his reserve; he
adds,—and perhaps in his estimate it was the benefit to be
most prized of all,—“the discipline and evolutions of a
modern battalion gave me a clearer notion of the phalanx
and the legion, and the captain of the Hampshire grenadiers
(the reader may smile) has not been useless to the historian
of the Roman Empire.” In 1762, while the new militia
was forming, he “enjoyed two or three months of literary
repose,” and flew to his books with an appetite sharp¬
ened by his long fast. In pursuing a plan of study at this
period, he hesitated between the prosecution of mathe¬
matics and Greek ; it was but for a moment. As might be
anticipated, Homer carried the day against Newton and
Leibnitz.
Nothing can better illustrate the intensity of Gibbon’s
literary ambition—his only strong passion—than the num¬
ber of literary projects with which his mind was teeming
even in camp. He enumerates amongst others a history
of the expedition of Charles VIII. of France ; the crusade
of Richard the Lion-hearted; the wars of the barons ; and
lives of the Black Prince, Sir Phillip Sydney, Sir Walter
Raleigh, and Montrose. These are only a portion of the sub¬
jects he revolved with the same view. They show by their
number how strong was the impulse to literature, and by
their character, how determined the bent of his mind in the
direction of history.
The militia was disbanded in 1763, and he joyfully shook
off his bonds ; but his literary projects wrere still to be post¬
poned. Following his own wishes, though with his father’s
consent, he had projected a continental tour as the com¬
pletion “ of an English gentleman’s education.” This had
been interrupted by the episode of the militia. He now'
resumed his purpose and left England in 1763. Two years
were “ loosely defined as the term of his absence,” which
he exceeded by half a year—returning June 1765. He
first visited Paris, where he saw a good deal of D’Alem¬
bert, Diderot, Barthelemy, Raynal, Helvetius, Baron
1 Memoirs, vol. i., p. 81. 2 lb., p. 90. 3 lb., p. 95.
4 The notes of his Journal at this period are worth reading, as curiously illustrative of his indomitable literary industry. “ My example,
he says, “ might prove that in the life most averse to study some hours may he stolen, some minutes may he snatched. Amidst the tumult
of Winchester camp I sometimes thought and read in my tent; in the more settled quarters of the Devizes, Blandford, and Southampton,
I always secured a separate lodging, and the necessary hooks.”—lb., p. 104.
GIBBON. 611
Gibbon. d’Holbach, and others of the same set; and was often
—a welcome guest in the saloons of Mesdames Geoffrin
and Du Deffand.1 Voltaire was at Geneva, Rousseau at
Montmorency, and BufFon he neglected to visit; but the
above names are enough to justify the suspicion that the
hostility he afterwards evinced towards Christianity may in
part be attributed to the influence of such society. How
well he liked Paris is evident from his own statement:
“ Fourteen weeks insensibly stole away ; but had I been
rich and independent, I should have prolonged and perhaps
have fixed my residence at Paris.”2
From France he proceeded to Switzerland, and revisited
his friends at Lausanne ; thence to Italy in 1 764. The
account of his feelings on approaching Rome—how like in
intensity to those of Luther on a similar occasion, and yet
of how different a character !—is deeply interesting. His
emotions, he says, were not “ enthusiastic,” and yet became,
he confesses, almost “ uncontrollable.” While here, his long
yearning for some great theme worthy of his historic genius
was gratified. The first conception of the Decline
and Fall arose as he lingered one evening amidst the
vestiges of ancient glory; but his precise words cannot be
omitted in any sketch of Gibbon, however brief:—“ It was
at Rome,” says he, “on the 15th of October, 1764,as I sat
musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the bare¬
footed friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter,
that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first
started to my mind.” M. Suard fancifully attributes to the
combination of circumstances under which the conception
of the woi'k arose, some of that inveterate hatred of Chris¬
tianity which pervades it. “ Struck with a first impression,”
he says, “ Gibbon, in writing the Decline and Fall of the
Empire, saw in Christianity only an institution which had
placed vespers, bare-footed friars, and processions, in the
room of the magnificent ceremonies of Jupiter, and the
triumphs of the Capitol.”
Others attributed it in part to the conservative quality
of his politics, which led him to regard Christianity as a
“ daring innovation.” It seems probable that his tendencies
and habits of mind, which were eminently favourable to
scepticism, and the society in which he had early moved
(and especially of late in the saloons of Paris), had much
more to do with the result than either of these causes.
About five years after his return home his father died
(1770). This is the period of his life which he says he passed
with the least enjoyment, and remembered with the least
satisfaction. He attended “ every spring the meetings of
the militia at Southampton,—and rose successively to the
rank of major and lieutenant-colonelbut was each year
“ more disgusted with the inn, the wine, the company, and
the tiresome repetition of annual attendance and daily exer¬
cise.” From his own account, however, it appears that
other and deeper causes produced his ennui. Sincerely at¬
tached to his home, he yet felt the anomaly of his position.
At thirty, still a dependent, without a settled occupation,
without a definite social status, he often regretted that
he had not embraced some profession : “From the emo¬
luments of a profession,” he says, “ I might have derived
an ample fortune, or a competent income, instead of being
stinted to the same narrow allowance, to be increased only
by an event which I sincerely deprecate.”3 Doubtless the
secret fire of a consuming, but as yet ungratified, literary
ambition also troubled his repose.
He still “ contemplated at awful distance ” The Decline
and Fall: and, meantime, revolved other subjects. Hesi¬
tating between the revolutions of Florence and Switzerland, Gibbon,
he consulted M. Deyverdun, a young Swiss with whom
he had become intimate during his first residence at Lau¬
sanne, and decided in favour of the land which was his
“ friend’s by birth ” and “ his own by adoption.” He exe¬
cuted the first book in French ; it was read as an anony¬
mous production before a literary society of foreigners in
London, and condemned. Gibbon sat and listened to their
strictures. It never got beyond that rehearsal; and though
Hume encouraged him to proceed, Gibbon declared the
sentence just, and declined.
In 1767, he joined with M. Deyverdun in starting the
Memoires Litteraires de la Grande Bretagne. But its cir¬
culation was limited, and only two volumes had appeared
when Deyverdun went abroad. The materials already
collected for a third volume were suppressed. It may be
interesting to the reader to know that in the first volume
is a review by Gibbon of Lord Lyttleton’s History of
Henry II.
The next appearance of the historian made a deeper im¬
pression. It was the first distinct print of the lion’s foot.
“ .Er /eorcem ” might have been justly said, for he
attacked, and attacked successfully, the redoubtable War-
burton. Of the many paradoxes in the Divine Legation,
none is more extravagant than the theory that Virgil in
the sixth book of his Ameid intended to allegorize, in the
visit of his hero and the sybil to the shades, the initiation
of JEneas, as a lawgiver, into the Eleusinian mysteries.
This theory Gibbon completely exploded in his Critical
Observations (1770) ; no very difficult task, indeed, but
achieved in a style, and with a profusion of learning, which
showed that its author was capable of far greater things.
Warburton never replied, and few will believe that he
would not, if he had not thought silence more discreet.
Gibbon, however, regrets that the style of his pamphlet
was too acrimonious ; and this regret, considering his an¬
tagonist’s slight claims to forbearance, is creditable to him.
“ I cannot forgive myself the contemptuous treatment of a
man who, with all his faults, was entitled to my esteem.”4
At length, after fifteen years from the date of his maiden
Essai, and five from his father’s death—an event which
left him the free use of his time—appeared the first volume
of the history which has immortalized his name. His pre¬
parations for this great work were vast. The classics, “ as
low as Tacitus, Pliny the Younger, and Juvenal,” had been
long familiar. He now “plunged into the ocean of the
Augustan history,” and “ with pen almost always in hand,”
pored over all the remains, Greek and Latin, between
Trajan and the last of the western Caesars. “ The subsi¬
diary rays of medals and inscriptions, of geography and
chronology, were thrown on their proper objects ; and I ap¬
plied the collections of Tillemont, whose inimitable accuracy
almost assumes the character of genius, to fix and arrange
within my reach the loose and scattered atoms of historical
information.”4 The Theodosian Code, with Godefroy’s
Commentary ; the Christian Apologists, with the testi¬
monies of Lardner; The Annals and Antiquities of Mu-
ratori, collated with “ the parallel or transverse lines ” of
Sigonius and Maffei, Pagi and Baronins, were all critically
studied. Such was a portion of the formidable apparatus
employed by this great historical genius. His maxim
as a student had always been multum legere potius
quam multa. The reader will probably think, even from
this imperfect enumeration of his studies, that he read both
multum and multa; but the general accuracy of his in-
1 This lady, though blind—“ 1’aveugle clairvoyante,” as Voltaire happily calls her—recognised with exquisite tact the self-betraying soli¬
citude of Gibbon to catch the exact tone of French manners and society. She thus speaks in a letter to Walpole, “ He sets too much value
on our talents for society {nos agrtments), shows too much desire of acquiring them; it is constantly on the tip of my tongue to say to
him, ‘ Do not put yourself to so much trouble ; you deserve the honour of being a Frenchman.' ”
2 Memoirs, p. 117. 3 lb., p. 132. 4 lb., p. 139. 6 lb., p. 140.
612
GIB
Gibbon, vestigations was commensurate with their variety. It
appears from his own confession that he long brooded over
the chaos of materials before light dawned upon it. At
the commencement, he says, “ all was dark and doubtful
the limits, divisions, even the title of his work were unde¬
termined ; the first chapter was composed three times, and
the second and third twice, before he was satisfied with his
efforts. But this prolonged meditation on his design and
its execution was well repaid by the result; so methodical
did his ideas become, and so readily did his materials shape
themselves, that (with the above exceptions) the original
MS. of the entire six quartos Avas sent uncopied to the
printers. He also says that not a sheet had been seen
by any other eyes than those of author and printer. This
last statement must be taken with a small deduction; or
rather we must suppose that a few chapters had been sub¬
mitted, if not to the “ eyes,” to the “ ears ” of others ; for
he elsewhere tells us that he was “ soon disgusted with the
modest practice of reading the manuscript to his friends.”
Such, however, were his preliminary difficulties, that he
confesses he was often “tempted to cast away the labour of
seven years.” He persevered, and in February 1776 the first
volume was published. The success was instant, and, for a
quarto, probably unprecedented. The entire impression
was exhausted in a few days. The author might almost
have said, as Lord Byron after the publication of Childe
Harold, that “ he awoke one morning and found himself
famous.” In addition to public applause, he was gratified
by the more select praises of Robertson and Hume, and
declares that the complimentary letter of the last “ overpaid
the labours of ten years.” Hume applauds, as may be
supposed, the “prudent temperament” of the historian in
the treatment of the delicate subjects of the “ celebrated
chapters.” Nevertheless, he predicted “clamour;” and
formed a much more correct notion of the effects on the
public mind than Gibbon had done. He admits the nation’s
reverence for Christianity, though he calls it “ superstition
Gibbon believed, or affected to believe, that England sym¬
pathized with the indifferentism of France.
Two years before the publication of this first volume
(1774) Gibbon was elected member of parliament for Lis-
keard. His political duties did not suspend his prosecution
of his history, except on one occasion, and for a little while.
In the year 1779 he undertook a task on behalf of the
ministry, which, if well performed, was, it must be con¬
fessed, well rewarded. The French government had is¬
sued a manifesto preparatory to a declaration of war, and
Gibbon was solicited by Chancellor Thurlow, and Lord
Weymouth, Secretary of State, to answer it. This pro¬
duced his able Memoire Justificatif, composed in French,
and delivered to the courts of Europe. He was rewarded
with a seat at the Board of Trade and Plantations,—little
more than a sinecure in itself, but with a very substantial
salary of nearly L.800 per annum. His acceptance displeased
his political associates, and he was accused of “ deserting
a party in which,” he declares, “ he had never enlisted.”
A note of Fox, however, on the margin of a copy of
Gibbon’s history, records a very distinct remembrance of
the historian’s previous vituperation of the ministry; and
this could not but make his political services look venal.
He is said to have said that “ there would be no hope for
England except by taking off the heads of six of the cabi¬
net, and exposing them as an example in parliament.”
Yet in a fortnight he accepted place. Lord Sheffield says
his friend never intended the words to be taken literally l
No doubt, but it sufficiently shows what he thought of the
deserts of the ministry he yet consented to serve. But
who can read the life and works of Gibbon and imagine
him a martyr, whether for love, politics, or religion ?
At the general election in 1780, he lost his seat for Lis-
keard, but was subsequently elected for Lymington. The
BON.
ministry of Lord North, however, was tottering, and soon Gibbon,
after fell; the Board of Trade was abolished, and Gibbon’s
salary vanished with it;—no trifle, for his expenditure had
been for three years on a scale somewhat disproportionate to
his private fortune. He did not like to depend on statesmen’s
promises, which are proverbially uncertain of fulfilment; he
as little liked to retrench ; and he was wearied of parliament,
where he had never given any but silent votes. Urged by
such considerations, he once more turned his eyes to the
scene of his early exile, where he might live on his decent
patrimony in a style which was impossible in England, and
pursue unembarrassed his literary studies. He therefore re¬
solved to fix himself at Lausanne.
A word only is necessary on his parliamentary career.
Neither nature nor acquired habits qualified him to be an
orator; his late entrance on public life, his natural timidity,
his feeble voice, his limited command of idiomatic English,
and even, as he candidly confesses, his literary fame, were all
obstacles to success. “ After a fleeting, illusive hope, pru¬
dence condemned me to acquiesce in the humble station of a
mute. ... I was not armed by nature and education with
the intrepid energy of mind and voice—‘ Yincentem stre-
pitus et natum rebus agendis.’ Timidity was justified by
pride, and even the success of my pen discouraged the
trial of my voice.” His repugnance to public life is
strongly expressed in a letter to his father of a very early
date. He prays that the money which a seat in parliament
would cost may be expended in a mode more agreeable to
him. Gibbon w'as eight-and-thirty when he entered par¬
liament ; and the obstacles which even at an earlier period
he would have had to encounter were hardly likely to be
vanquished then.
Nor had he much political sagacity. He was better
skilled in investigating the past than in divining the future.
While Burke and Fox, and so many great statesmen, pro¬
claimed the consequences of the collision with America,
Gibbon saw nothing but colonies in rebellion, and a pater¬
nal government justly incensed. His silent votes were all
given on that hypothesis. In a similar manner, while he
abhorred the French revolution, he seemed to have had
no apprehension, like Chesterfield, Burke, or even Horace
Walpole, of its approach, or that it had had anything to do
with the philosophic coteries in which he had taken such
delight.
In 1781 he published two more quartos of his history.
They excited less controversy, and were therefore less
talked about. This seems to have extorted from him a
half murmur “ about prejudice and neglect.” The fact is,
there was less room for discussion and complaint; the vo¬
lumes, however, were read with silent avidity, and deserved
it. Though less exciting than the first, they were written
with a deeper judgment, and were more free from the taint
of infidelity.
Having sold all his property except his library—to him
equally a necessary and a luxury—Gibbon repaired to
Lausanne in Sept. 1783, and took up his abode with his
early friend Deyverdun, now a resident there. Perfectly
tree from every engagement but those which his own
tastes imposed, easy in his circumstances, commanding just
as much society, and that as select, as he pleased, with
the noblest scenery spread out at his feet, no situation can
be imagined more favourable for the prosecution of his lite¬
rary enterprise ;—a hermit in his study as long as he chose,
and the most delightful recreation always ready for him at
the threshold. “ In London,” says he, “ I was lost in the
crowd; I ranked with the first families in Lausanne, and
my style of prudent expense enabled me to maintain a fair
balance of reciprocal civilities. . . . Instead of a small
house between a street and a stable-yard, I began to occu¬
py a spacious and con\renient mansion, connected on the
north side with the citv, and open on the south to a beau-
GIBBON.
613
Gibbon, tiful and boundless horizon. A garden of four acres had
been laid out by the taste of M. Deyverdun ; from the
garden a rich scenery of meadows and vineyards descends
to the Leman Lake, and the prospect far beyond the lake
is crowned by the stupendous mountains of Savoy.”1 In
this enviable retreat, it is no wonder that a year should
have been suffered to roll round before he vigorously re¬
sumed his great work,—and with many men it would never
have been resumed in such a paradise. We may remark
en passant that the retreat was often enlivened, or in¬
vaded, by friendly tourists from England, whose “ frequent
incursions” into Switzerland our recluse seems half to
lament as an evil. What would he have said fifty years
later? Among others, Mr Fox gave him two “welcome
days of free and private society” in 1788. Differing as
they did in politics, Gibbon’s testimony to the genius and
character of the great statesman is highly honourable to
both : “ Perhaps no human being,” he says, “ was ever
more perfectly exempt from the taint of malevolence, va¬
nity, or falsehood.”
When once fairly reseated at his task he proceeded in
this delightful retreat leisurely, yet rapidly, to its comple¬
tion. The fourth, fifth, and sixth volumes were all in
manuscript before he thought of printing. On the 27th of
June 1787, he was “free”—if freedom can be predicated
of that condition, so profoundly natural, which Gibbon has
as naturally delineated. “ I have presumed,” says he, “ to
mark the moment of conception : I shall now commemo¬
rate the hour of my final deliverance. It was on the day,
or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the
hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of
the last page in a summer house in my garden. After lay¬
ing down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau or
covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the
country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was tempe¬
rate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was
reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will
not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of
my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame.
But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy
was spread over my mind by the idea that I had taken an
everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion; and
that whatsoever might be the future date of my history, the
life of the historian must be short and precarious.”2 Sad
that the Consolations of Philosophy should have offered
nothing better than this !
Taking the manuscript of the last three volumes with
him, Gibbon, after an absence of four years, once more
visited London. The arrangements for publishing volumes
so heralded by their predecessors, were soon effected,
and the printing proceeded apace; but after it was com¬
pleted, a little trait of characteristic egotism for a while
delayed the publication. The great event was to syn¬
chronize with the author’s fifty-first birthday, and the two
great events were celebrated by Mr Cadell, the publisher,
by a third great event—no less than a literary dinner in the
author’s honour;—where, says Gibbon, “ I seemed to blush
while they read an elegant compliment from Mr Hayley.”
Assuredly it ought to have been no seeming blush with
which the historian listened to the fulsome hyperboles of
the verses with which this mediocre Pindar regaled him ;
and if he did not blush for himself, he ought to have done
so for the Muse.
The last volumes of the work were eagerly read, but
much criticised ; and while the same religious objections
were taken, and justly, the author was found more fault
with for the indecency of his notes. Gibbon professes that
he never could understand this charge ; and it is very likely
(though very lamentable) that he spoke the simple truth.
In his defence, he says he had wrapped up the offensive Gibbon,
matter in the learned languages; but then, to how many
thousands of those who read his book were those languages
familiar! The question is as to the necessity of such cita¬
tions and comments as those in which he has indulged,
and few will contend for it, in the majority of cases, to any
legitimate purpose of history. He also says that he had
been equally free, though less censured, in the earlier vo¬
lumes. This would be nothing to the purpose even if true ;
but it is hardly true ; for it would be easy to point out in the
later volumes more than one instance in which Gibbon has
gone completely out of his way to introduce impurities which
none but a mind too accustomed to revolve such ideas would
wish to suggest to the minds of others ; and one instance,
at least, in which he has chosen to improvise a ludicrous
varia lectio of a passage for the very purpose of conveving
a most gross obscenity. As a writer in the Quarterly
Review has very justly remarked, “ the critical scrupulosity
with which he investigates the most nauseous details, sift¬
ing them with the pertinacity and relish of a duck filtering
the filthiest mud for its meal,” “ his sly inuendos, his luxu¬
rious amplifications,” disclose a gross and prurient mind.
Many other men, equally sceptical, would have shrunk from
this kind of pollution ; he plunges into the filth with all the
gout and relish of a congenial sensuality.
He returned to Switzerland in July 1788 ; but the death
of his friend Deyverdun, and the ennui resulting from the
loss of his great occupation, which had been as a daily com¬
panion for so many years, had divested his retreat of its
chief charms; while the premonitory mutterings of the
great thunderstorm of the French revolution, which rever¬
berated in hollow echoes even through the quiet valleys of
Switzerland, further troubled his repose. At length public
events, seconded by motives of friendship, drove the histo¬
rian to his island home. He arrived in England 1793. He
appears to have amused himself during the latter part of
his stay at Lausanne with his Memoirs, which, with his cor¬
respondence and miscellaneous pieces, it was reserved for
his friend Lord Sheffield to give to the public.
His life was now drawing to a close. He had fondly anti¬
cipated, from the “ laws of probability, so true in general,”
but, alas ! “ so fallacious in particular,” fifteen years of life.
They proved in his case to be “ fallacious in particular,” for
he survived for scarcely a fourth of the hoped-for period.
He died January 16th, 1794, about nine months after his
return to England. Singularly enough, he had been for
years afflicted by the disease which at last proved fatal, but
had been insensible to its importance, and had declined,
from false delicacy, to seek medical aid. It was an element
of the “probabilities” which he had not calculated.
Just before his death he was in full possession of his
senses, and is said to have died with much composure ; but
he was evidently unconscious of the stealthy step of the
Destroyer till the curtain was suddenly drawn, and the
blow struck.
The character of Gibbon presents much that is per¬
sonally and socially estimable. Of a frigid temperament,—
he had not in his composition one particle of the qualities
which constitute moral greatness in any one of its many
forms; but it would be unjust to deny that he was amia¬
ble and good tempered, and capable of feeling and inspir¬
ing a firm, though not very enthusiastic, friendship. It
must be added that his friendships were such as did not
involve any severe strain on patience, self-denial, or gene¬
rosity, or on his characteristic equanimity. That equani¬
mity, it must be allowed, was very little tried in any way;
he practised his philosophy cheaply. Born to compe¬
tency, and at length possessed of fortune—always fully sen¬
sible of the advantages which fortune brings in her train—
1 Memoirs, p. 166.
2 lb., p. 170.
614 GIBBON.
Gibbon, provided with pleasures and occupations he intensely loved
 successful in the great object of his literary ambition,
which was his only strong passion, and the gratification of
which, as his Memoirs show, afforded him intense delight—
he seems, if we but suppose this world to be all, to have
whiled away his time here as pleasantly as any wise epicu¬
rean could, and to have computed the sum of his enjoy¬
ments at the close with a sufficiently complacent, but not
erroneous, arithmetic.1 “ M. d’Alembert relates,” says he,
« that as he was walking in the gardens of Sans Souci with
the King of Prussia, Frederick said to him, ‘ Do you see
that old woman, a poor weeder, asleep on that sunny bank ?
She is probably a more happy being than either of us.’ The
king and the philosopher may speak for themselves; for
my part I do not envy the old woman.”2
But with good nature and social amenity the praise of
his personal character almost ends. No traits, so far as we
can find, of self-denial, generosity, magnanimity, nobility
of mind, mark his history. M. Vaillant even charges him
with “ insensibility to all lofty and generous sentiments?
This is too strong; at least, if the expression of “ lofty”
sentiments (a cheap way, it must be admitted, of mani¬
festing the more arduous virtues) may be taken as a key
to character where we cannot appeal to the better test of
action. Of such sentiments of sympathy with magnani¬
mous virtue, there is no lack in his Decline and Fall,—if we
except two subjects. “ His reflections,” says Porson, “ are^
just and profound; he pleads eloquently for the rights of
mankind and the duty of toleration, nor does his humanity
ever slumber—unless when women are ravished, and Chris¬
tians persecuted.” The exceptions, it must be confessed,
cut deep, and may remind us a little of the indignant virtue
of the Irishwoman who challenged her accusers to say,
barring theft, lust, and drunkenness, what they could have
to allege against her. Vanity he had in abundance, as ap¬
pears in his Memoirs; indeed, without it, would any man
ever write his autobiography? Yet it is accompanied in
Gibbon with much candour. Less indulgence can be given to
the contemptuous arrogance with which he treats opponents.
His conversation though, as might be expected, full oi
information, seems to have been, if not tinged with pedantry,
yet too formal. He talked much as he wrote, and this pre¬
vented his attaining the ease and grace of the best collo¬
quial style. “His conversation,” says M. Suard, “never car¬
ried one away. Its fault was an artificiality which never per¬
mitted him to say anything unless well,”—that is, well in his
estimate ; and so, in books, and notes, and conversation, his
diction was apt to be recherche, and his sentences a mosaic.
Gibbon’s genius was singularly adapted to the task he
undertook. He ironically observes, in his Memoirs, that
since “ philosophy has exploded all innate ideas and natu¬
ral propensities,” fortuitous causes in early life must be
alleged to account for the invincible bent of his mind to
history. But he distinctly intimates his convictions to the
contrary in another part of his Memoirs : “ After his oracle
Dr Johnson, my friend Sir Joshua Reynolds denies all
original genius, any natural propensity of the mind to one
art or science rather than another. Without engaging in a
metaphysical or rather verbal dispute, I know by experi¬
ence that from my early youth I aspired to the character
of an historian.”3 No just philosophy is likely to explode
“innate” aptitudes or fundamental peculiarities of mind,
whether generic or individual; and to these, at least as
strongly as to education or accident, must we attribute
each special bias of genius. Not that these last have little
to do with the character of intellect, which is finally the
result of two variables—certain original tendencies of mind,
and the discipline to which the mind has been subjected.
It is a departure perhaps from ordinary language to speak
of some one distinct endowment of mind, or congeries of Gibbon,
endowments, and call it an historic genius, in the same
way we speak of a philosophical or poetical genius ; but
if the phrase be ever allowable, it is assuredly in the case
of Gibbon. It may be more proper to say, however, that
he had in large measure all those separate endowments
which, in conjunction, best fit a man for this department
of composition ; some of them hardly compatible at all,
and scarcely ever seen united. In him all were possessed
in a harmony and perfection seldom equalled, perhaps
never surpassed; a most retentive memory, the most ac¬
tive powers of acquisition, indomitable industry; a mind
capable equally of ascending to the most comprehen¬
sive, and of descending to the most minute surveys; of
appreciating the beautiful and sublime in classic litera¬
ture, and yet of delighting in the verbal criticisms, the
tedious collations, and dry antiquarian research by which
the text is established or illustrated; of celebrating the
more imposing events of history with congenial pomp of
description, and of investigating with the dullest plodder’s
patience and perseverance the origin of nations, the
emigrations of obscure tribes, and the repulsive yet in¬
structive problems which ethnology presents. Accordingly,
the widest deductions of historic philosophy alternate in his
pages with attempts to fix the true reading of an obscure
passage or a minute point of chronology or geography. It
may even be said that in these last investigations he took
almost as much delight as in depicting the grander scenes
of history, and surrendered himself as absolutely for the
time to the migrations of the Goths and Scythians as to the
campaigns of B disarms or the conquests of the Saracens.
It must be added that never has any historian evinced
greater logical sagacity in making comparatively obscure de¬
tails yield important inferences, or held with a firmer hand
the balance in the case of conflicting probabilities ; none who
has exhibited sounder judgment or self-control (always ex¬
cepting Christianity) in cases where it is so easy for learned
enthusiasm to run into fanciful hypotheses. To these quali¬
ties must be added a singular skill in marshalling for effect
the diversified and multifarious matters of his history, and
often much richness of imagination and great graphic art in
investing their more picturesque features with the brilliant
tints and colours, the due light and shade, which belong to
historic painting.
Of the many high qualities which characterize his history,
perhaps none is more marked than the manner in which he
has managed to manoeuvre, so to speak, the vast array of
facts which crowd its pages. It is the amplest historic
canvas ever spread, the largest historic painting ever exe¬
cuted, by a single hand. The history of Rome is, for the
many centuries which Gibbon treats, the history of the
world; and it is astonishing that he should have been able
to work with so much ease such vast and incongruous mate¬
rials into so much unity of design ; that he should have been
able (so to speak) to exhibit the many-coloured nations of
all varieties of costume, habits, languages, and religions in
one tolerably consistent tableau. This history is a sort
of moving panorama of the nations; and as tribe after
tribe, nation after nation, Celt, Goth, Saracen, and Sarma-
tian, appear on the scene from the obscurity of their origi¬
nal seats, they blend with grace in the picturesque narra¬
tive. His history is like the Indus or the Mississippi,
swelling and still swelling by a thousand tributary floods,
which augment its volume, and tinge its waters, but with¬
out destroying the identity or the pervading character of
the stream.
The style of Gibbon has great merits, mixed with some
not trivial defects. The “ luminous Gibbon” was a phrase
of Sheridan in his speech on Hastings’ trial, with which
1 Memoirs, pp. 182-4.
lb., p. 183.
Ib., p. 106.
♦
GIBBON.
Gibbon. Gibbon was much delighted; but which the malicious wit
v — J afterwards playfully denied, and said he must have meant
the “voluminous Gibbon.” Yet the epithet may well
stand. The diction is precise, energetic, massive ; splendid,
where the pictorial demands of the narrative require it, as
that of Livy ; and sometimes, where profound reflections
are to be concisely expressed, as sententious and graphic
as that of Tacitus. Less can be said for the sources of
his diction ; it is not sufficiently idiomatic English, and
bears everywhere the traces of his early addictedness to
French. The Gallicisms are in many places amusingly
perverse. Thus, for example, his constant use of “ pre¬
vents” in the old sense of “ anticipate,” sometimes leads to
ludicrous apparent contradiction, as when he tells us that
“ The prefect had signalized his fidelity to Maximin by the
alacrity with which he had obeyed, and even prevented, the
cruel mandates of the tyrantor, again, that “ the for¬
tunate soil assisted and even prevented the hand of cul¬
tivation.”
The structure of his style is open to still greater objec¬
tions than his diction. Harmonious as it often is, it is too
frequently set and formal; deficient in flexibility. It is
apt to pall on the ear by the too frequent recurrence of the
same cadence at equal intervals, and the too unsparing use
of antithesis. It is not veined marble, but an exquisite
tesselation ; not the fluent naturally-winding stream, but a
stately aqueduct, faced with stone, adorned with wooded
embankments, or flowing over noble arches, but an aque¬
duct still. It is a just criticism of Sir James Mackin¬
tosh that probably no writer ever derived less benefit
from his professed models. Pascal, Voltaire, Hume, were
his delight, and he acknowledges (as so unsuccessful a
pupil well might) that he often closed the pages of the
last with a feeling of despair. Addison and Swift he read
for the very purpose of improving his acquaintance with
idiomatic English, yet, as the above critic remarks, “ with
so little success, that in the very act of characterizing these
writers, he has deviated not a little from that beautiful
simplicity which is their peculiar distinction.”
The irony of Gibbon, on which he evidently plumed
himself, is in him no pleasant feature, not merely because
in history it can seldom be in place if much indulged,
but because it is especially distasteful to the great majo¬
rity of his readers when applied to those deeply serious
themes on which he usually exercises it. He flattered him¬
self, as already seen, that Pascal’s Provincial Letters had
taught him to use this weapon gracefully; as little, it may
be retorted, as Addison and Swift had taught him the use
of idiomatic English. The dift’erence between an innocent
smile and a sardonic grin is scarcely greater than that be¬
tween the irony of Pascal and the irony of Gibbon ; the
one speaks with a sweet riant air, as with the conscious¬
ness that what is ridiculed is ridiculous ; the other with a
cautious, stealthy, Guy Faux look, as if conscious of a
sinister purpose. Gibbon’s irony almost always wears a
sneer, and seldom provokes the smile of the reader, even
where the subject does not repel it. Not only so ; it is so
elaborate as to lose much of its grace even where innocent;
in other cases it is often so masked as to leave the
reader (Pascal is never thus chargeable) in doubt whether
the author meant what he seemed to mean, or whether
he is not meditating, by the very form of expression, a
pusillanimous escape from the inferences that may be legi¬
timately founded on it.
We have expressed ungrudging admiration of the great
merits of this astonishing work. It has, nevertheless, one
pervading blemish, of which we shall speak with similar im¬
partiality. That blemish is, of course, the treatment of
Christianity.
If the Christian public had given itself time to reflect, it
would have been seen that Gibbon’s attack really afforded
little cause for alarm. The purpose of the assassin-like
stroke from behind the curtain of his irony is plain enough ;
but it is really a brutum fulmen. Gibbon himself has pro¬
vided for his own defeat by his very mode of conducting
the assault. If he meant, as he seemed to insinuate
rather than affirm (or, to speak more accurately, insinuated
while in words he expressly affirmed the contrary), that
his “ five secondary causes” gave a probable natural so¬
lution of the origin and early triumphs of Christianity,—
then the whole thing was a ludicrous instance of vorepov
v-porepov, or, as our proverb has it, of “ the cart before the
horse.” The story begins all too late ; tbe “ causes”' require
as much to be accounted for as the “effects or rather, they
are among the very effects to be accounted for. According
to this mode of explaining the origin of Christianity, causes
are assigned which implied not only its existence, but its
activity; in other words, the hypothesis assigns Christianity
itself as a cause of itself and its success as a ground of its
success. Thus, for example, if he is to be supposed (as he
evidently wishes the reader to infer) to be accounting for
the purely human origin and triumphs of Christianity,'—
the most potent secondary causes he assigns are the zeal,
morality, virtue, unity,1 and so forth, of the Christian church;
meanwhile, the very thing that demands explanation is just
the sudden apparition in the world of this singular phe¬
nomenon, the Christian church, with this bright retinue of
virtues ; how it was that a system from which the Jews have
recoiled more than any other nation for the last eighteen
hundred years should have sprung up in their bosom, in spite
of all their national antipathies ; how it was that a system
which was scarcely less odious from its origin, its character,
its doctrines (in a word, everything), to all other nations,
should nevertheless have found its proselytes so rapidly in
every part of the Roman empire; and in a few centuries, not
only gained a sphere for the exercise of that marvellous
“ virtue” and “ zeal” which it indeed might cause, but which
could hardly cause it, but dethroned all the deities of Olym¬
pus, and became the established religion of the empire! That
was the problem; and Gibbon takes it up long after Chris¬
tianity had made good its footing, and assigns, if he means
what he seems to mean, causes for its origin and success
which already presuppose both origin and success! It is as
though a man were seeking the source of the Nile, and
ascending no higher than the cataracts, avows that he finds
its fountain there. Such is the value of Gibbon’s hypothesis,
supposing he intended his secondary causes to account for
the origin and triumphs of Christianity ; but, as before said,
he made a provision for his retreat, by nominally granting
the “ truth of the doctrine and the providence of God” to
be the great cause of the success of Christianity. Seriously,
one would imagine, (if we did not know his manner), that he
meant all this; for in his Vindication, in reply to Davis,
where he takes occasion briefly to mention Watson’s Let¬
ters, and to excuse himself from reply, he appeals to this
very concession as a reason for silence! He says,—“ The
remarks of Dr Watson consist more properly of general
argumentation than of particular criticism. He fairly owns
that I have expressly allowed the full and irresistible weight
of the first great cause of the success of Christianity; and
1 As to his third secondary cause, “miracles,” the same may he said as of his ironically conceded primary cause. He either meant that
miracles had been performed, or not; if he did, he of course concedes the main point; if he did not, then he is giving a nothing (by a new
name) to account for the success of Christianity. If it be said that what he meant was the pretension to miracles, though miracles there
were none, it is very likely; but then it is easy to reply that though such pretensions have been often of service when a religion has
already become accredited, there is no example (unless he choose to beg the question by assuming it of the Jewish and Christian religions)
of a religion successfully founding itself on such hazardous assumptions, while there are many examples of failure in such attempts; that
is, Gibbon’s cause, as usual, comes too late.
616 GIBBON.
Gibbon, he is too candid to deny that the five secondary causes,
which I had attempted to explain, operated with some de¬
gree of active energy towards the accomplishment of that
"reat event. The only question which remains between us
relates to the degree of the weight and effect of those se¬
condary causes; and as I am persuaded that our philosophy
is not of the dogmatic kind, we should soon acknowledge
that this precise degree cannot be ascertained by reasoning,
nor perhaps be expressed by words.”1 This language, on
the supposition that Gibbon was still really ironizing, greatly
aggravates the disingenuousness of the “ celebrated chap¬
ters.” But either he meant what he said, or he did not; if
he did, it of course formally surrenders the argument which
infidelity has founded on the supposed sufficiency of his
“ secondary” causes ; if he did not mean it, he of course
evades the very question which his antagonist (and every
other discreet antagonist) would contest with him, by ironi¬
cally affecting agreement.
It may be further remarked, not only that the Chris¬
tian feels that the “secondary causes” of Gibbon do not
touch the principal problem,—but that infidelity has con¬
fessed, in the most significant way, a similar mistrust, by
laboriously constructing other, and often reciprocally de¬
structive hypotheses, to account for the intractable pheno¬
mena. That of Strauss is one, which, unlike that of Gib¬
bon, professes to track the origin of Christianity to its cradle;
but faithfully represents that of Gibbon and many more, in
one respect, that it is ephemeral. It is even now fast losing
its transient prestige. These shining exhalations from the
bog of scepticism glimmer, flicker, and vanish. Fortuitous
myth, deliberate fiction, deep fraud practising on simplicity,
deep fanaticism practising on itself,—have all under various
modifications been resorted to, as the contradictory bases
of infidel theories, and have been successively abandoned.
The problem of the origin of such a system as Christianity
under such circumstances, and with such results, within a
given century, still presents the ancient difficulty. Mean¬
while, it may now be safely asserted, that the chief hypotheses
have been exhausted; and we have reason to infer, therefore,
that the vast majority who examine Christianity will be, as
they have hitherto been, of Butler’s opinion, that nothing
but the truth of the gospel will harmonize the facts.
But still further; it is a special weakness in Gibbon’s
theory that so far from his “secondary causes” being suf¬
ficient to account for the origin, they do not even account
for the progress of the gospel; they are, when closely in¬
vestigated, quite as often opposed to that progress; some¬
times must have been far greater hindrances than helps.
Nothing can be more infelicitous than some of his supposi¬
tions. For example, he imagines that the “intolerant
zeal” of Christianity—which expressed the most open and
derisive contempt of all the gods, consecrated by the
classic mythologies—was a mysterious advantage to it!
That the austere virtue—with which, be it recollected, it
not only recoiled from the too welcome laxity of a jovial
heathenism, but enlarged the circle of moral duties by add¬
ing the demands of the most diffusive and refined spiritual
purity—would somehow attract votaries ! That its visions
of immortality—of a heaven so unalluring—of a hell so ter¬
rible—would be of magnetic force! Surely these are pro¬
blematic auxiliaries. Similarly, some of the facts he as¬
sumes are purely imaginary; he attributes the zeal of pro-
selytism manifested by the Christians to a Jewish origin, for¬
getting that the zeal of the Jews was just of the opposite kind;
that Judaism was as exclusive as Christianity is catholic.
There may be, no doubt, zeal for freedom and zeal for sla¬
very ; but because each is zeal, it would be odd to derive
one from the other. Another cause to which he attributes
much, was, alas! too often non-existent, and its effects were
at least neutralized by opposite causes. It is the unity of Gibbon,
the early church; its close compacted organization ! Surely
a singular topic of compliment, and even at a very early
period a doubtful source of strength. The divisions, jea¬
lousies, and quarrels of Christians, were from the very first
their weakness and their shame; and must have been at
least as influential to retard, as ever their union was to ad¬
vance, the progress of the gospel.
In conclusion, Christians may take some encouragement
from Gibbon’s failure. If ever man could hope to be the
historic champion of infidelity with success, it was he. His
work has such prodigious merits in nearly everything but
its treatment of Christianity, as to have procured it almost
universal perusal; it has now been published for the greater
part of a century ; and what, relatively to Christianity, have
been its effects? Quite inappreciable. His management
of this high argument is generally considered as the great
blot of the work; as a sufficient, or even plausible account
of the origin and early triumphs of Christianity, it is for the
most part abandoned by infidels themselves.
The New Testament, somehow, still manages to impress
the bulk of mankind who examine it, with an indelible con¬
viction that it is the fruit of neither imposture, fiction, nor
fanaticism, and that the facts connected with the propaga¬
tion of the religion it embodies are historic verities. Since
men have persisted in this belief, in spite of the efforts of
such men as Bolingbroke, Voltaire, Hume, and Gibbon, to
disabuse them, it is not probable that the enterprise in which
such champions have failed will be successfully achieved by
other hands. Hence it may be inferred, that if Christianity
be false, it will, nevertheless, not be exploded.
The manner in which Gibbon prosecutes his object af¬
fords, no doubt, great facilities for exciting prejudices against
Christianity, and ample scope for his cherished sneer. Chris¬
tianity does not enter on the scene till it had degenerated in
some degree from its primitive purity, and had contracted
many pollutions. The foibles and follies of its adherents,
of course, afford a very easy triumph to the satirist.
The Christian religion, once originated, and having
achieved an initial success, was left to struggle with all the
corrupting influences of the world, and, as might be expected,
did not come off uninjured. Brought into contagious con¬
tact with false philosophies and degrading superstitions, and
gathering converts from those who were but partially re¬
claimed from either, no wonder that its purity was blemished.
But all this, which is favourable to Gibbon’s satire, is any¬
thing but favourable to his argument: for the characteris¬
tics of Christianity to which, one moment, he would fain
assign such wonderful efficacy, are anon exhibited in a very
different light; are alternately, as the exigencies of his argu¬
ment or the gratification of his malignity may dictate, the
objects of respect or contempt. Thus the zeal and the purity
of manners which are now so potent a cause of success, are
now transformed, the one into bigotry and fanaticism, the
other into austerity and grimace. But velis et remis ; if
Christianity may but be discredited, the historian seems but
little troubled by his own inconsistencies. Thus, to give
other instances of this blind animosity: sometimes the
Christians are, nearly all, poverty-stricken wretches, the
very dregs of society ; presently, they have plenty of riches
among them, and the mere prodigality of their benevolence
is no inconsiderable bait for proselytism: at one time the
early Christians, for a certain purpose, are too obscure to
attract the attention of the Roman great; then, for another
purpose, it is suddenly remarkable that illustrious men like
Tacitus and Seneca could have been so insensible to its
existence, or have regarded it with such apathy !
The historian, in short, has greatly diminished the perni¬
cious effect of his attack, by the animus he everywhere be-
1 Miscellaneous Works, vol. iii., p. 362. The italics are the author’s own.
G I B
Gibbon, trays. It is that of inveterate prejudice, of resolute hostility.
—On this one topic he is never moved to generous or noble
emotion. The excellence of the Christian ethics, indeed,
is coldly conceded; but even Gibbon could hardly deny that.
The sixteenth chapter is in some respects worse than the
fifteenth ; for in his anxiety to depreciate the numbers and
heroism of the Christian martyrs, he forgets what is due
to his professed maxims of toleration, and becomes, if not
the apologist, the palliator of the most odious persecution.
But his conduct here has been rebuked by one whose emi¬
nently calm and judicial spirit, and exemption from all sus¬
picion of religious fanaticism, render his testimony particu¬
larly impressive. “ The sixteenth chapter,” says Sir James
Mackintosh, “ I cannot help considering as a very ingenious
and specious, but very disgraceful extenuation of the cruel¬
ties perpetrated by the Roman magistrates against the Chris¬
tians. It is written in the most contemptibly factious spirit of
prejudice against the sufferers Dr Robertson
has been the subject of much blame for his zeal or sup¬
posed lenity towards the Spanish murderers and tyrants
in America. That the sixteenth chapter of Mr Gibbon
did not excite the same or greater disapprobation, is a
proof of the unphilosophical and indeed fanatical animo¬
sity against Christianity which was so prevalent during
the latter part of the seventeenth century.” 1 It is also
well observed by M. Guizot, that there is scarcely any¬
thing in his history that does not move Gibbon more than
Christianity and its fortunes. The achievements ofavigorous
barbarism—the sanguinary conquests, even the odious
cruelties of a Bajazet or a Tamerlane—are described with
more animation than the moral conquests of Christianity.
One would have imagined that at least the prodigious
influence of Christianity, true or false, on the world’s
history and its civilization would have been a tempting
theme for the philosophical historian’s speculation. Yet,
as the above writer has observed, it is a topic almost unap¬
preciated by him. A single sentence from M. Guizot’s
article in the Biographic Universelle well expresses the
above traits. “ Apres s’etre efforce de rebaisser le courage
heroi'que des martyrs Chretiens, il prend plaisir a celebrer
les feroces exploits de Tamerlan et des Tartares: la grandeur
materielle, si on pent le dire, le frappe beaucoup plus que
la grandeur morale; et les elans d’une vertu sublime ne
penetrent point jusqu’ a son ame, tandis que les ecarts d’une
force barbare seduissent son imagination et egarent son
jugement.”
It is difficult, as several critics have remarked, to account
for Gibbon’s extreme injustice to Christianity. Some have
fancied, and himself in his later days would fain counte¬
nance the fancy, that it was partly due to his “ conservative
politicsbecause he regarded Christianity as he would a
“ modern innovation,” and yearned, with desperate fidelity
to antiquity, over the old heathenism it supplanted ; because
he felt much as he did at seeing the throne of France
menaced by revolutionary fury ! A remarkable passage to
this effect occurs in one of his latest letters to Lord Shef¬
field, dated 1790. He says, “ Burke’s book is a most ad¬
mirable medicine against the French disease, which has
made too much progress even in this happy country. I ad¬
mire his eloquence, I approve his politics, I adore his chi¬
valry, and I can forgive even his superstition. The primi¬
tive church, which I have treated with some freedom, was
itself at that time an innovation, and I was attached to the
old Pagan establishment.”2 To most this has appeared an
after thought, and justly. For was ever any argument more
suicidal ? When he wrote, Christianity, right or wrong, was
in possession ; and to attempt to destroy it was to do that
very work of destruction which he professed to deprecate;
yet he had the effrontery to say in his Memoir, on the
GIB 617
breaking out of the French revolution,—“ I have some- Gibbons,
times thought of writing a dialogue of the dead, in which
Lucian, Erasmus, and Voltaire, should mutually acknow¬
ledge the danger of exposing an old superstition to the con¬
tempt of the blind and fanatic multitude.”3 Assuredly he
should have made himself a fourth interlocutor in the dia¬
logue, and confessed that he was the greatest culprit, in this
kind, of his whole generation. Christianity, which, even if
according to him a “ superstition,” could plead the hoary
prescription of nearly two thousand years, he did his best
to undermine, because so many centuries ago it had de¬
throned poor Jupiter! On the same principles, had he
lived in the age of Augustus, he ought to have exemplified
his zeal against innovation by being jealous of the upstart
of Olympus, pleaded for the restoration of Saturn, or even
gone back to the more “ primitive tradition” of “ Chaos and
Old Night!”
It would have been well if the contemporaries of Gibbon
had adopted that moderate estimate of his attack on Chris¬
tianity which experience has now justified us in forming.
As it was, the public took fright, and numberless hasty re¬
plies were published,—some of them insolent and abusive,
most of them very inadequate in point of learning and
logic, and none of them, if we except those of Watson and
Lord Hailes, of much value. That of Watson alone touched
the real points of the controversy, and showed that. Gib¬
bon’s sophistry left the great problem as it was. It is a
pity that Gibbon, instead of replying, evaded it by that dis¬
ingenuous feint of agreement on the main point at issue, to
which reference has been already made.
The only adversary whom lie honoured with distinct re¬
futation was Davis, whose unworthy attempt to depreciate
the great historian’s learning, and captious, cavilling, acri¬
monious charges of petty inaccuracies and discreditable
falsification, gave Gibbon an easy triumph. It was, as he
said, “a sufficient humiliation” to vanquish such an adver¬
sary. At the same time it must be confessed, that lie
selected his adversary discreetly.
The charges of inaccuracy against Gibbon in the citation
of his authorities have often been repeated, but they are
not, except to a very limited extent, substantiated in the
estimate of the most recent and competent of his editors.
In his treatment of Christianity, his inveterate and resolute
prejudices may account for his partial evidence and per¬
verted logic without accusing him, as Davis did, of igno¬
rance, which cannot be suspected, or of deliberate sup-
pressio veri, which one tvould not suspect.
It is impossible to enumerate here the various editions
of Gibbon’s works, or to enter into the voluminous litera¬
ture they have evoked. It may be well to mention, how¬
ever, the beautiful edition of the Decline and Fall recently
put forth in eight volumes 8vo, under the editorship of
Dr W. Smith, and which embodies the notes of Professor
Milman and M. Guizot.
He who would obtain a full insight into the character
and genius of Gibbon, would do well to consult not only the
Memoir, but the Letters and Journals; his life was empha¬
tically that of a student and scholar, and these remains as
vividly illustrate it as the Memoir itself. (h. r.)
GIBBONS, Grinling, a celebrated English wood-
carver, was born at London in the latter half of the 17th
century. His parents have been generally represented as
Dutch by descent. He early displayed great cleverness
and ingenuity in his art, on the strength of which he was
recommended by Evelyn to Charles IL, who commissioned
him to execute the ornamental carving for the chapel at
Windsor. The subjects which Gibbons selected are taken
chiefly from the Bible, and consist of doves, pelicans,
palm-trees, and other emblematic devices. He also exe-
1 Mackintosh’s Life, vol. i., p. 245.
VuL. X.
Gibbon’s Works, vol. i., p. 214.
Ib., p. 181.
4 1
618 G 1 B
Gibbous cuted the foliage and festoons in the choir of St Pauls,
' II the baptismal fonts in St James’s, and an immense quantity
Gibraltar. of ornamental work at Burleigh, Chatsworth, and other
aristocratic mansions. The finest of all his productions in
this style, however, is believed to be the ceiling which he
devised for a room at Petworth. He sometimes wasted his
ingenuity on trifling subjects. He is said, for instance, to
have carved feathers and pens that were mistaken for real
ones ; and many of his flowers used to move on their stems
like their natural prototypes when shaken by a breeze.
Some of Gibbons’ works, such as his statue of Charles II.
at the Bank, and of James II. at Whitehall, sufficiently
prove that had he chosen to cultivate the more difficult
walks of art he might have attained a high rank among the
sculptors of England. Even as it is, he has been called by
some critics the English Cellini, and the title is perhaps
not wholly undeserved.
GIBBOUS, protuberant, swelling, of a convex form.
It is particularly applied to the moon, when more than half
full or illumined.
GIBEON, an ancient city of Palestine, frequently
mentioned in the Old Testament, though not occurring in
the New. It is identified with El-Jib, which is a moderately
sized village, seated on the summit of a hill, five miles
north by west from Jerusalem. The houses stand very
irregularly and unevenly, sometimes almost above one
another. They seem to be chiefly rooms in old massive
ruins, which have fallen down in every direction. One
large building still remains, probably a former castle or
tower of strength. Towards the east the ridge of the hill
sinks a little, and here, a few roods from the village, just
below the top of the ridge towards the north, is a fine
fountain of water. It is in a cave, excavated in and under
the high rock, so as to form a large subterranean reservoir.
Not far below it, among olive trees, are the remains of an
open reservoir, about 120 feet in length by 100 in breadth.
It was doubtless designed to receive the superfluous waters
of the cavern, and there can be little question .but that this
was “the Pool of Gibeon ” mentioned in 2 Sam. ii. 13;
and, in the whole, we find the “ Great waters that are in
Gibeon” of Jer. xli. 12.
GIBRALEON, anciently Ossonoba, a secular town of
Spain, in the modern province of Huelva, in Andalucia, on
the left bank of the Odiel, here navigable, and 7 miles from
the town Huelva. It is rather well built, and contains
two churches, a town-house, a public school, a nunnery,
and the buildings of two monasteries; and it has also the
remains of two forts. Gibraleon has an annual fair, and
carries on some trade in fruit, wool, corn, and wine. Pop.
(1855) about 4000.
GIBRALTAR, a British town and fortress in Anda¬
lucia, the most southerly province of Spain. It stands on
the extremity of a small peninsula, washed on the east side
by the Mediterranean, and on the west by the Bay of Gib¬
raltar. This peninsula is connected with the mainland by
a low sandy isthmus called the “ Neutral Ground,” which
reaches from the rock of Gibraltar northwards to the
ancient Spanish lines, a distance of a mile and a half; its
breadth is about three-fourths of a mile.
Gibraltar was known to the ancient Phoenicians by the
name of Alube, which was corrupted by the Greeks into
Calpe. Over against it, on the African shore, stood Abyla
(called by the English Apes’ Hill); and these two moun¬
tains formed the renowned Pillars of Hercules, and for
many centuries the extreme limits of maritime enter¬
prise among the seafaring men of the ancient world. Its
importance in a sti’ategic point of view was first discovered by
the Saracens, who, when they crossed over from Africa into
Spain in 711, built a fortress on it, in order to keep up their
communication with the other side. From the name of
their leader, Tarik, or Tariff they called the rock Gebel
GIB
Tarik, the hill of Tarik, whence the modern name of the Gibraltar,
mountain is said to be derived. An ancient tower, the sole
relic of the castle built by the Berber chief, is still standing.
The rock remained in possession of the Arabs till the year
1309, when it was retaken by Guzman the Good, who
commanded the Spanish armies for Ferdinand IV., the
king of Castile and Leon. In 1333, however, the Moors
once more made themselves masters of it, through the
treachery of the Christian governor, and retained it till
1462, when they were driven out of it by Henry IV., king
of Castile. It was finally incorporated with the Spanish
crown in 1502. The arms of the town were from this
time forth a castle with a key hanging from its gate, typi¬
fying its command over the straits. Great efforts were
made by the Spaniards to strengthen the natural defences
of the place, and they succeeded so well that throughout
Europe Gibraltar was regarded as impregnable. In 1704,
however, it was taken by a combined English and Dutch
fleet under Sir George Rooke and the Prince of Hesse
Darmstadt. The Spaniards made desperate efforts to re¬
cover it, but their attempts were invariably defeated, some¬
times with immense loss. The peace of Utrecht in 1713
confirmed the possession of it to the English. In 1720 the
Spaniards determined once more to take it if possible by a
coup-de-main ; but their intention became known to the
garrison, and the plan was abandoned for a time. Seven
years after this a much more formidable attack was or¬
ganized. The Spaniards had made vast preparations, and
surprised the garrison before reinforcements could be sent
for from England. The result of the siege was still doubt¬
ful, when the news of a general pacification brought it to
a close. But the most memorable siege of Gibraltar, in¬
deed one of the most memorable of all sieges, was that
which it sustained from the combined land and sea forces
of France and Spain during the years 1779-1783. The
grand attack on the place was made on the 13th Septem¬
ber 1782, and all the resources of power and science
were exhausted by the assailants in the fruitless attempt.
On the side of the sea they brought to bear against
the fortress forty-six sail of the line, and a countless fleet
of gun and mortar boats. But their chief hope lay in
their floating batteries. These celebrated engines of de¬
struction had been planned by D’Arcon, an eminent French
engineer, and built at the cost of half a million sterling.
They were so constructed as to be impenetrable by the red-
hot shot which they foresaw the garrison would employ;
and such hopes were entertained of their efficiency that
they were styled invincible. The Count d’Artois (after¬
wards Charles X.) hastened from Paris to witness the cap¬
ture of the place. He arrived in time to see the total de¬
struction of the floating batteries, and a considerable portion
of the combined fleet, by the English fire. In writing home
on the subject he found it convenient to hide his chagrin
under a wretched joke: “ La batterie la plus effective,”
said he, “ etait ma batterie de cuisine.” Despite this
disaster, however, the siege continued till brought to a
close by the general pacification, February 2d, 1783.
The history of this famous siege is fully detailed in the
work of Captain Drinkwater, who himself took part in the
defence, and in the Life of its gallant defender Sir Gilbert
Elliott, afterwards Lord Heathfield, whose military skill and
moral courage place him among the best soldiers and
noblest men whom Europe produced during the eighteenth
century. In nothing did his true nobility of character
show itself more clearly than when it became his duty to
animate his little garrison, whose spirits often flagged under
the combined influences of disease and impending famine.
When victory at length crowned his arms, the small rem¬
nant of 400 men that were saved from the wreck of the
hostile fleets owed their lives to his humanity. His con¬
duct at the opening of the siege, when called upon by the
GIBRALTAR. 619
Gibraltar. Spanish commander to deliver up the keys of the fort, is a
worthy parallel to that of Leonidas at Thermopylaj, when
ordered by the Persian king to lay down his arms. This
scene has supplied to Reynolds the subject of one of the
noblest portraits ever put on canvas. Since this memo¬
rable siege everything that the science of the engineer
could do has been done to render Gibraltar, humanly
speaking, impregnable. The east and north sides are
naturally so steep as to be wholly inaccessible. At the
north-west corner, where “ the Lines ” intervene, a narrow
gorge, leading down to the neutral ground, is flanked by
the most formidable batteries. Europa Point, the southern
extremity of the rock, is almost equally precipitous ; but to
make assurance doubly sure, powerful batteries have been
erected there also. The top of the Point is now sur¬
mounted by a fine lighthouse. In the neighbourhood are
the “ Flats,” an open sandy space where the soldiers of the
fort are drilled and exercised. On the western side the
hill slopes down gradually to the sea. On this slope
stands the town of Gibraltar, flanked by the old and new
moles. It was almost entirely destroyed during the great
siege, but has been rebuilt on an enlarged and improved
plan. The houses are, for the most part, tolerably well
built, but the curious intermixture of English and Spanish
architecture, and the large number of mean public houses
painted in flaring white, are not calculated to impress the
visitor very favourably. The town is connected with the
isthmus by a narrow causeway, on the defence of which
science has exhausted its resources. The most remarkable
of the defences commanding this part of the town are the
“ galleries,” two excavations cut out of the solid rock with
great difficulty, and at an immense expense. Their aggre¬
gate length is between two and three miles, and their
breadth is sufficient to let a carriage pass. At intervals of
12 yards port-holes have been cut out in the face of the
rock commanding the neutral ground and the bay, and so
contrived that the gunners in the galleries are quite safe from
the shot of any possible assailants. These galleries are so
scarped as to be inaccessible, and their safety is further
secured by the batteries that bristle on every height above.
The rock of Gibraltar itself is composed chiefly of gray
primary marble, lying in strata which vary in thickness from
20 to 40 feet. As seen from the sea it presents a bare and un¬
interesting aspect, as if wholly devoid of trees, plants, or ver¬
dure of any kind. It possesses, however, some wooded
and grassy little glens, shaded from the scorching heat in
the nooks of the mountains. In the crevices of the rock
itself are found the asparagus, the caper plant, the palmita,
and various sorts of succulent herbs, such as the aloe, and
some species of cactus. Kelaart in his Flora Calpensis
describes upwards of 400 flowering plants and ferns as in¬
digenous to Gibraltar, and about fifty as introduced. The
rock shelters rabbits, partridges, pigeons, and woodcocks,
which are never shot at; and is remarkable as the only
spot in Europe where the ape is found wild. The species
is the Barbary ape, of a dark fawn colour. They inhabit
the high ground on the east of the rock, and never ap¬
proach the dwellings of men unless driven into the low
ground by the cold winds from the N.E. They then do
a little damage to the orchards; but they have always
enjoyed perfect impunity for these occasional depreda¬
tions ; and it is as grave an offence to kill one of them
as it was in Egypt in ancient times to destroy an ibis,
or as it is now in Holland to injure a stork. The rock
is honey-combed in many places with caverns, some of
them of great size. The largest of all is that of St
Michael on the S.W. side, the entrance of which is about
1000 feet above the sea-level. On entering, one sees a
spacious but gloomy hall hung round with massive stalactites,
from which the visitor descends through a succession of
caves of the same sort to a depth of about 500 feet below
the entrance. The foulness of the atmosphere has hitherto Gibraltar,
prevented any one from penetrating further; but at this
depth it is said that the waves of the sea may sometimes be
heard roaring through the caverns below. Among the
rocks, chiefly in the fissures filled with calc-sinter, are to be
found many interesting fossils, among others the bones ol
various animals, intermixed with helices and fragments
of spar.
The climate of Gibraltar is temperate, and, on the whole,
healthful, the only exception being in the case of children
cutting their first teeth. To them it seems to be peculiarly
fatal. In summer the African heat is tempered by a re¬
freshing sea-breeze, which blows from about 10 a.m., and
ceases before sunset. During the other seasons, however,
fogs and mists are common. The easterly winds, or le-
vanters, sweeping the Mediterranean, bring with them the
unhealthy season, which lasts from July till November.
During the prevalence of these winds, wounds are said to
become aggravated, acute diseases arise, and many con¬
valescents relapse and perish. The west winds on the other
hand are clear and refreshing, and blow directly on the town.
The rains set in with great violence in the end of Sep¬
tember, and continue to fall at intervals, though much more
lightly, till May. The drought which then follows is very
intense. The heavy dews and thick fogs of autumn are as
disagreeable as they are insalubrious. Much discussion exists
as to the nature and origin of the Gibraltar fever, which
scourges the rock periodically at intervals of about twelve
years. It is believed to arise from the filthy habits of some
of the alien residents, and to be fostered by the defective
sewerage. Probably also the structure of the English parts
of the town is calculated to make the infection spread. These
houses, which are built on the English model, and furnished
in the English style with carpets, curtains, and other ap¬
pliances which prevent the free circulation of air, are
singularly ill adapted either for the hot or the cold weather
of Gibraltar, and the fever is consequently peculiarly fatal to
British subjects. The means that have been taken to
diminish the amount of disease by enforcing a strict
quarantine on foreign ships visiting the port do not seem
to have contributed materially to that end. There is a
magnificent tank for supplying the navy. It generally
contains from 9000 to 11,000 tons of good water, which
is that which falls on the mountain in the rainy season.
The houses are so constructed that all the rain which falls
on their roofs is led into under-ground tanks. There are no
springs on the rock itself, and those on the neutral ground
yield but a scanty supply of bad water. Provisions are supplied
cheaply and abundantly from Africa. The soldiers of the
garrison used formerly to be fed on salt meats sent out from
England. This diet was found to be productive of very
fatal dysenteries and inflammations ; but since 1840, when
a different dietary was introduced, the amount of sickness
and mortality among the troops has greatly diminished.
Gibraltar contains a motley population of from 15,000
to 20,000 (exclusive of the troops in garrison), chiefly
English, Jews, Spaniards, and Moors. Stringent mea¬
sures are adopted by government to prevent any increase
in the number of permanent residents. No person is al¬
lowed to remain on the rock who cannot find some one to
stand security for his good behaviour. Permis de sejour
are issued by the police magistrate for ten, fifteen, or twenty
days, at the end of which period they require to be renewed.
The officers of the garrison have the privilege of introducing
a stranger for a month.
Justice is administered at Gibraltar according to the law
of England, which is not found to meet thoroughly the
emergencies that are constantly occurring among a popu¬
lation so heterogeneous as inhabits the rock. The judge-
advocate settles disputes that arise between debtor and cre¬
ditor ; but appeal is open from his decision to that of the
620 GIB
Gibraltar, governor, whose verdict is final in all cases where the value
of the contested property is below L.300. If it exceed
that amount the parties may appeal to the privy-council in
England.
The utmost tolerance exists in Gibraltar in all matters
pertaining to religion. Nearly every known form of wor¬
ship is celebrated ; but that which reckons by fir the greatest
number of adherents is the Roman Catholic. Next in
number are the Jews, who have four synagogues; and after
them the Protestants, chiefly members of the Church of
England. The least numerous are the Mohammedans. Two
bishops representing the Romish and English Churches re¬
side permanently at Gibraltar. There are three excellent
libraries on the rock, the oldest and best of which is that
which owes its origin to Colonel Drinkwater, the historian
of the siege. It numbers about 20,000 volumes.
Gibraltar is a free port; and though its trade and com¬
merce have of late years declined considerably, they are
still extensive and important. It is the great resort of the
contrabandistas or smugglers, who purchase nearly all the
goods that find their way into the south of Spain. The
smuggling of tobacco, which is manufactured in large quan¬
tities at Gibraltar, is a source of constant fretting and ill-
will between the governments of Spain and this country.
The quantity of this commodity that finds its way into Spain
without paying duty is between six and eight millions of
pounds annually, employing in its manufacture about 2000
hands. The loss and affront endured by the Spanish crown
through the continuance of this trade, are all the more
keenly felt, as tobacco is a monopoly of the government,
and a considerable source of its income. Inquiry, how¬
ever, has shown that the success of the smugglers is chiefly
due to the incapacity or dishonesty of the Spanish officials,
whose duty it is to put an end to their trade. The only
chance that these personages have of making fortunes is to
accept the presents which procure their connivance. In
1852 the declared value of British and Irish produce and
manufactures exported from the United Kingdom to Gib¬
raltar was L.510,889.
Gibraltar was long an ill-managed and most expensive
colony. It has now been thoroughly reformed, and not
only defrays its own expenses, but even pays over a small
surplusage to the home government. The total amount
of the revenue is a little above L.30,000; the expenditure
is rather under that sum. The sources of income are the
customs, port and quarantine dues, land revenue, rents,
auction dues, stamps and licences, &c. The outlay is caused
by the salaries in the civil, judicial, ecclesiastical, and mu¬
nicipal services, by allowances to some of these departments,
and by office contingencies.
Gibraltar, Bay of, or, as it is sometimes called, Alge-
ciras Bay, is bounded by the rock of Gibraltar on the one
side, and the headland of Cabrita on the other. Its greatest
length is about eight miles from N. to S., its greatest width
about five miles from E. to W., and its circuit nearly forty
miles. Its depth in the centre is about 110 fathoms. In
spring tides the water rises in the bay about four feet. Al-
geciras, from whose name the bay is sometimes called, is a
fortified Spanish town on the VV. side of the bay, over
against Gibraltar. Near it is the beautiful little island called
Isla Verde, or Green Isle.
Gibraltar, Straits of, the narrow channel which sepa¬
rates the south of Spain from the north of Africa. The
width at the narrowest part, between Cabrita Point and the
opposite shore, is thirteen miles. We have an excellent
chart of the straits by Don Vincente Tefino de San Miguel,
with the additional observations of Captain H. W. Smyth,
R.N., from which it appears that there is a continual cur¬
rent flowing from the ocean in the middle of the straits,
which has a velocity varying from three to six miles per
hour, and is three and a half miles in breadth. There are
GIB
two lateral currents, which have a mean breadth each of Gibson,
two and a half miles; but they change their direction with
the changes of the tide. At the time of ebb these lateral
currents have a velocity equal to that of the central one.
The depth of the strait in the meridian of Cape St Vincent
is 100 fathoms; but in passing upwards the channel regu¬
larly and rapidly deepens, until, opposite to Europa Point
at Gibraltar, the depth of water is 1000 fathoms. It is re¬
markable, that though the oceanic current at the straits, and
that of the Bosporus at the Dardanelles, continually pour
their waters into the Mediterranean, its level is not raised.
But Dr Halley long ago showed the evaporation from its
surface was fully equal to maintain it at the same level, not¬
withstanding those additions, and that of the rivers it re¬
ceived. The current is sufficiently strong to be dangerous
to vessels sailing into the Atlantic, and can only be over¬
come by a brisk wind from the Levant.
GIBSON, Edmund, D.D., author of the Codex Juris
Ecclesiastici Anglicani, was born at Bampton in West¬
moreland in 1669. His parents were persons of humble
fortune, but sensible enough to give their son the best edu¬
cation within their reach. After distinguishing himself at
the local schools, young Gibson w'as sent to Oxford, where
he made himself known by publishing at the early age of
twenty-two a Latin translation of the Saxon Chronicle,
with notes, indexes, &c. This work is held in high esteem
among historians, as it throws light on many points of early
English history on which the Latin chronicles are silent.
Gibson’s version of the work was welcomed by the antiqua¬
rians of England, many of whom volunteered their aid for
the edition of Camden’s Britannia, on which it soon became
known that he was engaged. This latter work appeared
in 1695, and was republished in 1722. Its editor’s next
production was also antiquarian in its nature, being an edi¬
tion of some historical remains left by Sir Henry Spelman,
and published by Gibson under the title of Reliquice Spelman-
niance. In virtue of these and other works Gibson attracted
the notice of Tenison, archbishop of Canterbury, who made
him his private chaplain, and afterwards rector of Lambeth
and archdeacon of Surrey. In the discussions which sub¬
sequently arose relative to the convocation of the clergy,
Gibson took a very active part, and warmly upheld in a
series of pamphlets the rights of the archbishop as president
of that assembly. This controversy suggested to him the
idea of those researches which resulted in his Codex Juris
Ecclesiastici Anglicani, a work which discusses more learn¬
edly and comprehensively than any other the legal rights
and duties of the English clergy, and the constitution, canons,
and articles of the English Church. In 1715 Gibson was
presented to the see of Lincoln, whence he was translated
five years after to that of London. Llere he exercised an
immense influence in the affairs of the church, over whose
integrity he watched with the most jealous care. Sir Robert
\\ alpole used to consult him on all church matters, and
allowed his power to become so great that Sir Robert was
once reproached for tolerating a pope in England. “ And
a very good pope he is,” was the minister’s reply. Gibson’s
overscrupulous regard for the clerical prerogative finally
lost him Walpole’s favour; and his fearless denunciation of
the licentious masquerades, then highly popular at court,
brought him into disgrace with the king.
In his church politics Gibson was a thorough conserva-
tive, yet he respected the various forms of dissent, and
checked all attempts to prevent them from worshipping in
the manner and on the principles which they preferred. In
practical life his generosity and charity are well attested by
numerous and striking examples. He died in 1 748, having
reached his eightieth year. The only work of Gibson which
need be particularized here, in addition to those already
mentioned, is his Pastoral Letters, intended as a reply to
Collins and other assailants of Christianity.
G I D
Gideon GIDEON {destroyer), surnamecl Jerubbaal or Jerub-
II besheth, fifth judge in Israel, and the first whose history
Gifford. is circumstantially narrated. He was the son of Joash, of
the tribe of Manasseh, and resided at Ophrah in Gilead be¬
yond the Jordan.
The Midianites, in conjunction with the Amalekites and
other nomade tribes, invaded the country every year, at
the season of produce, in great numbers, with their flocks
and herds. They plundered and trampled down the fields,
the vineyards, and the gardens ; they seized the cattle, and
plundered man and house, rioting in the country, after the
manner which the Bedouin Arabs practise at this day.
After Israel had been humbled by seven years of this
treatment, the Lord raised up a deliverer in the person of
Gideon.
Gideon having delivered Israel from the most afflictive
tyranny to which they had been subject since they quitted
Egypt, the grateful people, and particularly the northern
tribes, made him an offer of the crown for himself and his
sons. But the hero was too well acquainted with his true
position, and with the principles of the theocratical govern¬
ment, to accept this unguarded offer.
The remainder of Gideon’s life was peaceable. He had
seventy sons by many wives, and died at an advanced age,
after he had “ ruled Israel” (principally the northern tribes
and those beyond the river) for forty years—1249 to 1209
B.c. He is mentioned in the discourse of Samuel (1 Sam.
xii. 11), and his name occurs in Heb. xi. 32, among those
of the heroes of the faith.
GIEN, a tow n of France, capital of a cognominal arron-
dissement in the department of Loiret, on the right bank
of the Loire, here crossed by a handsome stone bridge,
thirty-seven miles E.S.E. of Orleans. It has manufactures
of serge, leather, and earthenware, and some trade in corn
and wine. Pop. (1851) 6036.
GIESSEN, a town of Germany, capital of the province
of Upper Hesse, in the grand duchy of Hesse, at the con¬
fluence of the Wieseck with the Lahn, and on the railway
from Frankfort to Cassel, thirty-three miles N.N.W. of the
former city. The fortifications which formerly surrounded
Giessen have been destroyed, and their site converted into
promenades. The town itself is old and generally ill built,
but contains some good edifices, as the castle, now the seat
of the provincial government, the university buildings, ar¬
senal, town-hall, and the new town church. The univer¬
sity was founded in 1607, and has a library of 40,000 vo¬
lumes, a botanic garden, observatory, museum of natural
history, &c. Its school of organic chemistry has become
famous under Professor Liebig, and is frequented by stu¬
dents from all parts of Europe. Pop. 9049.
GIFFORD, William, a distinguished critic, satirist, and
dramatic annotator, was born at Ashburton, in Devonshire,
in April 1757. Although his immediate ancestors had at
one time possessed considerable property in their native
county, and been there accounted gentlemen, yet a series
of indiscretions had deprived them of the greater part of
their substance. The elder Gifford, whose roving propen¬
sities had driven him to sea, and also led him “ to wander
in some vagabond society,” as his son informs us, established
himself after his marriage as a plumber and glazier at South
Molton. But his habits were unsettled and desultory ; he
went again to sea, and once more returned without having
acquired any wisdom from his misfortunes ; and he died at
last, “ of a decayed and ruined constitution, before he was
forty.” When this event happened, his son William had
not completed his thirteenth year. He had been sent to
school to read, write, and cipher ; but, according to his own
account of himself, he there made “ a most wretched pro¬
gress.” In less than twelve months after the death of his
father, his mother followed her husband to the grave; and
after various vicissitudes young Gifford was sent on board
GIF 621
a coasting vessel, by the person under whose guardianship Gifford,
he had been placed. This individual, who was his god-
father, and into whose hands the effects of Gifford’s parents
had fallen, recalled him from his nautical pursuits, princi¬
pally, it would appear, on account of the outcry which the
people of Ashburton raised against him for the manner in
which he had treated his young charge. Gifford was now
sent to school, where he made great progress, especially in
arithmetic ; but from this he was in a short time withdrawn,
and apprenticed to a shoemaker. He was now in his fifteenth
year, and he was articled to serve until he was twenty-one.
But he thoroughly hated his new craft, and whenever leisure
afforded him opportunities, he prosecuted his favourite study
of mathematics. He also began to write verses, though not
at this period for amusement, but only when he wanted
money for his mathematical pursuits. But his devotedness
to his studies seems to have rendered him indifferent to the
concerns of his master, whose indignation was accordingly
roused. He desired young Gifford to give up his books and
papers; and this being refused, he proceeded to the garret
of the delinquent, which he thoroughly sacked. Being now
deprived of his sole means of improvement, almost of enjoy¬
ment, Gifford began to display a degree of sullenness, re¬
serve, and discontent, which made him an object of dislike
to his fellow-workmen. However, he had the good fortune
to attract the notice of Mr Cookesley, a surgeon, who in¬
terested himself deeply in behalf of Gifford, and set on foot
a subscription to purchase his freedom from the latter part
of his indentures, and to pay for his education ; a scheme
which completely succeeded.
After having passed two years at school, Gifford was pro¬
nounced fit for the university ; and by the active benevo¬
lence of Mr Cookesley, was enabled to proceed to Oxford,
where he was appointed Bible reader in Exeter College.
Whilst at this place, he undertook a translation of Juvenal.
A subscription for publishing it was set on foot; but dur¬
ing the progress of this undertaking his benefactor died ; a
circumstance which ultimately, and perhaps fortunately, pre¬
vented him from publishing a translation of the great Ro¬
man satirist, at least for a time. By an accidental occur¬
rence, however, he became known to Lord Grosvenor, who
invited him to his house. He accordingly quitted Oxford,
and took up his residence with that nobleman, under whose
hospitable roof he prosecuted the translation of Juvenal,
until called upon to accompany the son of his patron to the
Continent. With this young nobleman he spent, in two
successive tours, many years, “ of which,” he says in his
autobiography, “ the remembrance will always be dear.”
Although Gifford was principally engaged upon his trans¬
lation of Juvenal, its publication was preceded by several
other productions, by which at the time he obtained great
popularity. The first was the Baviad, a paraphrase on the
first satire of Persius. This production appeared in 1794,
and was levelled at a class of poetasters who deluged the
daily prints of the time with their maudlin and inflated effu¬
sions. The satire had the effect of completely extinguish¬
ing this tuneless tribe. Gifford’s next production, which
appeared the following year, was entitled the Mceviad ; an
imitation of Horace, and directed against the corruptions
of the drama. This work was only partially successful, for
the malady which it was intended to cure had its seat in
public manners rather than in the affectation of individuals.
In 1800 he published his Epistle to Peter Pindar, an attack
which brought him little else but disquietude ; the laughter
of the one satirist being quite as formidable as the gall of
the other. Soon after this Gifford became acquainted with
Mr Canning, who had resolved to establish a weekly paper
for the purpose of exposing the political agitators of the
time. This print was called the Anti-Jacobin, and Gifford
became its editor. The ministerial connection thus formed
was of some use to him, as by it he obtained the paymaster-
622 GIF
Gift. ship of the band of gentlemen pensioners ; and at a subse-
v. j quent period he was made a double commissioner of the
lottery. In 1802 appeared his English version of Juvenal,
a work which may be said to have engrossed the greater
part of his life. It was ushered into the world with every
possible advantage, headed by a dedication to Earl Gros-
venor, and with the translator’s autobiography prefixed to it.
The translation is able and spirited, although it is occa¬
sionally diffuse and inharmonious, and not unfrequently
coarse in its diction. In 1805 Gifford published an edition
of the Plays of Massinger in four volumes; and in 1816
the Works of Ben Jonson, in nine volumes. In his anno¬
tations upon both these dramatic poets he displays great
acuteness and industry; but in exposing the blunders of
previous commentators he shows not a little of his charac¬
teristic acrimony. In 1821 he published a version of Per-
sius ; and since his death his editions of the dramatic works
of Ford and Shirley have been given to the world, accom¬
panied with able and acute notes.
It was, however, as editor of the Quarterly Review that
Gifford became most generally known. The success of the
Edinburgh Review, in advocating liberal principles in poli¬
tics, suggested to the opposite party the idea of a counter¬
poise in the shape of the journal above named, which was
accordingly carried into effect in 1809, and Gifford entrusted
with its management. The scheme completely succeeded;
and this success was in no small measure due to the skill
and ability with which Gifford fulfilled his duties as editor.
No man possessed a finer tact in discerning the weak and
bad points of an author, when his object was to turn him
into ridicule; none could hold them up to laughter with
more felicitous acrimony. From the time of his taking the
charge of the Quarterly Review until his death, few circum¬
stances of any moment occurred in the life of Gifford, ex¬
cept the publication of the works already mentioned. Pie
continued the editorship until about two years before his
death, which took place on the 31st of December 1826.
From the prominent position which Gift’ord occupied in
the literary world, his character has been the subject of
severe animadversion by one party, and of exaggerated
eulogy by another. Of his great talents there can be no
doubt. His sagacity and quickness of apprehension were
striking, and the rapidity with which he acquired knowledge
is proved by his having prepared himself for the university
after being only two years at school. His wit was distin¬
guished for caustic severity rather than for brilliancy, and
he dealt more in invective than in polished repartee. As
a poet he cannot be said to rank very high; but that he
had a keen perception of the beauties of poetry, and could
point them out with great felicity, when political feelings
did not intervene to pervert his judgment, is proved by his
many admirable criticisms, and by the confidence which
Lord Byron and others reposed in his opinions. In private
life Gifford was modest and unassuming; and amongst the
numerous parties, poetical, political, or religious who oc¬
casionally suffered by his castigations, none of them ever
ventured to recriminate by attacking the moral character
of the editor of the Quarterly Revieiv. The memoir of
himself, which he prefixed to his version of Juvenal, is an
interesting and instructive autobiography. It is written
with ability and manly feeling, as well as with unaffected
modesty and apparent candour. (j* f* s.)
GIFT, in English Law, in its general sense, is a con¬
veyance that passes either lands or goods. But when re¬
stricted to things immovable, it is applicable only to lands
and tenements given in tail.
New Year’s Gifts. The custom of giving presents on
the first day of the year is very ancient, the origin of it
among the Romans being referred to Tatius king of the
Sabines, who reigned at Rome conjointly with Romulus,
and who, having considered as a good omen a present of
GIL
some sprigs of vervain gathered in a wood consecrated to Gigg
Strenia, the goddess of strength, which he received on the ||
first day of the new year, authorized this custom afterwards,
and gave to these presents the name of strenee. But how- v ^cen e-
ever this may be, the Romans on New Year’s Day gave
one another presents of sweetmeats, and of copper coins
stamped with the double head of Janus, to whom this day
was specially dedicated. Clients, that is to say, those wlm
were under the protection of the great, carried presents of
this kind to their patrons, adding to them a small piece of
silver. Under Augustus, the senate, the equestrians, and
the people presented such gifts to the emperor, and in his
absence deposited them in the Capitol. Of the succeeding
emperors, some adopted this custom, otheis did not, but it
always continued among the people. The early Christians
condemned it as a relic of paganism, and a species of super¬
stition ; but when it began to have no other object than
that of being a mark of regard and esteem, the church
ceased to disapprove of it.
GIGG, or Jig (Ital. ^a), a lively dance-tune in f time,
of two sections, each composed of eight measures.
GIGLIO, the ancient Igilium, an island of the Mediter¬
ranean, lying off' the coast of Tuscany, and comprised in
the Tuscan province of Siena. It is about six miles in
length by four in breadth, and is mountainous. Its chief
products are timber, wine, marble, and fish. Pop. about
1600, chiefly inhabiting the small town of the same name.
GIGUELA, a river of Spain, in New Castile. It rises
on the western slope of the Sierra de Cuenca, flows circui¬
tously S.S.W., and after a course of nearly 100 miles, joins
the right bank of the Guadiana, 36 miles N.E. of Ciudad-
Real. Its chief affluents are the Cencara on the left, and
the Rianzares on the right.
GIJON, a seaport-town of Spain, province of Oviedo in
Asturias, on the Bay of Biscay, and 20 miles from Oviedo.
The town is built on a slope, of which the upper part is oc¬
cupied by the old town, partly surrounded by ancient walls ;
the more modern portion extends to the beach, and both
are defended by a fortress and several batteries. In gene¬
ral the houses are good and commodious; the streets aie
wide, paved, and clean. There are in the town a parish
church, many chapels, several primary schools, nautical
school; a town-house, a prison, hospital, economic society,
custom-house, triumphal arch ; a glass and bottle manu¬
factory, and a cigar manufactory employing 1400 hands.
Besides, there is some coasting trade in coals, paving-stones,
grain, cider, and colonial produce. F ishing and fish-curing
are carried on to a considerable extent. 1 he harbour is
safe, with good anchorage, though rather difficult of access.
The number of vessels visiting the port yearly is about 1000,
aggregating 60,000 tons burthen. rIhe coal existing in the
vicinity is not wrought. Pop. nearly 7000.
GIL, San, or St Giles, a town of New Granada, province
of Scorro, 64 miles S.W. of Pamplona, on an affluent of the
Suarrez, here crossed by a stone bridge. San Gil was
founded in 1690, and has manufactures of cotton fabrics
and tobacco, with an extensive trade in agricultural produce.
It contains several schools and a college. Pop. nearly /000.
GIL VICENTE, the Portuguese Plautus, was born
about the year 1482. It is known that he belonged to a^
family of rank, and that he studied law at the university of
Lisbon, in compliance with the wish of his family; but his
legal studies he soon relinquished, and devoted himself en¬
tirely to the dramatic art. We know not whether he was
pensioned as a writer to the court; but he was most inde¬
fatigable in furnishing the royal family, as well as the pub¬
lic, with dramatic entertainments suited to the taste of the
age. He constantly resided at court, where his poetic talents^
were held in permanent requisition for the celebration of
spiritual as well as temporal festivals; and no dramatic vvritei
in Europe was more admired and esteemed than Gil V icente.
G I L
Gil The success of Juan de la Encina, who had recently pro-
Vicente. duced before distinguished audiences in Spain a style of
s—-y—^ pastoral dialogue till then altogether unknown in the penin¬
sula, excited Gil Vicente to his first attempts in the drama¬
tic art.1
In the reign of Emmanuel the Great, his first productions
were performed with approbation at court; but additional
lustre was added to his lame in the reign of John III., who
did not scruple in his youth to perform characters in the
dramas of his favourite author. Not only was Vicente a
great dramatic writer, but he seems also to have possessed
all the requisite qualifications for a theatrical manager. He
was himself an actor, and the tutor of the most brilliant
actress of his age—his own daughter Paula, maid of honour
to the Infanta Maria, a poetess, an amateur performer on
several instruments, and celebrated for every accomplish¬
ment except beauty.
Gil Vicente’s diction, as well as his poetic style, belongs
to the fifteenth century ; and to the latest period of his life
he continued faithful to the old national manner. In the
conflict with the new style introduced by Saa de Miranda’s
school, Gil Vicente appeared as the representative of the
yet enduring national taste, which even at court preserved
an authority equal to that of the party whose adherents were
most honourably distinguished.
At the command of the king, Gil Vicente was engaged
during his declining years in the collection of his works for
publication. But he did not live to complete the task.
Barbosa states that he died before the year 1.557 at Evora,
where he was in attendance upon the court. This was the
year in which John III. died. Hence we may conclude
that Barbosa’s date is a misprint for 1537. For when Gil
Vicente wrote from Santarem to the king, in 1531, he
thought himself at death’s door {mui visinko da morte), and
the Garden of Errors, his last composition, bears the date
1536. It is not then unreasonable to suppose that he died
in 1537, not 1557. Besides, this is much strengthened
when we find that Barros in his Dialogue, a pamphlet which
forms part of a miscellaneous volume, printed in 1539-40,
seems to speak of him as of one already dead. He was
buried in the cloisters of St Francis, and an epitaph written
by himself was engraven on his tomb, but without a date.
Whatever may have been the date of his death, however,
we know for certain that the license for the first impression
of his collected writings was granted by Queen Catharine,
as regent for her grandson Sebastian, to the poet’s daughter
Paula so late as Sept. 3, 1561, and that they were first
published in 1562 by his son Luiz, and dedicated to king
Sebastian, who was then only eight years old, and though
so young, took particular pleasure in the works of Gil
Vicente—“ He read them and delighted to see them per¬
formed.”
The dramatic pieces of Gil Vicente which have been
preserved are 42 in number. In the first volume of the
Obras de Gil Vicente (published by J. V. Barreto Feio e
Jose Gomez Monteiro, Hamburgo, 1834) are contained
twelve “ Devotional Autos,” called Obras de Devo^do. The
second volume contains four comedies, and ten tragi-come-
dies ; the third, twelve farces, besides a few miscellaneous
G I L
addenda in prose and verse. This classification to modern
taste seems capricious ; for, more than one of the Autos
might with equal propriety be placed among the farces, so
much more does the humour appear than the devotion.
But however questionable, or even indefensible, may be the
taste of dramatizing sacred subjects, it is not our business
here to discuss the morals of ancient moralities, or the re¬
ligion of miracle-plays. We take Gil Vicente’s as we find
them, and as they were exhibited in the sixteenth century
to a splendid court—one of the most orthodox in Europe,
in a country whose pride it was to be the “most faithful”
champion of Christianity, and even in the presence of that
zealot boy-king who was nurtured up to be the very “ knight-
errant of the Faith,” and who was so early to perish, with
all his chivalry, on the battle-field of Alkazer-Kebir.
About one-fourth of these plays are in the Spanish lan¬
guage, about one-half of them in the Portuguese, and the
remainder in Portuguese and Spanish intermixed.2 The
first three religious “ autos” already noticed are in Spanish.
In the Auto da Fe—a title suggestive of the horrors of the
Inquisition, but literally meaning “ an act of faith,” for the
Inquisition, so long before established in Spain and France,
was not yet admitted into Portugal3—the awkward swains
who receive instructions in the rudiments of the creed, and
are most obtuse learners, express their admiration and per¬
plexity in low Spanish; while the Faith alone, their teacher,
speaks good Portuguese—a capital stroke of patriotism in
the author. Though this piece, as well as some others,
has no date attached, it may be supplied from the Auto it¬
self ; for one of the peasants asks how many years ago the
Messiah was born, and Faith answers, “ fifteen hundred and
ten years.”
The best critical account of Gil Vicente and his works yet pub¬
lished is that contained in the Quarterly Review, vol. Ixxix., pp.
168—202 ; and the best edition of his works is that already men¬
tioned—Obras de Gil Vicente, Hamburgo, 1834. A copy of the 1562
edition of Gil Vicente’s plays is still preserved in the university
library of Gottingen. It is entitled : Compliaqam de todalas obras
de Gil Vicente, &c.—Empremiose em a muy nobre e sempre leal cidade
de Lisboa, anno 1562, in folio. In p. 87 of Dieze’s Velasquez, the
complete title may be found. In this edition the text of the dramas
is printed in Gothic characters; but the introduction which pre¬
cedes each piece is printed in modern Roman type, and is written
chiefly in the Portuguese language. A reprint in 4to appeared
also at Lisbon in 1586, but much disfigured by the Inquisition.
These are among the rarest and most curious books in modern lite¬
rature. The Hamburg edition of 1834 is in 3 vols. 8vo, and par¬
ticularly valuable as being chiefly according to the Gottingen folio.
Consult also Cronica de Bon Manoel, parte i., cap. 62, from which
it appears that the first secular dramatic exhibition in Portugal took
place June 8, 1502. (a. f. f.)
GILA, a river of New Mexico, United States of North
America. It is supposed to rise about N. Fat. 33., W.
Long. 109. ; and after a course, first southerly and then
westerly, it falls into the Colorado in N. Lat. 32. 44., W.
Long. 114. 30.
GILBERT, or Gilberd, William, an eminent physi¬
cian and experimental philosopher, was born at Colchester
in 1540, and became famous in consequence of his discovery
of several of the properties of the loadstone. He was a
strenuous advocate for the inductive mode in philosophical
623
Gila
Gilbert.
1 Garcia de Resende, who was brought up at the court of King Emmanuel, seems decisive on this point. In his Miscellanea, a most
curious poem illustrative of customs and occurrences of which he had been witness, he says, speaking of the pomps and pleasures of his
master’s court,—
E vimos singularmente E feitas por Gil Vicente. Com mais gra9a e mais doutrina;
Fazer representa^oens, Elle foi que inventon Posto que Joam del Encina
D’estilo mui novas invengoens, Isto ca, e o uson O Pastoril congou.
i.e., “ We also saw singularly curious representations, in style right eloquent, and quite new inventions, by Gil Vicente. He it was. that
introduced the dramatic pastoral here, using it with more grace and more skill than Juan de la Encina, who, however, commenced it.”
2 To write in Spanish was a fashion of the time easily accounted for ; hence it is not surprising that Gil Vicente should have often
adopted it when writing for the court. Two of the three wives of Emmanuel the Great were princesses of Castile, and the third was
sister of the Emperor Charles V. The wife of John III. was also a Castilian.
3 The Bull for the establishment of the Inquisition in Portugal was sent to John III. by Pope Clement VII., and is dated “ Anno
Incarnationis Bominicce 1531.”
624 GIL
Gilbert matters, and was the first who proposed the theory of the
Gildas Sreat central magnet in the earth, afterwards applied by
' Halley to the explanation of the variation and dipping of
^ the needle in the mariner’s compass. Gilbert died in 1603.
Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, a celebrated English navigator
of the sixteenth century, was born in 1539 in the county of
Devon. By his mother’s side, he was half-brother to Sir
Walter Raleigh, who resembled him in many points of his
character, and whose early life w'as chiefly guided and influ¬
enced by his example. He was educated first at Eton and
afterwards at Oxford, and, embracing the military career,
was sent to Ireland, where he contributed so powerfully to
put down the rebellion raging there that in 1570 he was
made a knight, and rewarded with the government of Mun¬
ster. The idea of a north-west passage to Cathay and the
Indies at this time occupied the thoughts of men, and in
1576 Gilbert published a treatise to prove the possibility of
it. A perusal of this book induced Frobisher to set out on
his first voyage to solve the mystery of the frozen north.
In 1578 Gilbert was furnished with letters patent by the
queen to take possession of the N.E. coast of America, and
establish factories there. He was singularly unfortunate in
his first setting out, having hardly set sail when a storm
obliged him to return with the loss of one of his ships. In
1583, however, he again set out, and on the 5th August
landed at St John’s Bay, of which he took possession in the
name of the English queen. On his way his fleet was as¬
sailed by a terrific storm, and the little vessel on board of
which he was sailing went down, with all on board. Gilbert
wtis one of those high-souled and adventurous men of whom
the Elizabethan era was so prolific. There was almost no
region of human thought or experience through which they
did not pass. They were “ soldiers, scholars, Christians,
discoverers, and ‘planters’of foreign lands, geographers,
alchemists, miners, Platonic philosophers ; many-sided and
high-minded men, not without fantastic enthusiasm,” an
enthusiasm which led them on to enterprises that posterity,
though reaping the benefit of them, has too often affected
to pity as Quixotic, or sneer at as downright ridiculous.
Tardy justice is now being done to these heroic souls, and
there is even a prospect that Sir Humphrey Gilbert will at
length find that recognition which has been denied him
since his death. (Hakluyt’s Collection, Biog. Univ.; North
British Revieiv, No. 45 ; Edin. Review, vol. Ixxi., &c.)
GILBERTINES, a religious order founded by Gilbert
lord of Sempringham, in the county of Lincoln, about a.d.
1148. The monks observed the rule of St Augustin, and
were accounted canons ; the nuns observed that of St
Benedict. The founder erected a kind of double monastery,
in which the monks were separated from the nuns by a very
high wall. St Gilbert founded thirteen monasteries, viz. four
for men, and nine for men and women conjointly. At the
dissolution there were about 25 houses of this order in Eng¬
land and Wales.
GILD, or Guild. See Guild.
GILDAS, surnamed the “ Wise,” and also “ Badonius,”
from the battle of Badon (Bath), which happened soon after
his birth, said by some to have taken place 493 a.d., and
by others in 511. He was the son of the British prince
Caw who emigrated to North Wales in order to avoid sub¬
mission to the Anglo-Saxons ; was a pupil of Iltutus,
abbot of Morgan, and became a monk of Bangor. After
visiting Ireland, France, and Italy, he returned to his native
country, where he became eminent as a preacher. In his
journeys he visited the monastery of Llancarvan, then re¬
cently founded by a nobleman of South Wales, whose ex¬
ample Gildas urged others to imitate. He is supposed to
have died at Bangor about 590 a.d., though some date his
death 20 years earlier. He is the most ancient historian of
GIL
Britain ; but his only complete work now'extant is Epistola Gilding.
de Excidio Britannice et Castigatione Ordinis Ecclesias-
tici, in which he graphically depicts and mourns over the
total ruin of his country, as well as the revolting profligacy
of manners then prevailing. This work was first published
by Polydore Virgil in 1525 ; but the best edition is that of
Gale, in the first volume of his Historic Britannicee., Sax-
onicce, etc., Scriptores quindecim, London, 1691, folio. Gil¬
das also wrote several letters and pieces, of which only ex¬
tracts remain. An excellent edition of his Excidio Bri¬
tannice has been published under the care of the English
Historical Society, by Jos. Stevenson, London, 1838, 8vo,
and it has been translated into English by J. A. Giles, LL.D.,
London, 1841, 8vo. It had previously been translated by
T. Habington, and published in London so early as 1638.
GILDING, the art of spreading or covering gold, either
in leaf or in liquid, over the surface of a body for the pur¬
pose of ornament. The art of gilding was not unknown
among the ancients. According to Herodotus, the Egyp¬
tians were accustomed to gild wood and metals; and gild¬
ing by means of gold plates is frequently mentioned in the
books of the Old Testament. Pliny informs us that the
first gilding seen at Rome was after the destruction of
Carthage, under the censorship of Lucius Mummius, when
the Romans began to gild the ceilings of their temples and
palaces; the Capitol being the first place on which this
enrichment was bestowed. But he adds, that luxury ad¬
vanced on them so rapidly, that in a little time you might
see all, even private and poor persons, gild the walls, vaults,
and other parts of their dwellings.
We need not doubt that they had the same method as
ourselves of beating gold, and reducing it into leaves ;
though it should seem that they did not carry it to the same
extent, if it be true, as Pliny relates, that they only made
750 leaves of four fingers square out of an ounce. Indeed
he adds that they could make more ; that the thickest were
called hractece Pranestince, by reason of a statue of the
goddess Fortune at Praeneste gilt with such leaves ; and
that the thinner sort were called hractece questorice.1
The modern gilders also make use of gold leaves of dif¬
ferent thickness ; but there are some so thin as not to ex¬
ceed sToVooRi of an inch in thickness. The thicker sorts
are used tor gilding on iron and other metals, and the thinnest
on wood. But we have many advantages over the ancients
in the manner of using or applying the gold. The secret
of water gilding, discovered of late ages, furnishes us with
means of gilding works capable of enduring all the injuries
of time and weather, which to the ancients was impractica¬
ble. They had no method of laying on the gold on bodies
so as to endure the fire ; their method was to attach it by
means of the albumen of eggs or size; but as this will not
resist the action of moisture, they could only gild in such
places as were sheltered.
The Greeks called the composition on which they ap¬
plied their gilding on wood leucophceum or leucophorum ;
which is described as a sort of glutinous compound earth,
serving in all probability to make the gold stick and bear
polishing. But antiquaries and naturalists are not agreed
as to the particulars of this earth, its colour, and ingredients.
The lustre and beauty of gold have led to several inquiries
and discoveries concerning the different methods of apply¬
ing it to different substances. Hence the art of gilding is
varied, and involves several distinct processes.
Gilding is chiefly of two kinds, entirely distinct from each
other, according as the material to be gilded is wood or
metal. Gilding on wood is also of two kinds, known as
burnish-gilding and oil-gilding. In burnish-gilding the
following are the processes for a plain picture-frame. 1 he
gilder procures from the joiner a bevelled moulding twelve
1 See Beckmann, History of Inventions, the Chapter on Gilding.
GILDING.
625
Gilding, feet in length. He prepares this for gilding by a number
- —' of coats of priming ; the first coat consisting of hot size and
whiting, and called thin white. This is prepared by melt¬
ing the size in an earthen pipkin, stirring in the size in a fine
powder in small portions at a time. When the first coat is
dry the surface is examined, and holes and irregularities are
filled up with a putty formed of whiting and size. Four or
five successive layers of thick ivhite are then laid on. This
is prepared in a manner similar to the thin white, only of
greater consistence, and time is allowed for the work to dry
between every two coats. To prevent the fine work of the
moulding from being filled up, opening tools such as crooks,
chisels, gouges, &c., are used while the thick white is wet,
and in some cases two thick whites are laid on, one almost
directly after the other, and are worked into the shape of
the mouldings by means of hard stones of the required
shape, which are used in conjunction with the opening tools.
The whiting may now be from -j^g-th iVth of an inch in
thickness, the edges are trimmed even, and the surface is
smoothed with pumice-stone of the required form, the work
being slightly wetted to promote the smoothing effect. The
final polish is given with glass paper. Gold size is now put
on in from four to eight coats, with dryings between. The
size consists of pipe-clay, red chalk, black lead, suet, and
bullock’s blood ; a portion of this is melted with thin clear
size, and is laid on slightly warm with a brush.
The tools used by the gilder consist of the cushion, the
knife, and the tip. The cushion is a flat board eight inches
by six, covered with layers of woollen cloth or flannel, over
which is strained a piece of leather. Along one of the
short sides, and reaching half round each of the long sides,
is a rim or border of parchment three inches high, which
serves to prevent the gold-leaf from being blown about.
The knife used for cutting gold-leaf has a straight smooth
edge, ending in a well-defined point. The tip used for lay¬
ing on the gold is a row of camel’s hairs fastened between
cards, and projecting from one inch to two inches and a half.
The gold-leaf is supplied to the gilder in books, each con¬
taining 25 leaves. The gilder supports the cushion on his
left hand by means of a leathern loop, and with the tip, the
knife, and a camel’s-hair pencil between the fingers of his
left hand, he opens the book ofleaf-gold with his right, and
blows a number of leaves sufficient for his work upon the
cushion; then taking one leaf he spreads it out upon the leather
by a few dexterous manipulations with the knife, assisted
by the breath. He next cuts it into strips suited to the
width of the moulding ; then wetting a few inches thereof
with the camel’s-hair pencil, he applies the tip to a slip of
gold, which slightly adheres to the hairs, and enables him
to transfer it to the moulding. Should the tip fail to take
up the gold, the hairs are rubbed briskly across the face, or
against the palm of the hand, and the friction, probably ex¬
citing the hairs electrically, enables them to take up the
gold. The leaf being laid on, the gilder blows forcibly
upon it, and uses a dry camel’s-hair pencil to press down
such parts as do not adhere. Another portion of the mould¬
ing is next wetted, and another piece of gold-leaf is laid on
so as slightly to overlap the former. The whole moulding
being in this way covered, it is set aside to dry.
The next process is burnishing, which is done with pieces
of agate set in sticks ; and these being rubbed over the sur¬
face greatly increase the brilliancy of the gold, an effect
which is promoted by the yielding foundation of gold-
size and whitening. The parts which are to be in dead or
matt gold are left unburnished ; a thin clear size is passed
over them, and when dry, the gold is wiped with cotton
wool, and defective places are restored with pieces of leaf-
gold. When dry, the whole is finished by wetting the matt
parts with a pencil dipped in clear finishing size. The
moulding is now passed to the frame-maker, who cuts it up
and forms the pieces into a frame. It is then returned to
YOL. x.
the gilder, who stops up nail-holes, and paints the sides of
the frame yellow.
In oil-gilding the moulding is whitened as in the former
case, and is at once made up into a frame. Composition
ornaments are then put on, and the gilder now proceeds
first by washing the frame to remove oil, &c. He next gives
it two or three coatings of thin white, with additional coat¬
ings to the parts intended to be burnished. Two or three
coats of a moderately strong size called dear-cole are laid
on, after which the oil gold-size is applied, which consists
of a mixture of boiled linseed oil and ochre. After some
hours, the gilding is performed as before, except that no
water is used, the partially dried oil serving the purpose.
For deep ornaments, the gold is pressed in with cotton wool,
and has to be repeated to get rid of those irregular fractures
called by the gilders “ spiders’ legs.” The work has at first
a ragged appearance, but it is now carefully gone over with
the brush, smoothed, and any defective part restored. This
is called shewing, and the superfluous gold removed during
the process is known as skewings. The parts to be bur¬
nished are next worked, and the frame is lastly sized with
clear size, and yellowed on the outside.
The method of applying gold to metals is entirely differ¬
ent from the above, and is done in various ways. One of
these is by previously forming the gold into a paste or amal¬
gam with mercury, for which purpose the gold must first be
reduced to thin plates or grains, which are heated red hot,
and thrown into mercury previously heated, till it begins to
smoke. Upon stirring the mercury with an iron rod, the
gold totally disappears. The proportion of mercury to gold
is generally as six or eight to one. When the amalgam is
cold it is squeezed through chamois leather for the purpose
of separating the superfluous mercury; the gold, with about
twice its weight of mercury, remains behind; it is a yel¬
lowish silvery mass of the consistence of butter, and with
this amalgam the surface of the metal to be gilded is to be
covered; then a sufficient heat is to be applied to evaporate
the mercury; and, lastly, the gold is to be burnished with a
bloodstone.
This method of gilding by amalgamation is chiefly used
for gilding copper, or an alloy of copper with a small portion
of zinc, which more readily receives the amalgam ; and it is
also preferable for its colour, which more resembles that of
gold than the colour of copper. When the metal to be
gilt is wrought or chased, it ought to be covered with
quicksilver before the amalgam is applied, that this may be
more easily spread; but when the surface of the metal is
plain, the amalgam may be applied directly to it. It is to
be observed that the use of the bloodstone is now generally
abandoned, and a steel burnisher substituted for it. The
steel burnisher is case-hardened and then polished ; and the
clearer the polish is, the brighter will the metal be bur¬
nished. The quicksilver or amalgam is made to adhere to
the metal by means of a little aquafortis, which is rubbed
on the metallic surface at the same time, and by which such
surface is cleansed from any rust or tarnish that might pre¬
vent the union or adhesion of the metals. The nitrous acid
also facilitates the application of the amalgam to the surface
by dissolving part of the mercury of the amalgam; and
when this solution is applied to the copper, the latter metal,
having a stronger affinity for nitrous acid than the mercury
has, precipitates the mercury upon its surface, in the same
manner as a polished piece of iron precipitates copper upon
its surface from a solution of blue vitriol. When the metal
to be gilt is thus covered over with a thin precipitated coat¬
ing of mercury, it readily receives the amalgam. The
amalgam being equally spread over the surface of the metal
to be gilt, by means of a brush, the mercury is then to be
evaporated by a heat just sufficient for that purpose ; for it
it be too great, part of the gold may also be expelled, and
part of it will run together, and leave some of the surface
Gilding.
GILDING.
626
Gilding. 0f the metal bare. Whilst the mercury is evaporating, the
work should be from time to time taken from the fire, that
it may be examined, that the amalgam may be spread more
equally by means of a brush, that any defective parts of it
may be again covered, and that the heat may not be too
suddenly applied to it; and when the mercury has evapor¬
ated, which is known by the surface having entirely become
of a dull yellow colour, the metal must then undergo other
operations, by which the fine gold colour is given to it.
First, the gilded surface is rubbed with a scratch brush
of brass wire, until its surface be smooth ; then it is covered
over with a composition called gilding wax, and again ex¬
posed to the fire until the wax be burnt off. This wax is
composed of bees’-wax, mixed with some of the following
substances, viz., red ochre, verdigris, copper scales, alum,
vitriol, borax ; but, according to Dr Lewis, the* saline sub¬
stances alone are sufficient, without any wax. By this
operation the colour of the gilding is heightened; and the
effect seems to be produced by a perfect dissipation of some
mercury remaining after the former operation. The dissi¬
pation is well effected by this equable application of heat.
The gilt surface is then covered over with a saline compo¬
sition, consisting of nitre, alum, or other vitriolic salt, ground
together, and mixed up into a paste with water or urine.
The piece of metal thus covered is exposed to a certain
degree of heat, and then quenched in water. By this me¬
thod its colour is further improved, and brought nearer to
that of gold, probably by removing any particles of copper
which may happen to lie on the gilded surface. Lastly,
some artists think that they give an additional lustre to their
gilt work by dipping it in a liquor prepared by boiling some
yellow materials, as sulphur, orpiment, or turmeric. The
only advantage of this operation is, that a part of the yellow
matter, as the sulphur or turmeric, remains in some of the
hollows of the carved work, in which the gilding is apt to
be more imperfect, and to which it gives a rich and solid
appearance.
In the gilding of iron and steel it is difficult to prevent
the oxidation of the metal during the volatilization of the
mercury; and the temper of the metal in sword-blades,
daggers, &c., is liable to be injured in the process. In
ornamenting iron and steel, however, a solution of mercury
in nitrous acid, called quicksilver-water, is used; the acid
attacks the iron, and deposits in its place a thin coating of mer¬
cury, which unites with the gold amalgam after it is applied.
By this method a bright durable gilding cannot be obtained.
By another method a solution of sulphate of copper is
applied by a camel’s-hair pencil, after which an amalgam
of gold is laid on, and the mercury is driven off by heat.
It is, however, more usual to burnish down the gold-leaf
upon the steel with the assistance of heat.
By another process a solution of gold is made with nitro-
muriatic acid; about twice the quantity of ether is then
cautiously added in a large vessel; the liquids are agitated
and allowed to rest, when the ether will separate and
float on the surface of the acid. The whole mixture is
then poured into a funnel with a small aperture, and allowed
to rest for some time, when the acid is run off and the ether
separated. The ether has taken up all the gold from the
acid, and may be used for gilding iron or steel, for which
purpose the metal is polished with the finest emery and
spirits of wine. The ether is then applied with a small
brush, and as it evaporates it deposits the gold, which can
now be heated and polished. For small delicate figures a
pen or a fine brush may be used for laying on the ether.
What is called cold gilding on silver is performed by a
solution of gold in aqua-regia, applied by dipping a linen
rag into the solution, burning it, and rubbing the black and
heavy ashes on the silver with the finger or a piece of
leather or cork.
Fine instruments of brass are sometimes gilt in order to
preserve their surface, for which purpose a saturated solu- Gilding,
tion of gold is evaporated until crystals begin to form ; these
are dissolved in water, into which the articles to be gilded are
immersed. Washing and burnishing complete the process.
In the drying off or removing the mercury by volatiliza¬
tion the health of the workpeople is seriously injured by the
fumes of the mercury ; so much so, as formerly to make this
the most unhealthy of employments, to say nothing of the
loss of mercury. Various contrivances, by Dr Lewis and
others, have done much to remedy the evil. In the modern
gilding furnace buttons and similar small articles are put
into a wire cage within a furnace, constructed so as to pre¬
serve and condense the fumes of mercury by carrying them
with the draught through a kind of labyrinth containing
water, the centre of the labyrinth communicating by an
inclined pipe with the chimney, which discharges the smoke
almost entirely free from metallic fumes.
The grand improvement which has been made of late
years in the art of gilding metals has been the application
of galvanism or voltaic electricity, founded on the fact that
when a voltaic current is passed through a metallic solution
decomposition takes place; the metal in a revived form
attaches itself to the negative pole or electrode, while tbe
acid or alkali goes to the positive pole. In the process of
electro-gilding a gold solution is formed by dissolving gold
in nitro-muriatic acid, which is digested with calcined mag¬
nesia, and the gold is precipitated as an oxide : this is boiled
in strong nitric acid, washed, and dissolved in cyanide of
potassium, which forms cyanide of gold and potassium. This
solution is used at a temperature of at least 130° Fahr.
The positive electrode of the battery is of gold, the nega¬
tive of iron or of copper. The articles to be gilt are cleansed
by boiling in an alkaline ley and other solutions, and they
are then hung on wires and suspended from the wire which
crosses the mouth of the vat or gilding vessel from the ne¬
gative pole. A small article may be gilt in three or four
minutes. In gilding articles of iron, tin, or lead, a thin
coating of copper is first deposited upon them, and upon
this the gilding is deposited. The gilding solution usually
contains from ^ to 1 oz. of gold in the gallon ; but for small
articles, such as rings, thimbles, &c., a weaker solution is
used. The durability of the article depends, of course, on
the quantity of gold deposited ; but the appearance of gold
(or colour, as it is called) may be given by a few grains to
a very large surface. A very thin layer of gold upon silver
will be of a light colour. For articles not exposed to wear,
a mere blush of gold will give them a very ornamental ap¬
pearance ; but for watch-cases, pencil-cases, chains, &c.
the coating should be thick. Mr Napier states that an
ordinary-sized watch-case should have from 20 grains to 1
pennyweight of gold—a covering that will last 5 or 6
years. Small silver chains should have 12 grains, pencil-
cases from 3 to 5 grains, and a thimble from 1 to 2 grains.
The springs and works of chronometers are sometimes
electro-gilt; and we have known a coat of gold to be depo¬
sited on plates intended for etching, instead of the usual
varnish, and through this delicate layer the design has been
traced and afterwards bitten in.
The beauty and durability of gold, and its unchanging na¬
ture, have led to its employment on various domestic articles,
such as those of porcelain. For this purpose the gold is
dissolved in aqua-regia, and the acid is driven off by heat,
or the gold may be precipitated by means of sulphate of
iron. In this pulverulent state the gold is mixed with ^th
of its weight of oxide of bismuth, together with a small
quantity of borax and gum-water. The mixture is applied
to the articles with a camel’s-hair pencil, and after passing
through the fire the gold is of a dingy colour, but the lustre
is brought out by burnishing with agate and bloodstone,
and is lastly cleaned with vinegar or whitelead.
The art of gilding is of extensive application in orna-
G 1 L
Gilead meriting the covers of books. The parts intended to be
|| gilt are covered with a thin layer of ovalbumen or white of
Gill. egg called glaire, and then with a film of leaf-gold; on
pressing upon this a heated brass tool containing the letter
or device intended to be impressed, the gold becomes per¬
manently fixed, and the superfluous portion is wiped off
with a rag. The whole of the lettering and ornaments on
the back and sides of a book-cover are commonly impressed
at one operation, in what is called a blocking-press, for
which purpose the pattern is cut out in a thick plate or
block of brass attached to the upper bed of the press. In
this upper bed is a cavity containing a row of gas jets for
keeping the block at the proper temperature. The cloth
book-cover, previously covered with gold-leaf at the parts
intended to be ornamented, is placed within a metal gauge
in the lower bed, when by means of a lever the upper bed
is brought down, and the heated block is firmly pressed
against the cover. In this way a large number of cloth
covers are quickly ornamented. In leathern binding, how¬
ever, the gold-lettering and ornaments are usually applied
after the cover is on by the process of gold or hand-tooling.
GILEAD, a group of mountains connected with Leba¬
non by means of Mount Hermon. It begins not far from
the latter, and extends southward to the sources of the
brooks Jabbok and Arnon, thus inclosing the whole eastern
part of the land beyond the Jordan. This was also the
name of a large district beyond the Jordan, continually
mentioned in the Scriptures in contradistinction to, or
apart from, Bashan ; though, to judge from its geographical
position (as given in Num. xxxii. 26 ; Deut. iii. 12), it must
have comprised the entire possessions of the two tribes of
Gad and Reuben, and even the southern part of Manasseh.
The cities Ramoth, Jabosh, and Jazer, are usually desig¬
nated as lying in Gilead. This region was distinguished
for its rich pastures and aromatic simples; from which lat¬
ter different sorts of balsam were prepared—facts confirmed
by modern travellers (Seetzen, Burckhardt, &c.)
GILENA, a small town of Spain, in the province and
archbishopric of Sevilla. It is situated in a plain sweeping
from the southern flank of the Sierra de Estepa, where a
fine fountain of crystalline water rises, and is called the
“ Eye of Gilena.” This excellent spring is so copious that
it irrigates the plain, and supplies water-power to several
grain mills. Gilena consists of several pretty regular but
ill-paved streets, generally lined by low badly-built houses.
It has two elementary schools, a parish church, and a court¬
house ; and it has a small trade in corn and oil. Pop. in
1855, nearly 3000.
GIL GI T, a small independent and unexplored territory
of Central Asia, on the southern declivity of the Hindu
Koosh ; having Little Tibet on the E., and Chitral on the
W. It consists principally of one large valley, through
which flows the river Gilgit, afterwards falling into the
Indus in Lat. 35. 28. N., Long. 74. 28. E. There is also
a village of the same name on the right bank of the stream
in Lat. 35. 35. N., Long. 74. 15. E.
GILL, John, an eminent Baptist minister and Rabbi¬
nical scholar, was born at Kettering in 1697. In conse¬
quence of the limited means of his parents, he was com¬
pelled to educate himself. Nevertheless, he became an
eminent scholar in all the branches of knowledge required
for the elucidation of Scripture, to which he devoted much
of his long and useful life. After receiving baptism accord¬
ing to the usual forms in Nov. 1716, he began to preach,
and officiated at Higham Ferrers, as well as occasionally at
his native place in Northamptonshire, until the beginning of
1719, when he became pastor of the Baptist congregation
at Horselydown in Southwark, where he continued during
fifty-one years. In 1728 he published his Exposition of
the Song of Solomon, in which he strongly contends against
Whiston for its authenticity. In the same year he pub-
G I L 627
lished also The Prophecies of the Old Testament respecting Gill
the Messiah Considered. This work was intended to relute II
Collins' Scheme of Literal Prophecy. His Treatise on the
Doctrine of the Trinity was issued in 1731; and in 1735
and following years he published his Cause of God and
Truth, in 4 vols. 8vo, containing a defence of the Calvinistic
against the Arminian views on election, original sin, predes¬
tination, &c. But his great work was an Exposition of the
Bible, in 10 vols. 4to. For this he had formed a large
collection of Hebrew and Rabbinical books and MSS., and
spent many years in a careful study of them, at the same
time reading and collating the Targums, the Mishna, and
the Booh of Zohar. Of this work, the New Testament
appeared first, in 3 vols. folio, 1746-48, in which year
he received the degree of D.D. from Marischal College,
Aberdeen. The volumes on the Old Testament were pub¬
lished in succeeding years. He published in 1767 a Dis¬
sertation on the Antiquity of the Hebrew Language—
Letters, Vowel Points, and Accents ; and in the same year
he collated the various passages of the Old Testament
quoted in the Mishna, in the Jerusalem and Babylonian
Talmuds, and in the Rabbath ; besides extracting the va¬
riations in them from the modern printed text, which he
sent to Dr Kennicot, who very handsomely acknowledged
the obligation in his work published in 1767. In 1769
Dr Gill’s Body of Doctrinal Divinity was published, in
2 vols. 4to; and in 1770 a Body of Practical Divinity.
The next year, 1771, October 14th, he died at his house
in Camberwell.
GILL, a measure of capacity, containing a quarter of an
English pint, or 8*665 cubic inches.
GILLIES, John, the historian of ancient Greece, was
born in 1747, at Brechin, in Forfarshire. He distinguished
himself greatly at the University of Glasgow, and at the
age of twenty officiated for a short time as professor of
Greek. From a dislike to public teaching, however, he
resigned this office and went to London, intending to study
science there. On returning from a short scientific tour
on the Continent, he accepted an engagement as tutor in
the family of Lord Hopetoun, a Scottish nobleman, who
rewarded Gillies’ services to his sons with a pension for life.
He travelled with his pupils for some years on the Conti¬
nent ; and in 1784 returned home to complete his principal
work, which he published two years later under the title
of History of Ancient Greece, its Colonies and Conquests,
in 4 vols. 8vo, or 2 vols. 4to. This work was chiefly valu¬
able as giving a fair picture of the various states of Greece,
and the progress of each in literature and the arts. The
different parts of this picture are well distributed, and pre¬
sented always in a lucid and sometimes in an interesting
form. The learning displayed in the work is considerable,
but the author’s reflections never rise above mediocrity,
and his style, though ambitious, is far from being effective.
The book, however, enjoyed a great popularity in its day,
and was translated into most of the living tongues of Europe.
It was long a favourite text-book for schools, and lingered
there after it had ceased to be used elsewhere, but it is now
completely superseded. On the death of the illustrious
Robertson, Gillies was appointed historiographer royal for
Scotland, but he failed to preserve to that office the eclat
thrown around it by his predecessor. Of his subsequent
works, the best known are his View of the Reign of Fre¬
derick LL. of Prussia, with a Parallel between that Prince
and Philip LI. of Macedon ; and the Translation of Aris¬
totle’s Ethics and Politics ; and afterwards, of his Rhetoric ;
History of the World from Alexander to Augustus; &c.
None of these works, however, are likely to preserve his
name. In his old age Gillies retired to Clapham in Surrey,
where he died in 1836, in the ninetieth year of his age.
GILOLO, or Halmahera, one of the Molucca or Spice
Islands in the Indian Archipelago, lying principally between
628 GIL GIL
Gilpin. 1. S. and 2. N. Lat., and 127. 80. and 128. 30. E. Long. It
is of a very irregular form, consisting of a common centre
from which four peninsulas extend to the N., N.E., E.S.E.,
and S., respectively. It has an area of about 6600 square
miles, and is for administrative purposes divided into two
parts, the greater being under the sultan of Ternate, and
having about 19,000 inhabitants; the smaller portion has
only about 4000 inhabitants, and is nominally under the
sultan of Tidor. Gilolo is of volcanic origin, and is covered
with mountains, some of which (particularly in the N. and
N.E. peninsula) attain a great height. Some parts of it are
densely wooded. Its chief products are sago, cocoa-nuts,
spices, fruits, edible birds’-nests, pearls, and gold-dust.
Horses, horned cattle, and sheep, are abundant. Trade is
carried on chiefly with the Dutch East Indian settlements,
whence are imported manufactured goods, opium, china-
ware, and iron.
GILPIN, Bernard, rector of Houghton, distinguished
for piety and hospitality, was descended from an ancient
family in Westmoreland, and born at Kentmire, in 1517.
Being bred in the Roman Catholic religion, he for some
time defended it against the Reformers, and at Oxford held
a disputation with Hooper, afterwards Bishop of Worcester,
and a martyr for the Protestant faith ; but he was staggered
in another disputation with Peter Martyr, and began se-
x’iously to examine the contested points by the best autho¬
rities. Accordingly, being presented to the vicarage of
Norton, in the diocese of Durham, he soon resigned it, and
went abroad to consult eminent professors on both sides;
and, after three years’ absence, returned a little before the
death of Queen Mary, satisfied with the general doctrines
of the Reformation. He was kindly received by his uncle
Dr Tonstall, Bishop of Durham, who soon afterwards gave
him the archdeaconry of Durham, to which the rectory of
Effington was annexed. When repairing to his parish,
though the persecution was then at its height, he boldly
preached against the vices, errors, and corruptions of the
times, especially among the clergy; on which a charge,
consisting of thirteen articles, was drawn up against him,
and presented in form to the bishop. But Dr Tonstall
found a method of dismissing the cause in such a manner
as to protect his nephew without endangering himself, and
soon afterwards presented him to the rich living of Hough-
ton-le-Spring. He was a second time accused to the bishop,
and again protected; but his enemies, enraged at this se¬
cond defeat, laid their complaint before Dr Bonner, Bishop
of London, who immediately gave orders to apprehend him.
Upon this, Gilpin prepared for martyrdom; and having
ordered his house-steward to provide him a long garment,
that he might make a decent appearance at the stake, he
set out for London. Providentially, however, he broke his
leg on the journey, which protracted his arrival until the
news of the queen’s death freed him from all further appre¬
hension. Being immediately set at liberty, he returned to
Houghton, where he was received by his parishioners with
the most sincere joy.
Upon the deprivation of the Roman Catholic bishops,
he was offered the see of Carlisle, which he declined; and
confining his attention to his rectory, he discharged all
the duties of his office in the most exemplary manner.
He employed much of his time in endeavouring to improve
the minds of the young of his parish, suffering none to
grow up in ignorance of their duty, but pressing it as the
wisest part to unite religion with labour, and amidst the
cares of this life to have a constant eye upon the next.
He attended to everything which might be of service to
his parishioners, and was assiduous in preventing lawsuits
among them. His hall is said to have been often thronged
with people who came to him about their differences. He
was not indeed much acquainted with law, but he could
decide equitably, and that satisfied them; nor could his
sovereign’s commission have given his decisions greater Gilpin,
weight or authority than his own character secured. i ^
His hospitable manner of living was the admiration of
all. He spent in his family every fortnight forty bushels
of corn, twenty bushels of malt, and an ox; besides a
proportional quantity of other kinds of provisions. Stran¬
gers and travellers found a cheerful reception. All were
welcome who came ; and even their horses had so much
care taken off them, that it was humorously said, if a
horse were turned loose in any part of the country, it would
immediately make its way to the rector of Houghton.
Every Sunday, from Michaelmas till Easter, was a pub¬
lic day with him. During this season he expected to see
all his parishioners and their families. For their reception,
he had three tables well covered ; the first being intended
for gentlemen, the second for husbandmen and farmers,
and the third for day-labourers. This piece of hospitality
he never omitted, even when losses or scarcity made its
continuance rather difficult. He considered it was his duty,
and that was a decisive motive.
But notwithstanding all his painful industry, and the
large scope he had for it in so extensive a parish, Mr Gil¬
pin thought the sphere of his benevolence too confined.
It grieved him extremely to see everywhere, in the pa¬
rishes around him, so great a degree of ignorance and su¬
perstition, occasioned by the shameful neglect of the pastoral
cure among the clergy. The bad consequences resulting
from this induced him to supply, as far as he could, what
was wanting in others. For this purpose, he used every
year regularly to visit the most neglected parishes in
Northumberland, Yorkshire, Cheshire, Westmoreland, and
Cumberland; and that his own parish might not in the
mean time suffer, he was at the expense of a constant as¬
sistant. In each place he stayed two or three days, instruct¬
ing the people in as plain a way as possible.
The value of Gilpin’s rectory was about L.400 a-year;
an income at that time very considerable, yet in appear¬
ance very disproportionate to the generous things he per¬
formed with it; indeed he could not have done these un¬
less his frugality had been equal to his generosity. His
friends, therefore, could not but wonder to find him, amidst
his many great and continual expenses, entertain the design
of building and endowing a grammar-school; a design, how¬
ever, which his exact economy soon enabled him to accomplish,
though the expense of it amounted to upwards of L.500.
His school was no sooner opened than it began to flourish ;
and so great a number of young people flocked to it, that
in a little time the town was not able to accommodate
them. He put himself, therefore, to the inconvenience of
fitting up, for that purpose, a part of his own house, where
he seldom had fewer than twenty or thirty children. Some
of these were the sons of persons of substance, whom he
boarded at small rates; but the greater part were poor
children, whom he educated, clothed, and maintained at
his own charge. He was at the expense likewise of board¬
ing in the town many other poor children.
He not only placed in his school able masters, whom he pro¬
cured fromOxfbrd, but he himself likewise constantly inspect¬
ed it. One method used by him to fill his school was singu¬
lar. Whenever he met a poor boy upon the road, he would
try his capacity by a few questions, and if he found it such
as to please him, he would provide for his education. And
besides those whom he sent from his own school to the
universities, and there wholly maintained, he likewise gave
to others, who were in circumstances to do something for
themselves, what further assistance they required.
In his walks abroad, he would frequently bring home
with him poor people, and send them away clothed as well
as fed. But the money best laid out was, in his opinion,
that which encouraged industry. It was one of his greatest
pleasures to make up the losses of his laborious neighbours,
G I N
G I N
629
Gimbals
Ginger.
and prevent their sinking under them. If a poor man had
lost a beast, he would send him another in its room ; or if
any farmer had had a bad year, he would make him an
abatement in his tithes. Thus, as far as he was able, he
took the misfortunes of his parish upon himself; and, like
a true shepherd, he exposed himself for his flock.
This benevolent and excellent divine, who merited and
obtained the glorious titles of Father of the Poor, and the
Apostle of the North, died in 1583, in the sixty-sixth year
of his age.
GIMBALS (Lat. gemellus, twin), the two brass rings or
hoops within which a ship’s compass is suspended in its box,
in order to counteract the effect of the ship’s motion and
keep the card horizontal. These rings move one within
the other, each perpendicularly to its plane, about two axes
placed at right angles to each other. By this contrivance
the compass, having a free motion in two directions at right
angles to each other, maintains a vertical position, and con¬
sequently the card is horizontal. Gimbals are also applied
to other instruments, such as the portable or mountain
barometer, &c.
GIN, a kind of malt sph’it flavoured with the essential
oil of juniper. The process of making it is described under
Distillation, vol., viii. p. 51. The inferior spirit sold as
gin is said to be flavoured with turpentine instead of juni¬
per, and rendered biting to the palate by caustic potash.
GIN, in Mechanics, a contrivance for raising heavy
weights, driving piles, &c., which consists of three spars
set up in a pyramidal form, and furnished at top with a
tackle which is worked by a windlass beneath. The name
gin is also applied to a machine with which the fibres of
cotton are disentangled, by means of a series of revolving
spikes. This operation is termed ginning.
GINETA, La, a town of Spain, province of Murcia,
thirteen miles N.N.W. of Albacete, in a plain. It con¬
tains a parish church, two primary schools, a prison, and a
court-house. La Gineta has manufactures of hempen and
woollen cloth; and a trade in wine, oil corn, rice, and salt
fish. The market is weekly, and the population is nearly
3000.
GINGEE, a town of the Carnatic, in the district of
South Arcot, and a celebrated fortress, which stands on a
stupendous rock and is impregnable by all the ordinary
modes of attack. It is said to have been built or improved
on an old foundation of the Chola kings by the son of Vi-
jeya Runga Naik, the governor of Tanjore, in 1442. It
was successively strengthened by the Mohammedan kings
of Bejapore, who possessed it from 1669 to 1677, and by
the Mahrattas, who held it in the year 1698. At this period
it was besieged and taken by Zulficar Khan, the imperial
general, who appointed Rajpoot governors. They affected
independence, and assumed the rank of rajahs. In 1750 it
was taken by surprise during a night attack by the French
under M. de Bussy ; but it surrendered to the British after
the capture of Pondicherry in 1761. Like all the other
hill forts in India, it is reckoned very unhealthy; and the
French are said to have lost about twelve hundred of their
number during the ten years they held possession of it.
Long. 79. 27. E., Lat. 12. 15. N.
GINGER, the rhizome (underground stem) of Zingiber
officinale, a plant of the nat. ord. Zingiberacece, and a native
of the East Indies and China, but early carried to the West
Indies, where it is much cultivated, particularly in the
island of Jamaica. The ginger of commerce is distin¬
guished into two kinds, the white and the black; but the
difference depends merely on the method of preparation.
The white variety consists of carefully selected rhizomes,
which are scraped, scalded in boiling water, and dried in
the sun ; and the whiteness is frequently aided in this
country by bleaching with chloride of lime. The black
kind (which is really of a pale brown colour) consists of
inferior pieces which have been scalded but not scraped. Gingerah
It should be observed, however, that some East Indian II
ginger, in its natural state, is as light-coloured as African ^ mguene.
ginger that has undergone the whitening process: and l-rV*-
hence it seems probable that they are the produce of differ¬
ent species.
The young and tender rhizomes preserved in syrup con¬
stitute the well-known sweetmeat called preserved ginger.
Ginger is much employed in medicine as an antispasmodic
and carminative. Made into a thin paste with spirit, and
spread as a plaster, it is a useful topical remedy in face-
ache, earache, &c.; and has this peculiar property, that not¬
withstanding it excites a considerable sensation of heat, it
leaves even the most delicate skin perfectly free from in¬
jury or discoloration.
GINGERAH. See Jinjeera.
GINGUENID, Pierre Loots, the author of the His-
toire Litteraire d?Italic, was born in 1748 at Rennes in
Bretagne. He was educated at a Jesuit college in his
native town, but he owed most of his literary tastes and
accomplishments to his father, who early imbued him with
a love of music and the languages of England and Italy.
His first literary effort, a poetical piece entitled Confession
de Zulme, brought him into notice among the literary co¬
teries of Paris, from the circumstance that when first pub¬
lished anonymously it shared the fate of Wolfe’s Ode on
the Burial of Sir John Moore, and was claimed by six or
seven different authors. Though the intrinsic value of
this piece is not very great, it is still entitled to be called
Ginguene’s poetical chef dlceuvre. The part he took in the
strife which then divided the musical world into partizans of
Gluck or Piccini made him still more widely known ; and
the reputation he enjoyed as a promising political writer
secured employment for him in the public service. He
hailed, however, with enthusiasm the first symptoms of the
Revolution, and celebrated in an indifferent ode the open¬
ing of the States General. A more creditable effort was
his Lettres sur les Confessions de J. J. Rousseau, in which
he defended to the uttermost the life and principles of that
richly-endowed but ill-starred genius. Refusing to coun¬
tenance the excesses of the Revolution, Ginguene became
an object of suspicion to the authorities, and was thrown
into prison, whence he only escaped with life by the downfall
and death of Robespierre. Some time after his liberation
he was made director-general of the “ Commission Execu¬
tive de ITnstruction Publique,” and re-organized the sys¬
tem of public instruction according to the principles and
ideas then fashionable in France. When the Institute was
established in 1796, Ginguene was elected into it and at¬
tached to the academy of moral and political sciences. In
1798 he was sent by the Directory as minister plenipoten¬
tiary to the king of Sardinia, whose ruin, begun by force
of arms, they had determined to complete, if possible, by
treachery and cunning. A worse tool than Ginguene could
not have been found for carrying out so base a design. After
fulfilling his duties for seven months very little to the satis¬
faction of his employers, Ginguene resigned office and re¬
tired into private life at his country house of St Prix, in
the valley of Montmorency. Here he prosecuted his lite¬
rary toils till the revolution of the 18th Brumaire called
him once more into public life. He was made a member
of the tribunate which made a show of maintaining a demo¬
cratic opposition to the arbitrary proceedings of the First
Consul. But Napoleon, finding that Ginguene was by no
means sufficiently tractable, had him expelled at the first
“ purge ” which he administered to the tribunate, and Gin¬
guene once more joyfully returned to private life and his
favourite pursuits. These were now more than ever a ne¬
cessity of life to him, as his only other source of income was
the small endowment attached to his seat in the Institute.
Fortunately he was nominated one of the commission charged
630 G I N
Ginseng to continue the literary history of France, brought down by
II the Benedictines to about the close of the twelfth century.
Ginzo de The continuation of this work, which appeared in three
^ imu*" ^ volumes in 1814, 1817, and 1820 respectively, is for the
most part the work of Ginguene. But the work by which
he will be longest remembered is his Histoire Litteraire
9 vols. 8vo, 1811—1819. He was still engaged in
putting the finishing touches to this great undertaking when
he was cut off by a painful disease, Nov. 16th, 1815. The
first six volumes of the work appeared before their author’s
death ; the seventh is entirely his except a few pages; and
of the eighth and ninth he wrote about a half, the other
half being composed by Salfi, and revised by Daunou. The
success which this work had in Italy was astonishing. Edi¬
tions of it appeared in various parts of the peninsula, with
notes and comments by the best scholars. Three transla¬
tions of it also appeared at Milan, Naples, and Venice.
Ginguene was originally led to make Italian literature
his especial study by finding how ill that subject was under¬
stood, and how little it was appreciated by his countrymen.
The better to dispel their prejudices, as well as their igno¬
rance, by enhancing the interest of the work, he classified the
various productions of each department of literature under
one head and in the order of time, so that we can trace the
progress of thought in modern Italy, through its various
phases, from its dawn in the twelfth century to its glorious
noon in the sixteenth. In its composition, Ginguene was
guided for the most part by the great work of the Jesuit Tira-
boschi, from which he has borrowed very largely. He
avoids, indeed, the prejudices and party views of his model,
and has imparted a more lively colouring to the original
design ; but his own style, though occasionally forcible and
eloquent, is often too tame for the subject. He often tres¬
passes also on his reader’s patience by his over-minuteness
of detail. But these faults are more than atoned for by the
fine critical discernment, the impartiality, and the freedom
which the work displays. On the score of accuracy, in¬
deed, Ginguene sometimes offends, but seldom in matters
of great moment; and his occasional slips are such as are
almost inevitable to a foreigner and one who could hardly
be said to have even seen the country whose literary his¬
tory he relates. The Italians felt grateful to Ginguene for
having placed their literature in its proper light, and readily
forgave the excessive eulogies which he passed on many
of their writers, whose very names had been forgotten in
their own country.
During the latter years of his life Ginguene wrote exten¬
sively for the press, and edited the Decade Philosophique,
Politique et Litteraire, till it was suppressed by Napoleon
in 1807. He also contributed largely to the Biographic
Universelle, chiefly articles bearing on the literature of Italy.
[Biog. Univers.; Eloge de Ginguene, Memoires de Vln-
stitut, tom. vii.; Discours de M. Daunou, prefixed to the
2d edit, of the Hist. Litt. d'Italic.)
GINSENG, the Chinese name for the root of Panax
quinquefolium, a small plant of the nat. ord. Araliacece,
found in the northern parts of Asia and in America. It
has a jointed, fleshy, tapered root, which when dried is of
a yellowish-white colour, and has a mucilaginous sweet fla¬
vour somewhat resembling liquorice, accompanied with a
slight bitterness. It is highly prized by the Chinese as a
stimulant and restorative, or rather as a panacea for every
ill. American ginseng was formerly exported largely from
this country; but now the Americans carry it direct to
China, which is its only market.
GINZO DE LIMIA, Santa Marina, a town of Spain,
province of Orense, in Galicia. It stands on a small stream
of the same name about twenty miles S.E. of Orense, and
contains a parish church, a primary school, and a town-
house. Its chief manufacture is linen of various kinds;
and its trade is principally in linens and wool. On ac-
G I 0
count of the numerous antiquities found in its vicinity Gioja
Ginzo is supposed to occupy the site of an ancient town. ||
Pop. 2000. Giorgione.
GIOJA, Flavio, an Italian navigator and mathematician
of the fourteenth century. His native place was Pasitano,
near Amalfi. He has been frequently asserted to be the
inventor of the mariner's compass in consequence of his
having properly applied it to navigation; but before his
time that valuable instrument was known in Europe. It is
most likely that the secret of this use of the magnetic needle
was brought to Italy by Marco Polo in the year 1260 a.d.,
after his visit to the East.
GIORDANO, Luca, a celebrated Italian artist, called
by some writers “ The Proteus of Painting,” was born at
Naples, in the house adjoining that inhabited by his future
master the famous Ribera, better known as Spagnoletto.
The date of his birth is a moot-point among authorities;
some assigning it to the year 1632, others, and among them
Velasco, with a greater show of probability, to 1629. After
studying under Ribera at Naples, he became the pupil of
Pietro da Cortona at Rome, whom he assisted in many of
his works. Leaving Rome, he visited the famous schools
of Bologna, Florence, and Venice, studied the great masters
there, and made many copies of their works. He executed
these so well and so quickly, that his sketches came to be
in great demand. His father, who was noted for his avarice,
turned his son’s gifts to good account, and would hardly al¬
low him time to eat his meals in peace, continually crying
out, “Luca, fa presto” (make haste, Luke), so that the
young Giordano was at last known by no other name among
his companions. The rapidity of his execution may be in¬
ferred from the following story, which is pretty well authen¬
ticated. While engaged one day on a painting of Jesus
and his twelve disciples, he was interrupted by his father
summoning him to dinner; “ Luke, come down immediately,
the soup will be cold“ I shall be there in a moment,”
answered Luke, “ I have only the twelve apostles to do
now.” It is said that he often used his fingers instead of
the brush, and never spent more than half an hour upon a
half figure of the size of life. To this astonishing rapidity
of hand, however, he joined a fine imagination, teeming
with ideas; and his fame at length became so great that it
reached the ears of Charles II. of Spain, who invited him
to his court, and commissioned him to paint fresco-pieces
for the Escorial. After Charles’s death, Giordano returned
to Naples, where, despite his fame achieved, his wealth, and
his advanced age, he continued as busy as he had been in
his youth, when he had both his name and his fortune to
make. He died at Naples in 1704 or 1705.
As a painter, Giordano has no claim to be ranked among
the Raphaels, Titians, or Michael Angelos of his own
country. But the versatility of his talents, the fire of his
compositions, and his fine powers of colouring, entitle him
to respectful mention in the history of art. Even his draw¬
ing, which has been severely criticised, is perfectly correct
in those pieces on which he chose to bestow time and pains.
But the wideness of his aims, and his perpetual haste, pre¬
vented him from attaining the first rank in any of the many
styles which he affected. His best pieces are his frescoes
at the Escorial, at Florence, and at Rome. His grand altar-
piece of the Fall of Lucifer and Battle of the Angels in
one of the Neapolitan churches, is reckoned his master¬
piece. There are some fine cartoons and other pieces of
his in the galleries of Dresden and London.—See Lanzi.
GIORGIONE, or Giorgio Barbarelli, an eminent
painter, born at Castelfianco, near Trevigi, in 1478. He
learned the rudiments of his profession from Giovanni Bel¬
lini at Venice, and is said to have derived his first notions
of the force of well-adapted lights and shadows from the
works of Leonardo da Vinci. Giorgione was one of the
first of the Venetian school who broke through the timid
G I 0
Giorno- and constrained style to which the art was confined in the
vichi time of Bellini, and introduced a freedom of outline, a bold-
. II ness of handling, and a new and animated manner of colour-
Giotto. jng) unknown before. De Piles remarks, “that it is a mat-
ter of wonder to consider how, all of a sudden, he soared
from the low and dry manner of Bellini’s colouring to the
supreme height to which he raised that lovely part of paint¬
ing, by joining extreme force with extreme sweetness.”
Yet, as Pilkington observes, when we reflect that nature
and Da Vinci were his models, and that lie had a genius
happily qualified to study them judiciously, we may more
easily account for that excellence by which he was distin¬
guished. His pictures were much admired by Titian, who
copied his style, and improved upon his effects of chiar¬
oscuro. His untimely death prevented his acquiring so ex¬
tensive a celebrity as Titian did; but, as Phillips observes,
“ in the race of rivalship between these extraordinary artists,
it seems probable, had Giorgione’s life been prolonged, he
might have surpassed Titian in splendour and vivacity, both
of colour and of execution.” Several of Giorgione’s grand
compositions in fresco have perished, and those which re¬
main are so materially injured that little of their original
beauty is discernible. His easel pictures were few, and
now, on account of their scarcity as well as merit, are ex¬
ceedingly valuable.
In the department of portrait-painting Giorgione may be
ranked with the greatest masters. His figures are justly
esteemed for their grace, dignity, expression, and truth of
character. His carnations have more the appearance of real
flesh than of being a fine imitation of it. The landscapes of
this artist are also admirable. Of his oil pictures the prin¬
cipal are—Christ bearing his Cross, in the Church of St
Roch at Venice ; at Trevigi, St Mark appeasing the Tem¬
pest ; in the Monte di Pieta, a Dead Christ; and at Milan,
the Finding of Moses. Giorgione died of the plague, in
the prime of life, in 1511.—See Lanzi, Stor. Pit. (a. h.)
GIORNO VICHI, Giovanni Maria, more commonly
known under the name of Jarnowick, was, according to
bis own statement, born at Palermo in Sicily, in the year
1 745. He studied the violin under the famous Lolli, and
became one of the most popular violinists in Europe. About
1770 he went to Paris, where his elegant performance of
his first concerto (in A major) at once rendered him a fa¬
vourite. His overbearing temper and fondness for gam¬
bling led him everywhere into misadventures, and a dis¬
creditable affair forced him to leave Paris in 1779. After
visiting several continental cities, he reached London in
1792, and was well received; but unluckily for him, Viotti
arrived soon after, and took the place due to the latter’s
great superiority. Giornovichi quitted London in 1796, and
went to Hamburg; thence, in 1802, to Berlin, and after¬
wards to St Petersburg, where he died suddenly while play¬
ing at billiards on the 24th November 1804. During his
residence in England he was invited to Edinburgh, and per¬
formed there at the St Cecilia’s Hall concerts. His parti¬
cular merits as a player were perfect intonation, neat exe¬
cution of rapid passages, and good taste in embellishment.
His tone was pure but feeble, and he was deficient in breadth
of style and expression. His compositions are light and
pleasing, and consist of fifteen violin concertos; three
stringed-quartetts; four sets of duets for two violins; so¬
natas for violin and bass ; several symphonies, (g. p. g.)
GIOTTO, who shares with Cimabue the honour of crea¬
ting, or at least of restoring, modern art, was born at Ves-
pignano, a little village about 15 miles from Florence. His
father’s name was Bondone, and his own was a diminutive
either of Ambrogiotto, his Christian name, or of Angiolotto,
a term of endearment formed from Angiolo or Angelo. The
date of his birth is not very accurately determined. Vasari
and Baldinucci refer it to the year 1276, which would make
Giotto only twenty-two years of age when he executed his
G I R 631
famous mosaic of the Miraculous Draught of Fishes in 1296, Giove-
before which date he had produced some of his most famous nazzo
works. Other authorities refer it to the year 1270; others, II
considering that Vasari had made a mistake of a figure, put u,geh>
the real date as 1266, thus making him almost exactly co-
eval with Dante, his coetano ed amico suo grandissimo. He
died at Florence, January 8, 1336. The best of his works
were executed in fresco in various cities of Italy, especially
Plorence, Rome, Naples, Padua, and Assisi. Giotto may
also be considered the creator of the art of portrait-painting.
(For an estimate of his genius, and an account of his prin¬
cipal works, see Painting.)—See Lanzi, Stor. Pit.
GIOVENAZZO, the ancient Natiolum, a walled sea¬
port-town of Naples, province of Bari, on a high rock pro¬
jecting into the sea, 10 miles W.N.W. of Bari. It is a
miserable looking place, with narrow and filthy streets. It
is the seat of an archbishopric, and has a cathedral and
several other churches, convents, hospitals, and an asylum
for the maintenance and instruction in some useful art of
foundlings, mendicants, &c. Pop. 7000.
GIPSIES. See Gypsies.
GIRAFFE. See index to Mammalia.
GIRALDI, Lilio Gregorio (1479-1552), a cele¬
brated classical scholar of Italy, was born at Ferrara. The
early part of Giraldi’s career is a bright example of severe
study successfully carried on amid hardships and privations
of every kind. The fall of Constantinople had spread the
learning of Greece throughout Europe, and Giraldi applied
himself to master that branch of knowledge, then new and
strange in the West, under the care of Chalcondylas at Milan.
The fruits of his extensive erudition was a vast number of
treatises on the literature and antiquities of the ancient
world. Through one of these Giraldi’s name is still remem¬
bered—his Historia de Diis Gentium. To him belongs the
merit of having first examined the mythology of the an¬
cients, and applied to its elucidation an amount of learning
and judgment till that time unknown.
Another distinguished member of this family was Gio¬
vanni Battiste Giraldi Cintio, who wrote a large number of
novelli and miscellaneous pieces, of which the most remark¬
able was his Gli Hecatomiti, or Hundred Tales.
GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS. See Barry, Giraldde.
GIRDER, in Architecture, a main beam for supporting
the joists of a floor : so called, probably, because the ends
of the joists are inserted into it.
GIRDLE, a band of leather or other material worn
around the waist. The girdle was used by the Hebrews,
the Greeks, and the Romans, and is still worn in the East.
Among the Romans it was used to confine the tunica; and
so general was the custom, that the want of a girdle was
regarded as strongly presumptive of idle and dissolute pro¬
pensities. It also formed a part of the dress of the Greek
and Roman soldier; and we meet with the phrase cingulum
deponere, to lay aside the girdle as equivalent to quitting
the service. It was used as now in the East to carry money
in ; hence zonam perdere, “ to loose one’s purse.”
The phrase zonam solvere, virgineam was appropriated to
the ceremony of unloosing the girdle of the bride on the
nuptial night. To Venus was attributed by the poets the
possession of a girdle which had the miraculous virtue of
inspiring love. See Cestus.
It was an ancient custom in Britain for bankrupts or other
insolvent persons to put off and surrender their girdles in
open court. The reason of this was, that our ancestors
used to carry their purse, keys, and the like, fastened to the
girdle; and hence the girdle became a symbol of the con¬
dition of the individual. History relates that the widow of
Philip I. duke of Burgundy renounced her right of succes¬
sion by putting off her girdle upon the duke’s tomb.
GIRGEH, a town of Upper Egypt, on the Nile. See
Egypt, vol. viii., p. 505.
632 G I E GIT
GirgentI GIRGENTI, a province on the S.W. coast of Sicily,
il occupying an area of about 1200 square miles. Ramifica-
Gironde. ^jons 0f Neptunian mountains cover most of its surface,
rising highest in the north, and rapidly descending towards
the southern shore. Among the mountain ridges there are
numerous beautiful and very fertile valleys, producing in
rich abundance oranges, lemons, corn, wine, and oil. The
valleys and uplands afford also excellent pasture, which
gives richness to the abundant dairy produce, especially to
the cheese, which has long been famous. The principal
streams are the Salso, the Belice, and the Platani—the
Salso bounding the province on the S.E., the Belice on the
N.W., and the Platani traversing it near the centre in a
W.S.W. direction. The mineral products found in greatest
abundance are salt, sulphur, naphtha, and bitumen, as well
as some fine agates. The manufactures and trade of this
province are unimportant. It is divided into three adminis¬
trative districts—Girgenti the capital, Bivona, and Sciacca,
which are subdivided into sixteen circondarij. The popu¬
lation is rather more than 250,000.
Girgenti, a town on the S.W. coast of Sicily, capital
of the province of the same name. It stands near the site
of the ancient Agrigentum (which is described under that
head), on the slopes of Mount Camicus, in the Val-di-
Mazzara, nearly 3 miles from the shore, and 60 S.S.E.
of Palermo. The modern town is about one-tenth of the
size of the ancient city, and though irregularly built, it pre¬
sents rather an imposing appearance standing at an eleva¬
tion of 1100 feet above sea-level. The streets are, how¬
ever, mean and dirty; and they are so steep, narrow, and
wretchedly paved, that they are impassable by wheel-
vehicles. It contains a cathedral, 45 churches, 17 con¬
vents, one seminary, one orphan hospital, a lyceum, and a
monte-di-pieta. The harbour, once capable of admitting
large vessels, has now only 12 feet water on the bar. It
was formed in 1752 by the erection of a fine mole ; and its
latitude and longitude are respectively 37. 15. 36. N., and
13. 31.45. E. The principal objects of commerce are fruit,
oil, sulphur, and grain, of which last large quantities are
stored in caverns in the rock. Four miles north of Girgenti
is the mud volcano called Maccaluba. The present po¬
pulation of the town is nearly 18,000, consisting chiefly of
agriculturists and priests.
GIRONDE, a maritime department in the S.W. of
France, formed of part of the old province of Guienne ; and
bounded on the north by the department of Charente-
Inferieure, east by those of Dordogne and Lot-et-Garonne,
south by that of Landes, and west by the Bay of Biscay.
It lies between Lat. 44. 12. and 45. 35. N., and between
Long. 0. 18. E. and 1.16. W., being 106 miles in length from
N.W. to S.E., and 80 in breadth from N.E. to S.W. This
is the largest of the Frencn departments, having an area of
3761 English square miles. Population (1851) 614,387, as
follows:
Cantons. Communes. Pop. in 1851.
Bordeaux 18 153 296,632
Blaye  4 56 59,469
Lesparre  4 30 39,677
Libourne  9 132 111,104
Bazas  7 68 55,112
La Re ole  6 105 52,393
48 544 614,387
Bordeaux, the capital, in 1851 contained 123,935 inhabi¬
tants.
With the exception of the eastern portion of the de¬
partment, where there are some hills, the surface is generally
level. The western portion is a vast sandy plain, termed
les Landes. On the coast are two extensive shore lakes,
Carcano and Canau, communicating with each other, and
with the bay of Arcachon, near the southern extremity of
the department, A range of sandy downs separates these
two lakes from the sea. The bay of Arcachon contains Girondists
numerous islands, and on the land side forms a vast shallow _ II
lagoon; a considerable portion of which, however, has GittitL
lately been drained and converted into arable land. On
the south side of the bay stands the port of Teste-de-Buch,
which is now connected with Bordeaux by railway. The
river or estuary of the Gironde, from which this department
takes its name, is formed by the union of the Garonne and
Dordogne. It has a N.N.W. direction, is about 45 miles
in length, and varies in breadth from 2 to 6 miles. The
principal affluent of the Dordogne in this department is the
Isle. The feeders of the Garonne are, with the exception
of the Dropt, all small. West of the Garonne the only
river of importance is the Leyre, which flows into the bay
of Arcachon. The climate is humid and temperate, and,
except in the Landes, is generally healthy. About one-
third of this department consists of heaths and wastes, one-
fourth of arable land, one-seventh of vineyards, and one-
eighth of woods and forests. Wheat, rye, maize, millet,
and hemp, are grown to a considerable extent. The corn
produced, however, does not more than half meet the wants
of the inhabitants. The culture of the vine is by far the
most important branch of industry carried on. The annual
produce of wine, principally claret, in this department is
about 55,000,000 gallons. The finest clarets are the growths
of Lafitte, Latour, Chateau-Margaux, and Haut Brion.
The most valued white wines are Sauterne, Barsac,
Preignac, and Vin de Grave. This department also pro¬
duces excellent fruit. The extensive w'oods which skirt,
the sea-coast or pervade the Landes consist chiefly of pine,
and supply timber for deals and masts, as well as resin,
pitch, and turpentine. There are stone quarries and
smelting works, but few mines. The manufactures are
various, and, vrith the general trade, are chiefly carried on
Sit/ Bordeaux
GIRONDISTS. See France, vol. x., p. 71, &c.
GIRONS, St, a town of France, capital of a cognomi-
nal arrondissement in the department of Ariege, on the right
bank of the Salat, 25 miles west of Foix. It has a com¬
munal college, an old Gothic church with a lofty spire, and
manufactures of woollens, linens, leather, and paper. Pop.
(1851) 3895.
GIRVAN, a market-town and burgh of barony in the
county of Ayr, Scotland, on the left bank of the Girvan,
near its mouth, 17 miles south by west of Ayr. The river
here forms a small harbour, with 9 to 11 feet water. The
houses are chiefly buildings of one story, and the inhabi¬
tants are mostly weavers for the Paisley and Glasgow
manufacturers. A few are employed in fishing. They are
generally very poor, and about two-thirds of them are Irish,
or of Irish extraction. Market-day, Monday. Pop. (1851)
7319.
GISORS, a town of France, department of Eure, in a
pleasant valley on the Epte, 14 miles east of Les Andelys.
Of its ancient castle built in the twelfth century, and once
one of the principal strongholds in the kingdom, the tower and
keep are still standing. Its ancient ramparts have been
converted into promenades. It has a curious old church
which dates from the thirteenth century, a communal col¬
lege, tanneries, breweries, cotton-spinning and bleaching
establishments. Pop. 3700.
GITTITH, rvm a word which occurs in the titles
of Psalms viii., Ixxxi., Ixxxiv., and is generally supposed to
denote a musical instrument. From the name it has been
supposed to be an instrument brought from Gath (FO) by
David; and from Isaiah xvi. 10 it has been inferred that
it was used especially at the vintage season. If it means
a musical instrument, it is remarkable that it does not
occur in the list of instruments assigned by David to the
temple musicians, nor even in that list which appears in
the first two verses of Psalm Ixxxi., in the title of which
G L A
Giughano it is found. The supposition of Gesenius that it is a gene-
Glacier ra^ name ^or stringed instruments obviates this difficulty.
^ acier. ^ 'ppe geptuagint renders the title by vTrep twv X'rjvwv, “ upon
the wine-press ; ” and Carpzov, Pfeiffer, and others follow
this in taking the word to denote “ a song composed for
the vintage,” or for the feast of tabernacles., (Carpzov,
Observ. Philol. super Psalmos Tres Helmst.
1758.; Pfeiffer, Ueber die Musik, p. 32.)
GIUGLIANO, a town of Naples, 8 miles N.N.W.
of the capital of that kingdom. It has a castle, four
churches, two of which are collegiate, and a hospital. Pop.
9000.
GIULIANO, San, a town of Sicily, on the summit of a
mountain of the same name, 5 miles E.N.E. of Trapani.
It has numerous churches and convents, a hospital, a mont-
de-piete, and about 10,000 inhabitants. It occupies the site
of the ancient Eryx, which see.
GIULIO-ROMANO, the name by which Giulio-Pippi,
or rather De Giannuzzi, is commonly known, was born at
Home in 1492, and at an early age distinguished himself as
one of the ablest of the pupils of Raphael, whose successor
he may justly be considered. He assisted that great master
in the celebrated “ Battle of Constantine,” and other
famous frescoes in the Vatican; and with Pinni he com¬
pleted the frescoes of the Stanza di Costantino in the
Vatican after the death of Raphael in 1523. In the fol¬
lowing year he entered the service of the duke Federigo
Gonzaga at Mantua, where he succeeded in establishing a
considerable school, and conducted the various works which
that prince had projected for the embellishment of his capital.
His talents as an architect would place him among the most
eminent of his age in this profession, were it not that his
reputation as a painter has eclipsed these. Giulio Ro¬
mano died at Mantua, November 1, 1546, at the age of
forty-seven, leaving numerous works in fresco, and many
fine oil paintings, which fully established his fame as
G L A 633
the chief of all Raphael’s disciples. He may also fairly Giurgevo
be considered the ablest of the Italian ornamental decora- 11
tors. See Painting. (Vasari, Vite de’ Pittori, See., Flor. ^lac'er-
1846 ; Gaye, Carteggio Inedito d! Artisti ; Lanzi, Storia
Pittorica.)
GIURGEVO, a town and river port of Wallachia, on
the left bank of the Danube, opposite Rustchuk, 40 miles
S.S.W . of Bucharest. The houses are mean-looking mud
edifices, and the streets are narrow and filthy. The ca¬
thedral stands on an eminence in the river, and is con¬
nected with the town by a bridge. The principal square
contains a tall quadrangular tower, surmounted by a bell,
which sounds at certain hours. The fortifications which
formerly surrounded the town were demolished by the
Russians in 1829. Giurgevo is the most important trading
port on the Wallachian side of the Danube, and carries on
a considerable trade with Austria, Germany, Hungary, &c.
Pop. 7000. The Russians were here defeated by the
Turks, July 7th, 1854.
GIVET, a fortified town of France, department of
Ardennes, situated on both sides of the Meuse, 26 miles
N.N.E. of Mezieres. On the left bank of the river, at the
foot of a mountain, on which stands the citadel called Charle-
mont, is the quarter Givet St Hilaire, while on the op¬
posite bank is that of Givet Notre-Dame. They are both
fortified, and communicate with each other bv means of a
handsome stone bridge of five arches. The town is ge¬
nerally well built, and has extensive barracks, a mili¬
tary hospital, and public library; also manufactures of
white-lead, glue, earthenware, leather, and some trade.
Pop. 4000.
GIVORS, a town of France, department of Rhone, 14
miles south of Lyons. Being situated on the Rhone and the
Canal of Rive-de-Gier, and near the railway between Lyons
and St Etienne, its inhabitants are chiefly boatmen or car¬
riers. It has also several glass and tile works. Pop. 7010.
GLACIER,
A name given to masses of ice which descend from
snowy mountains into the adjacent valleys, where they
attain a level often far below the upper limit of the sur¬
rounding vegetation. The following are the synonymes
for a glacier in some different languages and dialects.
In French, glacier; German, gletscher; Italian, ghiac-
ciaja; Tyrolese, fern; in Carinthia, Mss; in the Val-
lais, biegno; in part of Italy, vedretto; in Piedmont,
ruize; in the Pyrenees, serneille; in Norway, iisbree or
iisbrede ; in Lapland, geikna oxjegna ; in Iceland, jolmll or
fall-jokull.
The characteristic appearance of a glacier can be nowhere
better studied than in Switzerland and Savoy. The icy mass
of the glacier of Bossons at Chamouni—which descends im¬
mediately from the highest part of Mont Blanc, but lies, sum¬
mer and winter, in the valley at a height of no more than 3500
English feet (the height of perpetual snow being about
9000 feet), where it is embosomed amongst luxuriant
wood, and is almost in contact with corn-fields—exhibits a
spectacle which none who have once seen it can forget, and
which attracts more interest and curiosity the more care¬
fully it is considered. The lower glacier of Grindelwald,
descending to 3400 feet, is another familiar example of the
same phenomenon. In the Arctic regions true glaciers also
exist, which, descending the valleys (often of great width
and little inclination), enter the sea, and, breaking off, supply
the floating ice-islands or icebergs which frequently drift
into comparatively low latitudes. These glaciers do not
essentially differ from those of alpine countries.
The diminution of temperature as we ascend the slopes
V OL. x.
of mountains, as indicated by successive zones of vegeta¬
tion, and finally by the occurrence of perpetual snow, is
stated and explained in other articles (Climate, Physical
Geography, and Botany, Part III.), and therefore may be
assumed here. Thus in the high mountains of the Andes and
Himalaya, between the tropics, the commencement of per¬
petual snow is found at from 15,000 to 18,000, or even
19,000 feet, according to circumstances ; whilst in southern
Europe the level is from 8000 to 9000 feet, and in Norway
from 5500 to 3000 feet, according to the latitude and the
distance from the sea. It was first shown by Baron Hum¬
boldt and Von Buch that the limit of perpetual snow de¬
pends principally on the temperature of the summer, and
not upon that of the whole year.
It has been already explained that an accumulation of
snow, even frozen snow, does not constitute properly a gla¬
cier. A glacier is a mass of ice, having its origin in the
hollows of mountains where perpetual snow accumulates,
but which makes its way down towards the lower valleys,
where it gradually melts, and it terminates exactly where
the melting, due to the contact of the warmer air, earth,
and rain of the valley—compensates for the bodily descent
of the ice from the snow reservoirs of the higher moun¬
tains. From this it is evident, without any formal mea¬
surements, that A GLACIER IS ICE IN MOTION.
Geographical Distribution of Glaciers.—Glaciers are not
peculiar to any country or region of the earth. It may be
that there are extensive snowy mountains wholly devoid
of them, as is supposed to be the case in tropical South
America; but even this exception requires confirmation.
4 L
GLACIER.
634
Glacier. There are peculiarities in the form of mountains, and still
more in climate, which, as we shall see, favour the forma¬
tion of glaciers, or may even totally prevent it.
Although it is only of late years that glaciers have been
generally acknowledged to exist in the Himalaya, the de¬
scriptions given many years ago by Captain Hodgson of the
source of the Ganges could leave no doubt as to the fact
on the mind of any one familiar with the glaciers of the
Alps. “ The Bhagiruttee or Ganges,” he writes in 1817,
“ issues from under a very low arch at the foot of the grand
snow-bed Over the debouche the mass of snow
is perfectly perpendicular, and from the bed of the stream
to the summit, we estimate the thickness at little less than
300 feet of solid frozen snow, probably the accumulation of
ages. It is in layers of some feet thick, each seemingly the
remains of a fall of a separate year.”1 2 The level of the
source of the Ganges is 12,900 feet, and the chief error of
this description is in the interchange of the word snow for
ice, and in the absence of a clear perception that the ice
could not have always lain there, some thousand feet below
the snow-line, but must have travelled progressively down
the valley, producing the phenomena of rents and superficial
rubbish-heaps which Captain Hodgson describes in another
paragraph.
For many years after 1817 the glaciers of the Himalaya,
if mentioned at all, are so under the false name of snow-
beds, and their relations to physical geography were wholly
neglected. This arose from the imperfect education of those
clever men who have at different times explored our Indian
possessions, who being chiefly bred in that remote land had
little acquaintance with the scientific literature of Europe,
and still less with its physical features. Scarcely any of our
Himalayan travellers had previously visited the Alps.
It is since 1840 that we have acquired more correct
information as to the glaciers of India. Mr Vigne, in
his interesting Travels in Kashmir, has described the
perfectly characteristic features of the glaciers of some
of the sources of the river Indus occurring in the ter¬
ritory of Little Thibet, about Lat. 35°. Colonel Madden
and Captain Richard Strachey directed attention to the
glaciers of the central Himalaya (Kumaon) at the source
of the rivers Pindur and Kuphinee, in Lat. 30° 20, at
the level of 11,300 and 12,000 feet respectively, the
height of the snow-line being there about 15,000 leetv
The phenomena and mode of progression of these glaciers,
as noted by Captain R. Strachey, appear identical with those
which we shall presently describe as characteristic of those
of Europe. Farther in the interior of the same chain Dr
Thomas Thomson has lately described3 numerous glaciers
filling valleys of the central Himalaya (particularly that on
the north side of the Bardar or Umasi pass, Lat. 33° 20,
Long 76-|° E.), which probably exceeds in size any other
yet described. Dr Joseph Hooker, in his interesting Hima¬
layan Journals, has described in detail the glaciers of the
eastern portion of the same range in the tei'ritories of Sik¬
kim and Nepaul, where the gigantic mountain Kinchin-
junga rears its head to 28,178 feet above the sea, whence
the ice descends (he states) in one unbroken mass of 14,000
feet of vertical height to the source of the Thlonok river.
Both Dr Thomson and Dr Hooker concur in ascribing to
the Himalayan glaciers a formerly much greater extension
towards the plains of India, which has left geological evidence
of their former sojourn in the lower valleys, in the masses
of transported rock and rubbish there accumulated. Thus,
instead of glaciers being rare or unexampled phenomena in Glacier,
the east, as was at one time supposed, we find them developed i —
on a scale commensurate with that of the stupendous moun¬
tains with which they are connected, and that from one end
to the other of the Himalayan range.
Passing over the less important glaciers of the Caucasus
and Altai, we come to the glaciers of Europe, which are
principally confined to two great mountainous districts, the
Alps and the high lands of Norway.
Referring for minute topographical details to the works
which have been published more particularly in connection
with the subject, and with those countries,4 we may state
generally, that wherever (in Europe) any considerable area
of mountainous country rises above the snow-line, there
glaciers are found in more or less abundance. In the Alps
this level is, on an average, about 7200 feet, including gla¬
ciers of all descriptions (Schlagintweit). The great glaciers
have of course the lowest mean level. Of these there are, on the
same authority, sixty in the whole Alpine chain. Glaciers
commence on the south-western prolongation of the chain
in the region of Mont Pelvoux and Monte Viso (Lat. 45°),
and they extend on the N.E. to the Gross Glockner in Ca-
rinthia. The best known and most important glacier-bearing
groups in the interval are those of Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa,
the Bernese Alps (Finsteraarhorn and Jungfrau), and the
Oertler Spitz in the Tyrol. The most considerable indivi¬
dual glaciers are the Mer de Glace of Chamouni, the Gor-
ner glacier near Zermatt (Monte Rosa), the lower glacier
of the Aar (Bernese Oberland), the Aletsch glacier and
glacier of the Rhone (Vallais), and the Pasterzen glacier
(Carinthia). Of these, the first, third, and last have been
made the subjects of the most careful surveys and obser¬
vations.
In Great Britain no mountain fully attains the height of
the snow-line, consequently there are no glaciers. But
patches of snow, with a more or less icy structure, remain
through the summer in the clefts of some of the Scottish
hills. Geological appearances, however, strongly indicate
the formerly greater extension of glaciers, especially in
Scotland and Wales.
In Norway w e find two principal groups of glacier-bearing
mountains—those in the Bergenstift and those within the
arctic circle. The former were well described by M.
Durocher.5 Professor J. D. Forbes, in a recent work,6 has
detailed his observations on most of them, has given an
enumeration of all the known glaciers of Norway, and has
compared their conditions and structure with those of the
glaciers of the Alps. Of the Bergen group, those of J ustedal
are the best known, and probably the best worth visiting.
Justedal is connected with the inmost ramification of the in¬
tricate Sognefiord. On the Fjaerlandsfiord, another branch
of the same inlet, two important glaciers are found, one of
which terminates only 105 feet above the sea level, in
Lat. 61°. The Hardanger fiord, somewhat farther south
presents one fine glacier, the Bondhuusbrse. The more
northern group of Norwegian glaciers commences at Fon-
dal, just within the limits of the arctic circle, where
numerous glaciers descend almost to the sea level. About
Lat. 70°, on the promontory of Lyngen, are several gla¬
ciers, and in the neighbouring Jokulsfiord is one which
is stated actually to enter the sea, and to break off in minia¬
ture icebergs. About the North Cape the mountains are
not sufficiently high to afford any perpetual snow.
Iceland, with a summer temperature far inferior to that
1 Asiatic Researches, vol. xiv., quoted in Captain R. Strachey’s paper cited below.
2 Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, vol. xvi., part 2.
3 Western Himalaya and Tibet, &c., by Thomas Thomson, M.D., London, 1852. . u- •
4 Gruner’s and De Saussure’s Travels in the Alps; Prof. J. D. Forbes’s Travels in the Alps of Savoy; Agassiz, Etudes sur les Glaciers ; llugi,
Alpeureise ; Schlagintweit, Untersuchungen ; and Johnston’s Physical Atlas.
5 Annales des Mines, 4th series, tom. xii. 6 Norway and its Glaciers, visited in 1851.
GLACIER.
Glacier, of Norway, abounds in glaciers, which, however, have not
been very particularly described. Those of Swina-fels and
Holaar are stated to be large and characteristic.
The glaciers of Spitzbergen have been minutely described
by Dr Scoresby1 and by M. Martins.2 They appear to be
essentially of the same nature, and subject to the same laws
as those of Switzerland, but modified by the depression
of the snow-line and the extreme shortness of the sum¬
mer. The texture is less icy, the rate of progression pro¬
bably slower ; as the superficial fusion is not great, they
descend in vast sheets into the waters of the sea (as at
Magdalena Bay), where they form icebergs. The western
coasts of Greenland appear to offer the same phenomena,
but on a grander scale.
The interior of arctic North America has too even a
surface, and perhaps too dry and rigorous a climate, to pre¬
sent glaciers in perfection.
In South America, about Lat. 47°, where the climate is
one of the worst in the world, numerous glaciers, resembling
probably those of Iceland, have been described by Captain
King and Mr Darwin. Sir James Clark Ross, in his an¬
tarctic voyage, has described and represented by admirable
views the stupendous icy barriers which fringe the coast of
the inhospitable southern continent.
After reviewing the descriptions of glaciers in all regions of
the world, we recur to those of the Alps as presenting all the
characteristic features of glaciers in perfect development,
and under circumstances the most convenient for study.
General Phenomena of Alpine Glaciers.—The manner
in which a glacier protrudes itself into a valley, far
below the level of perpetual snow, has been already men¬
tioned. The inference being obvious, that since it is
continually melting (during summer) in all its parts, yet
retains its general form and place, the waste below must be
supplied by the continual advance of the glacier forwards
and downwards, we shall consider in the meantime the mo¬
tion of the glacier as an established fact to which we shall
afterwards devote a separate and special discussion. It very
frequently happens that the termination of the greater gla¬
ciers takes place in an alluvial flat in the bottom of a large
alpine valley (as in the glarfiers of the Mer de Glace,
Brenva, Rhone, Lower Aar, and those of Grindelwald).
From a vault in the green-blue ice, more or less perfectly
formed each summer, the torrent issues, which represents
the natural drainage of the valley, derived partly from land
springs, partly from the fusion of the ice. That of the Ar-
veiron, near Chamouni, is perhaps the best known, but al¬
most every glacier possesses such a vault.
Most usually the glacier terminates amidst a wilderness
of stones borne down upon its surface and deposited by its
fusion. Sometimes these blocks are heaped up in mounds
called moraines, which, when in front of the lower end of
a glacier, are called its terminal moraines, and mark in a
characteristic and certain manner the greatest limit of
extension which the glacier has at any one time attained.
Sometimes a glacier is seen to have withdrawn very far
within its old limits, leaving a prodigious barren waste of
stones in advance of it, which, being devoid of soil, nourishes
not one blade of grass. At other times the glacier pushes
forward its margin beyond the limit which it has ever
reached (at least within the memory of man), tears up
the ground with its icy ploughshare, and shoves forward the
yielding turf in wrinkled folds, uprooting trees, moving vast
rocks, and scattering the walls of dwelling houses in frag¬
ments before its irresistible onward march.3
The lower end of a glacier is usually steep; sometimes
635
with a dome-shaped unbroken outline, more frequently Glacier,
broken up by intersecting cracks into prismatic masses
which the continued action of the sun and rain sharpen into
pyramids, often assuming (as in the glacier of Bossons at
Chamouni) grotesque or beautiful forms.
The united or crevassed condition of the glacier generally
depends almost entirely on the slope of its bed. If it incline
rapidly, numerous transverse fissures are formed from the
imperfect yielding of the ice during its forced descent along
its uneven channel. These cracks often extend for hundreds
of yards, and may be hundreds of feet in depth; but their
greatest depth is not accurately known, since they are rarely
quite vertical. In many cases, however, the crevasses are
comparatively few in number, and the glacier may be readily
traversed in all directions. This is especially the case it a
glacier of considerable dimensions meets with any contrac¬
tion in its course. The ice is embayed and compressed, and
its slope lessens, just as in the case of a river when it nears
a similar contraction preceding a fall. Such level and ge¬
nerally traversable spaces may be found about the middle
regions of the Mer de Glace, the lower glacier of Grindel¬
wald, the lower glacier of the Aar, and in many other cases.
The last named glacier is perhaps the most remarkably even
and accessible of any in Switzerland. The slope of its sur¬
face is in many places only 3°. The Pasterzen glacier
in Carinthia is even less inclined. It is in such portions
of a glacier that we commonly find internal cascades, or
“ moulins.” These arise from the superficial water of a
glacier being collected into a considerable mass by a long
course over its unbroken surface, and then precipitated with
violence into the first fissure it meets with. The descending
cascade keeps open its channel, which finally loses the form
of a fissure, presenting that of an open shaft, often of im¬
mense depth.
Nearly connected in their origin with the internal cas¬
cades are the gravel cones, occasionally seen on the surface
of glaciers, which appear to be formed in this way :—a con¬
siderable amount of earthy matter derived by the superficial
water-runs from the moraine, accumulates in heaps in the
inequalities of the ice, or at the bottom of the “ moulins.”
As the glacier surface wastes by the action of the sun and
rain, these heaps are brought to the surface, or rather the
general surface is depressed to their level. If the earthy
mass be considerable the ice beneath is protected from the
radiation of the sun and from the violent washing of the
rain ; it at length protrudes above the general level of the
glacier, and finally forms a cone which appears to be en¬
tirely composed of gravel, but is in fact ice at the heart,
with merely a protecting cover of earthy matter. These
singular cones are very well seen on the glacier of the Aar,
but on most others they are comparatively rare.
The similar protective action of large stones detached
from the moraines and lying on the surface of the ice often
produces the striking phenomenon of glacier tables. Stones
of any considerable size almost invariably stand upon a
slightly elevated pillar of ice; but when they are broad
and flat they occasionally attain a height of 6 and even of 12
feet above the general level. A striking instance has been
described and drawn by Professor Forbes, in his Travels
in the Alps of Savoy.
To this peculiar tendency of glaciers apparently to ele¬
vate heavy and opaque bodies above their surface—in rea¬
lity to have their surface depressed beneath them—is no
doubt mainly owing to the striking, and at first sight per¬
plexing, fact, that stones or dirt are scarcely ever seen im¬
bedded in the massive ice of glaciers. The Swiss peasants
1 Arctic Regions, vol. i. 3 Bibliotheque Universelle, 1840.
3 Such a sudden and disastrous increase took place in many of the glaciers of Switzerland and Savoy in 1818 (occasioning the catas¬
trophe of the Val de Bagnes), and in those of the Bergenstift in Norway about 1740. The retreat of a glacier far within its old moraines
is well exemplified in most of the glaciers of the latter country, and especially in that of Nygaard.
GLACIER.
636
Glacier, attribute to them an intrinsic power of rejecting impurities.
The fact is, that year by year, and month by month, fresh
thicknesses of virgin ice become revealed by the fusion of
the surface. That ice, formed in the highest mountain
hollows, never was or could be impure. The rocks and
earth have fallen upon the surface since; and, by the con¬
ditions which we have mentioned, once there, there they
remain. Even those blocks which fall into the crevasses are
usually arrested at no great depth, and by the general lower¬
ing of the glacier-surface, soon attain its level.
The superficial waste of a glacier is thus a very important
phenomenon. Owing to it the body of the ice has its ver¬
tical thickness rapidly diminished during the heats of sum¬
mer, and, as we have already intimated, the lower end of a
glacier has its position determined by the amount of this
waste. Suppose a glacier to move along its bed at the rate of
SOOfeet per annum, and imagine (merely for the sake of illus¬
tration) its yearly superficial waste to be 20 feet: then the
thickness of the glacier will diminish by 20 feet for every
300 feet of its length, or at the rate of 360 feet per mile;
so that the longitudinal section of a glacier has the form of
a wedge; and however enormous its original thickness, after
a certain course we must at length come to the thin end of
the wedge, and that the more rapidly as the causes of
melting increase towards the lower extremity. These
causes are indeed so various that it is difficult to estimate
them with accuracy. We have (1) the direct solar heat;
(2) the contact of warm air; (3) the washing of rain. All
these causes act on the surface, and produce the ablation
of the surface. Besides these, the ice of the glacier wastes
somewhat beneath by the contact of the soil and the wash¬
ing of the inferior streams. This may be called its sub¬
sidence. Further, the natural slope of the rocky bed of the
glacier causes any point of the surface to stand absolutely
lower each day in consequence of the progressive motion.
These three causes united produce the geometrical depres¬
sion of the surface. Professor Forbes has shown how the
several effects may usually be distinguished by observation.1
During the height of summer, near the Montanvert, he
found the daily average ablation to be 3‘62 inches, the
daily subsidence to be 1‘63 inches. Seven-tenths of the
geometrical depression are due therefore to the former
cause, and three-tenths to the latter. This is a very large
amount, and it is certain that during the colder period of
the year, and whilst the glacier is covered with snow, the
subsidence is not only suspended, but that the glacier re¬
cruits in thickness a portion of its waste during the season
of summer and autumn. To this subject we shall again
return.
One point about moraines we have not yet mentioned.
As we ascend any considerable glacier we almost invariably
observe several parallel trails of debris extending throughout
its length, and not mixing with one another. These medial
moraines may in all cases be traced to a rocky promontory
where two tributary glaciers have united. The rocky masses
detached by frost and rain which have rolled upon the mar¬
gin of the confluent glaciers are borne along by the progress
of each to the point of union. But where the icy streams
unite the trails of rock do so also; and being continually
retained on the surface by the causes we have mentioned,
float, as it were, down the middle of the common glacier,
preserving throughout the distinctive character of their
origin, hour such medial moraines may readily be traced
to their sources on the great glacier of Chamouni; but the
grandest specimen of a medial moraine is that on the glacier
of the Lower Aar, effectively represented in one of the
plates in M. Agassiz work {Etudes sur les Glaciers).
The middle region of the great glaciers of the Alj )s ex¬
tends from the level of about 6000 to 8000 feet above the Glacier,
sea. The inclination is usually there most moderate—say ■‘v'*-
from 2^° to 6°. But this is not invariably the case. Be¬
yond 8000 feet we reach the snow line. The snow line is
a fact as definite on the surface of a glacier as on that of a
mountain, only in the former case, it occurs at a somewhat
lower level. It cannot be too distinctly understood that the
fresh snow annually disappears from the glacier proper.
Where it ceases entirely to melt, it of course becomes
incorporated with the glacier. We have therefore arrived
at the region where the glacier forms ; everywhere below
it only wastes. This snowy region of the glacier is called
in French neve ; in German,As we ascend the gla¬
cier it passes gradually from the state of ice to the state of
snow. The superficial layers are more snowy and white,
in fact nearly pure snow ; the deeper ones have more colour
and consistence, and break on the large scale into vast frag¬
ments, which at Chamouni are called seracs. The neve
moves, as the glacier proper does, and it is fissured by the
inequalities of the ground over which it passes. These
fissures are less regular than those of the lower glacier.
They are often much wider, in fact of stupendous dimen¬
sions, and being often covered with treacherous snowy
roofs, constitute one of the chief dangers of glacier travef-
ling. The constitution of the neve may be well studied on
the Glacier du Geant, a tributary of the Mer de Glace.
The mountain-clefts in which large glaciers lie, usually
expand in their higher portions (in conformity with the
ordinary structure of valleys) into extensive basins in which
snow is perpetual, and which therefore contain the neve,
the true origin and material of the glacier, which is lite¬
rally the overflow of these snowy reservoirs. The amount
of overflow, or the discharge of the glacier—upon which
depends the extent of its prolongation into the lower val¬
leys—depends in its turn on the extent of the neve or col¬
lecting reservoir. Glaciers with small reservoirs, of neces¬
sity perish soon. Their thickness is small, and consequently
the wedge of the glacier soon thins out. Such glaciers are
common in confined clefts of the higher mountains. Being
destitute of reservoirs, they soon terminate abruptly. Such
are the glaciers of the second order described by De
Saussure. They are exceedingly numerous in all glacier¬
bearing chains of mountains, but from their comparative
smallness and inaccessibility, they usually attract but little
attention. Their slope is often very great—from 20° to 40°.
Structure of Glacier Ice, and Dirt Bands.—The ice of the
glacier proper has a very peculiar structure, quite distinct
from the stratification of the snow on the neve (the relics
of its mode of deposit), and one which requires special
notice. When we examine the appearance of the ice in
the wall of an ordinary crevasse (especially if it be tolerably
near the side of the glacier) we are struck with the beautiful
vertically laminated structure which commonly it presents,
resembling delicately-veined marble, in shades varying from
bluish-green, through green, to white. It sometimes re¬
sembles the marble called in Italy cipollino. When we
trace the direction of the planes constituting the laminated
structure, by observing them on the surface of the glacier
(where they are usually well seen after rain, or in the chan¬
nels of superficial water-runs), we find that where best de¬
veloped (or not very far from the sides of the glacier) these
laminae are nearly parallel to the sides, but rather incline
from the shore to the centre of the ice stream as we follow
the declivity of the glacier.
I he general out-crop of the veined structure may best
be seized at a glance by means of a correlative phenomenon
thus described by Professor Forbes, who first observed it:—
“ On the evening of the 24th July (1842), the day follow-
Ele\enth Letter on Glaciers. Ed. Phil. Journal, 1846. Observations of the ablation of the ice have also been made by MM. Martins
and Agassiz, the amount, of course, depends materially on the elevation and exposure of the glacier as well as on the weather and season.
GLACIER.
637
Glacier, ing my descent from the Col du Geant, I walked up the
hill of Charmoz to a height of 600 or 700 feet above the
Montanvert, or 1000 feet above the level of the glacier.
The tints of sunset were cast in a glorious manner over
the distant mountains, whilst the glacier was thrown into
comparative shadow. This condition of half-illumination
is far more proper for distinguishing feeble shades of colour
on a very white surface like that of a glacier than the broad
day. Accordingly, whilst revolving in my mind, during this
evening’s stroll, the singular problems of the ice world, my
eye was caught by a very peculiar appearance of the sur¬
face of the ice, which I was certain that I now saw for the
first time. It consisted in a series of nearly hyperbolic
brownish bands on the glacier, the curves pointing down¬
wards, and the two branches mingling indiscriminately with
the (lateral) moraines, presenting an appearance of waves
some hundred feet apart, and having opposite to the Mon¬
tanvert the form which I have attempted to show upon the
map,1 where they are represented in the exact figure and
number in which they occur I was sa¬
tisfied, from the general knowledge which I then had of the
‘veined structure’ of the ice, that these coloured bands
probably followed that direction.”2 Farther examination
confirmed this conjecture, and showed that these superficial
discolorations in the form of excessively elongated hyper¬
bolas are due to the recurrence (at intervals of some hun¬
dred feet along the course of the glacier) of portions of ice
in which the veined structure is more energetically de¬
veloped than elsewhere, and where, by the decomposition
of the softer laminae, portions of sand and dirt become en¬
tangled in the superficial ice, and give rise to the pheno¬
mena of dirt bands, which thus at a distance display
(though in a manner requiring some attention to discover)
the exact course of this singular structure on the surface of
the glacier. The annexed figure, No. 1, displays the super¬
ficial form of the dirt bands, and the course of the structural
marked by the snow lying in them during the period of its Glacier,
partial disappearance.3
r>/jf n
Fig. 4.
Fig. 1. Fig. 2. Fig. 3.
laminae projected horizontally. No. 2 shows an ideal trans¬
verse section of the glacier; and No. 3 another vertical
section parallel to its length. These three sections in rec¬
tangular planes wall serve to give a correct idea of the
course of this remarkable structure within the ice, but a
more popular conception will be formed of it from the
imaginary sections of a canal-shaped glacier in the annexed
woodcut, No. 4. The structure of the compound glacier,
originally double, becomes gradually single ; and the frontal
dip of the laminae at the loop of the horizontal curves
which in the upper region of the glacier is nearly ver¬
tical, gradually slopes forwards until at the lower termina¬
tion it has a very slight dip inwards, or indeed may be re¬
versed and fall outwards and forwards. The general form
of a structural lamina of a glacier rudely resembles that of
a spoon.
This structure and the accompanying dirt bands have
been recognized by different observers in almost all gla¬
ciers, including those of Norway and of India. The interval
between the dirt bands has been shown in the case of the
Mer de Glace (and therefore probably in other cases) to
coincide with annual rate of progression, and in the higher
parts of the glacier (towards the neve) to be accompanied
by wrinkles or inequalities of the surface which are well
The Motion of Glaciers, and its causes.—The most cha¬
racteristic and remarkable feature ol glaciers is their motion
downwards from the neve towards the lower valley. The
explanation of it is by far the most important application of
mechanical physics connected with the subject.
Obvious as the fact itself must appear by what has
been already stated, manifest confusion has obtained in
the minds of intelligent persons regarding it. Thus Ebel,
in his well-known Swiss guide-book, affirms the motion of
the glaciers of Chamouni to be 14 feet, and those of
Grindelvvald 25 feet in a year; quantities which, if they
have any meaning, must refer to the apparent
advance of the lower termination of those gla¬
ciers into the valley, which therefore only indi¬
cate the difference of the real motion, and of the
waste in any particular season, and which may
become nidi, or even negative, if the summer be
more than usually warm. The peasants, however
—who are inevitably made aware of the progressive motion
of the ice by observing the progressive advance of conspicuous
blocks on its surface—commonly ascribe to the glaciers the
more correct measure of several hundred feet per annum.
M. Hugi, of Soleure, measured, with some accuracy, year
by year, the progress of a conspicuous block on the glacier
of the Aar, which he found to be 2200 feet in nine years,
or about 240 feet per annum.4 M. Agassiz continued some
of these annual measures, but only in a rough way by
causing his guides to reckon the distance of a block on the
moraine by lengths of a pole or rod from a fixed rock some
thousand feet off. These measures appear not to have
been altogether trustworthy.
The principal theories to account for the progressive
motion of glaciers which were prevalent previous to 1842,
may be briefly characterized as De Saussure’s and De
Charpentier’s, though each had been maintained in times
long antecedent by the earlier Swiss writers. The first
may for brevity be called the gravitation theory, the latter
the dilatation theory. Both suppose that the motion of
the ice takes place by its sliding bodily over its rocky bed,
but they differ as to the force which urges it over the
obstacles opposed by friction and the irregularities of the
surface on which it moves.
1 Map of the Mer de Glace of Chamouni, &c., in Professor Forbes’s Travels in the Alps.
2 Travels in the Alps of Savoy, Ac., 2d edit., p. 162.
8 Fifth Letter on Glaciers. Edin. Phil. Journal, 1844 • and Travels in the Alps, 2d edit.
4 Agassiz, Etudes sur les Glaciers, p. 150.
638
GLACIER.
Glacier. The following quotation from De Saussure explains his
v—views with his usual precision:—“ These frozen masses,
carried along by the slope of the bed on which they rest,
disengaged by the water (arising from their fusion owing to
the natural heat of the earth) from the adhesion which they
might otherwise contract to the bottom—sometimes even ele¬
vated by the water—must gradually slide and descend along
the declivity of the valleys or mountain slopes {croupes)
which they cover. It is this slow but continual sliding of
the icy masses {des places) on their inclined bases which
carries them down into the lower valleys, and which re¬
plenishes continually the stock of ice in valleys warm enough
to produce large trees and rich harvests.”1 Very sufficient
objections have been urged against this theory. It is evi¬
dent that De Saussure considered a glacier as an accumu¬
lation of icy fragments, instead of a great and continuous
mass, throughout which the fissures and crevasses bear a
small proportion to the solid portion ; and that he has attri¬
buted to the subglacial water a kind and amount of action
for which there exists no sufficient or even probable evi¬
dence. The main ojection, however, is this, that a sliding
motion of the kind supposed, if it commence, must be ac¬
celerated by gravity, and the glacier must slide from its bed
in an avalanche. The small slope of most glacier-valleys,
and the extreme irregularity of their bounding walls, are
also great objections to this hypothesis.
The Dilatation theory ingeniously meets the difficulty of
the want of a sufficient moving power to drag or shove a
glacier over its bed, by calling in the well-known force with
which water expands on its conversion into ice. The glacier
being traversed by innumerable capillary fissures, and being
in summer saturated with water in all its parts, it was natural
to invoke the freezing action of the night to convert this
water into ice, and by the amount of its expansion to urge
the glacier onwards in the direction of its greatest slope. In
answer to this it is sufficient to observe, in the first place,
that during the height of summer the portions of those gla¬
ciers which move fastest are never reduced below the freez¬
ing point, and that even in the most favourable cases of
nocturnal radiation producing congelation at the surface, it
cannot (by well-known laws of conduction) penetrate above
a few inches into the interior of the glacier. Again, the
ascertained laws of glacier motion are (as will be immediately
seen) entirely adverse to this theory, as it is always ac¬
celerated by hot weather and retarded by cold, yet does
not cease even in the depths of winter.2
It is singular how slow observers were to perceive the
importance to the solution of the problem of glacier motion
of ascertaining with geometrical precision the amount of
motion of the ice, not only from year to year, but from day
to day, whether constant or variable at the same point,
whether continuous or by starts; if variable, on what cir¬
cumstances it depended, and in what manner it was af¬
fected at different points of the length and breadth of a
glacier.
This method of studying the question was taken up by
Professor Forbes of Edinburgh. His observations were
commenced on the Mer de Glace of Chamouni, in June
1842. Between the 26th and 27th of that month the mo¬
tion of the ice opposite a point called the “Angle” was
found, by means of a theodolite, to be 16‘5 inches in
26 hours; between the 27th and 28th, 17*4 inches in
25tj hours; and from about 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. on the 28th
the motion was 9*5 inches, or 17*5 inches in 24 hours;
whilst even the proportional motion during an hour and a
half was observed. No doubt could therefore remain that
the motion of the ice is continuous and tolerably uniform— Glacier,
in short, that it does not move \yy jerks. He also ascertained v—
about the same time that the motion of the ice is greatest
towards the centre of a glacier and slower at the sides, con¬
trary to an opinion then maintained on high authority. He
next found that the rate of motion varied at different points of
the length of the same glacier, being on the whole greatest
where the inclination of its surface is greatest. As the
season advanced, he observed notable changes in the rate
of motion of the same part of the ice, and connected it by
a very striking direct relation with the temperature of the
air. These facts were established during the summer of
1842, and promptly published. By means of occasional obser¬
vations during the following winter and spring by his guide,
Auguste Balmat of Chamouni, and by a more full compari¬
son of the entire motion of a glacier for 12 months with
its motion during the hot season of the year, another gene¬
rally received error was rectified: the motion of the glacier
continues even in winter, and it has a very perceptible ratio
to the summer motion. Last of all, it was found that the
surface of a glacier moves faster than the ice nearer the
bottom or bed.3
These and some minor laws of motion are undoubted
expressions of the way in which glaciers move ; and having
been successively confirmed by succeeding observers, seem
to admit of but one expression in the form of an approxi¬
mate theory, and it is that given to them by Professor Forbes :
“ A glacier is an imperfect fluid or a viscous body, which
is urged down slopes of a certain inclination by the mutual
pressure of its parts.”4 The analogy subsisting between the
motion of a glacier and that of a river (which is a viscous
fluid ;—were it not so, its motion would be widely different)
will be best perceived by stating more precisely its laws
of motion in order.
1. Each portion of a glacier moves, not indeed with a con¬
stant velocity, but in a continuous manner, and not by sud¬
den subsidences with intervals of repose. This, of course,
is characteristic also of a river.
2. The ice in the middle part of the glacier moves much
faster than that near the sides or banks ; also the surface
moves faster than the bottom. Both these facts obtain in
the motion of a river in consequence of the friction of the
fluid on its banks, and in consequence also of that internal
friction of the fluid which constitutes its viscosity.
Thus, at four stations of the Mer de Glace, distant
respectively from the west shore of the glacier
100 230 305 365 yds.,
the relative velocities were...P000 P332 1*356 1*367.
3. The variation of velocity (as in a river) is most rapid
near the sides, whilst the middle parts move nearly uni¬
formly. This and the preceding laws are also fully brought
out by the subsequent experiments of M. Agassiz on the
glacier of the Aar, and of MM. Schlagintweit on the Pas-
terzen glacier.5
4. The variation of velocity of a glacier from the sides
to the middle varies nearly in proportion to the absolute
velocity of the glacier; whether that absolute velocity change
in the same place in consequence of change of season, or
between one point and another of the length of the same
glacier, depending on its declivity. (See (5.) and (6.) be¬
low.) These facts, clearly brought out in Professor Forbes’s
observations of 1842, present a striking analogy to the phe¬
nomena of rivers, as observed by Dubuat.6
5. The glacier, like a stream, has its pools and its rapids.
Where it is embayed by rocks it accumulates, its declivity
increases, and its velocity at the same time. When it passes
1 Voyages dans les Alps, § 535.
2 The fullest exposition of the Dilatation Theory is to be found in De Charpentier, Essai sur les Glaciers (1841), and Agassiz, Etudes
sur les Glaciers (1840). 3 Eleventh Letter. Edin. Phil. Journal, 1846.
4 Travels in the Alps, p. 365. 6 See Mousson, Gletscher der Jetzt-zeit, p. 126. 6 Traite d'Hydraulique, arts, 37, 49, 65.
GLACIER.
639
Glacier, down a steep, issuing by a narrow outlet, its velocity in-
creases. Thus the approximate declivities of the inferior,
middle, and superior region of the Mer de Glace (taken in
the dix-ection of its length) are  15° 4|° 8°
and the relative velocities are as the] , Qnc *** n0f;1
numbers \ 'o74
6. A fact not less important than any of the preced¬
ing, and equally w^ell-established, not only by the observa¬
tions of Pi-ofessor Forbes, but by those of succeeding ex¬
perimenters, is this : that increased temperature of the air
favours the motion of the ice ; and generally whatever tends
to increase the proportion of the watery to the solid consti¬
tuents of a glacier', as mild rains, and especially the thawing
of the superficial snow in spring. The velocity does not,
however, descend to nothing even in the depth of win¬
ter. Indeed, in the lower and most accessible portions
of the Mer de Glace (or Glacier des Bois) and the Glacier
des Bossons, the ratio of the winter to the summer motion
is almost exactly 1 : 2. On endeavouring to establish a re¬
lation between the velocity of the glacier and the tempera-
ture of the ambient air, we find that these two quantities
diminish together in an almost regular manner down to the
freezing-point; below which the velocity seems to remain
constant.1 2
The circumstances of motion detailed in the six pi'eced-
ing px-opositions appear to be reconcileable with the assump¬
tion of what may be called the Viscous or Plastic Theory
of glacier motion, and with that alone.
Plastic Nature of Glacier Ice.—Notwithstanding the ap-
parent pai'adox of calling a vast mass of coherent ice a semi¬
fluid body, there is something about a glacier which al¬
most inevitably conveys to the mind the idea of a stream.
This maybe traced in the descriptions of unscientific tourists,
of poets, and of some of those who have addressed them¬
selves more seriously to the question of the real nature
of these bodies. To the latter class of observers belong
Captain Basil Hall and Monseigneur Rendu, bishop of An¬
necy, who had much more than hinted at the possibility of
a true mechanical connection between the descent of a gla¬
cier and that of a mountain torrent, or of a stream of lava.
But until the actual conditions of motion were reduced to
rule, it was impossible to know how far the analogy was real
or apparent.
The viscous theory of glaciers, as deduced from ob¬
servation by Pi’ofessor Forbes, though now very generally
accepted, had to struggle with numerous and strongly-
urged objections; of which the oftenest repeated was, that
ice is by its nature a brittle solid, and not sensibly possessed
of any viscous or plastic quality. In answer to this, it may
be urged that the qualities of solid bodies of vast size, and
acted on by stupendous and long-continued forces, cannot
be estimated from experiments on a small scale, especially
if short and violent; that sealing-wax, pitch, and other
similar bodies mould themselves, with time, to the surfaces
on which they lie, even at atmospheric temperatures, and
whilst they maintain, at the same time, the quality of exces¬
sive brittleness under a blow or a rapid change of form ;
that even ice does not pass at once, and per saltum, from
the solid to the liquid state, but absorbs its latent heat
throughout a certain small range of temperature (between
280,4 and 32° of Fahrenheit), which is precisely that to
which the ice of glaciers is actually exposed; that, after all,
a glacier is not a crystalline solid, like ice, tranquilly frozen Glacier,
in a mould, but possesses a peculiar fissured and laminated
structure, through which water enters (at least for a great
part of the year) into its intrinsic composition. But, waiv¬
ing the inferences from all these facts, the main argu¬
ment in favour of the view now maintained is this, that
admitting the pi’eceding propositions as to the velocity
of its parts (which no one now contests), the quasi-fluid
or viscous motion of the ice of glaciers is not a theory
but a fact. A substance which is seen to pour itself
out of a large basin through a narrow outlet without losing
its continuity,—the different parts of which, from top to
bottom, and from side to centi'e, possess distinct, though
related velocities, which moves over slopes inconsistent
with the friction between its surface and the ground on
which it rests—which surmounts obstacles, and, even if
cleft into two streams by a projecting rock, instead of being
thereby anchored as a solid wrould necessarily be, reunites
its streams below, and retains no trace of the fissui'e, leaving
the rock an islet in the icy flood—a substance which moves
in such a fashion cannot, in any true sense of the word, be
termed a rigid solid, but must be granted to be ductile, vis¬
cous, plastic, or semifluid, or to possess qualities x’epresented
by any of these terms which we may choose to adopt as
least shocking to our ordinary conception of the brittleness
of ice.3
Origin of the Veined Structure of Ice.—Any mecha¬
nical theory of glaciers must be more or less imperfect
which does not explain the remarkable veined or rib¬
boned structure of the ice, which, with its peculiar course
through the interior of the glacier, has been described at
Page 637; In applying the theory of quasi-fluid motion
to expiuln this structure, two great difficulties are expe¬
rienced ; first, our confessed ignorance of the modus operandi
of those molecular forces which induce pervading structures
of this kind ; secondly, our imperfect acquaintance with the
laws of motion of semifluids under the action of gravity,
even in simple cases. Nevertheless it seems possible to
prove, partly from admitted mechanical principles, partly
from direct experiments, that the tendency of the motion
is to pi-oduce such a structure.
The fundamental idea is this, that the veined or ribboned
structure of the ice is the result of internal forces, by which
one portion of ice is dragged past another in a manner so
gradual as not necessarily to produce large fissures in the
ice, and the consequent sliding of one detached part over
another, but rather the effect of a general bruise over a con¬
siderable space of the yielding body. According to this view,
the delicate veins seen in the glacier, often less than a quar¬
ter of an inch wide, have their course parallel to the direc¬
tion of the sliding effort of one portion of the ice over an¬
other. Amongst other proofs of this fundamental con¬
ception that the veined structure is the external symbol
of this forced internal motion of a body comparatively
solid, we may mention one very striking instance recorded
by Professor Forbes, as observed on the glacier of La
Brenva, on the south side of Mont Blanc, subsequently to
the publication of his principal work on the subject. In
this case the ice of the glacier, forcibly pressed against the
naked rocky face of an opposing hill is turned into a new
direction ; and in thus shoving and squeezing past a promi¬
nence of rock, he observed developed in the ice a “ veined
1 The absolute velocity of a glacier depends upon so many circumstances besides its declivity that this law must not be sought to be
verified, except under like conditions. The breadth and depth of a glacier (as of a river) no doubt materially affect its rate of motion,
and its elevation has a not less important influence. Small lofty glaciers of the second order move slowly over steep inclinations. See
Phil. Trans., 1846, p. It 7. 2 Phil. Trans., 1846, p. 191; and Edin, Phil. Journal, 1847.
3 For a fuller reply to the objections which have been urged against the theory of the plasticity of glaciers, see Phil. Trans., 1846,
particularly pp. 162, &c. The confirmatory observations of MM. Agassiz and Schlagintweit on other glaciers, and their adoption of views
virtually the same with those of Professor Forbes, have proved convincing to a majority of those who at first rejected a theory apparently
opposed to commonly received notions. See Mousson, Die Gletscher der Jetst-zeit, who says, p. 162, speaking of the plastic theory, “ Er
steht noch heute unangefochten da.”
640
G L A
G L A
Glacis structure” so beautiful, that “ it was impossible to resist the
II wish to carry off slabs, and to perpetuate it by hand speci-
Gladiators. mens” This perfectly developed structure was visible
opposite the promontory which held the glacier in check,
and past which it struggled, leaving a portion of its ice com¬
pletely embayed in a recess of the shore behind it. Start¬
ing from this point as an origin, the veined laminae extended
backwards and upwards into the glacier, but did not spread
laterally into the embayed ice. They could, however, be
traced from the shore to some distance from the promon¬
tory into the icy mass. The direction of lamination exactly
coincided with that in which the ice must have moved if it
was shoved past the promontory at all. That it did so
move was made the subject of direct proof, by fixing two
marks on the ice opposite the promontory, one on the nearer,
the other on the farther side of the belt of ice which had
the lamination best developed. The first mark was 50 feet
from the shore, and moved at the rate of 4’9 inches daily;
the other mark was 170 feet farther off, and moved almost
three times faster, or 14*2 inches daily. Throughout this
breadth of 170 feet there was not a single longitudinal cre¬
vasse which might have facilitated the differential motion.
A parallelogram of compact ice, only 170 feet wide, was
therefore moving in such a manner, that, whilst one of
its sides advanced only a foot, the other advanced a yard.
No solid body, at least no rigid solid body, can advance in
such a manner ; it is therefore plastic, and the veined struc¬
ture is unquestionably the result of the struggle between
the rigidity of the ice and the quasi-fluid character of the
motion impressed upon it. That it is so is evident not only
from the direction of the laminae, but from their becoming
distinct exactly in proportion to their nearness to the point
where the bruise is necessarily strongest.1
This observation sufficiently illustrates the general fact,
that the veined structure appears most vividly in a direction
parallel to the sides of glaciers, being caused by the friction
of the rocky shore compelling a forced molecular separation
of the middle parts from the side parts of the glacier.
But we have seen (p. 637) that the direction of the horizon¬
tal section of these laminae gradually inclines inwards, so as
to form loops on the surface of the glacier. The portion
of these loops next to the shore, which is at first parallel to
the shore, but which gradually inclines towards the axis or
middle of the glacier, is conceived to be owing to the differ¬
ential motion of the parts retarded by lateral friction, as in
the case of the glacier of La Brenva just mentioned. But,
moreover, the opposing resistance of the shore-ice imme¬
diately in front will give a tendency to molecular disloca¬
tion in a direction sloping towards the middle of the glacier
where the current moves fastest, in consequence of the fric¬
tion being less. When we arrive at a distance from the shore
comparable to the depth of the ice, then the friction due to the
bed of the glacier communicated through its plastic layers to
the surface combines with the lateral friction in determining
the lamination in a direction at once upwards and towards
the middle ; and when we reach the middle region of the
ice the lamination takes place entirely in the vertical plane,
completing the spoon-shaped arrangement of those surfaces Gladiators,
of dislocation, of which the form has already been illus-
trated at p.637. As, however, this differential motion in
the vertical plane is not at first readily admitted (and has
been overlooked by writers on hydraulics, though it must
equally take place in very sluggish waters), we shall here
introduce a figure in illustration of it. The series of par¬
ticles, mi, m2, &c., are
supposed to be acted on
by a force partaking of
the nature of hydrosta¬
tic pressure, derived
from the ice at a higher
level in the rear of the
point in question. Each
particle is ready to move
in the direction in which
the effective pressure is
greatest. Near the
bottom, at m6, the fron¬
tal resistance arising
from the lower ice in
front and retarded by friction, is very great, but so also is
the pressure of the superincumbent ice. The motion of the
particle will take place under the joint action of these two
resisting forces, as shown by the direction of the arrow. As
we approach the surface, the latter of the two resistances
(the weight of the glacier ice) is always diminishing, and
bears a less and less proportion to the former. Near
the surface, therefore, the tendency to slide will be more
and more directly vertical, as the arrows indicate.2 This
consideration seems adequate to explain the remarkable phe¬
nomenon of the frontal dip, with its gradual fall as we ap¬
proach the extremity of the glacier, where, of course, the hori¬
zontal resistance from the ice in advance becomes nothing.
It has been deduced from M. Agassiz’ observations on
the glacier of the Aar (which is remarkable for the unifor¬
mity of its section, and its uniform but small slope), that the
ice does actually undergo a compression from back to front
as it forces its way down the valley; and as ice is not sensibly
compressible, this diminution of the horizontal area, which
any given section of the glacier (between two vertical trans¬
verse planes) exhibits in successive years, can only be ex¬
plained by admitting that the ice accumulates in a vertical
direction.3
This fact also corresponds with the convex surface which
the slowly-moving glaciers present. Such a surface is seen
in the precisely analogous case of viscous bodies, such as
pitch, and in clayey land-slips.
It also satisfactorily accounts for the otherwise mysterious
way in which, during winter, the glacier recovers the level
which it had lost by ablation during summer (page 636,
col. 1). When snow covers the whole surface the motion
of all points of the length of a glacier approaches equality.
The higher parts move relatively faster than the lower, tend,
as it were, to overtake them, and thus to squeeze the yield¬
ing mass in a vertical direction. (j. d. f.)
GLACIS, in Fortification. See Fortification.
GLADBACH, or Monchen-Gladbach, a flourishing
manufacturing town of Rhenish Prussia, province of Diis-
seldorf, 16 miles west of the town of that name, on the
small river Niers. Its chief manufactures are linen, cotton,
and silk goods. Pop. about 5000.
GLADIATORS, in Roman Antiquity, men who fought
publicly with gladii or swords in the forum, circus, or
amphitheatre for the amusement of the populace. Gladia¬
torial fights had their origin in the ancient practice of
sacrificing prisoners of war at the tomb of an illustrious
chief or warrior who fell in battle. Thus Achilles {Iliad,
book xxiii.) is described as sacrificing twelve Trojan youths
to the manes of Patroclus; and in the AEneid, the hero of
that poem is mentioned as sending captives to Evander to
sacrifice at the funeral pyre of his son Pallas. This custom
was at a later period so far modified that, instead of being
offered up like sheep, captives were made to fight around
1 Twelfth Letter on Glaciers. Edin. Phil. Journal, 1847, where the details of the observation are illustrated by a figure.
8 See Seventh Letter on Glaciers. Edin. Phil. Journal, 1844. 3 Ninth Letter on Glaciers. Edin. Phil. Journal, 1845.
G L A
Gladiators, the funeral pyre, and the victors in these combats were
allowed to escape with life. Though these fights were ori¬
ginally limited to public funerals, yet it afterwards became
the fashion at Rome for every private individual of any
consequence to leave by will a certain sum of money for a
gladiatorial show at his funeral. As a natural result of this
system, such exhibitions soon became widely diffused, and
were regularly organized for all public festivals, especially
such as were set on foot by the sediles or other magistrates
who had any object to gain by courting the favour of the
people. The first gladiators are said to have been exhi¬
bited in Rome in the year 264 b.c. by Marcus and Deci-
mus Brutus, at the funeral of their father. On this occa¬
sion only three pairs of combatants fought; but the sport
became rapidly popular and fashionable, and we find Julius
Caesar in his aedileship exhibiting 320 couples. Under the
empire, the passion for gladiatorial shows amounted to a
madness. Titus organized one which lasted for 100 days ;
and Trajan, in celebrating his triumph over Decebalus,
exhibited no fewer than 5000 pairs of combatants. Though
the loss of human life in these games of murder was fearful,
and though their demoralizing influence on the popular
mind was undeniable, yet many of the leading men of
Rome who had no interest in upholding them, commended
them strongly as diffusing among the people a warlike spirit
and a contempt of death. The evil became at length so
crying that Constantine issued an edict abolishing the
gladiatorial shows, which, however, continued a favourite
pastime till the reign of Honorius. The gladiatorial system
was often fraught with the greatest danger to Rome. One of
the most memorable results of this system was the rebellion
of Spartacus, a gladiator of Capua, who, with an army of
desperadoes like himself, overran Italy in the year 76 b.c.,
defeated several times the forces sent against him, kept his
country in unceasing terror for three years, and was at last
defeated and slain by M. Crassus, after performing prodi¬
gies of valour.
Gladiators were either prisoners of war, condemned
malefactors, or volunteers who fought for pay. Malefac¬
tors were said to fight either ad gladium, in which case
they were to be killed within a year, or ad ludum, in which,
if they survived, they were allowed to claim their discharge
at the end of three years. Freemen who became gladia¬
tors were said to be auctorati; and on entering the ser¬
vice were obliged to take a very stringent oath to their
masters. They commonly belonged to the very lowest
dregs of the people ; but under the empire men of patri¬
cian rank often appeared in the arena. This practice was
latterly interdicted by Severus. The schools in which the
gladiators were trained were termed ludi, and the persons
who trained them were called lanistce. Sometimes they
were the personal property of the lanista, who let them out
at a fixed price. Sometimes they belonged to citizens, and
were merely trained by the lanista. The care and expense
bestowed on their training, diet, and general management
were extraordinary.
When a gladiatorial fight had been arranged, the com¬
batants entered the arena and began a mock-fight, called
prcelusio. This done, the trumpets sounded, and the sport
became earnest. When a gladiator was wounded, the
spectators cried out habet, and the wounded man lowered
his weapons in token of submission. If he had fought well,
the audience on whose will his fate depended depressed
their thumbs, to indicate that they wished his life to be
spared. If, on the other hand, he had displayed neither
courage nor address, they held up their thumbs, and the
victor immediately passed his sword through the body of
his fallen foe. Palms were awarded to the conqueror.
Gladiators on retiring from the service were presented
with a wooden sword (rudis); whence Horace, in humo¬
rous allusion to his advancing years, talks of himself as a
VOL. x.
G L A 641
gladiator “jam rude donatus.” They resumed that rank Gladova
of life which they had quitted on entering the service. II
Thus a freeman emerged into his ancient liberty, and a Glamor-
slave into his old servitude. Any one, however, who had gansfure.
once been a gladiator was considered to have degraded
himself, and was not allowed to aspire to patrician honours.
There were various classes of gladiators, called accord¬
ing to their arms or modes of fighting. Of these may be
mentioned the Andabatae, who fought blindfold, and often
afforded great mirth to the spectators; the Catervarii, who
fought in troops and not in pairs; the Essedarii, who
fought from chariots like the ancient Britons ; the Hoplo-
machi, who fought armed cap-a-pie ; the Laqueatores, who
tried to strangle each other with nooses ; the Mirmillones,
who fought with the weapons of ancient Gaul; the Sam-
nites, who used the arms of the old inhabitants of Sam-
nium, especially the oblong scutum ; the Thraces or
I hreces, armed with a dagger and a round buckler, who
were generally pitted against Mirmillones ; and the Retiarii,
whose chief weapon was the net (rete), from which they
took their name. The Retiarius had no defensive armour
of any kind, and was lightly clad, that nothing might inter¬
fere with his speed of foot, on which his life depended.
His object was to throw his net over the head of his
heavily-armed antagonist, whom, if he succeeded in en¬
tangling him, he slew with the three-pointed lance (tridens
ovfuscina), which was the only weapon he was allowed to
carry besides his net. If he missed his aim, he immedi¬
ately took to flight, and continued running until he had
prepared his net for another throw. The pursuers of the
Retiarii were called Secutores.
Gladiators formed admirable models for the sculptor.
One of the finest pieces of ancient sculpture that have
come down to us is the “ Dying Gladiator” of the Capito-
line Museum, on which Byron composed his memorable
stanza, beginning with the lines—
“ I see before me the gladiator lie :
He leans upon his hand—his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,” &c.
Ch. Harold, Canto iv. 140.
GLADOVA or Kladova, a town of Servia, on the
Danube. See Danube.
GLAMORGANSHIRE (Welsh Givlad Morgan), a
maritime county of South Wales, bounded on the N. by
Brecknock, on the N.W. by Caermarthen, on the W. and
S. by the Bristol Channel, and on the E. by the county of
Monmouth. Its greatest length from east to west is about
53 miles, and its greatest breadth from north to south about
29 miles.
Glamorgan, with the exception of some flat tracts on the
borders of the Bristol Channel, consists of a succession of
hills and valleys, the general character of the country be¬
coming more mountainous as we proceed inland, until on
the borders of Brecknock the surface is “ a sea of hills.”
None of the mountains rise to a great height, the most
lofty—Llangeinor—being only 1859 feet. Although the
mountains are not lofty, yet, owing to their fine bold forms,
the scenery of this county is marked by considerable gran¬
deur and great beauty. The lower parts of the country are
richly wooded, but the timber generally is of small size.
The valleys of Glamorgan have long been famous for
their great beauty, and the charming scenery they contain.
The vale of Glamorgan has been called with truth the
garden of Wales; and here the climate is so mild that the
myrtle and many other tender plants flourish luxuriantly
in the open air. The Vale of Neath has long been known
to tourists as the waterfall district of South Wales ; and
although the finest of these are at the upper end of the
valley in the county of Brecon, still the Glamorgan part of
the valley can boast of some well worthy of a visit. The
Swansea valley also contains some pieces of fine scenery,
4 M
642
G L A
G L A
Glamor- and is throughout marked by great beauty. Besides these,
ganshire. the principal valleys are the Rhymney, the Taff, the
Rhondda, and the Llwchwr.
The rivers of Glamorgan are mostly unimportant streams.
The chief are the Rhymney, in the vale of that name,
forming the county boundary on the east ; the Ogwr,
which flows into the Bristol Channel at Bridgend; the
Taff, which forms the important harbour of Cardiff; the
Neath and the Tawe, which both discharge their waters
into Swansea Bay; and the Llwchwr, which forms the
county boundary on the west, and, falling into Caermarthen
Bay, forms the estuary known as the Burry river, on which
the thriving town of Llanelly is situated.
The chief geological feature of Glamorgan is the coal
measures, which extend nearly over the whole county, and
are bounded by a narrow band of millstone grit (the “ Fare¬
well Rock” of the miners), and mountain limestone, nearly
coincident with the county boundary on the north. In the
extreme south and south-west, the Devonian, the magne¬
sian limestone, and the lias show themselves.
The climate is mild, and the plains on the coast, as well
as the inland valleys, are very fertile. Agriculture, although
better than in some of the other Welsh counties, is still in
a backward state, and much remains to be done to bring it
to that condition which the soil and the climate would
warrant. The farms are seldom large, and the buildings
but little suited to “ high farming.” The crops chiefly
raised are wheat, beans and pease, oats, barley, vetches,
turnips, and potatoes. The cattle of the county are nume¬
rous and of good quality, and great numbers of sheep and
ponies are reared in the moi'e mountainous parts.
The industry of Glamorgan is chiefly applied to its coal
and iron mines, which are of immense extent; indeed the
whole county may be said to be a gigantic coal and iron
mine. It is to this that it owes its pre-eminence as the
most important of all the Welsh counties. In the neigh¬
bourhood of Merthyr Tydvil the iron works are carried
on on a scale seldom surpassed ; and within a short circuit
there are upwards of sixty blast furnaces, employing many
thousands of workmen, some of the largest works having
from 4000 to 6000 persons engaged in them. Vast quanti¬
ties of coal and iron are annually exported ; and Cardiff,
which a few years ago was a small and unimportant town, is
gradually becoming one of the most important shipping
ports in the Bristol Channel, solely from the great export of
minerals and its excellent docks, erected by the late Mar¬
quis of Bute, who was also lord of the manor of some of
the richest mineral fields.
Besides the coal and iron, a great trade is carried on with
Cornwall for the melting of tin and copper ores. The tin
is used for the production of tinned iron, and the copper ore
is smelted chiefly at Swansea, where there are some of the
most extensive copper works in the kingdom.
Glamorgan possesses many ancient ruins of castles, and
has been from remote times a district of great importance.
It has also some fine cromlechs and other old British re¬
mains ; and the Sarn Helen, an ancient Roman road, tra¬
verses the county. The district to the south of Swansea
is called Gower, and is famed for the beauty of its coast
scenery, as well as for its people, who are descendants of
Flemings, planted here by Henry I., and who retain many
characteristics pointing them out as a wholly distinct race
from the Welsh, with whom they intermingle but little.
Glamorgan is well supplied with means of transport, for
besides its ports, it has four railways and a canal, and
numerous tramways.
The county is divided into 128 parishes and 10 hun¬
dreds, and is situated in the diocese of Llandaff.
In 1847, the number of day schools was 327, with
15,674 scholars. The number of Sunday schools was 381,
of which 92 were Church of England, with 5908 scholars;
92 Calvinistic Methodists, with 8626 scholars; 101 Inde- Glamour
pendents, with 10,188 scholars; 61 Baptists, wdth 5610 ( I! .
scholars; 21 Wesleyans, with 1709 scholars; 14 other GlanvilL
denominations, with 1472 scholars. In the Sunday schools,
the proportion per cent, in which Welsh and English were
used as the language w-as as follows:—English, 29'7;
Welsh, 34-5; both languages, 35’8. English is much used
by the people, except in the remote agricultural districts.
Population,
1831   126,612
1841   171,188
1851 {“ ale. m,m}231'849
Inchease.
Per Cent.
Between 1831 & 1841  35
1841 & 1851  35
In 50 years 223
Annual rate  2'38
Area in square miles, 856; in statute acres, 547,494. Pop.
to a square mile, 268 persons, or 51 houses.
The county returns two members to parliament; the
borough of Merthyr Tydvil, one ; the Cardiff district of
boroughs, one; and the Swansea district of boroughs, one.
Total, five. Annual value of real property assessed to
property-tax, 1850-1, L.850,440.
Principal Towns with their Population in 1851.
Aberavon*    6,567
OardiffT  18,351
Cowbridgef   1,066
Kenfig*  433
Llantrisaintf...,  1,007
Longhor*  821
Merthyr Tydvil  63,080
Neath*   5,841
Swansea*   31,461
* Contributory to Swansea parliamentary district
of boroughs  45,123
f Contributory to Cardiff parliamentary district of
boroughs    20,424
GLAMOUR, or Glamer, an old term of popular su¬
perstition in Scotland, denoting a kind of magical mist be¬
lieved to be raised by sorcerers, and which deluded the
spectators with visions of things that had no real existence,
altered the appearance of those which really did exist, and
produced other effects equally wonderful. The eastern na¬
tions have a similar superstition, as we learn from the Ara¬
bian Nights Entertainments, and other works of oriental
fiction.
GLANCE-Coal, anthracite. See Coal.
GLAND, a term applied to those organs of the body in
which the process of secretion is carried on. See Anatomy.
GLANDFORD BRIGG or Bridge, a market-town of
England, county of Lincoln, 24 miles N. by E. of the town
of that name. It is situated on the Ancholme, by means
of which it carries on a considerable trade in corn, coal, and
timber. It has a handsome church with a lofty tower, and
a free grammar-school. Market-day Thursday. Pop.
(1851) 2201.
GLANVILL, or Glanvil, Joseph, was born at Ply¬
mouth in 1636. He received his education in the university
of Oxford; in 1666 obtained the cure of Abbey Church at
Bath ; in 1678 became prebend of the church of Worcester ;
and died at Bath, Nov. 16, 1680, in the forty-fourth year of
his age. This writer—the first who in England presented
philosophical scepticism under a systematic form—deserves
more marked attention than has hitherto been accorded to
him ; nor can we observe without surprise that Briicker has
not given him any place in his Critical History of Phi¬
losophy. Two parties then existed in England—one of
which abused the name of philosophy, in order to accredit
atheism; and the other the name of religion, in order to
justify superstition. Glanvil deplored this double aberration ;
he felt that philosophy itself required a reform, and he la¬
boured to prepare rather than to produce it himself. It is
in this light, and from this point of view, that his writings
should be studied and judged. Of these, the two principal
are, The Vanity of Dogmatizing, or Confidence in Opi¬
nions, manifested in a Discourse of the shortness and un¬
certainty of our knowledge of its principles, with Reflections
on Peripateticism, and an Apology for Philosophy, 1661,
G L A
Glanvill. jn 8vo ; and Scepsis Scienti/ica, or Confessed Ignorance
^ the Way to Science, an essay on the vanity of dogmatizing
and confident opinion, London, 1665, in 4to. The latter
of these works procured him the honour of being admitted
a member of the Royal Society of London. Montaigne
and Charron appear to have served as his guides, and he
has borrowed much from both; he reviewed the principal
objects of human knowledge, and endeavoured to show, in
regard to each of these, the weakness and impotence of
reason. The Peripatetic doctrine, and the system of Des¬
cartes—which he appears to have especially had in view
to combat—themselves furnished him with arms; and in
the rapid advancement of physical science at this period,
he also endeavours to discover grounds for rendering more
sensible our ignorance in the study of nature. Hobbes is the
frequent object of his criticism. In general he endeavours
to prevent the abuse of rational speculations ; and it is only
in the observations to which they have led that he seeks for
considerations fitted to inspire the distrust which he incul¬
cates. His views respecting the sources of human error are
presented with much perspicuity and method, often with
striking novelty. The manner in which he treats the great
question of causation is the more remarkable, because it
appears to have opened the way to Hume in an investigation
which has produced one of the greatest revolutions which
philosophy has experienced in modern times. According
to him, we know only that things occur, and succeed one
another, not how they are produced ; we see their relation
of coincidence, but not the tie which connects them; and
hence the relation of the effect to the cause is, as far as we
are concerned, a fact, and not a veritable law. Glanvil
compares dogmatism to a narrow prison in which the hu¬
man mind is confined, and beyond the walls of which it
cannot extend its view. The offspring of ignorance and of
pride, dogmatism is, according to him, the father of error;
and scepticism is called in to apply a remedy, not by em¬
ploying negations as arbitrary, but by weighing with impar¬
tiality the proofs. Doctrine like this was, however, liable
to be mistaken or misrepresented ; and we need not wonder,
therefore, that at the period when Glanvil wrote he was
considered by the greater number of readers as an absolute
sceptic, and treated as such. The partisans of the prevailing
systems regarded with more aversion the men who provoked
discussion than they did those who rejected their doctrines
without examination. Hence Glanvil was very fiercely at¬
tacked ; but he justified himself in his answer to one of his
opponents, which is subjoined to his Scepsis Scientijica;
and he also undertook the defence of philosophy, conceiving
that this belonged of right to those who desired to bring her
back to her proper and legitimate sphere. It is singular
enough, however, though by no means without example,
that this writer, who had not only shown, but even exag¬
gerated, the infirmity of human reason, paid himself a strange
tribute to its weakness ; for, after having combated scientific
dogmatism, he not only yielded to vulgar superstitions, but
actually endeavoured to accredit them in his Philosophical
Considerations concerning the Existence of Sorcerers and
Sorcery, published in 1666, in 4to. The story of the pre¬
tended drum, which was said to have been heard every
night in the house of an inhabitant of Wiltshire (Mr Mom-
pesson), a story which made much noise in the year 1663,
and which is supposed to have furnished Addison with the
idea of his comedy of the Drummer, appears to have given
occasion to this work. It might have been imagined that
such a tale would have been treated with derision by Glan¬
vil, and that the philosopher could have had no other object
than to turn into ridicule the credulity of his country. For
such a supposition, however, there seems to be little or no
room; and, in point of fact, this production gave rise to
a controversy which only terminated with the life of Glan¬
vil. At his death he left a piece enitled Sadducismus
G L A 643
Triumphans, which was printed in 1681, 8vo, reprinted with Glams,
some additions in 1682, and translated into German in 1701.
He had there collected twenty-six relations or stories of the
same description as that of the Drum, in order to establish,
by a series of facts, the opinion which he had expressed in
his Philosophical Considerations. Glanvil supported a
much more honourable cause when he undertook the de¬
fence of the Royal Society of London, under the title of
Plus Ultra, or the Progress and Advancement of Science
since the time of Aristotle, 1658, in 12mo. His object was
to refute a foolish ecclesiastic who had alleged that Aristotle
possessed individually more knowledge than could be found
in the Royal Society, or even in all the men of the seven¬
teenth century. By this production he drew upon himself a
violent antagonist in the person of one Stubbe, a physician
at Warwick; but, after an animated dispute, the doctor, by
some mischance, lost his life, and his generous antagonist,
in a funeral sermon which he preached on the occasion, pro¬
nounced an eulogium on his memory.
Besides the works already noticed, Glanvil wrote, Lux
Orientalis, 1662; Philosophia Pia, or Discourse on the
Religious Character, and the Tendency of Experimental
Philosophy; Essays on Several Important Subjects in
Philosophy and Religion, 1676, in 4to; An Essay Con¬
cerning Preaching ; and Sermons. After his death in 1681,
there were published other sermons and posthumous works
in one volume 4to. The style of Glanvil is clear, easy, and
animated; and to the student of the philosophy of the hu¬
man mind his works are full of instruction. (j. b—e.)
GLARUS, or Claris, a canton of Switzerland, is
bounded on the N. and N.E. by St Gall, on the E. and S.
by the Grisons, and on the W. by Uri and Schwyz. Its
greatest length is about 33 miles, and greatest breadth 16 ;
and its area 280 square miles, of which little more than one-
fifth is arable. It consists chiefly of the great valley of the
Linth, which crosses it from S. to N.; and of the valleys of
the Sernft and Klon, affluents of the Linth. The greater
part of the surface is overspread with mountains, of which
many are covered with perpetual snow. The principal chain,
which stretches from the Haustock to the Scheibe, has an
elevation of nearly 10,000 feet, and contains many glaciers ;
the chief summits are Dodiberg and Scheibe. From the
Dodiberg an offset detaches itself from this chain, and di¬
vides the waters of the Linth from those which flow into
the Reuss through the valleys of Schwyz and Uri. The
elevated and extensive group of Glarnisch belongs to this
offset, and rises 9400 feet above sea-level. The surface of
the canton inclines generally towards the north to the shores
of the Lake of Wallenstadt, and towards the low country
between that lake and that of Zurich. The lakes are nu¬
merous, but less remarkable for their extent than for the
magnificent scenery in their vicinity. The climate of Glarus
is very severe, so that only the milder sheltered districts and
deeper valleys are habitable during the whole year. Even
in these the snow mostly remains till near the 1st of May.
The principal rocks are conglomerate, generally under moun¬
tain limestone ; but in some districts there occur vast accu¬
mulations of grauwacke. This is especially the case in the
Sernftthal. Though ancient mines of copper, silver, and
iron, were wrought in different places, the minerals are not
now of much value. Marble, gypsum, and slate abound; and
even coal in some unimportant seams. From the nature of
the surface and climate but a small proportion of the canton
can be cultivated with the plough; yet a good deal of fruit
is raised, especially cherries. Alpine pastures necessarily
occupy the greater part of the accessible surface. The most
fertile district stretches through the Linththal, in which most
of the corn is produced. The prevailing kind of timber is
pine, which covers many of the mountains; after it the
principal kinds are beech, ash, maple, and a very few oaks.
The flora—ranging over an altitude commencing at 1500
644 G L A
Glarus. feet above sea-level, and continuing to the utmost verge
of vegetation—is very rich ; and, considering the limits of
the canton, is remarkable for its variety. The wild mam¬
mals are not very numerous, being chiefly limited to the
marmot, hare, badger, fox, and chamois. Of domestic ani¬
mals, about 10,000 cows and 5000 sheep are fed on the
mountain slopes during the summer months, and constitute
the principal part of the wealth of the district. Besides
these, a great many goats are kept, but they take a wider
range in search of food than the sheep and cows. The
principal manufactures of Glarus include woollen, cotton,
linen, and silk goods, prints, muslins, paper, writing-slates,
and many wooden articles. The trade of the canton is
chiefly carried on w ith Italy and Germany ; and the princi¬
pal exports are cattle, butter, cheese, skins, leather, wood,
and chamois-skins. This is the seat of the peculiar manu¬
facture of schabzieger, or “ green cheese,” which is made
of the milk of goats and cows, mixed with churned milk.
The curds are brought down in sacks by the peasants
from their mountain chalets, each sack containing about
200 lbs., for which they receive 36 francs. This cheese
owes its peculiar colour, smell, and flavour, to the blue
pansy (locally called Idee, and botanically Trifolium meli-
lot ccerul.), an herb grown in small inclosures beside most
of the cottages, which is dried, ground to powder, and
then thrown into a mill like a cider-mill, along with the
curd, in the proportion of 3 lbs. of klee to 100 lbs. of curd.
After being ground for about 2-| hours, the pulp is put into
shapes, and there left to dry, when it is ready for use; but
it is not considered to have attained perfection or to be fully
ripe until it is one year old, though it will keep for a long
time. The wholesale price of this kind of cheese is about
3|d. per lb.; and it is mostly exported to America. The
principal imports of the canton are corn, wine, oil, salt,
metals, glass, silks, and colonial produce. The constitution
of Glarus is very democratical; and it occupies the seventh
place in the Swiss Confederation. The government is in
the hands of the entire male population above sixteen years
of age, being about 7000, who meet annually on the first
Sunday in May, in “ General Assembly ” (Landsgemeinde),
to appoint their magistrates, &c., and accede to or reject the
laws proposed by the executive body, which consists of a
council of 80 members, of whom three-fourths are Pro¬
testants, and the rest Roman Catholics; both persuasions
enjoying equal rights, and alternately electing the presidents
of the General Assembly and Council. The executive is
delegated to a landamman with three coadjutors. Both
Protestant and Roman Catholic clergy are paid by the
government. Taxation is very light; the state expenditure
is defrayed by a poll-tax of 6d. upon every male arrived
at the age of sixteen years; a property tax of 3d. upon
every 100 francs (or L.4, 3s. 4d.) worth of property; and
the rent of state property, customs, excise, fines, &c. On
Sundays there are voluntary subscriptions for the poor; but
there are no poor-laws properly so called, though any one
known to have the means of contributing, being observed
not to give, may be summoned before the council and com¬
pelled to contribute. One of the most remarkable of the
laws is that only a son or a daughter can inherit property.
Should a man die without issue, his property, if it was in¬
herited, reverts to government; but if he had purchased
the property, he can bequeath it by will. Each of the
sixteen tagwen or communes has one or more schools,
of which the masters are paid by the state at the rate of
L.35 per annum. Though all instruction in these schools
is gratuitous, yet parents are obliged to send their children
G L A
to school. Glarus furnishes 482 men to the army, and Glarus.
3615 francs to the treasury of the Swiss Confederation.
The population of Glarus in 1851 was 30,213, of whom
26,281 were Protestants, and 3932 Roman Catholics; of
the udiole, 28,969 were citizens of the canton, 978 citizens
of other cantons, and 248 foreigners. The people of Glarus
are remarkable for their industry and independence of cha¬
racter; they are the most Swiss of all the Swiss. The
chamois hunters of this canton hold the highest rank for
boldness aud attachment to the chase. Instruction is so
general, that there is no one unable to read and write ; and
offences are so few that there is rarely any one in prison.
In spiritual matters the Protestants are governed by a
synod, and the Roman Catholics are subject to the see of
Constance. Numerous ancient medals found at Mollis cor¬
roborate old traditions in proving that the Romans occupied
some stations on the Lake of Wallenstadt. In 490 a.d. an
Irish monk named Fridolin, who founded the convent of
Seckingen on the Rhine, near Lauffenburg, exerted himself
in propagating Christianity in this canton, where he built a
church in honour of St Hilarius; whose name, being cor¬
rupted into Glarus or Glaris, became the appellation of the
district or canton. The whole valley afterwards became
the estate of the convent, and was governed by a mayor or
bailiff, whose nomination in the course of time became vested
in the Hapsburg family. The tyranny of these officers
compelled the people of Glarus to unite themselves to the
Helvetic Confederation in 1352 ; and in 1388 they obtained
the memorable victory over the Austrians at Nafels, which
secured their independence. From 1506 to 1516 the
reformer Zuinglius was curate of Glarus ; and the new doc¬
trines soon spread through the canton from the valley of
Sernft, where they first took root. Civil dissensions im¬
mediately sprung up on the adoption of Protestantism;
these have, however, long disappeared in consequence
of the judicious means used to prevent collision of parties
in the administration of the government. In recent
times some interesting events have transpired in this
lofty district. In 1799 Suwarrow retreated before the
French across the Pragel, down the Klbnthal, and up the
Sernftthal.
Glarus, a Swiss town, capital of the canton of the same
name. It is chiefly remarkable for its secluded situation
at the base of the Glarnisch and Schilt, encompassed and
shut in by the Alps, whose bare and bleak precipices and
peaks contrast strikingly with the milder verdure around
their base. It stands on the left bank of the Linth, in a
narrow part of the valley, and is a bustling town, con¬
taining 4500 inhabitants, actively engaged in the manufac¬
ture of cottons, muslins, woollen cloth, and hardwares. It
contains a number of mills, and one printing press ; and the
parish church, an ancient Gothic edifice, is harmoniously
used as a place of worship for both Protestants and Roman
Catholics. The other public buildings are the free school,
for 700 children, the hospital, a new government house, and
the old town-house in a square planted with lime trees. The
situation of the town is at once wild and melancholy. In
midwinter the mountains so overshadow the place that the
sun is not visible during more than four hours a-day. The
streets are narrow and crooked; the houses are painted in
fresco with fantastic devices, and have the time of their
erection marked on them; some of these date back to the
twelfth century. The Linth is here crossed by two bridges.
The environs of Glarus contain many romantic walks, with
commanding positions from which magnificent views may
be obtained.
645
Gr L A. S Gr 0 W,
Origin of
Glasgow.
Glasgow. The commercial and manufacturing metropolis of Scotland,
and in population the second city in Great Britain, is situ¬
ated on the banks of the River Clyde, in the lower ward
of the county of Lanark, at the distance of about 400 miles
N.W. of London, and 42 miles W. of Edinburgh, in
55.51.32. N. Lat., and 4. 17.54. W. Long. Its greatest
length from east to west is 3 miles, and its breadth from
north to south 2 miles, and circumference about 8 miles.
The Clyde, upon which the city of Glasgow is situated, is
one of the principal rivers in Scotland, and has its rise among
the mountains that separate the counties of Dumfries and
Lanark. The length of this stream, fx-om its source to its
junction with the western sea, is about 100 miles. Along
its whole course it is beautified by magnificent natural
scenery, and embellishments of art. Its banks are crowded
with the abodes of industry and a thriving population. The
site of Glasgow occupies both sides of the river, and though
at the distance of above thirty miles from the influx into the
sea, the tide, which flows a considerable way above the
town, gives it a command of trade and means of ready con¬
veyance for commercial purposes to every quarter of the
globe.
As many other towns, not only is the etymology of the
name a matter of conjecture, but the earlier state of the city
is shrouded in obscurity. Into the discussion of either of
these our limits forbid us to enter; but it may be briefly
observed as to the first, that the most probable conjecture
of antiquarians and etymologists is, that Glasgow derives its
name from the two Celtic words signifying “a dark glen,”
being, as is supposed, the ravine or wooded sloping banks
of the Molendinar burn at the east end of the cathedral; and
with regard to the second—concerning the origin of the city
itself—it may be stated that although Glasgow is certainly
one of the most ancient of Scottish towns, there is not a tittle
of evidence to show that a single stone of it had been laid
until “Rome had filled the world with her renown, and
fallen at length amid the ruins of her own greatness.” At
the period of the Roman power in Britain, the province of
Valentia in which Glasgow is situated was inhabited by a
tribe called the Damnii; and on the retirement of the Ro¬
man legions, those comparatively peaceful provincials were
left to defend themselves and their territory during a period
of nearly four centuries, first against the inroads of the
Piets, then against the invasion of the Saxons from the east,
and latterly against the assaults of the martial Scots, who,
emigrating from Ireland, settled in the districts now called
Argyleshire and Galloway. It is considered more than pro¬
bable, that Alpine, the last king of the Scots, lost his life
when fighting against the Strathclyde Britons.
All Glasgow chroniclers commence their accounts of the
city with the story of St Kentigern, who is supposed to have
laid the foundation of the holy edifice round which the few
huts or wooden houses which then constituted the town
were congregated. The period at which this early seat of
the church was founded, was about the middle of the sixth
century. From the pious, benevolent, and amiable cha¬
racter of its ecclesiastical founder, he acquired the appella¬
tion of Mungo, a word used in several languages as an epi¬
thet of fondness and endearment. In the year 539, St
Kentigern, then twenty-five years of age, is said to have
taken leave of his episcopal instructor, St Servanus, Bishop
of Orkney, and to have come to Glasgow, where from his
great sanctity he was chosen by the king and clergy of the
district their bishop, his consecration having been performed
by St Columba. At this time Marken was king of the
Strathclyde Britons ; and having become jealous of the
spiritual influence of St Kentigern, ultimately became his Glasgow,
persecutor, and compelled him to seek refuge in Wales,
where he sojourned several years and founded the see of
St Asaph. Under the more benign rule of the successor
of Marken, St Kentigern was recalled to Glasgow, where,
on his arrival, having preached to a great multitude, a
monkish legend records that the earth on which he stood
was instantly upheaved into a little knoll so that the preacher
might easily be seen and heard by all present. To this has
been attributed the motto of the city, “ Let Glasgow flourish
by the preaching of the Word.”
Following the procedure of the first teachers of Chris¬
tianity, who established their churches on the spots which
had been previously hallowed by the habitual performance
of the people’s devotions, it is commonly supposed that St
Kentigern founded his church on the vestiges of a Druidi-
cal circle, which he did about the year 560 ; and here he con¬
tinued to minister till his death, which took place in 601,
leaving the infant town to spring up under the shadow of
the church the foundation of which he had laid, and under
which it is also said he was buried. Such is the account
which unvarying tradition and ancient chronicles have
handed down concerning the origin of Glasgow, and which
receives additional confirmation from the armorial bearings
of the see. These are, argent, a tree growing out of a
mountain base, surmounted by a salmon in fesse, all pro¬
per ; in the salmon’s mouth an amulet, or, on the dexter side
a bell pendent to the tree, of the second. Setting aside all
monkish fables respecting the origin of each separate part
of these armorial bearings, it may without much doubt be
conceded that the tree referred to the ancient forest which
surrounded the cathedral, the bell to the cathedral itself;
the ring to the episcopal office, and the fish to the scaly
treasures which the neighbouring Clutha then offered to its
metropolitan master.
From the death of St Kentigern till the year 1050 an
impenetrable obscurity gathers over the annals of Glasgow.
From that period successive bishops are noticed ; but it was
not till the year 1115 that full light began to fall on its
history. The importance of the see is then demonstrated
from a preserved deed recorded in the ancient register of
the episcopate. From this it appears that David, when
Prince of Cumbria, ordered an investigation to be made as
to the lands and churches belonging to the bishopric of
Glasgow. In this document the foundation of the church,
and the ordination of St Kentigern are related, and also that
after his death he was succeeded by many bishops, but that in
consequence of the many revolutions and confusion incident
thereto which followed, all traces of the church and even of
Christianity were destroyed. From this document it ap¬
pears quite evident that while no traces of the church’s his¬
tory can be found, the cathedral itself not only existed, but
was richly endowed.
David having succeeded his brother Alexander I. on the
throne of Scotland in the year 1124, at once promoted his
chaplain, John Achaius to the bishopric in 1129. On the
nones of July 1136 the newly built church was dedicated,
on which occasion King David I. endowed it with the lands
of Perdeyc (Partick); and subsequently this saintly king
restored to the bishop a long list of possessions formerly
belonging to the see. In the reign of Malcolm, the church
of Glasgow received many gifts from the crown ; and dur¬
ing the reign of Pope Alexander III. a bull was issued en¬
joining the clergy and people of the diocese to visit annu¬
ally the cathedral church of Glasgow.
While William the Lion was founding free burghs in
646
Glasgow.
G L A S
Scotland, the great lords of the church obtained privileges
of the same nature for the cities erected around their cathe¬
drals. Such was the origin of the burgh of Glasgow. The
royal charter rendering Glasgow a burgh, and giving it a
market with freedoms and customs, was granted between
the years 1175 and 1178. In the early part of this reign
the cathedral possessed 25 churches, 17 of which seem
to have been mensal. Between 1189 and 1192, Bishop
Joceline appears to have been anxiously engaged in the
restoration of his cathedral church. The original church
erected by Bishop John, chiefly of wood, had been recently
destroyed by fire, and Joceline founded a society to collect
funds for its restoration. His energy and success in this
matter must have been great, since we find that on the 6th
June 1197 his new church was sufficiently advanced to be
dedicated. After a long episcopate, he died at his old
Abbey of Melrose on the 17th March 1199, and was buried
on the north side of the choir. During the next century
seven bishops occupied the episcopal chair, among the most
remarkable of whom were Bondingtoh, who greatly advanced
the building of the cathedral, and Robert Wisheart, who
latterly stood forward as the most strenuous opponent to
the encroachments of Edward I. This monarch spent a
fortnight in Glasgow in the autumn of 1301. He resided
at the Friars Preachers, but was constant in his offerings at
the high altar and the shrine of St Mungo. It may be
statedof Wisheart, that when Wallace, almost single-handed,
set up the standard of revolt against Edward, the bishop
of Glasgow instantly joined him. When Robert the Bruce,
friendless and a fugitive, raised the old war cry of Scotland,
the same bishop supported him. And when Bruce was pro¬
scribed by Edward and under the anathema of the church,
Bishop Wisheart assoilzied him for the sacrilegious slaugh¬
ter of Comyn, and prepared the royal robes for his corona¬
tion. Wisheart was taken prisoner in 1306 and was not
liberated till after the battle of Bannockburn. He died in
1316, having lived to see Robert the Bruce firmly seated
on the Scottish throne, and was buried in the cathedral be¬
twixt the altars of St Peter and St Andrew. In 1321,
John de Lindesay was elected bishop. In 1337, when, re¬
turning from France to Scotland, the ship which conveyed
him and many noble Scottish ladies, with L.30,000 in
money, and the treaty between France and England, was
taken by the English; and it is said the bishop died of
grief before reaching the land. He was succeeded by Wil¬
liam Rae, of whom nothing is known except that he built
the stone bridge over the Clyde at Glasgow, and was fol¬
lowed by Mathew de Glendonwyn, who during his episco¬
pate made preparations for rebuilding with stone the wooden
steeple of the cathedral, which had been consumed by light¬
ning, but who was prevented from accomplishing this through
death, which event took place in 1408. On his demise
William de Lawedre succeeded, who built the crypt below
the chapter-house, and the stone steeple as far as the first
battlements. In 1425 John Cameron was elected bishop.
He built the great tower of the bishop’s palace, and also the
chapter house begun by his predecessor. In 1447 William
Turnbull was chosen bishop. During a short incumbency
he obtained from King James II. in 1420 a charter, erect¬
ing the town and the patrimony of the bishops into a rega¬
lity. This ecclesiastic will be ever regarded with affec¬
tionate gratitude as the founder of the University of Glas¬
gow, which was effected through a bull of Pope Nicholas
V. in the year 1451. Turnbull was succeeded by Muir-
head, Laing, Carmichael, and Blackadder. During the in¬
cumbency of the last, the see of Glasgow was made ar-
chiepiscopal through the religious enthusiasm of James IV.,
who in early life had been a canon of the cathedral. The
bull declaring the see of Glasgow metropolitan is dated in
1491. Its suffragans were the Bishops of Dunkeld, Dun¬
blane, Galloway, and Argyle. In 1488, Blacadder, in con-
G 0 W.
junction with the Earl of Bothwell, negotiated a marriage Glasgow,
between King James III. of Scotland and the Lady Mar-
garet, eldest daughter of King Henry VII. of England.
This union laid the foundation of the title of the Scottish
kings to the English throne. Blackadder was followed by
James Bethune, Gavin Dunbar, Alexander Gordon, anil
James Bethune, abbot of Arbroath, who was consecrated at
Rome in 1552. At the Reformation in 1560, the latter
archbishop retired to France, carrying with him all the
relics, documents, and plate which pertained to the See.
Since the renovation of the cathedral in 1129, it appears that
there had been 26 Roman Catholic bishops, and four Ro¬
man Catholic archbishops. From the Reformation till the
Revolution, the church in Glasgow was governed by 14
Protestant archbishops, the first, James Boyd, created in
1572, and the last, John Paterson, in 1687.
While the early history of Glasgow may be said to be
almost entirely associated with its cathedral and its ecclesi¬
astics, there are a few matters connected with its civil his¬
tory which may not be uninteresting. The first charter
granted by William the Lion to the city was in 1178, an¬
other was in 1190, and by a deed in 1268, still extant, it
appears that the town was then governed by a provost and
bailies, and that it was then in all respects an organized
corporation, having persons in official situations for the in¬
vesting and transferring of property, and with courts of
justice for determining disputes amongst the inhabitants. In
the year 1300 a battle between the Scots under Wallace
and the English under Percy, was fought in the High
Street, when victory declared for the former, and the latter
are said to have lost their leader with 700 men. Glasgow
was successively visited by the plague in the years 1350,
1380, and 1381, and numbers perished by this fearful
disease. About 1524 a council convened by the Earl of
Angus, and consisting of a great part of the nobility of the
kingdom, was held at Glasgow, for the purpose of strength¬
ening that nobleman’s overgrown power ; but the Duke
of Albany being then in France, and hearing of the cir¬
cumstance, and being assisted by the French king, ere long
landed in Scotland with a considerable force, which so in¬
timidated Angus that he retired from the country. In
1538 the first sacrifice of life was made by the church in
the vain hope of arresting the Reformation. Jerome Rus¬
sell, a member of the Glasgow convent of Franciscans, and
a youth named Kennedy, of eighteen years of age, were
condemned for heresy, and were burned alive, suffering most
heroically. About 1542 the bishop’s castle, while garrisoned
by the Earl of Lennox, sustained a siege from the Regent
Arran. It surrendered upon terms which were violated,
and the garrison were all put to the sword. Soon after an
engagement took place between the same parties at what
was called the Butts, at the east end of the city, when 300
men fell, and the regent obtained a victory, in consequence
of which the town was plundered. In 1560, the Reforma¬
tion having taken place, superintendents took the position
of bishops. In 1563 a great dearth occurred. In 1566
Queen Mary visited the city for the purpose of seeing her
husband Darnley, who had been taken ill when residing
with his father in his house at the Limnerfield; and in
1568 many of the citizens fought against her at the battle
of Langside, which proved fatal to the hopes of that unfor¬
tunate sovereign. In 1570 the castle was again besieged,
but in vain, by the Hamiltons. Episcopacy, though in a
crippled state, was restored in the person of James Boyd
of Trochrig. In 1578, the General Assembly having ques¬
tioned the legally of the episcopal function, Boyd ceased
to act. To him succeeded in 1581 Robert Montgomery,
who resigned in 1585, when William Erskine, a layman,
was nominated to the see and revenues. In 1588, however,
the temporalities were restored to Archbishop Beaton, at
whose death in 1603 Spottiswood, the historian, succeeded
G L A S
Glasgow. t0 the vacant mitre. In 1638 the famous Assembly of the
''■■—'v''"*'' Presbyterian Church was held at Glasgow, when episcopacy
was abjured ; churchmen were declared incapable of sitting
in the Scottish parliament; and in the following year every
person who refused to sign the Solemn League and Cove¬
nant was debarred from church ordinances. During the next
fourteen years Glasgow suffered great calamities. In 1645
Montrose, after his victory at Kilsyth, marched into the
city during a visit of the plague, and levied a heavy con¬
tribution upon the inhabitants ; and in the same year three
of the prisoners taken at Philiphaugh, viz. Sir Walter Pol¬
lock, Sir Philip Nisbet, and Ogilvie of Inverqnarity, were
executed at Glasgow. In 1648 Provost Stuart and the
other magistrates were superseded in their offices for their
contumacy towards Charles I., and were for some days put
in prison. New municipal rulers were elected; and as a
punishment on the old, four regiments of foot and horse
were sent to the city, with orders to quarter solely on the
magistrates, council, and session. In the following year the
city was in the horrors of plague and famine ; and in two
years thereafter Oliver Cromwell took up his quarters, and
held his levees in Silvercraig’s land in the Saltmarket.
When there he visited the cathedral; on which occasion
Mr Zachary Boyd, the minister, having inveighed against
the general, Thurlow, his secretary, said he would shoot
the scoundrel. “ No, no,” said Cromwell; “ we will
manage him in his own way;” and having invited the
clergyman to dine with him, Oliver concluded the enter¬
tainment by prayer, which lasted three hours! In 1652 a
great fire took place, by which about one-third of the
town was destroyed, the loss being estimated at one hun¬
dred thousand pounds sterling. Soon after the restoration
of Charles II., Episcopacy being restored in Scotland, 14
ministers belonging to the Presbytery of Glasgow were
turned out and took leave of their flocks. During the
gloomy ecclesiastical period which succeeded, the citizens of
Glasgow, who were chiefly Covenanters, were persecuted
with unremitting fury. Numbers were hanged in the streets,
while guards were placed at the city ports on Sunday to
prevent the inhabitants from attending field preaching.
In 1678, immediately after a second dreadful fire had sent
a thousand families to the street, the Tolbooth, in which a
great number of persons were confined, chiefly for religious
opinions, was broken open by the citizens, and the prisoners
set at liberty. On hearing that this had been done, the
government of the day sent an army of Highlanders to
Glasgow, where they exercised the most wanton acts of
cruelty and oppression, which ere long led to the battles of
Loudon Hill and Bothwell Bridge, and ended in the execu¬
tion of Cargill, the minister of the Barony Parish of Glas¬
gow, in Edinburgh, and in the martyrdom at Glasgow of
James Nisbet, James Lawson, and Alexander Wood, who
died “ for their adherence to the word of God, and Scot¬
land’s covenanted work of reformation.” On the abdica¬
tion of James II. the city raised a regiment of 500 men to
support their Presbyterian views; and on the 4th June
1690 the town was declared free by a charter of William
and Mary, with power to elect their own magistrates, which
was done by a poll of the burgesses. In 1697 the citizens
suffered severely from the Darien Scheme, in which many
of them adventured their means. The Union in 1707,
which has since proved so beneficial to Scotland and Eng¬
land, was most unwelcome in Glasgow, and threatened to
cause riot; but in 1715, when the Stuarts’ claim to the
throne was attempted to be established by the sword, Glas¬
gow at once took her side with the House of Hanover, and
raised a battalion of 600 men to aid the Duke of Argyle in
quelling the insurrection. In 1725 the extension of the
malt tax caused a serious tumult in Glasgow ; on which oc¬
casion the house of Daniel Campbell of Shawfield, the M.P.
for the city, was completely gutted, and six persons killed
G 0 W. 647
and seventeen wounded by the soldiers called out to quell Glasgow,
the disturbance. The magistrates were committed to their
own jail for dereliction of duty, but were soon afterwards
released. In 1745, when Charles Edward Stuart again
attempted to win the crown, Glasgow was once more on
the side of religious liberty, and on that occasion raised for
the service of the government two battalions of 450 men,
both of which, it is well known, suffered severely at the
fight of Falkirk. On the return of the rebels from Derby
they threatened to burn the city, but were prevented by
Cameron of Lochiel. A heavy contribution was levied
both in money and goods, which, with the charge of main¬
taining the rebel army in free quarters for ten days, the
period Prince Charles resided in the Shawfield mansion in
Trongate, cost the community about L.14,000 sterling,
L. 10,000 of which was subsequently recovered by a grant
of the British parliament. On the breaking out of the
American war in 1775 a regiment of 1000 men was raised
at the expense of the city ; at the same time the merchants
fitted out fourteen privateers, mounting from 12 to 22 guns
each, and carrying in whole about 1000 men. During the
spring of 1782 a most remarkable inundation of the Clyde
occurred, causing great distress and misery to the inhabi¬
tants in the lowrer part of the town, on which occasion the
river rose 20 feet above its ordinary level. When the con¬
flict consequent on the French Revolution commenced, the
military spirit of the city was roused in support of the con¬
stitution and its safety. In 1794 the town volunteers mus¬
tered 1300 ; and in 1798 about L.14,000 was subscribed by
the inhabitants for carrying on the war. On the resump¬
tion of the conflict after the short peace of Amiens, up¬
wards of 4000 volunteers started up at their country’s
call. In 1813 the citizens subscribed L.5200 towards the
relief of sufferers in the Russian campaign, and L.4554 for
the sufferers in Germany. Illuminations for victories fol¬
lowed each other in rapid succession, there being one after
the battle of Leipzig, another after the taking of Paris, and
a third at the victory of Waterloo. On the latter occasion
Glasgow forgot not, amid the exultation of success, the
claims of the widows and orphans which the event pro¬
duced. To the large fund then raised throughout the
country she contributed no less than L.7578, 13s. 4d. In
1816-17, great distress having been experienced by the work¬
ing classes, a subscription to the amount of L.12,871, Is. 7d.
was raised for their relief. This was followed by a serious
outbreak of typhus fever, when another voluntary contri¬
bution was raised of L.6626, 14s. Id. to meet the deadly
emergency. In 1819-20 the working classes were again
thrown into great distress from want of employment; and
during the winter an exceedingly feverish state of mind
among these persons manifested itself, and created great
alarm. On Easter day of 1820 a treasonable proclamation
was found posted up in the city; and the next day work
was almost universally given up, and a crisis seemed ap¬
proaching. On Wednesday the city presented a lively
picture of a beleagured town ; but through the display of a
strong military force, and the activity of the magistracy, all
was soon rendered tranquil. The only result of the whole
ferment which is now to be regretted is the miserable catas¬
trophe which followed in the wake of the special com¬
mission which met soon afterwards at Glasgow to try those
who were engaged in this Radical insurrection ; on which
occasion a poor old weak creature called James Wilson
was hanged and beheaded—a punishment which, considering
to what extent vile spies were then employed, is now con¬
sidered to have been both sanguinary and impolitic. Of
the remaining events of a purely historical character con¬
nected with Glasgow, we shall limit ourselves to only one
more; and that is to the auspicious and ever-memorable
visit which Queen Victoria and her illustrious consort made
to the city on the 14th August 1849, being the only sovereign
648 G L A S
Glasgow, of Scotland or England who had entered Glasgow since
Mary Queen of Scots, no less than 283 years before. The
enthusiastic manner in which her Majesty was then every¬
where greeted from upwards of half a million of her sub¬
jects on her landing at the harbour, and during her whole
progress through the gaily ornamented streets, must have
been highly gratifying to the object of such unbounded
expression of loyalty and attachment; and when it is added
that from the judicious arrangements which were made by
those entrusted with the details, everything passed off with¬
out the slightest accident, it is certain that this event will
ever remain an important episode in the annals of Glasgow.
Although Glasgow may justly be said to be one of the
most ancient cities in Scotland, it is at the same time one
of the most modern of the larger towns of Great Britain.
It was, it appears, a place of some consideration at the com¬
mencement of the twelfth century, when the foundation of
its cathedral was laid ; and yet at the beginning of the nine¬
teenth century it had given proofs only of progress equal to
those of many other towns in the empire. The fact is that
to its wealthy church and its numerous body of ecclesiastics,
and afterwards to the establishment of its university, the
city owed all the importance which it then possessed. Glas¬
gow only held in 1556 the eleventh place of rank among the
other towns of Scotland. The agitation consequent on the
introduction of the Reformed religion proved for some time
prejudicial to the opulence of the city. The money which
had formerly been expended among the citizens by the
bishop and clergy was now diverted into other channels, and
the advantages resulting from the university were also for a
time lost; for as the reformers generally despised human
learning, the college was in a manner deserted. According
to the assessment of the burghs in 1695, Glasgow was
reckoned the second in Scotland. For the great accession of
wealth in little more than a century, it may be mentioned
that the inhabitants had, for a very considerable time even be¬
fore the restoration of Charles II., the sale both of raw and
refined sugars for the greatest part of Scotland; they had a
privilege of distilling spirits from their molasses free of all
duty and excise; the herring fishing was also carried on to
a considerable extent; they were the only manufacturers of
soap, and they annually sent hides, linen, &c., to Bristol,
from whence they brought back in exchange tobacco, sugar,
and English manufactured goods, with which they supplied
the greater part of the kingdom. Immediately after the
signing of the Union an increasing impetus was given to
commerce, and consequently to the progress, of Glasgow.
The American colonies, hitherto exclusively the field for
English enterprise, were opened up to the merchants of
the west of Scotland; partnerships were at once formed,
and vessels chartered, and thereafter built, for carrying on,
at first an extensive barter trade, and at length a regular
commercial intercourse with Virginia, Maryland, and Caro¬
lina. In 1735 the Virginian merchants in Glasgow could
boast of having fifteen large vessels belonging to the ports
of the Clyde engaged in the tobacco trade, besides many
others which they had chartered from other ports. In short,
between the years 1760 and 1775 Glasgow became the
great emporium for tobacco in the empire, for while the
whole import in 1772 was 90,000 hogsheads, Glasgowalone
imported 49,000. This trade may be said to have got its
death-blow on the breaking out of the American war ; but
although the period during which it flourished was by no
means long, many monuments of its success and greatness
have been left either in the princely estates purchased from
its gains, or in the magnificent city mansions reared for the
accommodation and comfort of the merchant princes who
then conducted it. At that period, however, wealth was
chiefly confined to those engaged in this traffic; and the
style of living by the two classes into which the inhabitants
wTere divided was more marked than that which now exists
G 0 W.
between the peer and the successful tradesman. Business Glasgow,
being paralyzed for a time by the American war, a universal V—
cry of distress was heard throughout the town. At length
the exertions of the citizens were thrown into other chan¬
nels ;—the West Indies offered its sugar cultivation to
some, and the introduction of the cotton manufacture
attracted others. Through these means many years did not
elapse before riches became more widely diffused, and before
a more general respectability became apparent. By the time
that the French revolution again brought the country into
war, the city had increased very considerably, and during
the few years that preceded that event, foreign commerce
was found to be daily increasing, while manufacturing es¬
tablishments were rising on every hand. The fruits of this
industry soon exhibited themselves in the extension of the
city. Handsome private mansions were being erected, while
public edifices devoted to religion or amusement were seen
rapidly rising throughout the city. The general character
of the people, which at a more early period was remarkable
for its ascetic severity and apparent sanctity of manners, had
somewhat changed; and the inhabitants of Glasgow, in
liberality, had become more in unison with the feeling and
conduct of their neighbours. While commerce and manu¬
factures had thus given the city a stimulating and onward
progress, science and art had also added their mighty aid in
effecting improvement. As a proof of this it may be men¬
tioned that in 1759 the first act for deepening the river Clyde
was obtained ; and that in 1764 James Watt made in Glas¬
gow his first model of a steam-engine, to the benefits derived
from which the city and its harbour owe much of its pros¬
perity. Necessity and utilitarianism combined to sweep away
many of the old landmarks, and a desire for greater com¬
forts brought about improvements in the cleaning, lighting,
and paving of the city. With the introduction of the cotton
manufacture, that of linens, lawns, and cambrics, which had
been a species of staple since 1725, was superseded, but
many others had been added to the handicrafts which then
existed in the town. A bottle-house for the manufacture
of green bottles had been erected so far back as 1730, and
one for that of crystal was erected in 1777. Mr Harvey
also, at the risk of his life, had introduced the inkle loom
into the town in 1732 ; while a large manufactory of delft
pottery was put in motion. The printing of calicoes, first
introduced at Pollockshaws, within a short distance of the
city, in 1 742, had extended; while the brewing of beer and
ale, hitherto restricted to mere cauldron brewing, was car¬
ried on to a great extent both within and without the town.
The manufactures which were established previous to and
since the commencement of this century yearly increased,
and at this period Glasgow made its first great stride in
population, wealth, and importance, which render it at pre¬
sent cosmopolitan both in its commerce and crafts. Glas¬
gow, in fact, now unites within itself a portion of the cot¬
ton-spinning and weaving manufactures of Manchester, the
printed calicoes of Lancashire, the stuffs of Norwich, the
shawls and muslins of France, the silk throwing of Maccles¬
field, the flax-spinning of Ireland, the carpets of Kidder-
minister, the iron and engineering works of Wolverhampton
and Birmingham, the pottery and glass-making of Stafford¬
shire and Newcastle, the ship-building of London, the coal-
trade of the Tyne and Wear, and all the handicrafts con¬
nected with or dependent on the full development of these
various and important branches. Glasgow also has its
distilleries, breweries, chemical-works, tan-works, rope-
works, dye-works, bleach-fields, and paper manufactories,
besides a vast number of staple and fancy hand-loom fabrics,
which may be strictly said to belong to the locality. Glas¬
gow, also, in its commercial relations, trades with every
quarter of the globe ; and its merchants deal in the various
products of every country. It hence will appear that one
branch of manufacture or trade may be dull, while another
GLASGOW.
Glasgow, iii&y be prosperous ; and, accordingly, Glasgow does not
any those universal depressions which so frequently
occur in places limited to one or two branches of manu¬
facture or commerce.
In order to bring the progressive and present state of Glasgow
more palpably into view, the following statistical comparisons have
been prepared, which will at once prove the rapid and steady ad¬
vance of a city which is scarcely rivalled but certainly not sur¬
passed by any in the world. The first and most striking evidence
of the increasing importance of Glasgow will be found in the fol¬
lowing chronicle of its progressive and present population
649
Popula¬
tion.
^ear- Population.
1560  4,500
1708   12,766
1763   28,300
1785   45,889
1S01    83,769
Year. Population.
1811  110,460
1821   147,043
1831   202,426
1841   280,682
1851    347,001
Of the 347,001 inhabitants of 1851,163,731 were males, and 183,270
females. It is right to state that the population within the parlia¬
mentary district, from which is excluded part of the ancient burgh,
was only 329,096. Neither of these numbers, however, fully ex¬
presses the true population of Glasgow and its suburbs. Taking the
whole population of the four parishes which now constitute the city
and its growing suburbs, and which have formed the boundaries
within which the mortality of Glasgow has been taken, we find that
it had reached, on the 31st March 1851, to no less than 360,138, of
which 170,179 were males, and 189,959 were females. According
to calculations founded on the increase of dwelling-houses and other-
wise, the population in 1855 may fairly be assumed to exceed,
within the last-mentioned territory, 400,000. Prom Dr Strang’s
analysis of the census of 1851, we find the population located as
follows: —
will best show that such has been the case, but which are limited to Glasgow.
Houses,
ware¬
houses, and
the parliamentary and burgh boundaries, with an assumed popular
tion, for 1855, of 375,000
1845, distinct possessions, 65,028 Gross rental, L.866,150
1850, ... 76,034 ... 1,017,362
1855, ... 82,490 ... 1,241,590
It hence appears that the distinct possessions have increased 17,462 S*10PS•
since 1845, and 6466 since 1850 ; while the gross rental has also
increased between the first and last period L.385,440, and since
1850, L.224,228. The following is a detailed statement of the gross
number and rental of dwelling-houses, shops, warehouses, and other
possessions within the municipal and parliamentary city, from
Whitsunday 1854 to Whitsunday 1855 :—
. No. Rental.
Occupied. Dwelling-houses and other premises
occupied inconnection with dwell¬
ing-houses  70,793
Shops, warehouses, counting-houses,
and other places of business, pu blic
works, &c 10,271
L.655,436
565,163
80,964 L.1,220,599
Unoccupied. Dwelling-houses and other premises
occupied in connection with dwell¬
ing-houses   1,175 L.11,632
Shops, warehouses, counting-houses,
public works, &c  351 9,359
No.
Possessions occupied  80,964
... unoccupied  1,526
1,526 L.20,991
Rental.
L.1,220,599
20,991
Ten parishes of old burgh of)
Glasgow    J
Barony parish within parliamen- )
tary boundary    J
Gorbals and Govan parishes, |
within boundary  j
Males. females. Total.
70,329
56,670
29,059
Harbours
Total within old burgh and par-)
liamentary boundary    J
Barony parish beyond parlia¬
mentary boundary   
Govan do. do. do.
Small portion of Govan parish, ■)
county of Renfrew, but close 1
to parliamentary boundary ... J
156,058
1,088
157,146
6,585
5,886
169,617
562
170,179
77,786
66,264
32,423
176,473
38
176,511
6,759
6,064
189,334
625
189,959
148,115
122,934
61,482
332,531
1,126
333,657
13,344
11,950
358,951
1,187
360,138
From the same source we find the character of the population at
the census of 1851 to have been 283,506 born Scotch, 64,185 Irish,
8930 English, 1065 foreigners, 815 colonists, British subjects, and
450 not ascertained. The ages being—•
Under 1  11,618
and under 5   33,070
1
5
10
15
20
30
40
50
10   37,657
15   36,385
20  40,295
30  78,176
40   51.024
50   34,156
60   20,390
60 and under 70   10,847
70 ... 80   3,973
80 ... 90  829
90 ... 100  75
100 and upwards    4
Unknown  452
358,951
While the above figures, indicating the place of nativity, show
that the Irish form 15-93 per cent, of the gross population, they
are far below the reality ; for although the children born in the
city of Irish parents, and who are imbued with all the characteristics
habits, feelings, and religious sentiments of their fatherland, have
been lately most numerous, they are all placed in the census returns
as Scotch. The truly Irish population may be fairly assumed to
be little short of 90,000.
While the population has thus increased, it may be reasonably
supposed that the means of accommodating that population have in¬
creased along with it, and the following table of the gross number
of dwelling-houses, shops and warehouses, and other possessions,
VOL. X.
82,490 L.1,241,590
In comparing this table with that of 1851 an increase will be found,
in 1855, of dwelling-houses, to the extent of 6466; of shops and
warehouses, and other places of business, and of public works, of
509; while the increase of rental has been, in the course of only
four years, L.76,720 on the former, and L.80,698 on the latter.
The comparative numbers of dwelling-houses in three different
classes of rentals, in 1851 and 1855, are as under :—
rr, ... ... , 1851. 1855. Increase.
Total dwelling-houses at L.5 and under, 35,791 36,648 857
Above L.5 and under L.10, 14,748 18,665 3,917
At L.10 and upwards,  14,963 16,655 1^692
65,502 71,968 6,466
Hence it appears that the greatest increase is in houses between
L.5 and L.10, clearly indicating an improving condition in the
habitations of the working-classes.
While from the foregoing statement may be easily ga- yyater
thered the growing number and advancing comforts of the supply,
inhabited houses, and also the increasing size and elegance
of the shops and warehouses, perhaps nothing indicates the
progress of Glasgow more than the great and increasing
consumption of water. Prior to the year 1806 the city de”
pended chiefly for its supply on twenty-nine public wells,
and a few private pump wells. About that period was
formed the Glasgow Water Company to pump water from
the Clyde; this was soon followed by the Cranston Hill
Company, which ultimately became united. In 1846 another
company was established to furnish water by gravitation,
limited, however, to the supply of the inhabitants on the
south side of the river, who may now (1855) be estimated
at about 80,000. The daily supply in 1854-55 sent in bv
both establishments to Glasgow and its suburbs, amounted
to about 15,300,000 gallons, which, after making a due de¬
duction for the use of factories, dye-works, and other trade
purposes, cattle, &c., left nearly thirty gallons a-day for each
inhabitant, supplying also in 1854-55 within the mere
boundaries of the city, no fewer than 6638 plunge and
shower baths, and 12,114 water-closets in private houses.
While this is certainly a very large supply of water, and
such as no other town can boast of, still its quality is indif¬
ferent; and to meet this desideratum, powers have just been
obtained to bring water from Loch Katrine to the extent,
if necessary, of forty millions of gallons per day, and to vest
the whole water supply in the hands of the corporation.
4 N
650
GLASGOW.
Glasgow.
Gas
supply.
Scotch
manufac¬
tures,
particu¬
larly
cotton.
Embroi¬
deries.
After water there is nothing which marks a city’s onward
progress more than its consumption of gas. Previous to
1817 Glasgow was dependent, like all other places, on oil
and candle for light. During that year the first Gas Light
Company was instituted, which was followed by another in
1843. On the 15th September 1818, the streets were
first lighted with this economical agent; and thereafter it
began to be used in dwelling-houses and factories. In 1840,
for example, the quantity of gas consumed in Glasgow and
its suburbs was 173 millions of cubic feet, whereas, in the
year 1854, it has reached the enormous amount of nearly
589 millions of cubic feet. The average cost of every 1000
cubic feet being 4s., it follows that the sum paid for gas
must have amounted in 1854 to L.l 17,800. The number
of street lamps lighted by the police in 1835 was 2888,
whereas the number lighted in 1854 amounted to 7500.
The first steam-engine in Glasgow connected with cot¬
ton-spinning was erected in 1792 ; but it was not till the
beginning of the present century that any considerable
quantity of yarn was spun in Scotland. In 1850 the num¬
ber of spindles employed in cotton-spinning connected with
or dependent on Glasgow amounted to 1,683,093, and the
cotton consumed amounted to about forty-five millions of
pounds, or 120,000 bales. At present (1856) the consump¬
tion does not appear to have increased. The power loom
was first introduced into Glasgow in 1793 by Mr James
Robertson, who brought two from the Hulks in the Thames.
In the following year forty looms were fitted up at Milton,
and in 1801 Mr John Monteith had 200 looms at work at
Pollockshaws, near Glasgow. In 1831 the power looms in
or dependent on Glasgow had increased to 15,137 ; in 1850
they amounted to 23,564, and produced the daily average
of 625,000 yards of cloth; at present (1856) there are
about 26,000 or 27,000 power looms, and consequently the
daily produce is not only greater from this cause, but also
from an increase in speed. The number of persons em¬
ployed in the cotton factories throughout Scotland, and which
may be said to be all connected or dependent on Glasgow,
in 1850 was 8797 males, and 27,528 females, total 36,325,
while the motive power was, steam, 71,005 horse-power;
water, 2812. In addition to the cotton spun for weaving,
there are several very large manufactories of sewing thread ;
and to that of power-loom weaving there must be added all
the beautiful fabrics that are still made by the hand-loom,
and which employ a vast number of persons, and a large
capital. These consist of muslins, plain and fancy harness
curtains, jaconets, cambrics, ginghams, checks, and coloured
tissues of all kinds; while, of late years, mixed fabrics con¬
sisting of cotton and silk, cotton and linen, and cotton and
wool, have all been manufactured to a great extent. T o
the many thousand hand-loom weavers that still reside in
Glasgow, must be added those who reside in all the villages
for many miles round, and even in some of the more dis¬
tant towns in Scotland and north of Ireland, to form any
adequate idea of the extensive and widespread textile manu¬
facturing interests of Glasgow.
There is one branch of manufacture connected with cot¬
ton, to which it would be wrong not to particularly allude,
and that is the embroidering of muslins, better known
under the common designation of “ sewed muslins.” This
is comparatively a new manufacture, having only been first
started in Scotland about the year 1825. At that period
there were only two or three persons engaged in the ma¬
nufacture ; now there are fifty or sixty. The importance
of this branch may in some measure be estimated from the
fact that it gives employment to avast number of females in
the rural districts for whom no other useful work is provided
in the intervals of field labour. In Ireland alone, where it
is practised from the Giant’s Causeway to Cape Clear, and
from St George’s Channel to the Achill and other remote
islands, it is a source of great comfort to the female popu¬
lation, as it enables them to add to the food and clothing Glasgow,
of their families without entailing on them any of the evils
of the factory system, the work being supplied to them by
agents of the large manufacturers, scattered over all the
country, and executed entirely at their own firesides. As
the workers are only engaged a portion of their time at this
species of industry, it is impossible to estimate their num¬
bers ; but it is computed that the amount paid in the west¬
ern counties of Scotland and in Ireland reaches no less a
sum than three quarters of a million sterling annually. Like
all other fancy trades, it has been subject to its periods of
depression; but its progress has been regular, from a total
produce of a few thousand pounds a-year paid for labour in
1825, to the amount above stated, the greatest increase
having, however, taken place since 1845.
The next great branches of industry, of which Glasgow Coal and
is the central mart, are its coal and iron trades. Although iron-
coal, from a pretty remote period, has been wrought round
the city chiefly for domestic uses, it has only been since the
introduction of the steam-engine, and still more since the
discovery of the economical mode of smelting iron by the
hot blast, that the vast and closely packed mineral wealth
of its neighbouring districts has been at all fully developed
and turned to profit.
In 1854 no fewer than 6,448,000 tons of coals were drawn from
the pits in the western districts around Glasgow, of which 2,152,800
tons were consumed in the manufacture of pig-iron, 367,200 in the
conversion of pig into malleable, making in all 2,520,000 tons used
in connection with the manufacture of iron ; while 926,221 tons
were shipped, and 148,312 tons sent beyond the boundaries by rail¬
ways, leaving for the manufacturing and domestic uses of the Glas¬
gow district 2,853,427 tons. The produce of pig-iron in the two
western counties of Lanark and Ayr in 1854 was 717,600 tons,
122,684 tons of which were shipped direct to foreign countries, and
294,194 tons were sent coastwise from the Clyde, Port Dundas, and
other ports of the Clyde estuary ; while 22,865 tons were sent away
by railways, and 171,360 were converted into malleable iron, leav¬
ing the remaining 106,497 tons for foundry and other purposes of
the district. Of malleable iron there was manufactured in the dis¬
trict 122,400 tons. The value of the coal and iron industries to
the district in 1854 was L.4,872,866. of which there was paid in
wages to 33,908 persons employed in them L.l,973,937. The great
progress of the pig and malleable iron manufactures may be best
shown as follows :—In 1830 there were only 16 blast furnaces going
in the west of Scotland, in 1854 there were 102, the produce of
them in 1830 being 40,000 tons, whereas in 1854 the produce was
717,600. In 1842 the production of malleable iron was only 35,000
tons, in 1854 it amounted to 122,400,
Of all the branches of industry, however, belonging to Iron ship-
Glasgow and its harbour, there is assuredly none of modern building
date which has made such rapid progress as that of steam- and marine
boat building and marine engine making. From the first m£^ki
start of the little “ Comet” in 1812 till 1820, there were at
the most only one or two river steamers launched yearly,
and of a tonnage so small as to be scarcely worth notice.
About that period this manufacture received a new impulse,
and began at once fairly to develop itself.
From 1821 to 1830, there were 38 steamers built, with a tonnage
of 4200; from 1831 to 1840, there were 94 steamers, with a ton¬
nage of 17,623 ; from 1841 to 1850, there were 167 steamers, with
a tonnage of 81,447, while during the three years from 1851 to
1853 there were 206 steamers, with a tonnage of 141,713. The
present magnitude of this industry may however be best appre¬
ciated from the fact that during the years 1853 and 1854 the then
32 shipbuilders on the Clyde had constructed or contracted for no
fewer than 266 vessels, including both steam and sailing, having an
aggregate tonnage of 168,000, for which also marine engines were
made, or in progress, of 29,000 horse-power; the average of these
vessels being 630 tons, and involving the enormous cost of nearly
five millions sterling.
Of the many other industries existing in Glasgow, it is Other
only necessary to allude to the chemical works, of which branches o
those of St Rollox are understood to be the largest in the ln us r^‘
world, covering as they do twelve acres of ground, and em¬
ploying upwards of 1000 workmen, making use ot 20,000
G L A S G 0 W.
Glasgow, tons of salt, and consuming from 70,000 to 80,000 tons of
coals anmiallj\
The manufactured products consist chiefly of vitriol, chlorate of
lime, of bleaching powder, soda, and soap. The stalks of this esta¬
blishment are among the most remarkable objects in the city, one
of which being 450 feet high, 50 feet diameter at the base, and 14
feet at the top. The chemicals produced elsewhere in Glasgow con¬
sist of iodine, bichromate of potash, cudbear, naphtha, pitch oil,
pitch, sulphate of ammonia, carbonate of ammonia, pyroligneous acid
and its combinations withlead and iron,nitric and muriatic acids with
their combinations, and alum, prussiate of potash, &c. Within the
bounds of the Glasgow district there are ten distilleries of spirits,
producing annually when in full work about 2,500,000 gallons, and
in the city and suburbs there are five breweries. Of late years the
manufacture of glass and pottery has wonderfully increased, and
the making of tobacco pipes is carried on to a greater extent in
Glasgow than in any other place in Great Britain.
To the progressive rise and present position of the river
Clyde and its harbour may be justly attributed the import¬
ance and prosperity of Glasgow. The fact is, this city now
possessing an inland navigation, and a stream harbour un¬
equalled perhaps in Europe, and which has been accom-
651
The river
and har¬
bour.
plished first by the intelligence of the corporation, and in Glasgow,
later years by a trust formed partly of the corporation and
partly from other bodies of the citizens. About the begin¬
ning of the present century the depth of the Clyde at Glas¬
gow was scarcely 5 feet, and there were few or no vessels at
its port, and these consisted of craft drawing merely a few
feet of water, none certainly exceeding 30 or 40 tons bur¬
then. In 1820 the average available depth of the Clyde at
high water during neap tides was 9 feet, which admitted
vessels drawing 8^ feet. In 1840 the depth was increased
to 14 feet, whereas in 1855 the average depth at high
water during neap tides is 19 feet. To show the greatness
of the improvements that have been made, it may be men¬
tioned that while only one vessel arrived at the harbour of
Glasgow in 1835 of 300 to 350 tons burthen, there arrived
during 1854 19 vessels of 1000 tons and upwards. The
following is the number of the sailing and steam vessels
which arrived at the harbour of Glasgow, with their regis¬
tered tonnage, during the years ending July 1828, 1840,
1850, and 1854.
1828
1840
1850
1854
Under
40
tons.
2117
3256
4319
5570
2847
4286
2245
1922
4605
3945
2894
3140
80 to 100,
1399
2975
3204
3715
100
to 150.
213
922
733
1830
150
to 200.
20
326
517
524
200
to 250.
14
171
321
214
250
to 300.
1
284
128
450
300
to 350.
0
107
213
126
350
to 400.
0
118
145
425
400
to 450.
0
90
110
109
450
to 500.
0
2
34
35
500
to 600.
0
4
151
49
600
to 700.
0
0
15
30
700
and up¬
wards.
0
0
23
63
The whole number and tonnage arriving at the harbour of Glas¬
gow during the same period were as follows :—
Years.
1828
1840
1850
1854
Sailing Vessels.
No.
4405
5337
5857
6322
Tonnage.
214,315
271,942
391,033
504,008
Steam Vessels.
No.
7,100
11,149
9,195
11,880
Tonnage.
481,946
894,387
873,159
1,090,804
In 1800 it was....L.3319 16 1
1820  6,328 18 10
1830  20,296 18 6
The progress and present condition of the river and harbour,
however, are probably best exhibited by the following abstract of
the revenue of the trust at six different periods :—
' In 1840  L 46,481 1 9
1850  64,243 14 11
1854  86,580 5 11
In the progressive, and during the last years most rapid in¬
crease of the income of this trust, may "be said to be mir¬
rored the palpable progress of Glasgow. The increase of
income in little more than fifty years has been nearly thirty¬
fold, while during even the last four years the increase is
L.22,336,11s., being more in one twelvemonth than the whole
revenue amounted to only twenty-five years previous.
The next striking index to the progress and present position of
Glasgow will be found in the amount of duties levied at its custom-
ties and re- house, and the number of its registered ships,
gistered
ships.
Custom¬
house du
Years.
Jan
Duties.
5, 1801
1812
1820
1830
1840
1850
1855
L.469 13 64
3,124 2 44
11,000 6 9
59,013 17 3
468,974 12 2
640,568 7 9
668,556 9 4
No. of ships.
0
35
85
233
351
507
601
Tonnage.
0
2,620
6,604
40,978
71,878
137,909
192,895
rates charged for letters compared with the present, was L.1194,
and in 1781 the revenue for Glasgow was only L.4341. In 1853,
with a penny postage, it amounted to L.47,063, 7s. 5d. From
1842 to 1853 the increase had been L.20,353, 11s. lid.; of money
orders there were, in 1852, 144,787, amounting to L.267,444, 2s.
4d.,—the increase in eight years being in number 73,986, and in
money L.133,414, 11s. 9d. Letters received and delivered in Glas¬
gow in 1852, 15,597,504; letters received and forwarded in Glas¬
gow in 1852, 19,496,880.
During the reigns of Catholicism and Episcopacy in Scot- Ecclesiasti-
land, Glasgow was first the seat of a bishop, and then of an cal institu-
archbishop. It is now merely the place of meeting of the Pres- tions and
bytery of Glasgow and the Synod of Glasgow and Ayr, of the t,ul^(iinSs-
Established Church and of the Free Church, and the District
Synod of the United Presbyterian Church. Ecclesiastically,
the ancient burgh comprehends ten parochial divisions, the
otherportions of thecity having, either partly or wholly, within
their bounds, the parishes of Barony, Calton, Gorbals, Govan,
and Maryhill. Of nine of the Established churches within
the ancient burgh the Corporation are patrons. The sti¬
pends of ministers belonging to the Establishment are paid
out of the teinds or seat-rents. The following table gives
the statistics of the several church sects at the census of 1851.
Religious Denominations. Worship! 'sitT^/s^’
Establishment    25 28,206
Free-Church    30 27,449
United Presbyterian   23 24,184
Episcopalian  5 3,690
Catholic  7 7,914
Independent  11 g 010
Baptists   7 l 7ii
Other denominations  35 15 114
The following is the amount of duty received at Glasgow on the
undermentioned articles during the year 1854-55; 
Post-office.
Butter  L.286
Cheese  336
Coffee   7,123
Corn   10,937
Currants  611
Raisins L.2,348
Molasses  6,017
Rum.  8,577
Brandy  37,057
Geneva  1,881
The last matter connected with the progress of Glasgow to which
we will advert is her post-office. At the period of the Union the
whole postage revenue of Scotland, notwithstanding the very high
Sugar L.49,436
Tea  237,520
Tobacco  243,507
Wine  44,308
Wood  3,435
143 114,278
It appears that Glasgow, with a population of 333,657,
had no fewer than 143 places of worship, affording sitting-
room for 114,278 persons ; and when it is added that there
were three or four chapels or churches belonging to the
Establishment which were either vacant or not returned,
and likewise a considerable number of places of worship
belonging to other religious denominations, which, from
want of returns, are not included in this list, it is perhaps
not too much to say, that there were church sittings pro¬
vided in Glasgow in 1851 for at least 120,000. And when
it is further considered, that of the above population there
652
Glasgow.
The cathe¬
dral and
other
churches.
Educa¬
tional in¬
stitutions.
GLASGOW.
are not fewer than 80,000 Roman Catholics, which reduces
the Protestants to 253,657, and that the sittings in the Ca¬
tholic chapels amount to only 7914 (there are three, four,
and even six different services in each of these every Sun¬
day), it would appear that there are 112,000 sittings pro¬
vided in Glasgow for her 250,000 Protestant inhabitants.
The venerable cathedral, now in a state of complete repair, is ac¬
knowledged to be one of the best specimens of old English Gothic.
It occupies a prominent position on the north-east side of the city,
and stands about 104 feet above the level of the Clyde. Its form is
that of a large cross, with exceedingly short transepts. Its length
from east to west is 319 feet, its breadth 63, the height of the choir
90, and of the nave 85 feet. At the intersection, it has a tapering
octagonal spire, which rises to the height of 225 feet. Since the
late removal of the galleries in the choir, and of the modern stone¬
work between the nave and the choir, the Cathedral is now seen in
all its beautiful primeval condition. In this edifice there are 147
pillars, and 159 windows, some of them of exquisite workmanship.
The crypt under the choir is scarcely equalled, and certainly not
surpassed anywhere for architectural effect. St Andrew’s, as a mo¬
dern church, is one of the most elegant in the city. It is situated
in St Andrew’s Square, and is nearly a fac-simile of St Martins-in-the-
Fields in London. St David’s in the Gothic, and St George’s and St
Enoch’sin the Roman style,belonging to the Establishment, are hand¬
some structures; while the Gothic edifices of St John’s, St Matthew's,
and others, belonging to the Free Church, are elegant in design,
and ornamented with lofty spires. Among the many churches be¬
longing to the dissenters, perhaps there is none more striking than
the one in Renfield Street, and none so beautiful as that lately built
for the Congregational body, in the western line of Bath Street, the
spire of which is a model of perfection. The Catholics too, in addi¬
tion to their ornate Gothic chapel in Clyde Street, have lately
added several ecclesiastical ornaments to the city.
The University.—This ancient and celebrated seminary
of learning was founded by a bull of Pope Nicholas V. in
1451. It formed a corporate body, consisting of a chancellor,
rector and dean, with doctors, masters, regents, and students,
in the several faculties into which it was divided. One of
these was known as the Pedagogium, or College of Arts.
This school of learning was first situated in Rotten Row. In
1459, James Lord Hamilton bequeathed to the principal re¬
cent of that colleite some buildings and several acres of land,
on part of which the present structure was afterwards erected.
The College of Arts was restored and endowed by James
VI. During the period which intervened between 1577 and
1688, the university underwent many changes; but in the
year 1693, each of the Scottish colleges having received a
grant of L.300 per annum out of the bishops’ rents, the
Glasgow institution again revived ; and having received
other public and private gifts, its progress has been since
uninterrupted. The academic body of the university con¬
sists at present of the chancellor, the lord rector, the dean
of faculty, the principal and vice-chancellor, twenty-two pro¬
fessors, and one lecturer. The whole business of the uni¬
versity is transacted in three distinct courts, viz., the senate,
the faculty, and the comitia. (See Universities.) The
students are divided into togati and non-togati; the former
wear a gown of scarlet cloth, and belong to the Latin, Greek,
logic, moral philosophy, and natural philosophy classes; the
latter are unrestricted in their dress, except the students of
divinity. There are bursaries connected with the college
founded by thirty individuals, held by upwards of sixty stu¬
dents, from four to six years each; the amount payable to each
varies from L.5 to L.25, a few being worth L.40, and one
L.50. In addition to these are the more valuable bursaries
bequeathed by Mr Snell and the Bishop of Rochester. The
former afford L.120 per annum for each of ten Scottish
students at Baliol, Oxford, and the latter L.15 for each of
four, and which sum is generally bestowed in addition to
four of the exhibitions under Snell’s bequest. The present
buildings were principally erected in 1593 and 1658. The
spire, which is 153 feet in height, is chiefly interesting from
possessing a thunder-rod which was reared under the aus¬
pices of Franklin in 1772. In the divinity and faculty halls
are a few historical pictures and several portraits.
The university has had from its origin men of the highest Glasgow,
talent, and literary and scientific eminence, among its pro- s—^
fessors and office-bearers. The names of Melville, Baillie,
Leishman, Burnet, Simpson, Hutchison, Black, Cullen,
Adam Smith, Reid, Millar, Richardson, Sandford, and
Thomas Thomson, are conspicuous, while the names of
Edmund Burke, Sir James MTntosh, H. Brougham, Jef¬
frey, Thomas Campbell, Alison, Macaulay, and other distin¬
guished persons, are to be found in the lists of lord rectors.
The library was commenced almost simultaneously with the foun- University
dation of the college, and consists of upwards of 60,000 volumes, Library,
among which are some very rare and beautiful editions of the classics
and several valuable MSS. The bibliomaniast may here see Za-
charias Boyd’s metrical version of the Bible, and a splendid copy
of the Alexandrian version of the Scriptures. The library is sup¬
ported from the interest of money left for this purpose, and the
fees of students, but chiefly from the grant of upwards of L.700
per annum, which the college receives from the Exchequer as an
equivalent for the loss of the Stationer’s Hall privilege.
Immediately behind the university buildings stands the Hunterian Hunterian
Museum, a beautiful fabric erected in 1804, from a design by Starke. Museum.
The building exhibits six Doric columns, bearing a pure Doric
frieze and entablature, and surmounted by a glass cupola. It was
reared for the reception of the magnificent collection of curiosities
which the late Dr William Hunter bequeathed to the university,
where he was educated. The contents of this valuable museum
have been valued at L.130,000. The medals alone are accounted
worth L.40,000 ; and the library, together with the rich collection
of illuminated manuscripts, have been estimated at little short of
the same sum. The naturalist will find here a beautiful collection
of minerals, shells, quadrupeds, birds, insects, and fossils; the
physiologist, an apartment filled with the most curious anatomical
preparations; while the devotee of art will be gratified with some
of the best specimens of Rubens, Guido, Domenichino, Murillo, Cor¬
reggio, Giordano, N. Poussin, Zucherelli, Salvator Rosa, Sneyders,
Weenix, Wouvermans, and Reynolds.
Immediately behind, and surrounding the museum are the Col- College
lege Gardens, set especially apart for the use of the students. They Gardens,
are planted with trees, and ornamented with walks and shrubbery.
This spot may be said to have obtained a semi-classical notoriety,
from being the scene chosen by Sir Walter Scott for the rencontre
of Rashleigh and Francis Osbaldistone, in the romance of Rob
Hoy.
Anderson's University.—This institution was founded by Anderson’s
Mr John Anderson, professor of natural philosophy in the University,
university of Glasgow in 1795, and endowed by him with a
valuable philosophical apparatus, museum, and library. It
is governed by 81 trustees, and is intended as a means of
bringing a literary and scientific education more within the
reach of the mass of the community. Every branch of
study taught in the college, with the exception of divinity,
is given here. Drs Garnett and Birkbeck were the original
professors of natural philosophy and chemistry ; and it was
here that the first mechanics’ class was established in Great
Britain. The number of students in the session 1854-55
amounted to 1685, being an increase since 1852-53 of 578.
The High School or Grammar-School in John Street, High
under the charge of the Corporation, is the oldest educa- Scll°ol-
tional institution in the city. It appears a grammar-school
existed in Glasgow in the early part of the fourteenth cen¬
tury, being then dependent on the Cathedral church. Up
to 1834 its masters only taught Latin and Greek, but at
that period the school underwent a complete alteration.
Two of the classical masterships were suppressed, and in
lieu of these, teachers of English grammar, foreign languages,
writing, arithmetic, geography, mathematics, and drawing,
were introduced. The name was also changed from the
Grammar to the High School.
The Mechanics’ institution, which was founded in 1823, TheMecha-
formore effectually diffusing science among the working-nics fnstl*
classes, is situated in Hanover Street. Lectures are here
given on chemistry, natural philosophy, and popular anatomy,
while teachers give instruction in English grammar and com¬
position, drawing and music. Attached to the institution
are a reading-room and library, the latter containing up¬
wards of 5000 volumes.
tution.
Glasgow.
Normal
and other
schools.
Literary
and scien¬
tific insti¬
tutions.
News¬
papers and
libraries.
G L A S G 0 W.
653
There are two normal schools for the training of teachers;
the one under the control of the Established, and the other
under that of the Free Church. There has also been esta¬
blished an excellent school of design, which is well attended,
while, during the last few years, several educational institu¬
tions of a semi-public semi-private kind have been formed,
chiefly in the western parts of the town, for the instruction
of the children of both sexes of the higher classes. The
number of elementary schools is very great, and daily in¬
creasing. According to Dr Strang’s tables, the education
statistics of Glasgow, at the census of 1851, were as
follows:—
Number of week-day schools  281
Number of evening schools  109
Day scholars on books 31,508
Day scholars attending 31st March 1851  28,356
Evening scholars, adults, attending  5,090
Total day and evening scholars attending, being... 33,446
out of a population of 34,343 at 5 and under 10 years of
age, and 33,202 at 10 and under 15 years of age.
These figures, however, do not express the precise edu¬
cational destitution, the number between 5 and 10 years of
age being estimated at about 6000 or 7000 ; and although
the number in this last category has of late years been gra¬
dually reducing through the increased zeal of ecclesiastical
educationalists, as well as the benevolence of general phi¬
lanthropists, still there is left a wide field of ignorance to
cultivate, and which, it is feared, can only be reclaimed by
some governmental and unsectarian system of tuition. One
of the most striking facts connected with the educational
statistics of Glasgow is, that in 1851 there were 436 Sab¬
bath schools, which were attended by 43,056 young persons.
Although Glasgow can boast of having had many learned
and able men at various times born or resident within its
borders, still its inhabitants cannot lay claim to having much
of a literary character. About the middle of last century
a literary society was established, consisting chiefly of the
professors and clergy of the city and neighbourhood, and
reckoned amongst its distinguished members, Professors
Simson, Adam Smith, Traill, Reid, John Millar, and the
Messrs Foulis the celebrated printers. Another literary
and commercial society was also formed about the begin¬
ning of the present century, in which Drs Chalmers and
Wardlaw, and other able men, took an interest, and where
essays are still read, and discussions take place on the liter¬
ary, commercial, statistical, and political topics of the day.
A philosophical society was also established in 1802, which,
uniting as it now does the man of science with the practi¬
cal chemist and mechanic, forms a most effective nucleus
for mutual encouragement and advancement. In 1808, a
society for promoting astronomy was formed, which in due
time erected an observatory, at first placed on Garnethill,
which was thereafter removed to a rising ground about two
miles west of the city, where it now stands. It is occupied
and conducted by the professor of astronomy in the Uni¬
versity. In addition to an Antiquarian Society, there is the
Maitland Club, an institution similar to the Bannatyne of
Edinburgh, for the printing of curious and rare manuscripts,
illustrative of the history, literature, or antiquities of Scot¬
land. Nearly 100 quarto volumes have been already
printed by this brotherhood. There are 21 newspapers and
mercantile lists published in Glasgow, irrespective of a host
of penny papers which the altered state of the law has pro¬
duced, some of which have a very large circulation. The first
newspaper published in the west of Scotland was the Glas¬
gow Courant, which appeared in the year 1715; since which
time many have been established and disappeared. The
first circulating library was established in Glasgow in 1753,
and lent out books at one halfpenny per volume. At pre¬
sent there are many circulating as well as public and pri¬
vate libraries. We have already alluded to that of the Col¬
lege, and we may now mention those belonging to Ander- Glasgow,
son's University, to the Faculties of Physicians and Sur-
geons, and Procurators, the Philosophical Society, and also
to those founded by Mr Stirling, and established under the
title of the Glasgow Public Library.
In consequence of an invitation from the magistrates, Letterpress
George Anderson was induced to come to Glasgow in 1638, printing,
and here printed an account of the celebrated Assembly of
the Church of Scotland which met in that year. The print¬
ing of books, however, does not appear to have succeeded
well until the Messrs Foulis commenced in 1741, after
which and during a succession of years they sent forth from
their press works, and particularly editions of the classics,
which for accuracy and beauty have never been surpassed
in Great Britain. Letterpress printing is now carried on to
a very great extent. Besides the great number of news-
paper printing offices, many of which have steam-presses,
the printing of books is pursued with great vigour and to
a considerable extent.
The Corporation.—From the period when Glasgow was Civic insti-
first created into a royal burgh by William the Lion about tutions.
1178, numerous alterations have taken place in its political
and municipal constitution. At present, it possesses all the
advantages of being a royal, municipal, and parliamentary
burgh. It is governed by a lord provost, 8 bailies, and 39
councillors, in addition to whom the dean of guild from the
merchants, and the deacon convenerfrom the Trades’ Houses,
are members of council ex ojjiciis. During the term of their
office, the bailies are justices of the peace within the county
of Lanark, while two out of the council are chosen for hold¬
ing a species of admiralty jurisdiction over the River and
Firth of Clyde. The income of the burgh in 1855 was
L.20,124, 6s. 3^d., and the expenditure L.19,139, 16s. 9d.
The sheriffs, consisting of the principal and three substitutes,
who have a co-ordinate jurisdiction with the magistrates,
hold regular criminal, civil, registration, and small-debt
courts; and during three times in the year a circuit court
of justiciary is held in the city. Since the passing of the
Reform Bill, Glasgow sends two members to the House of
Commons. The number of registered electors on the roll
is 19,500, although scarcely 6000 are actual voters.
The Merchants' and Trades' Houses.—These tw o bodies
or minor corporations formerly exerted considerable politi¬
cal power; but since the passing of the Reform Bill they
have restricted their attention chiefly to the management
of their property and funds, and which they expend on the
support of their aged members and on education. In 1854
the Merchants’ House consisted of 1500 members, of whom
36 are directors. Persons on entering pay L.10, for which
they have a right to participate in the property and privi¬
leges of the: institution. The Merchants’ House has existed
since 1605. Its annual revenue is considerable ; and dur¬
ing the year 1854 it distributed in charity amongst its de¬
cayed members L.1656, 7s. 5d. The Trades’ House is
an equally ancient, honourable, more numerous, and wealthy
body. In 1846, its revenues, with those of the fourteen
incorporations, of which it is the representative, amounted
to no less than L.10,972, 19s. 5d., while the number of free¬
men on the roll was 3234.
The Dean of Guild Court.—This tribunal, to which is re
ferred all questions regarding the boundaries and construc¬
tion of streets and buildings, consists of the dean of guild,
with four assistants from the Merchants’ House, and four
from the Trades’ House; the town-clerks are assessors.
The Police.—Previous to 1800, when the first police act
w7as obtained for the city, the peace was chiefly maintained
by the citizens themselves, under what was called “ watch
and ward,” with the assistance of the town-officers. Since
that period, the establishment, which was governed by com¬
missioners chosen by the rate-payers, was successively re¬
modelled by different acts of parliament, and in 1846 the
654
GLASGOW.
Glasgow, commissioners were superseded, and the whole management
• v—. > of the officers of police, statute labour, and sewerage of the
city, was placed under a committee of the town council,
consisting of the lord provost, the 8 bailies, the dean of
guild, the deacon convener, and 18 of the councillors.
The chief superintendent of the police is chosen by the
lord provost, the sheriff of the county, and the 8 bailies.
There are six police courts held within the city, which are
presided over by the bailies, assisted by legal assessors.
During the year 1853 there were 15.777 persons brought before
the magistrates in these courts. The cost to the community of the
city police in 1854, including lighting, cleansing, fire department,
and interest on debt, was L.64,726, 8s. 7d. The fines recovered
amounted to L.3204, 13s. 9d. The police force consisted of 1 chief
superintendent, 6 assistants, 13 lieutenants, and 612 other persons;
in all 632. The paving and keeping the streets during 1854 cost
L.23,800, 11s. lid. The annual assessment at present (1856) for
police and statute-labour purposes is Is. 6d. per pound on the rental
of the city.
The Prisons.—After the removal of the Old Tolbooth at the Cross,
which, like other jails in the country, was very indifferent, a new
prison was erected at the south end of Saltmarket Street; but this
being found both inappropriate and inadequate, a large prison has
been since erected on the site of the bridewell in Duke Street, and
which now contains the whole criminal and civil prisoners of the city
and neighbourhood. This establishment contains about 554 cells; and
during the year 1854 there were 4209 criminal and 169 civil pri¬
soners passed through the prison, the daily average being, of cri¬
minals 574, and of debtors 17. The average cost per head of the
criminals was L.17, Os. 10d., less earnings L.2, 14s. 5d. Nett cost
L.14, 6s. 5d.
Houses of Refuge.—These asylums, chiefly for juvenile delinquents,
are perhaps the best conducted in the country. Here the offspring,
generally, of degraded parents, brought up in idleness and vice, and
exposed to the crying necessities of hunger, and thereby easily in¬
duced to enter on a career of crime, find instruction and a home,
Where, too, not a few of the many children rather of misfortune than
of vice have been arrested in their criminal course, and have thus
been saved from the cruelest of all woes, that of becoming, through
the punishment of a prison, additional victims of that melancholy
mass of “ dishonoured ones,” whom the conduct of a cold and un¬
pitying world renders utterly irreclaimable. Of these houses there
is one for boys and another for girls. In the former 229 boys were
admitted during the year 1854, while in the latter 130 were living
in the house on the 30th June of the same year.
The poor. The Poor.—Glasgow, as regards poor-rates, is divided
into four parishes—viz. Glasgow Proper, the Gorbals, the
Barony, and Govan ; the two latter being only partly within
the parliamentary city. The following were the numbers
on the poor-roll in 1854 in the various parishes.
Govan.
585
28
388
21
2
The cost per head of the out-door poor for year 1854, exclusive
of expenses of management, was, Parish of Glasgow L.5, Is. 2d.,
Gorbals L.2, 7s. 6d., Barony L.3, 10s. Sd. Govan L.5, 16s. 2d. The
cost of orphans per head, including clothing and school fees, being,
Glasgow L.6, 11s. 9d., Gorbals L.4, Barony L.6, 14s., Govan
L.6, 19s. 6d. The number of casual poor receiving relief during
1854 was, Glasgow 1809, Gorbals 166, Barony 1907, and Govan
No. on Out-door Roll 
of Orphans on do 
of Paupers in Poor-house ..
... in Lunatic Asylum...
... in Deaf and Dumb do
... in Blind do 
Glasgow
Proper.
3126
528
955
138
3
1
Gorbals.1 Barony
290
12
10
9
2991
348
834
116
9
Markets, In former days, Glasgow was celebrated for its market
abattoirs, places ; at present the greater part of the business formerly
and con- transacted in markets is now carried on in private shops.
food^tl0n0 ^ie onty markets now worthy of notice are the cattle and
horse market, situated at the east end of the town, which
is of great extent, and most conveniently laid out for the
purposes intended ; and the large structure called the “ ba¬
zaar,” situated in Candleriggs Street, for the sale of vege¬
tables, fruit, butter, cheese, eggs, &c.
In illustration of the business transacted in the former, it may be
mentioned that in the year 1854 there were 36,009 oxen, 114,780 Glasgow,
sheep, and 59,737 lambs, and about 9500 pigs, sold within its walls,
besides a very large number of milch cows and horses. In the lat¬
ter, there was of fruit, 620 tons of apples, and upwards of a mil¬
lion of lbs. of pears, plums, cherries, gooseberries, and currants; of
onions 918 tons, and of cheese 1100 tons. There are three public
shambles in the city, in all of which there were slaughtered, during
the year 1854, oxen 27,881, calves 2004, sheep 94,027, lambs 44,098,
goats 36, and pigs 4633. The annual amount of fresh and salted
butcher meat used in Glasgow has been estimated at 45 millions of
pounds weight, which, at 6d. per lb., is little short of L.1,125,000.
The fresh fish sold or consumed in 1854 was 3367 tons, which at
3d. per lb., amounted to L.94,276. The bread consumed was cal¬
culated to be 144 millions of pounds weight, which, taking the 4
lb. loaf of both qualities to be on an average 8d., shows a gross cost
of L.1,200,000.
There are three great fairs in Glasgow during the year, Pairs,
the chief of which is that held in the month of July. This
great carnival lasts for a week, and affords the chief holidays
for the working classes.
The leading commercial institution in Glasgow is The Commer-
Chamber of Commerce, which was instituted in 1783, un* tiongnStltU*
der the auspices of Patrick Colquhoun, Esq., author of the
State of the Police of London, at that time a merchant in
Glasgow, for the purpose of encouraging and protecting
trade, and keeping a watchful eye on whatever might be
supposed to affect the commercial interests of Glasgow and
its neighbourhood. It is governed by a chairman and 30
directors. The next in importance is the Poyal Exchange,
and Lloyds Room, where the merchants daily congregate to
transact business and to insure vessels against sea and fire
risk. The annual subscribers to this institution are about
2000. There are also several other mercantile associations,
such as the East India Association, the IVest India Asso¬
ciation, &c., lor the protection of their several particular
interests. There are eleven banks and branch banks in Banks.
Glasgow, which are all joint-stock companies. Five are
properly Glasgow institutions, originating and having their
principal establishments there ; the rest are Edinburgh es¬
tablishments, or partly Edinburgh and partly Glasgow.
Of the former are the Union Bank of Scotland, a handsome build¬
ing situated in Ingram Street; the Western, a Venetian edifice on
the east side of Miller Street; the Clydesdale, a plain building in
Queen Street; the City, a rather elegant structure in Virginia Street;
and the North British, which does not issue notes, George’s Street.
Of the latter are the Royal Bank, Bank of Scotland, British Linen
Company, Commercial, National, and Edinburgh and Glasgow. The
edifices in which these establishments carry on their business are
particularly handsome, and have of late years added much to the
beauty of the city. The first local bank in Glasgow was the Ship,
which began business in 1749; and the next greatest local bank
was the Glasgow ; both of these have merged in the Union Bank of
Scotland.
In 1815, the first attempt made in Glasgow to establish National
an institution for the accumulation of the savings of the Savings
community was the Provident Bank. This, and some ^an *
others of a like kind, in 1836 were all merged in the Na¬
tional Savings Bank, which, during a career of 18 years,
has not only received sums to the extent of L.3,325,168,
11s. 8d., and repaid of these L.2,640,422, 17s. 7d., but has
credited depositors with interest to the extent of L.19,631,
14s. 10d., and had at the close of 1854 an accumulated de¬
posit of L.659,460, 10s. 4d. The number of deposits dur¬
ing the year was 87,100, of which number 73,645 were in
sums varying from one shilling to five pounds.
There are few cities in which more charitable institu- Charitable
tions are to be found than in Glasgow. Here are retreats i^stltu'
for the poor and aged, houses for the houseless, hospitalstl011s*
for the sick, homes for the deaf, dumb, blind, and insane,
and schools for the ragged and neglected. The sums an¬
nually dispensed by the Merchants and Trades’ Houses and
Incorporated Trades, and by other societies, go far to keep
down the regular poor-rate; while this unseen charity pre¬
serves many thousands from feeling the degradation of pub¬
lic pauperism. Among the more important institutions may
GLASGOW.
655
Glasgow, be mentioned Hutcheson’s Hospital and the Royal Infirmary,
-v/—the former dispensing in 1854 charity to 53 men and 410
women to the amount of L.3829, 15s., and educating and
clothing 174 boys, at the cost of L.1123, 13s. 9d.; while
the latter ministered to the distresses of no fewer than 5074
Public
buildings.
Bridges.
inmates in the house, and afforded medical relief at the dis¬
pensary to 6766, at an expense of L. 10,076, Os. 3d. The
amount raised by religious and benevolent societies, irre¬
spective of widows’ funds, benefit societies, charity schools,
maintenance of paupers, and for payment of the various de¬
nominations of clergy, cannot be less than L.30,000 a-year.
The public buildings, exclusive of the churches, banks, and
others which we have already mentioned, may be limited to the
following:—The Royal Exchange, the most elegant edifice in
the city. The portico consists of twelve fluted Corinthian columns
supporting a rich frieze and pediment. The north and south sides
of this building are ornamented with a handsome colonnade of simi¬
lar columns, while the back is chiefly occupied by a large window.
If the exterior does honour to Mr David Hamilton, its architect, the
interior is no less worthy of his acknowledged taste and talent. The
newsroom, which is 122 feet in length by 60 broad, is fitted up
according to the purest principles of Grecian architecture. Its
roof boasts all the rich ornament of the Corinthian, and is sup¬
ported by eighteen fluted columns of the same order, surmounted
by a beautiful entablature. The Royal Infirmary, founded in
1792. It is in the Roman style of architecture, from a design by
Adams. It is situated in a wide Place near to the cathedral. It
has accommodation for about 240 medical and surgical patients, with
a fever hospital capable of holding 220 more. The New City
and County Buildings, in connection with the New Merchants’
Hall, in Wilson and Hutcheson Streets, form a magnificent pile,
from a design by Messrs Clarke and Bell. In these buildings are
all the municipal and county offices, the Council Chamber, Sheriff
and Dean of Guild Courts, Justice of Peace Court, and the hall
for the meetings of the Merchants’ House. The Trades House,
in Glassford Street, having a very fine hall for the meetings of
that important body. The Justiciary Court, and other courts
of justice, are situated at the south-west corner of the public green.
These form a large and elegant building of the Grecian Doric, from a
design by Starke. The front of this edifice will remind the virtuoso
of the Athenian Parthenon, while he will scarcely fail to regret
that such a building should have been injured by so low a situation.
This building, which is 215 feet in length by 114 in breadth, cost
the corporation upwards of L.34,000. Its interior has lately been
altogether altered, and contains three public courts of justice, with
every accommodation for jurors, witnesses, &c. The Tontine, at
the Cross, containing the Old Exchange-room and the Town Hall,
is one of the most striking structures in the city. The front of this
building is supported by an elegant piazza, which is surmounted
by two stories crowned by an enriched entablature, a balustrade,
and vases. In the Town Hall are portraits of all the British
sovereigns, and an excellent picture of John Duke of Argyll, by
Ramsay. Not far from this handsome building is the spire of the
old Tolbooth, which stood on the site of the adjoining tenement.
The top of this spire is surmounted by a light and airy piece of
open stonework in the shape of an imperial crown, in which is
placed a set of musical bells, which are daily played between two
and three o’clock. Of the other public edifices, we can only allude
to the Town’s Hospital, Hutcheson’s Hospital, the Trades’
Hall, the Assembly Rooms (now the Athenaeum), the Corn
Exchange, the Western Club House, and the Lunatic Asylum
at Gartnavel.
Previous to the year 1768 there was only one bridge
across the Clyde at Glasgow ; and this continued for nearly
six centuries to be the only communication between the
north and south sides of the river. In that year a new one was
founded, under the title of the Jamaica Street Bridge.
Both of these structures have lately been swept away ; and
the bridges, now five in number, which span the Clyde at
Glasgow, are all of modern construction.
The one immediately close to the harbour, called the Glasgow
Bridge, being the lowest of the series, was begun in the year
1832, from a design by Thomas Telford of London, and finished
at a cost of L.34,000, and including compensation to owners
and tenants of adjoining property, of L.40,000. It consists
of seven arches, is 560 feet in length and 60 feet over the para¬
pets, and is cased with Aberdeen granite, but, with all this breadth,
it is already found narrow enough for the great traffic. It
is altogether a graceful, light, and elegant structure. The next
bridge eastward is Portland Street Suspension Bridge, con- Glasgow.
sistingof a single span of 412 feet, for foot passengers, and cost L.8000. i ^ z
It was commenced on 2d Dec. 1850, but not opened till May 1853. The
third occupies the site of the ancient structure erected by Bishop Rae,
from a design by Messrs Walker & Burgess of London, and is called
the Victoria Bridge ; it was commenced in 1850. It is built of
heavy blocks of freestone, and cased with Dublin Bay granite.
Victoria Bridge is altogether one of the most beautiful and strongest
erections in Europe. It consists of five arches, each of which forms
a very flat segment of a circle. The span of the centre arch is
80 feet, and the rise 10 feet 6 inches; the span of each of the adja¬
cent arches is 76 feet, and the rise 9 feet 4f inches; while the span of
each of the outward arches is 67 feet, with a rise of 7 feet 2 inches.
Each of the two centre piers is 10 feet in thickness. The total length
of the bridge to the end of the wing-walls is 467 feet; and the total
river space occupied by piers 38 feet. This bridge is 60 feet broad
over the parapets. The fourth, called Hutcheson’s Bridge, is
built on the site of one which was commenced in 1794, but carried
awTay by a flood before completion. The present structure, which
was begun in 1829, and completed in 1834, at a cost of L.30,000, is
from a design by Mr Stevenson. It is of freestone, with five arches,
and is only 34 feet broad between the parapets, and possesses none
of the beauty of either of the other stone structures. Lastly, a Sus¬
pension Bridge, just finished, situated a short distance eastward
from Nelson’s Monument, and which has been erected at a cos; of
about L.5500. The three stone bridges are managed by trustees,
consisting of the town-council and certain gentlemen named by the
counties of Renfrew and Ayr. The revenue from toll-duties for
the year 1854-55, was L.6555, 10s. 5d.; the expenditure L.3220,
18s. 4d.; and the debt L.60,045, Is. 2d.
The public monuments consist of an obelisk on the public Monuments
green, erected by subscription to the memory of Lord Nel- an(i sta-
son ; a pillar, surmounted by a statue by Forrest, in the tues*
Necropolis, in honour of the reformer John Knox ; and a
column, with a statue, in the centre of George Square, in
memory of Sir Walter Scott. There are three eques¬
trian statues in the city; the oldest, that of William III.,
presented by Governor Macrea, and erected at the Cross;
the next is that in bronze of the Duke of Wellington, by
Marochetti, having bronze bas-reliefs on the pedestal, re¬
presenting his first and last great battles—it was erected
by private subscription, at a cost of L.10,000; and last, that
of Queen Victoria in St Vincent Place, also by Marochetti,
erected by subscription, to commemorate her Majesty’s
visit to Glasgow in 1849. There are four pedestrian bronze
statues scattered over the town; the first, that of Sir John
Moore in George Square, by Flaxman ; the second, that of
James Watt, also in George Square, by Chantrey; the
third, that of James Oswald of Auchincruive, late M.P.
for the city, in Crescent Place, by Marochetti; and the
last, of Sir Robert Peel, not yet placed. There are like¬
wise three marble pedestrian statues ; the first, of William
Pitt, by Flaxman, erected in the Town Hall at the Cross;
the second, of James Watt, by Chantrey, in the Hunterian
Museum ; and the third, of Kirkman Finlay of Castletoward,
late M.P. for the city, by Gibson, placed at the entrance to
the Merchants’ Hall, in Hutcheson Street.
The Theatre-Royal, situated in Dunlop Street, and lately Places of
rebuilt, is a large and elegant structure, in which, in addi- amusement
tion to the usual performances of tragedy, comedy, and farce, g^eplea"
has of late years been added Italian operas. The first re- grounds.
gular theatre opened in Glasgow was in 1764, which having
been burned, a new one was erected on the site of the present
Theatre-Royal in 1785, which having been found, from the
increasing taste for theatricals, too small, was abandoned,
and a splendid edifice was erected by subscription in 1805
in Queen Street, at a cost of L. 18,000. This, too, having
been consumed by fire in 1829, the present theatre was got
up entirely through the exertions of the late Mr J. H.
Alexander, long its indefatigable manager. There is another
theatre, situated in West Nile Street, called The Prince’s,
which is opened during summer.
The City Hall is situated in Candleriggs, and was origi¬
nally erected by the corporation to meet the demands tor
great public meetings. It has latterly been remodelled, and
656
Glasgow.
Climate.
G L A S
is used for concerts, lectures, &c. A splendid organ has also
been added to it at a cost of little less than L.1500. This
hall can easily accommodate 2000 or 3000 persons.
The MlLellan Rooms.-—These consist of three large
saloons, recently erected by the late Mr Archibald M‘Lellan,
with the view of giving accommodation to a large and valu¬
able collection of pictures which he bequeathed to the citi*
zens. They are tastefully fitted up, and occasionally serve
the purposes of the old dancing assembly rooms in Ingram
Street, now converted into an Athenaeum.
The Public Greens—This large and well-kept park has
been long famed, and is situated at the south-east side of
the city. It consists of about 130 or 140 acres. It is much
used by the population as a place of recreation, and by the
military as a place of drill.
The Botanic Garden lies about a mile north-west from
the city, and extends to about forty acres. It occupies the
slope which overlooks the wooded banks of the Kelvin. It
is tastefully laid out in plots and walks, and boasts a rare
and valuable assemblage of curious trees and plants brought
from every quarter of the globe. It is furnished with hot
and green houses, and water-tanks and rock-work suitable
for all kinds of plants. It has two collections, arranged ac¬
cording to the systems of Linnaeus and Jussieu, for the use
of the students of botany attending the university, the col¬
lege having contributed L.2000 for the exclusive privilege
of their professor giving prelections there. On certain
days the working classes are admitted at a charge of a penny
each ; and as a proof that this boon is taken advantage of
it may be mentioned that during the fair week of 1854 no
fewer than 24,822 visited these gardens.
The West-End Park.—The corporation, with the view
of improving the city and benefiting the health of the citi¬
zens, lately purchased the lands of Kelvin Grove, &c. at a
cost of L.100,000. Part of this has been assigned for the
sites of handsome domestic residences, and part for the for¬
mation of a park for the recreation of the public. The latter
is nearly completed, after a plan by Sir Joseph Paxton, and
when finished will be one of the finest promenades con¬
nected with any city in Europe. The views from the
high grounds are splendid, commanding the whole valley
of the Clyde, the mountains of Dumbarton and Argyll,
Gottfeldt in Arran, Benlomond, &c., while the lower grounds
are ornamented with the finest timber, and the flowering
shrubs which originally awakened the poet’s lyre in praise
of “ Kelvin Grove.”
The climate of Glasgow, like most parts of the island,
is variable. Lying in the narrowest part of the isthmus
betwixt the Forth and Clyde, the air is frequently refreshed
by temperate breezes from the sea. The wind is south¬
west and west for nearly two-thirds of the year. Fogs are not
so common as on the east coast; but there are more rainy
days than in Edinburgh. The winters are mild, and the
springs free from the biting east winds so prevalent on the
sides of the Firth of Forth. The following is the meteor¬
ology of Glasgow for the years 1851, 1852, 1853, and
1854:—
Days in which rain or snow fell—average of
each year  185-75 inches.
Mean quantity of rain that fell each year  37’22
Winds, S. 36J days, S.W. 55£, W. 83, N.W.
5h N. 16J, N.E. 18J, E. 44J, S.E. 9£, Calm
G O W.
67J. In 1851 the mean height of barometer Glasgow.
was 29'742 inches. t , —_/
Thermometer, mean max. and min. being  47'1 ...
In consequence of burial records having been regularly Health,
kept since 1699, the mortality of Glasgow has been always mortality,
well known ; and from these tables it appears, that during and dis'
the years from 1848 to 1854—which, however, include twoease'
visitations of cholera—“the deaths amounted to 86,934, being
an annual average of 12,417, which, measured by the real
population of 1851, shows 1 death in 29 of the population.
This, however, is a high exceptional figure of mortality,
arising altogether from the presence of cholera. The census
year, taken alone, which may be considered a fair average
twelvemonth, having only shown 1 death to 33'5. One pe¬
culiarity, however, connected with Glasgow mortality is very
striking, and that is the great proportion of deaths being
under five years of age.
During the seven years from 1848 to 1854 the annual average
number of infantile deaths was 5535; and when measured in the
population of 1851 under five years of age, shows the deaths of
1 to 8-10, the proportion of infantile deaths to the w-hole deaths
during the same period being 44-56 per cent. The diseases which
have chiefly carried off the infant population during the last seven
years were, measles 1 in 795, hooping-cough 1 in 539, scarlatina
1 in 711, croup 1 in 2118, and small-pox 1 in 816-6, of the mean
population of 1851. The leading agent in swelling the annual bills
of.mortality among adults is consumption, that insidious and fell
distemper having carried off, from 1848 to 1854, 14,933 individuals,
or annually on the average of 2133, being 1 in 168-84, or 0-59 per
cent, of the mean population of 1851. It appears that this malady
destroys regularly every year more than one half of the number
which cholera carried off during each of its three visits to Glasgow.
It appears also that this distemper has much increased in this
locality since the close of the last century, the deaths from phthisis
in 1775 being only 1 in 267, whereas in 1854 the mortality was 1
in 168. Upon the whole it appears that while Glasgow shows itself
unfavourable to human life during childhood, and that particularly
among the working classes, it exhibits that its climate is suitable
to adults, being -in this respect one of the healthiest cities in the
kingdom. The number of deaths in 100 living from fifteen to
sixty years of age, being 1-41, London 1-56, Birmingham l-50,
Manchester 1-83, and Liverpool 1-76.
To meet the requirements of the large mortality of Glas- Ceme-
gow there are twenty-two places of sepulture ; and although teries.
it is to be regretted that so many of them are still found
surrounded by the crowded habitations of the living, it is,
at the same time, satisfactory to know that extramural burial
is daily on the increase. Every succeeding year shows a
growing taste on the part of the living to imitate the civi¬
lized nations of antiquity by carrying forth their dead be¬
yond the boundariesof the city. Of late years several beauti¬
ful garden cemeteries have been formed, such as Sighthill,
Dalbeth, the Southern and Eastern Necropolis, &c., on the
plan of the Glasgow Necropolis par excellence, which may
be fairly accounted the parent garden cemetery of Great
Britain. This picturesque burying-ground occupies a rocky
eminence on the east of the cathedral, is adorned with
trees, shrubs, and flowers, and is already crowded with many
striking and elegant monuments. It possesses several wind¬
ing walks, and affords, from almost every point, the most
splendid views of the city and neighbourhood. The singular
diversity of its soil and substrata proclaims it to be, of all
other spots, the most eligible for a cemetery, calculated, as
it is, for every species of sepulture, and suitable for every
sort of sepulchral monument. (j. s—G.)
%
G L A
Glaslyn GLASLYN, in North Wales, a romantic river, forming
II the south-eastern boundary of Snowdonia, has the first part
Glass. 0f jts course in Caernarvonshire, which it afterwards divides
from Merionethshire. It rises in that part of Snowdon ad¬
joining Glyder Vach, and, dashing down an almost perpen¬
dicular precipice, produces a fine cascade. On reaching a
narrow meadow-valley it turns southward and falls into the
beautiful lake Llyn Gwynant, from which it issues at its south¬
western extremity, and flows through a narrow beautiful
vale studded with cottages among the rocks. Here it passes
under the Pont-Bayn-y-Wyad, a stone bridge, whence a
G L A ‘ 657
striking view of Snowdon presents itself. Further down Glaas.
the Glaslyn enters the fine lake of Llyn-y-Dinas, which it
quits on the south, amid splendid scenery, and soon reaches
the base of Dinas Emris, an isolated rock celebrated in early
British history as the retreat of Vortigern. Its course then
lies in a narrow vale between lofty hills till it arrives at the
Pont-Suggin among most romantic scenery. Further down
it flows through the lovely village of Bethgelert, whence it
rushes on to the stupendous chasm of Aberglaslyn, whence
again issuing, it dashes on through enchanting scenery, and
at last glides silently into Cardigan Bay.
GLASS.
The general term glass is employed by chemists to de¬
note all mineral substances which, on the application of
heat, pass through a state of fusion into hard and brittle
masses, and which, though not always transparent, exhibit
a lustrous fracture when broken. The glass of commerce,
however, to which our remarks are restricted, or the trans¬
parent and artificial substance which is usually distinguished
by the generic name, is produced by the igneous fusion of
siliceous earth with certain alkaline earths or salts, or with
metallic oxides.
The etymology of the word has been much disputed. It
is derived by some from the Latin glacies, ice, its resem¬
blance to which is thought to have suggested the title.
Others have remarked, that the common Latin designation
of this substance is vitrum; and as the Romans applied
this term, in common with the word glastum, to the plant
which we call woad, they have deduced it from the latter
of these, either because the ashes of this plant were used
in the manufacture of glass, or because it exhibited some¬
thing of the bluish colour which is procured from woad.
Glassum, the name given to amber by the ancient Gauls
and Britons, has also been assigned as the origin of the
word. But none of these etymons appears very satisfactory.
The most plausible theory is that which derives the term
from the Saxon verb glis-nian, or the German gleissen,
splendere, which are probably contractions of the Anglo-
Saxon ge-lixan, to shine, to be bright. This view is in a
great degree confirmed by the sense in which the term
glass and its derivatives are employed by our older writers,
who frequently apply it to shining or glittering substances,
without reference to colour or transparency.
In the most remote ages the art of blowing glass into
bottles, making it into vases, colouring it to imitate precious
stones, melting it in enormous masses to make pillars, roll¬
ing and polishing it into mirrors, and tinting it in parts,
were all perfectly well known. For its origin we must look
to Egypt, the parent of so many collateral arts. The story
of the Israelites having set fire to a forest, and the heat
becoming so intense that it made the nitre and sand melt and
flow along the mountain side, and that they afterwards did
artificially what had been the result of accident, may be set
down as equally fabulous with the story of the pirates, who
are said to have landed on the sea beach, and wishing to
make their cauldron boil, piled up some vitreous stones and
placed on them a quantity of sea-weed and blocks of wood,
causing so strong a heat that the stones were softened and
ran down on the sand, which melting and mixing with the
alkali became a diaphanous and glassy mass. The fictitious
character of both these stories is proved by the simple fact
that it requires the most intense furnace heat to insure the
combination of the sand with the nitre.
Under these circumstances we are justified in believing
that glass-making had its origin at the same time with the
baking of bricks and pottery. The smelting of ores, too,
required a furnace sufficiently intense to fuse tjie silicates
VOL. x.
analogous to glass, and hence it may be safely inferred, that
in the age when melting and working metal was known
the art of making glass was also practised. In the book of
Job the most precious things are compared to wisdom, but
still more precious are gold and glass. The Hebrews must
have become acquainted with glass while in Egypt, and in
consequence of their proximity to the Phoenicians ; and it
is now generally believed that these two nations had the
merit of originating and establishing its manufacture. The
Athenian ambassadors, in order to give an idea of the mag¬
nificence displayed at the court of the great King of Persia,
said, that they drank in cups of glass and gold. Some
writers affirm that the Egyptians in some instances sealed
up their dead in a coating of glass, and glass-houses are said
not to have been uncommon in that wonderful country.
Some authors ascribe, with very plausible reason, the dis¬
covery of glass-making to the priests of Yulcan at Thebes
and Memphis, the greatest chemists in the ancient world.
The Egyptians are also known to have made enamels of
divers colours which they applied on pottery, magnificent
specimens of which are still extant, and are called Egyptian
porcelain. These are chiefly covered with beautiful blue
or green, and groups of flowers or designs are traced in
black. Glass beads and other ornaments made of that sub¬
stance, skilfully manufactured and beautifully coloured, have
been found adorning mummies, which are known to be up¬
wards of three thousand years old. It is certain that Tyre,
Sidon, and Alexandria, were long celebrated for their glass,
and furnished the greater proportion of that used at Rome.
Under the Roman Empire the Egyptians still preserved
their superiority in the art of glass-making, and it is said
that Aurelian caused them to pay their tribute in that ma¬
nufacture. Adrian mentions that he had received drinking-
glasses of various colours from a priest of a famous temple
in Egypt, and gives instructions that they are not to be
used but on the greatest occasions, and on the most solemn
feast days. To these places the art was exclusively con¬
fined for some centuries, and was an article ofluxury, being
chiefly in the form of urns or drinking cups of the most
elaborate workmanship, and exquisitely embellished with
raised, chased, or ornamented figures. The Barberini or
Portland vase, composed of deep blue glass, with figures of
a delicate white opaque substance raised in relief, is a splendid
specimen, and was found in the tomb of Alexander Severus,
who died a.d. 285.
The art of glass-making seems to have been introduced
into Italy by the Romans after their conquests in Asia in
the time of Cicero, and the first glass works there were said
to have been near the Flaminian Circus. It is highly pro¬
bable that these workmen were imported from Egypt. The
use of glass seems rapidly to have increased, and to have
become very common, for we find an emperor in the third
century of the Christian era saying, that he was disgusted
with so low and vulgar an object as glass, and that he would
only drink from vessels of gold. By this time the manu-
4 o
658 G" L i
Glass, facture of glass was so considerable that an impost was laid
on it, and it was extensively employed in the decorations
of buildings, while in glass mosaics were combined the most
brilliant colours.
From the circumstance of coloured glass beads and amulets
having been found among Druidical remains in this country,
it has" been argued by Pennant and others, that the art of
making glass was known in Britain before its invasion by
the Romans. It can hardly, however, be believed that a
people who had made very trifling advances in civilization,
and who, it is known, were entirely unacquainted with any
other art, should be found not only conversant with the
manufacture of glass, a complicated and highly ingenious
process, but should'excel in it; for the beads and amulets
spoken of are of exquisite workmanship, and beautifully
coloured in imitation of the rarest and most precious stones.
There seems little doubt, therefore, that the ancient Bri¬
tons procured these in the course of traffic with the Syrians,
who visited the island, as we do those in the South Seas, to
drive a trade with their savage inhabitants in toys and
trinkets, giving them these in exchange for skins or other
natural productions. By whatever means, however, these
ornaments came into Britain, it is certain that they were in
extensive use, though principally for religious purposes, long
prior to the Roman invasion, as they are found in barrows
or tumuli of a much older date. One at Stonehenge, in par¬
ticular, on being opened, was found to be filled with them.
Glain Neidyr, or Druidical glass rings, generally about
half as wide as our finger rings, but much thicker, have
frequently been found. The vulgar superstition regarding
these was, that they were produced by snakes joining their
heads together and hissing, when a kind of bubble like a
ring was formed round the head of them, which the others,
continuing to hiss, blew on till it came off at the tail, when
it immediately hardened into a glass ring. Success was
thought to attend any one who was fortunate enough to
find one of those snake-stones. They were evidently beads
of glass' employed by the Druids, under the name of charms,
to deceive the vulgar. They are usually of a green colour,
but some of them are blue, and others variegated with wavy
streaks of blue, red, and white.
Glass utensils have been found in Herculaneum, which
city was destroyed by an eruption of Mount Vesuvius in
the reign of Titus (a.d. 79). A plate of glass also found
there has occasioned much speculation as to its uses. Si¬
milar plates, to which Pliny gives the name of vitrece ca-
merce, seem to have been employed, in a manner not very
well understood by us, as panelling for their rooms. It is
disputed whether or not glass was used in Herculaneum for
windows.
Dion Cassius and Petronius Arbiter concur in their ac¬
count of the discovery of malleable or ductile glass by a
celebrated Roman architect, whose success in the restora¬
tion to its position of a portico which leaned to one side
had roused the envy and jealousy of Tiberius, and occa¬
sioned his banishment from Rome. Thinking that his dis¬
covery would disarm the emperor’s wrath, the artist ap¬
peared before him bearing a glass vessel, which he dashed
upon the ground. Notwithstanding the violence of the
blow, it was merely dimpled, as if it had been brass. Taking
a hammer from his breast, he then beat it out into its ori¬
ginal shape; but instead of giving him the reward which
he had expected, the emperor ordered the unfortunate ar¬
tisan to be beheaded, remarking, that if his discovery were
known, gold would soon be held of as little value as com¬
mon clay. This is probably another version of the story
told by Pliny, of an artificer who made the same discovery,
and whose workshop was demolished by those who had an
interest in preventing the introduction of an article which
would lower the value of gold, silver, and brass. Although
it might not be justifiable to give unqualified disbelief to
L S S.
these stories, yet the knowledge we at present possess would Glass,
restrict the possibility of such a discovery within the nar- s/-*
rowest limits. The union of the properties of malleability
and vitrification seems to be incompatible. Some metallic
substances, by the application of intense heat, are reduced
to the state of glass, but at the same time lose their mal¬
leability ; which fact would seem to imply that it is impos¬
sible to communicate the latter property to glass. The
extraordinary stories above mentioned have, however, been
rationally enough explained by modern chemists. It has
been observed by Kunckel, that a composition having a
glossy appearance, and sufficiently pliant to be wrought by
the hammer, may be formed: and by Neumann, that, in
the fusion of muriate of silver, a kind of glass is formed,
which may be shaped or beaten into different figures, and
may be pronounced in some degree ductile. Blancourt, in
his L'Art de la Verrerie, mentions an artist who presented
a bust of ductile glass to the Cardinal Richelieu, minister
of Louis XIII. But he does not seem to have been more
fortunate than his predecessors ; for he was doomed to im¬
prisonment for life, for “ the politic reasons,” as Blancourt
with much simplicity observes (we quote from the transla¬
tion published in 1699), “ which, it is believed, the cardinal
entertained from the consideration of the consequences of
that secret,” which no doubt led him to fear lest the esta¬
blished interests of French glass manufacturers might be
injured by the discovery. From expressions used by Blan¬
court in other parts of his work, we think, that by malleable
glass, such as was produced by this artist, he understood
some composition similar to those which Kunckel and Neu¬
mann discovered, and was not very exact in limiting the
term to that vitreous substance which we now generally
understand when we speak of glass.
The precise period at which the making of window-glass
came into practice is not now certainly known. The Ro¬
man windows were filled with a semitransparent substance
called lapis specularis, a fossil of the class of mica which
readily splits into thin smooth laminae or plates. This sub¬
stance is found in masses of ten or twelve inches in breadth,
and three in thickness ; and, when sliced, very much re¬
sembles horn, instead of which it is to this day often em¬
ployed by lantern-makers. The Romans were chiefly sup¬
plied with this article from the island of Cyprus, where it
abounds. So good a substitute for glass is it said to have
been, that, besides being employed for the admission of
light into the Roman houses, it was also used in the con¬
struction of hot-houses, for raising and protecting delicate
plants; so that, by using it, the Emperor Tiberius had cu¬
cumbers at his table throughout the whole year. It is still
much employed in Russia instead of glass for windows.
There is no positive mention of the use of glass for win¬
dows before the time of Lactantius, at the close of the third
century. But the passage in that writer which records the
fact {De Opif. Dei, cap. 8), also shows that the lapis specu¬
laris still retained its place. Glass windows are distinctly
mentioned by St Jerome, as being in use in his time (a.d.
422). After this period we meet with frequent mention of
them. Joannes Philippinus (a.d. 630) states that glass was
fastened into the windows with plaster.
The Venerable Bede asserts that glass windows were
first introduced into England in the year 674, by the Abbot
Benedict, who brought over artificers skilled in the art of
making window-glass, to glaze the church and monastery
of Wearmouth. The use of window-glass, however, was
then, and for many centuries afterwards, confined entirely
to buildings appropriated to religious purposes; but in the
fourteenth century it was so much in demand, though still
confined to sacred edifices and ornamental purposes, that
glazing had become a regular trade. This appears from a
contract entered into by the church authorities of York
Cathedral ip 1338 with a glazier, to glaze the west win-
G -L A S S. 659
Glass, dows of that structure; a piece of work which he under-
took to perform at the rate of sixpence per foot for white
glass, and one shilling per foot for coloured. Glass win¬
dows, however, did not become common in England till
the close of the twelfth century. Until this period they
were rarely to be found in private houses, and were deemed
a great luxury, and a token of great magnificence. The
windows of the houses were till then filled with oiled paper,
or wooden lattices. In cathedrals, these and sheets of linen
supplied the place of glass till the eighth century ; in meaner
edifices lattices continued in use till the eighteenth.
The glass of the Venetians was superior to any made
elsewhere, and for many years commanded the market of
nearly all Europe. Their most extensive glass-works were
established at Murano, a small village in the neighbourhood
of Venice; but the produce was always recognised by the
name of Venetian glass. Baron von Lowhen, in his Ana¬
lysis of Nobility in its Origin, states that, “ so useful were
the glass-makers at one period in Venice, and so great the
revenue accruing to the republic from their manufacture,
that, to encourage the men engaged in it to remain in Mu¬
rano, the senate made them all burgesses of Venice, and
allowed nobles to marry their daughters; whereas, if a
nobleman marries the daughter of any other tradesman, the
issue were not reputed noble.”
The skill of the Venetians in glass-making was especially
remarkable in the excellence of their mirrors. Beckmann,
who has minutely investigated the subject, is of opinion
that the manufacture of glass mirrors certainly was at¬
tempted, but not with complete success, in Sidon, at a very-
early period ; but that they fell into disuse, and were almost
forgotten until the thirteenth century. Previously to this
period, plates of polished metal were used at the toilette ;
and in the rudeness of the first ideas which suggested the
substitution of glass, the plates were made of a deep black
colour to imitate them. Black foil even was laid behind
them to increase their opacity. The metal mirrors, how¬
ever, remained in use long after the introduction of their
fragile rivals, but at length they wholly disappeared; a re¬
sult effected chiefly by the skill of the Venetians, who im¬
proved their manufacture to such a degree that they
speedily acquired a celebrity which secured an immense
sale for them throughout all Europe.
From Italy the art of glass-making found its way into
France, where an attempt was made, in the year 1634, to
rival the Venetians in the manufacture of mirrors. The
first essay was unsuccessful; but another, made in 1665,
under the patronage of the celebrated Colbert, in which
French workmen who had acquired a knowledge of the art
at Murano were employed, had better fortune. But a few
years afterwards, this establishment, which was situated in
the village of Tourlaville, near Cherbourg in Lower Nor¬
mandy, was also threatened with ruin by a discovery or
rather improvement in the art of glass-making, effected by
one Abraham Thevart. This improvement consisted in
casting plates of much larger dimensions than it had hitherto
been deemed possible to do. Thevart’s first plates were
cast at Paris, and astonished every artist by their magni¬
tude. They were eighty-four inches long and fifty inches
wide, whereas none previously made exceeded forty-five
or fifty inches in length. Thevart was bound by his patent
to make all his plates at least sixty inches in length and
forty in breadth. In 1695 the two companies, Thevart’s
and that at Tourlaville, united their interest, but were so
unsuccessful, that, in 1701, they were unable to pay their
debts, and were in consequence compelled to discharge
most of the workmen, and abandon several of their fur¬
naces. Next year, however, a company was formed un¬
der the management of Antoine d’Agincourt, who re-en¬
gaged the discharged workmen ; and the works realized
considerable profits to the proprietors, a circumstance which
is attributed wholly to the prudent management of D’Agin- Glass,
court.
Early in the fourteenth century the French government
made a concession in favour of glass-making, by decreeing
that not only should no derogation from nobility follow the
practice of the art, but that none save gentlemen, or the
sons of noblemen, should venture to engage in any of its
branches, even as working artisans. This limitation was
accompanied by a grant of a royal charter of incorporation,
conveying important privileges, under which the occupa¬
tion became eventually a source of great wealth to several
families of distinction.
It has been said that the manufacturing of window-glass
was first introduced into England in the year 1557. But
a contract, quoted by Horace Walpole in his Anecdotes of
Painting, proves that this article was made in England
upwards of a century before that period. This curious
document is dated in 1439, and bears to be a contract be¬
tween the Countess of Warwick and John Prudde of West¬
minster, glazier, whom she employed, with other tradesmen,
to erect and embellish a magnificent tomb for the earl, her
husband. John Prudde is thereby bound to use “ no glass
of England, but glass from beyond seas;” a stipulation
which, besides showing that the art of making window-glass
was known and practised in England in the fifteenth cen¬
tury, seems also to indicate that it was inferior to what could
be obtained from abroad. The finer sort of window-glass
was made at Crutched Friars, London, in 1557. In the
year 1635, Sir Robert Maxwell introduced the use of coal
fuel instead of wood, and procured workmen from Venice ;
but many years elapsed before the English manufactories
equalled the Venetian and French in the quality of these
articles. The first flint-glass made in England was manu¬
factured at the Savoy House, in the Strand; and the first
plate-glass, for looking-glasses, coach windows, and similar
purposes, was made at Lambeth, by Venetian workmen,
brought over in 1670 by the Duke of Buckingham. From
that period the English glass manufactories, aided by the
liberal bounties granted them in cash upon glass sold for
export, became powerful and successful rivals of the Vene¬
tian and French manufactories. The bounty on glass ex¬
ported, which the government paid to the manufacturer,
was not derived from any tax by impost, or excise, pre¬
viously laid ; for all such were returned to the manufacturer
together with the bounty, thereby lessening the actual cost
of the article from 25 to 50 per cent., and enabling the
English exporter to compete successfully in foreign mar¬
kets. This bounty provision was annulled during the pre¬
miership of Sir Robert Peel, together with all the excise
duty on home consumption.
The art of glass-making was introduced into Scotland in
the reign of James VI. An exclusive right to manufac¬
ture it w ithin the kingdom, for the space of thirty-one years,
was granted by that monarch to Lord George Hay, in the
year 1610. This right his lordship transferred in 1627, for
a considerable sum, to Thomas Robinson, merchant-tailor
in London, who again disposed of it for L.250, to Sir Robert
Mansell, vice-admiral of England. The first manufactory
of glass in Scotland, an extremely rude one, w^as established
at Wemyss in Fife. Regular works were afterwards com¬
menced at Prestonpans, Leith, and Dumbarton. Crown-
glass is now manufactured at Warrington, St Helens, Ec-
cleston, Old Swan, and Newton, Lancashire; at Birming¬
ham, Hunslet near Leeds, and Bristol. It is also ma¬
nufactured of excellent quality on the Tyne and Wear.
Great improvements have recently been made in the ma¬
nufacture of crown-glass; and we believe this article, as
made in England, is superior in quality to that of any other
nation.
The manufacture of glass was introduced into the Ameri¬
can States in 1790 by Robert Hewes, a citizen of Boston,
660 G Tj A S S.
Glass, who erected a factory in the then forest of New Hamp-
shire. The chief aim of Mr Hewes was to supply window
glass, but he did not succeed. Another attempt was made
in 1800, when a factory was built in Boston for making
crown window glass ; but this was also unsuccessful, till a
German named Lint, in 1803, took charge of the works,
and the State of Massachusetts agreed to pay the proprie¬
tors a bounty on every table of window glass they made ;
after which the manufacture was carried on successfully,
the glass steadily improving in quality, and becoming famed
through all the states as Boston window glass. The same
company, in the year 1822, erected new and more exten¬
sive works at Boston. The mystery attached to the art of
glass-making followed it into America. The glass-blower was
considered a magician, and myriads visited the newly-erected
works, looking on the man who could transmute earthy and
opaque matter into a transparent and brilliant substance,
as an alchemist who could transmute base metal into gold.
Since the manufacture of flint glass was introduced into
the eastern states there have been above forty companies
formed from time to time, nearly thirty of which have
proved failures. There are now ten in operation, two of
which are at East Cambridge, three at South Boston, one
at Sandwich, three near New York City, and one at Phila¬
delphia. 48,000 tons of coal, 6500 tons of silex, 2500
tons ash, nitre, &c., and 3800 tons of lead are annnally
consumed in the manufacture of flint glass.
In the vicinity of Pittsburg, in the western states, are
nine manufactories of flint glass and ten of window glass,
and in the river towns are fifteen window-glass factories.
There is good reason for supposing that the art of co¬
louring glass is coeval with the art of glass-making itself.
It is certain that the art was known in Egypt at least 3000
years ago. We have already mentioned the beautiful imi¬
tations of precious stones, found adorning mummies which
are known to have existed for that time. We meet with
frequent mention of specimens of Eastern workmanship of
consummate beauty, upon which great value was placed.
The works of Caylus and Winkelmann furnish some strik¬
ing instances of ancient skill in the formation of pictures
by means of delicate glass fibres of various hues, which,
after being fitted together with the utmost nicety, were
conglutinated by fusion into a solid mass. The art of com¬
bining the various colours so as to produce pictures, such
as is now practised, is comparatively of recent date. The
earliest specimens of this kind of work discover a fictitious
joining of different pieces of glass, differently tinged, and
so arranged as, by a species of mosaic wyork, to produce the
figure or figures wanted. The various pieces are held to¬
gether generally by a vein of lead, run upon the back of
the picture, precisely at their junction.
It has already been stated that the Romans combined
the most brilliant colours in their mosaics ; and there can
be little doubt that these mosaics gave the first idea of
painted or stained glass for windows in the early Christian
churches. In all the early specimens of Norman glass,
similar colouring and design are to be traced. Starting
from the fourth century, there is frequent mention of co¬
loured glass windows by Greek and Latin authors. St John
Chrysostom and St Jerome talk of “windows of divers co¬
lours and Lactantius says, “ that the soul perceives ob¬
jects through our bodily eyes as through windows garnished
with transparent glass.” The early basilicas were all adorned
with coloured glass, and the early Christian poets sung in
ecstasies of the effect produced by the windows at sunrise.
In the sixth century, Prudentia, speaking of one of these
structures, says :—“ The magnificence of this temple is truly
regal. The pious prince who consecrated it has caused the
vaults to be painted at great expense, and has clothed it
with golden walls, so that the light of day may repeat the
fire of the morning. In the windows is placed glass of va^
rious colours, which shine like meadows decked in the flowers Class,
of spring.” An inscription on Sta Agnese states, that that
basilica, rebuilt by the Emperor Honorius, was decorated
with glass, which produced the most magnificent effect. In
the sixth century, Sancta Sophia, at Constantinople, also re¬
ceived painted windows, which Paul the Silent praises highly.
Procopius says, that day seemed to be born under the
vaults of the temple; and after such glowing description it
cannot be doubted that the glass was stained, not colourless.
The use of coloured glass, however, was not confined
to Greece and Italy. It rapidly appeared in Gaul. Gre¬
gory of Tours, in the sixth century, also tells us that the
church of St Julien de Brionde, in that town, had coloured
glass windows; and the Bishop of Poictiers, describing
Notre-Dame of Paris, admired the effect produced by the
light falling upon the vaults and walls after passing through
the painted glass, and compares it to the first tints of the
morning sun.
In England, St Wilfred, who lived early in the eighth
century, is said to have been the first to introduce painted
glass windows, and for that purpose had workmen brought
from France or Italy.
The first painted glass executed in England was in the
time of King John ; previously to this, all stained or painted
glass was imported from Italy. The next notice of it occurs
in the reign of Henry III. The treasurer of that monarch
orders that there be painted, on three glass windows in the
chapel of St John, a little Virgin Mary holding the child, and
the Trinity, and Saint John the Apostle. Some time after, he
issues another mandate for two painted windows in the hall.
Even at this early period, however, England boasted of
eminent native artists in glass painting, amongst the first
of whom was John Thornton, glazier of Coventry. This
person was employed, in the time of Henry IV., by the
dean and chapter of York cathedral, to paint the eastern
window of that splendid edifice ; and for the beautiful and
masterly workmanship which he exhibited in this specimen
of his skill, he received four shillings per week of regular
wages. He was bound to finish the work in less than three
years, and to receive, over and above the weekly allowance,
one hundred shillings for each year; and if the work was
done to the satisfaction of his employers, he was to receive,
on its completion, a further sum of L.10.
From this period downwards there have been many skil¬
ful native artists, although the Reformation greatly impeded
the progress of the art, by banishing the ungodly ostenta¬
tion of ornamented windows from churches; indeed, so se¬
rious was this interruption, that the art had nearly altogether
disappeared in the time of Elizabeth. Amongst the most
eminent glass painters who first appeared upon the revival
of the art, were Isaac Oliver, born in 1616, and William
Price, who lived about the close of the seventeenth century.
This artist was succeeded by a person at Birmingham, who,
in 1757, fitted up a window for Lord Lyttleton, in the
church of Hagley. To him succeeded one Pecket of York,
who attained considerable notoriety, but who was entirely
ignorant of the true principles of the art.
During all this time, however, and indeed until a com¬
paratively recent date, painted glass was regarded as too
costly and too magnificent an article to be otherwise em¬
ployed than in decorating religious edifices or the palaces
of nobles; and even in the latter case it was but sparingly
used. Modern improvement has placed this beautiful orna¬
ment within the reach of very ordinary circumstances ; and
the art of staining glass is now practised with great success,
and is extensively used in decorating our domestic as well
as our palatial and ecclesiastical architecture.
The colours of modern artists, we venture to allege,
notwithstanding what is often urged to the contrary, equal
in variety and richness those of the ancients, and, with the
superior knowledge which we now possess of the principles
GLASS.
661
Glass, of drawing, and of bringing several colours together on a
—single sheet, encouragement alone is wanting to attract
artists of talent and inventive genius to the pursuit of the
art, and to carry it to a greater height of excellence than it
has ever reached in the hands of their predecessors.
MANUFACTURE OF CROWN-GLASS.
In order to secure success to his operations, the glass
manufacturer must bestow the utmost care upon the erec¬
tion of his furnaces. They must be well and substantial¬
ly built, of the best materials, of the most approved con¬
struction, and under the direction of a builder of tried
skill and extensive experience. A false economy in these
respects cannot fail of leading to the most ruinous re¬
sults.
Crown-glass is the best kind of glass now employed in
the glazing of windows, and is so called to distinguish it
from the common, broad, or spread glass, which was in use
before the introduction of crown-glass, but which, on ac¬
count of its inferior quality, is now rarely used. In the ma¬
nufacture of crown-glass the following furnaces and arches
are required, viz. calcar arch, main furnace, bottoming
hole, flashing furnace, nose hole, and annealing kiln.
A Calcar Arch for burning frit is a common reverbera¬
tory furnace, and is about ten feet long, seven feet wide,
and two feet high. A building ground plan and elevation
of one is shown in PI. CCLXXII. figs. 4 and 5. The
crown and sides are built of fire-brick, and the other parts
of common brick. The bottom should be carefully join¬
ed and cemented, as the salt is apt to ooze through it.
The Main or Glass-making Furnace is an oblong,
built in the centre of a brick cone, large enough to con¬
tain within it two or three pots at each side of the grate-
room, which is either divided, as shown in the plan, or
runs the whole length of the furnace, as the manufacturer
likes. PI. CCLXXII. fig. 3 is a ground plan, fig. 2 is an
end elevation, and fig. 1 a front elevation, of a six-pot fur¬
nace. 1, 2, 3, fig. 1, are the working holes for the pur¬
pose ot ventilation, for putting in the materials, and for
taking out the metal to be wrought. 4, 5, 6, 7 are pipe
holes for warming the pipes before beginning to work with
them, 8, 9, 10 are foot-holes for mending the pots and
sieges. 11 is a bar of iron for binding the furnace, and
keeping it from swelling.
The arch, as shown in fig. 2, is of an elliptic form.
A barrel arch, that is, an arch shaped like the half of a
barrel cut longwise through the centre, is sometimes used.
But this soon gives way when used in the manufacture of
crown-glass, although it does very well in the clay-fur¬
nace for bottle-houses.
The best stone for building furnaces is fire stone from
Coxgreen, in the neighbonrhood of Newcastle. Its qua¬
lity is a c\ose grain, and. it contains a greater quantity of
talc than the common fire stone, which seems to be the
chief reason of its resisting the fire better. The great
danger in building furnaces is, lest the cement at the top
should give way with the excessive heat, and, by dropping
into the pots, spoil the metal. The top should therefore be
built with stones only, as loose as they can hold together
after the centres are removed, and without any cement
whatever. The stones expand and come quite close to¬
gether when annealing; an operation which takes from Crown-
eight to fourteen days at most. There is thus less risx of ^ Class,
any thing dropping from the roof of the furnace.
The inside of the furnace is built either of Stourbridge
fire-clay annealed, or the Newcastle fire-stone, to the thick¬
ness of sixteen inches. The outside is built of common
brick about nine inches in thickness.
The furnace is thrown over an ash-pit, or cave as it is
called, which admits the atmospheric air, and promotes
the combustion of the furnace. This cave is built of stone
until it comes beneath the grate-room, when it is formed
of fire brick. The abutments are useful for binding and
keeping the furnace together, and are built of masonry.
The furnaces are stoutly clasped with iron all round, to
keep them tight. In four-pot furnaces this is unneces¬
sary, provided there be four good abutments.
Bottoming Hole. PI. CCLXXIII. figs. 3 and 4. Eleva¬
tion and ground plan. The interior is of common fire¬
brick, the mouth either of common fire-brick or Stour¬
bridge clay, and the outside entirely of common brick.
Flashing Furnace. Figs. 5 and 7. Elevation and ground
plan. The outside is built of common brick, the inside of
fire-brick, and the mouth or nose of Stourbridge fire-clay.
Nose Hole. Fig. 6. Elevation. This is a small aperture
off the flashing furnace, and of the same materials. Fig. 7,
ground plan.
Annealing Kiln. Figs. 8 and 9. It is built of common
brick, except around the grate-room, where fire-brick is
used.
The materials of which crown-glass is usually com¬
posed are kelp and fine white sand. Pearl ashes, or cer¬
tain other alkalis, sometimes supply the place of the for¬
mer of these substances. The quality of kelp is extremely
various. That from Orkney is superior to what is made
in Ireland, the Hebrides, or the lower parts of Scotland.
It is found to contain less alkali, and to produce glass of a
better colour.1 For the glass-maker’s purposes the kelp of
the Orkneys is decidedly the best. It is freer from sul¬
phur than the others, the presence of which makes the
glass green, crude, and fretful. The following is the course
pursued in the preparation of kelp. The fuci are cut
from the rocks in the months of May, June, and July.
They are then brought to the shore, and, after being spread
out and dried, are thrown into a pit lined with stones, in
which a large fire of peat has been previously kindled.
On this fire the weed is heaped from time to time, until
a large mass is accumulated, and the whole is reduced to
a state of fusion. It is then well mixed and levelled, and
allowed to cool. When sufficiently cold, it is taken from
the pit, and broken into portable masses, for the conveni¬
ence of transportation. To prevent the dissipation of the
alkali, a thing very apt to occur, the greatest care is ne¬
cessary in every part of this process; in the gathering
and drying, as well as in the burning of the fuci; in the
treatment of the mass whilst in a state of fusion; and in
its exposure to the atmosphere during these operations.
Kelp burners are but too frequently guilty of carelessness
in this respect. In some places they burn the fuci in pits
which are not lined with stones, and, of consequence, sand
and earthy substances mingle with the fused mass.2 It is
no uncommon thing for the makers to increase the weight
of kelp intentionally, foolishly thinking to procure a high-
Some eminent chemists assert that, although the usual quantity of kelp be added in the manufacture of glass, the weight of the
glass produced is nothing more than the original weight of the sand. But this is not the case with the Orkney kelp for thoup-h it
has less alkali, it contains more insoluble matter than the West Highland kelp, and of course produces a lar<rer quantity of Jlass
The West Highland yields glass of very inferior colour to that procured by the use of Orkney kelp.
2 The best mode of preparing kelp, as invented by Colonel Fullarton, is by burning it in a reverberatory furnace, and throw¬
ing it down in the form of cakes, in the same manner as frit, which we shall afterwards have occasion to describe. When so prepared,
it is more fit for the glass manufacturer, being free of extraneous matter. This method is now employed by extensive makers of
kelp in Ireland.
662 GLASS.
Crown- er price for it by so doing. Such adulteration is, however,
Glass. once detected by the kelp merchant, and the article, which
might otherwise have brought a good price, is reduced to
less than a third of its value. The inferiority of the Low¬
land kelp to that of Orkney and the Hebrides, may with
safety be attributed as much to this practice as to the
inferiority of the fuci. Some idea, but at best a very un¬
certain one, of the quality of kelp may be formed by the
examination of its external appearance. A chemical ana¬
lysis of its properties can alone give security to the manu¬
facturer. In preparing it for the manufacture of glass,
it is first broken into small pieces, either by the hand or
by a machine called a stamper. It is then put into a mill
and ground into a fine powder, stones and all other extra¬
neous matter being picked out. The powder is afterwards
passed through brass wire sieves.
With regard to the other component part of window-
glass, namely, sand, that of the best description is procured
from Lynn Regis, in Norfolk. That procured from Alum
Bay, on the western coast of the Isle of Wight, is also of ex¬
cellent quality. The superiority of this sand arises from the
circumstance of its containing a greater quantity of minute
transparent crystals than is found in the sand of any other
place in the country. In preparing the sand, it is usually
washed in a large vat with boiling or cold water, until the
water runs off quite clear. The sand is then put into a
calcining arch, where it is subjected to a strong heat for
twenty-four hours. During this time it is kept red hot,
and immediately on being taken out is plunged into pure
cold water. This has the effect of dividing the particles
of sand, and making it unite more readily with the alkali
during the process of calcining. Some use nitre during
this process, which consumes any sulphureous matter that
may be present, or extraneous substances of an animal
or vegetable nature, and reduces them to an earth not in-*
jurious to glass. When this operation is completed, it is
removed into the mixing room, where the proportions
of material are adjusted and mingled together, previously
to their bemg fritted or calcined. Here the materials, the
sand and the kelp powder, are carefully proportioned, gene¬
rally in the degree of eleven of kelp to seven of sand, some
manufacturers using eleven to eight, which are mixed up
according to the judgment of the mixer. The majority of
glass manufacturers are now giving up the use of kelp. With¬
in the last few years the improvements in the manufacture
of carbonate of soda have been very great, while it has also
fallen considerably in price. Instead, therefore, of using
such an impure alkali as kelp with sand, carbonate of soda
with sand and lime is employed, which gives glass of as
good a colour as plate, and is attended with many other
advantages which the old materials do not possess. Manu¬
facturers, instead of kelp, purchase sulphur, and with it
make sulphuric acid. With sulphuric acid and muriate of
soda they make sulphate of soda, to which lime, coal, &c.
are added, and thus produce carbonate of soda, which, with
sand and lime, is made into glass. The operations for pre¬
paring these materials are carried on within their own pre¬
mises by several extensive glass manufacturers. The fol¬
lowing mixture has been found to produce an excellent
quality of glass:—3 cwts. Lynn sand ; 2^ ditto carbonate
of soda; 14 lbs. nitre; 14 ditto lime; 7 ditto charcoal;
one fourth of the above weight of cullet.
This mixture will make a very excellent glass when
the furnace is kept at a proper heat. The proportions
must, of course, be regulated in some degree by the heat
which the furnace attains. The addition of any other
ingredient will injure the quality and colour of the glass.
It may be either fritted or not before being put into
the pots. The use of this mixture saves coals, time, and
wrages, as the founding occupies from sixteen to twen¬
ty hours only, whilst in other cases the time occupied by
this process is from twenty to twenty-four hours. It can Crown-
also be blown to a thinner and finer substance, and is thus Glass’
liable to a less duty. When the sand and kelp are tho-
roughly mixed, the compost is put into a calcining arch or
reverberatory furnace, where it is subjected to a heat so
strong as to reduce it to a semifluid state. Whilst in this
state, it is stirred without intermission, to prevent the for¬
mation of knots containing more sand than the rest of the
batch, an eftect resulting from the dissipation of the alkali
by excess of heat. The process of calcining requires more
or less time according to the varying properties of the in¬
gredients composing the batch. From three to four hours
is the time usually occupied by each batch. The frit, as
the substance is now called, is taken from the furnace,
spread upon a plate of iron whilst yet hot, and, before it
becomes quite cold, divided into large cakes. In the opi¬
nion of many, it cannot be too old for use; as when new
the glass made from it is full of what are called seeds. It
is commonly kept about six months by opulent manufac¬
turers. The last operation consists in throwing the frit
into the melting pots, which are of the form represented in
Plate CCLXXIV. fig. 2.
To prevent stones or clay from the furnace falling into
the pot, those used in making flint-glass are always covered
in on the top; and the same thing has been tried in crown
pots, made wdth two openings, one in the front and one
in the back, the back one to be plugged up when begin¬
ning to work from the front of the pot. This method suc¬
ceeded very well, but was abandoned from the length of
time it required; a circumstance which more than coun¬
terbalanced its advantages.
These pots or crucibles are made of the finest clay. That
from Stourbridge in Worcestershire is considered the best.
Great care is requisite in the selection, and in cleansing it
from extraneous particles, the presence of wdiich, even in
the smallest degree, will injure the pot. A fine powder
procured by grinding old crucibles is generally mixed, in a
proportion seldom larger than a fourth, with what is term¬
ed the virgin clay. This mixture dries more rapidly, con¬
tracts less w’hile drying, and presents a firmer resistance
to the action of the fire and alkali used in the composition
of glass than the mere unmixed clay. These ingredients
having been mixed, they are wrought into a paste in a large
trough, and carried to the pot loft, covered in such a way
as to exclude dust and other minute particles. Here a
workman kneads this paste by tramping it with his na¬
ked feet, turning it from time to time until it becomes as
tough as putty. It is then made into rolls, and wrought,
layer upon layer, into a solid and compact body, every
care being taken to keep it free of vacuities, as latent air
wrould, by its expansion in the furnace, cause an immedi¬
ate rupture of the pots.
After pots are made, very great care is necessary to bring
them to the proper state of dryness before taking them to
the annealing or pot arch. In drying they commonly
shrink about two inches in the circumference. When pots
are made during summer, the natural temperature is suffi¬
cient. In winter they are kept in a temperature of from
fifty to fifty-five degrees Fahrenheit. They remain in the
room where they are made for a period varying from nine
to twelve months. Being afterwards removed to another
apartment, where the heat is from eighty to ninety degrees
Fahrenheit, they are kept there for about four weeks. They
are then removed for four or five days, more or less, ac¬
cording to their previous state of dryness, to the annealing
arch (of which figs. 1 and 2, Plate CCLXXIIL is an ele¬
vation and ground plan), which is gradually and cautiously
heated up till it reaches the temperature of the working
furnace, w hither, after being sufficiently annealed, they are
carried as quickly as possible. Pots last upon an average
from eight to ten weeks. Their value is usually estimated
GLASS.
Crown- at L.8 or L.10 each. A section of a crown-glass pot, show-
Glass. ing their usual dimensions, is given at Plate CCLXXIV.
fig. 2.
lo the frit thrown into these pots there is added a pro¬
portion, about an eighth, of cullet or broken crown-glass.
After this has been done, the furnace is raised to the high¬
est possible degree of heat. The pots are filled every third
hour or so, according as the frit melts, till they are com¬
pletely full. The intensity of the heat is then increased,
if possible, till the metal, as it is now called, is reduced to
fine liquid glass, which is then ready for the operations of
the workman.1 From twenty-four to thirty hours in all
are required for this process, which is called founding.2
The furnace is slackened for about two hours, and the
metal being now in a workable state, the first operator who
approaches the furnace in which the pot of liquid glass is
placed is the skimmer, who skims off all crude or extrane¬
ous substances from the surface of the metal. Next fol¬
lows the gatherer, who is provided with an iron pipe or
tube, six or seven feet in length, and of this shape.
r-   
Having previously heated that end of the tube which
takes up the glass, he dips it into the pot of metal; and by
turning it gently round, gathers about one and a half pound
of liquid glass on the end of it. Having allowed this to
cool for a little, he again dips it into the pot, and gathers
an additional quantity, of from two and a half to three
pounds. This is also permitted to cool as before, when the
operation of dipping is again repeated, and a sufficient
quantity of metal, from nine to ten pounds weight, is ga¬
thered, to form what is technically called a table or sheet
of glass. The rod, thus loaded, is held for a few seconds in
a perpendicular position, that the metal may distribute it¬
self equally on all sides, and that it may, by its own weight,
be lengthened out beyond the rod. The operator tlien
moulds the metal into a regular form, by rolling it on a
smooth iron plate, called the “ marver,” a term corrupted
from the French word marbre.
He then blows strongly through the tube, when his
breath penetrating the red-hot mass of glass, causes it to
swell out into a hollow pear-shaped vessel, thus :
third time at the furnace, pressing the end, between each
blowing, against the bullion bar, so called from the part
thus pressed forming the centre of the sheet or bull’s eye,
thus:
By the dexterous management of this operation, the glass
is brought into a somewhat spherical form.
The blower heats a third time at the bottoming hole,
and blows the metal into a full-sized globe thus :
When this part of the process has been completed, and
the glass has been allowed to cool a little, it is rested on
the casher box, and an iron rod, called a u pontil” or punty
rod, on which a little hot metal has been previously gather¬
ed, is applied to the flattened side, exactly opposite the
tube, which is detached by touching it with a piece of iron,
dipped beforehand in cold water, leaving a circular hole
in the glass of about two inches diameter. The operation
of attaching the punty is shown by the following plate.
Taking hold of the punty rod, the workman presents the
glass to another part of the furnace called the “ nose hole,”
663
Crown-
G lass.
1 The sandiver or glass gall is removed while the furnace is at its extreme degree of heat.
2 A piece of wood about eleven inches long by seven broad, with a hole three inches by one inch, forms an excellent protection to
the eyes from the heat to which they are exposed when examining the metal in the pots.
664
Crown-
Glass.
GLASS.
where the aperture made by its separation from the tube is
now presented and kept until it has become sufficiently
ductile to fit it for the operation of the flashing furnace.
Whilst here, it is turned dexterously round, slowly at first,
and afterwards with increasing rapidity; and the glass
yielding to the centrifugal force, the aperture just mention¬
ed becomes enlarged.
The workman, taking great care to preserve, by a regu¬
lar motion, the circular figure of the glass, proceeds to whirl
it round with increasing velocity, until the aperture suddenly
flies open with a loud ruffling noise, which has been aptly
compared to the unfurling of a flag in a strong breeze ; and
the glass becomes a circular plane or sheet, of from four to
four and a half feet diameter, of equal thickness through¬
out, except at the point called the bullion or bull’s eye, where
it is attached to the iron rod. The following figure will
give some idea of this very beautiful part of the process.
The sheet of glass, now fully expanded, is moved round
with a moderate velocity until it is sufficiently cool to re¬
tain its form. It is carried to the mouth of the kiln or an¬
nealing arch, where it is rested on a bed of sand, and de¬
tached from the punty rod by a shears. The sheet or table
is then lifted on a wide pronged fork, called a faucet, and
put into the arch to be tempered, where it is ranged with
many others set up edgewise, and supported by iron frames
to prevent their bending. From four to six hundred tables
are placed in one kiln.
A sketch of the interior of a crown-glass house, during
the progress of these operations, has been given in Plate
CCLXXIV. fig. 1.
The kiln having been clayed up, the fire is permitted to
die out, and the heat diminished as gradually as possible.
When the glass is properly annealed, and sufficiently cold
to admit of its being handled, it is withdrawn from the
oven, after the removal of the wall built into the front of
the arch, and is then quite ready for the glazier’s use. It
is first, however, removed to the manufacturer’s warehouse,
where the circular sheets are cut into halves, and assorted
into the different qualities, known to the tradesmen by the
names of seconds, thirds, and fourths.
We conclude our remarks on the manufacture by observ¬
ing, that the quality of glass does not depend upon the mix¬
tures alone, but also upon the treatment it receives after it
has been made, the quality of the goals, and management of
the furnaces. Cleanliness in every department of the ma¬
nufacture, a general knowledge of chemistry, and of the art
in all its details, with the most unremitting industry, and
skill in the direction and government of the operatives, are
all essentially necessary for the production of good glass.
British
Sheet.
MANUFACTURE OF BRITISH SHEET-GLASS.
This article is manufactured by Messrs Chances of West
Bromwich, near Birmingham, and Messrs Hartley and Com¬
pany, Sunderland, who, after having visited the glass manu¬
factories of France, Belgium, and Germany, commenced, in
1832, the making of British sheet. The principle upon which
it is manufactured is the same as that acted upon in the mak¬
ing of common or green glass. The metal is formed into
cylinders, and then flattened into sheets. The French, Bel¬
gians. and Germans, having pursued this system for the last
fifty years in making their window-glass, have much im¬
proved the old mode of making it; and as the parties who
are now manufacturing this article in England are crown-
glass makers, and have imported all the improvements
adopted in the making of sheet-glass in France, Belgium,
and Germany, and combined with these the improvements
which their experience as crown-glass makers had taught
them during the same period, they have surpassed the
French, Belgians, and Germans in sheet-glass, and can now
compete with them in all parts of the world.
There is no crown-glass made in France; and their win¬
dow-glass, though superior to our broad or common glass,
is not equal to the British sheet. In Germany there is
little crown-glass made, and that of a very inferior quality.
The greater part of the glass made in that country is sheet,
and it is of much better quality than the French or Bel¬
gian. In Germany a common sort of glass is made, in the
following manner : Three or four workmen form a partner¬
ship, and, having fixed upon a place in the woods where
clay and sand are easily met with, they proceed to build a
glass-house with wood and clay. They then make the
pots, and, from the ashes of the wood which they burn, ob¬
tain potash, which, after it has been mixed with sand, they
melt into glass. They blow the metal into cylinders, flat¬
ten it into sheets, cut, pack, in short, perform the whole
operations from first to last, themselves. A good deal of
the best of the glass made in this manner is sent to Nu-
remburg, where it is polished and sent .'nto Holland. Some
of it is sometimes smuggled into this country, and is known
by the designation of Dutch glass.
G L A S S. 660
British The expense of making British sheet is about the same
Sheet. as making crown-glass, excepting in the case of large squares,
when it is much less; in crown-glass it is very difficult to
get a square 34 X 22, but in sheet-glass the common size
is 40 X 30; nay, sheets are sometimes made as large as
50 X 36. Its other advantage over crown is, that it has
none of that wavy or curved appearance, by which the vi¬
sion is so much distorted in crown-glass; but, at the same
time, sheet-glass has rather an unpleasant appearance when
viewed from the outside of a building, in consequence of
an unevenness of surface, technically termed cockled;
when viewed, however, from the inside, it is difficult to dis¬
tinguish it from plate-glass.
The materials employed in the making of sheet-glass
are the same as those used in the making of crown-glass.
The large melting furnace is also very similar; in France
and Belgium they usually contain six or eight pots, but at
the British manufactories such furnaces contain ten pots,
each containing seven cwts. of metal, which requires four¬
teen hours to melt.
In a line with each pot, and four feet from the ground,
are erected ten stages, with an open space between each,
of about two feet, through which the workman swings his
glass when making cylinders. When the metal is ready
for working, the ten workmen take their stations, each
having his own pot and stage, and also an assistant, and
commence making the cylinders, as follows : After gather¬
ing the quantity of metal required (which varies from three
to twenty pounds), the workman places it in a horizontal
position upon a wooden block, which has been hollowed,
so that, when the workman turns the metal, it shall form
it into a solid cylindrical mass. In the mean time, the as¬
sistant, with a sponge in his hand, and a bucket of water
by his side, lets a fine stream of water run into the block,
which keeps the wood from burning, and also gives a bril¬
liancy to the surface of the glass. The water, the moment
it comes in contact with the glass, is raised to the boiling
point, and, in that state, does no injury to the metal; but it
is only when the metal is at a high temperature that such
is the case; for, whenever the glass is cooled to a certain
degree, it immediately cracks upon coming in contact with
water. When the workman perceives that the mass of
metal is sufficiently formed and cooled, he raises the pipe
to his mouth at an angle of about seventy-five degrees, and
commences blowing it, at the same time continuing to turn
it in the wood block, till he perceives the diameter to be
of the requisite dimensions, which are usually about ten
inches. He then reheats this cylindrical mass, and, when
it is sufficiently softened, commences swinging it over his
head, continuing to reheat and swing till he has made it
the desired length, which is commonly about forty inches.
It is now in a cylindrical form, forty inches long and ten
inches in diameter, one end being closed, and the other
having the pipe attached to it. The workman now begins
to open the end which is closed, for which purpose he en¬
closes the air in the cylinder, by stopping the aperture
of the pipe with his finger; and then placing the closed
end of the cylinder towards the fire, it becomes softened,
while at the same time the air within is expanding, and, in
about thirty seconds, the glass becomes too soft to re¬
tain it, and bursts, a small aperture being formed at the
point of the cylinder. The workman then turns the cy¬
linder round very quickly, and, by keeping it warm at
the same time, flashes it out perfectly straight; the other
end, which is attached to the pipe, has now to be cut off.
This is done in the following manner : The workman hav¬
ing gathered a small quantity of metal on the pontil, draws
it out into a thread of about one eighth of an inch in dia¬
meter, laps it round the pipe end of the cylinder, and, after
letting it remain there for about five seconds, withdraws it
suddenly, and immediately applies a cold iron to the heated
VOL. x.
part, which occasions such a sudden contraction, that it Plate-
cracks off where the hot string of glass has been placed Glass,
round it. The workman having now formed a perfect cy-
linder of forty inches in length and ten in diameter, has,
before it can be flattened, to split it on one side, so that it
can be opened out; but before doing this, he is obliged to
let it cool, and then, laying the cylinder horizontally upon
a bench, draws a red hot iron two or three times along the
inner surface. The cylinder, thus heated, immediately
splits along the heated part, owing to the expansion of the
glass when heated, its cylindrical form preventing its break¬
ing at the point of expansion.
The blower having now completed his cylinder, hands it
over to the flattener to make it into a flat sheet; to accom¬
plish which, two furnaces are built together, the one for
flattening the cylinders, the other for annealing the sheets,
the former being kept at a much higher temperature than
the latter. The cylinder, after being gradually reheated, is
placed in the centre of the flattening furnace, upon a smooth
stone, with the cracked side upwards. In a short time it be¬
comes softened with the heat, and by its own weight falls
out into a flat square sheet of forty inches by thirty. The
flattener, with a piece of charred wood, rubs it quite smooth,
and then places it in the annealing arch, where it remains
about three days to be annealed. A workman will make
sixty cylinders 40 X 50 in one day; and a flattener can
flatten the same number in the same time. This glass can
be made of any thickness from one-twentieth to half an inch.
I he same enterprising companies also manufacture ex¬
tensively every variety of coloured glass used by the glass-
stainer, which is gathered, rolled, blown, and flattened, in
a similar way with the sheet glass, the pot-metal being
gathered from one pot, and the flashed glass from two, one
containing colourless and the other coloured metal, which
being blown and distended together are combined, while
each portion retains its individual character. These oval
and square glass shades used for covering French clocks and
other ornaments, as well as glass dishes for dairy purposes,
are also made by these parties; and since the abolition of
the glass duties are much in demand.
There is another species of glass called broad or common
window-glass, which is formed of the coarsest materials.
The ingredients usually employed are, six measures of
soap-boilers’ waste, three of kelp, and three or four of sand.
After these have been fritted for from twenty to thirty
hours, they are removed while red hot to the pots in the
working furnace, where, in the space of from twelve to
fifteen hours, they are reduced to a fluid state. The metal
is taken out in the manner already described, and blown
into globes about a foot in diameter. A piece of iron dip¬
ped in cold water is run along them, and produces a crack
nearly rectilinear ; and, while yet w arm and ductile, these
spheres are opened out and flattened on a smooth iron
plate at the mouth of the furnace.
MANUFACTURE OF PLATE-GLASS.
This description of glass may be manufactured in the
same manner as broad window-glass, or by casting the
materials in a state of fusion upon a flat surface. Little
correct information has been published relative to the ma¬
nufacture of plate-glass, from the reluctance of proprie¬
tors to permit their works to be examined by individuals
capable of giving an intelligible account of them. If such
are permitted to scan the mysteries, they are generally re¬
stricted to keep secret the information which they have ac¬
quired. The late Mr Parks the chemist, however, seems
to have been exempted from this condition, and after having
visited the premises of the British Plate-Glass Company, at
Ravenhead, in Lancashire, he published a short account of
the process as there carried on. Besides the above manu-
4 p
666 GLASS.
Plate- factory in Britain, may be mentioned that of Messrs Swin-
Glass. burne and Company, South Shields, the Thames Plate-Glass
"“'v-**''' Company, the Union Plate-Glass Company, St Helen’s; and
W. A. A. West’s, Eccleston. Plate-glass is also made at St
Gobain in France, besides other places upon the Continent.
The following is Loysel’s account of the relative propor¬
tions of the materials used at St Gobain, in the manufacture
of plate-glass. White sand, 100 parts ; carbonate of lime,
12 ditto; soda, 45 to 48 ditto; fragments of glass of like
quality, 100 ditto; oxide of manganese, The following
proportions of ingredients are said to produce the best de¬
scription of this article. Lynn sand which has been well
washed and dried, 720 parts; alkaline salt containing 40
per cent, of soda, 450 ditto; lime slaked and sifted, 80 ditto;
nitre, 25 ditto ; broken plate-glass, 425 ditto. These quan¬
tities produce one pot of metal which yields 1200 pounds
of glass.
Great nicety must be observed in conducting the pro¬
cesses of this manufacture. The materials must be selected
with the utmost care. The sand should be of the whitest
and finest description, and well washed and passed through
a sieve, previously to being mixed with the other ingre¬
dients. Soda is always preferred to potash, because it im¬
parts a higher degree of fluidity to the glass, and also
because the impurities which it contains are more easily
dissipated by the heat. Lime acts as a flux, and manga¬
nese has the effect of giving a slightly reddish hue to the
mixture by which the colours of the other materials are
neutralized, so that scarcely any appreciable tint remains.
Cobalt is likewise used in some manufactories, much for
the same purpose as manganese. The broken glass, or
cullet as it is technically called, is those fragmentary por¬
tions which are cut from the plates when they are squared,
or that which may flow over in the process of casting. The
sand, lime, soda, and manganese, being properly mingled
in the proportions above given, are fritted in small furna¬
ces, where the temperature is gradually raised to a red or
white heat, and there maintained until no more vapour is
evolved, nor change undergone by the mixture. This pro¬
cess occupies six hours, and after its completion the other
ingredients are added, consisting of cullet and cobalt. At
St Gobain there are two kinds of crucibles employed; the one
in which the glass is melted is called apo£, and has the shape
of an inverted truncated cone; the other is entitled ^cuvette;
it is kept empty in the furnace, and exposed to the full de¬
gree of heat. Forty hours are requisite to vitrify the ma¬
terials properly, and bring the glass to a fit state for cast¬
ing. The pots are skimmed in the manner already de¬
scribed. When the liquid mass has been properly refined, the
cuvette is filled by a copper ladle, and after sufficient time
is allowed for the bubbles created by this disturbance to
escape, it is removed to the table where the plates are cast.
Copper was the metal of which tables were formerly con¬
structed ; but cast iron has now been found to answer the
purpose completely, and it is greatly superior to copper
in this respect, that it remains uninjured during all the sud¬
den transitions of temperature to which it must be subject¬
ed. The British Plate-Glass Company were the first to
introduce this improvement. They procured a plate fifteen
feet long, nine feet wide, and six inches thick. The sides
are provided with metallic ribs, the depth being exactly the
measure of thickness which it is desired the glass should
be of. During the casting there is a similar rib tempora¬
rily attached to the lower end of the table. The cuvette
being filled with melted glass, it is withdrawn from the fur¬
nace by means of a crane, taken to the upper end of the
casting table, and after being properly scummed, and ele¬
vated to a sufficient height by means of a crane, it is emp¬
tied of its contents. The surface of the melted matter is
then smoothed by means of a large hollow copper cylin¬
der, which extends across the table, resting upon the side
ribs. This is set in motion, and rolled over the glass, by Plate-
which process it is spread out into a sheet of uniform breadth Glass,
and thickness. When the plate has become completely
hardened, it is carefully inspected, to see that no flaws or
bubbles appear on the surface. Should any be found, the
sheet is immediately divided by cutting through them. It
is afterwards removed to the annealing oven, where it is
placed in a horizontal position, and remains for about fifteen
days. When glass is in a high state of fluidity it is liable
to be injured even by a draught of air, so that the apart¬
ment must be kept as free as possible from disturbance.
The opening or shutting of a door, by setting the air in
motion, might impair the value of the plate. After having
been withdrawn from the annealing oven, they have to un¬
dergo the operations of squaring, grinding, polishing, and
silvering, before they are fit for the market. These processes
have thus been described by a late writer upon the subject.
“ The first process—that of squaring and smoothing the
edges—is performed by passing a rough diamond along the
surface of the glass, guided by a square rule ; the diamond
cuts to a certain depth into the substance, when, by
gently striking the glass with a small hammer underneath
the part which is cut, the piece comes away; and the
roughnesses of the edge then left are removed by pincers.
The plate is then taken to the grinding apartment.
“ The next step is to imbed each of the plates upon a ta¬
ble or frame adjusted horizontally, and made of either free¬
stone or wood, cementing the glass securely thereto by
plaster of Paris. One plate being then reversed and sus¬
pended over another, the material employed in grinding
their surfaces is introduced between the two, and they are
made to rub steadily and evenly upon each other by means
of machinery set in motion by a steam-engine.” River
sand and water were formerly used for the purpose of
abrading the surface, but ground flint is now substituted, as
answering the purpose better. When one side of each
plate has been sufficiently ground, it is loosened from the
frame, and turned over, so as to present the other surface
to be ground in the same manner. Some degree of pres¬
sure is employed, by loading the upper plate with weights,
as the grinding of each side approaches to completion.
The process thus described used formerly to last during
three entire days, but this time is now much abridged.
The greatest attention is required in order to finish with
the surfaces perfectly level and parallel, for which end a
rule and plumb-line are employed.
By means of this grinding, the plates will have been made
level; but they are too rough to receive a polish. To fit
them for this, they must again be ground with emery pow¬
der of increasing degrees of fineness. The preparation and
sorting of this powder are effected in the following simple
and ingenious manner:—“ A considerable quantity of
emery is put into a vessel containing water, and is stirred
about violently until the whole is mechanically mixed with
the water. Emery is absolutely insoluble by such means;
and if the mixture were left at rest during a sufficient time,
the whole would subside in layers ; the coarsest and heavi¬
est particles sinking first, and so on successively, until the
very finest particles would range themselves as the upper
stratum. Previously to this, however, and while these
finest grains are still suspended in the water, it is poured
off into a separate vessel, and the emery is there allowed to
settle. A fresh supply of water is poured into the first
vessel, the contents of which are again violently agitated,
and allowed partially to subside as before. A shorter in¬
terval is allowed for this than in the first case; and then
the liquor is poured off' into a third vessel, by which means
emery of the second degree of fineness is separated.
This operation is repeated in order to obtain powders
having five different degrees of fineness. The deposits are
then separately dried upon a stove to a consistence proper
GLASS. 667
Glass, for making them up into small balls, in which form they are
delivered to the workmen.
“ In this further rubbing together, or, as it is called, smooth¬
ing of the glass plates, it must be understood that the coarsest
emery is first used, and so on, substituting powders having
increasing degrees of fineness as the work proceeds.”1
These processes finished, the glass, although pei’fectly
even, appears opaque or deadened on the surface, and re¬
quires polishing. This is effected in the following manner.
A piece of wood is covered with numerous folds of woollen
cloth, the layers being divided by some carded wool inter¬
posed between each, the whole forming a tolerably hard
but elastic cushion, which is furnished with a handle. The
plate is laid upon a bed of plaster, as already described, and
the cushion being wetted, is covered with the red oxide of
iron (the colcothar of commerce), and moved backwards
and forwards upon the surface of the plate. Lastly, if the
glass be intended for mirrors, it is silvered, that is, covered
on one side with a thin coating of amalgam of tin and
mercury.
The process of bloiving plate-glass differs so slightly from
the methods used in producing broad glass, that they need
not be here repeated. Any difference that does exist,
arises from the great bulk and weight of the mass of glass
operated upon.
STAINED OK PAINTED GLASS.
In an age like the present, when a high state of civiliza¬
tion and refinement demands the most careful and diligent
cultivation of those arts which minister to the gratification
of refined taste, Glass Painting, as an art now acknow¬
ledged indispensable in the decoration of our churches,
palaces, &c., has assumed an importance not attained at
any former period; and from its progress in connection
with our present advances in artistic knowledge, we may
safely infer, that if the noble elements in its nature and
capabilities be fairly and legitimately applied, it will be¬
come the most potent agent in advancing the standard of
architectural decoration. Within these few years in our
own country, its progress has been altogether wonderful.
Since the abolition of the duties on glass, Britain has pro¬
duced the rarest and the richest coloured glass in endless
profusion and variety. Light has been admitted into gor¬
geous apartments through domes filled with coloured glass
of colossal dimensions, the decorations of which, worked out
from the designs of the architects, enhance and give power
to the other ornamentation of the interiors, and produce a
coup-d’ceil not previously known nor dreamt of. Stained-
glass windows for churches have been, and are being exe¬
cuted in Britain, which, for appropriate design, brilliant
colour, subdued tone, symmetrical proportion, minute mani¬
pulation, and variety of carefully considered detail, stand
comparison with the best existing specimens of mediaeval
times. Windows for palatial and baronial structures have
also been recently produced in this country, whereon are
traced in imperishable lines, and blazoned in unfading co¬
lours, correct effigies of historical personages, represen¬
tations of historical events, genealogical arrangements of
heraldic bearings, and other legends and memorials, which
will convey to distant times a favourable idea of the state
of British art in the nineteenth century. The earliest re¬
cord which we possess concerning the existence of this
beautiful art is of the age of Pope Leo III., that is, about
the year 800, a period in which many of the most magnificent
ecclesiastical edifices on the Continent were erected. It is
not known with certainty when stained glass was made use
of for pictorial or figure subjects, but the historian of a
monastery at Dijon, writing in the eleventh century, says,
that there existed in his time in the church of his monas- Glass,
tery some very ancient glass representing the mystery of
the Holy Eucharist, and that this glass picture had been
taken from the old church previous to its restoi'ation. The
earliest specimens of stained glass are composed of small
pieces of glass, embued throughout with colour, united by
grooved leaden joinings. It has been suggested, that this
arose from the glass-makers of that period not being able
to make it in larger pieces. If so, in so far as sparkling bril¬
liancy in glass decorations is a desideratum, it might almost
have been as well for the art that the manufacturers of the
coloured metals had still been in the same position. Bril¬
liancy is always increased in the same ratio writh the number
of pieces of glass in the composition.
Nothing could be more instructive or interesting than an
investigation of the relative merits of the existing speci¬
mens of the art during the six centuries it was so diligently
and effectively cultivated in connection with ecclesiastical
architecture ; but this inquiry would be too extensive to be
opened up here. The following remarks, therefore, are con¬
fined to a few of the leading points in the glass of the va¬
rious styles which prevailed in succession from the 11th to
the 17th century, in which may be traced very clearly the
progress of the architects, under whom the glass paiqjters
worked, from clumsy and servile imitators to bold and ori¬
ginal designers.
The Norman style, in its early period, was a direct
though imperfect imitation of Roman architecture ; but
when pointed architecture had attained its greatest per¬
fection, its chief feature wras originality. During the gra¬
dual development of this, its peculiar characteristic, the
openings in the walls by degrees were enlarged, until they
ultimately became the principal points, and it was requisite
that they should be judiciously decorated; and in no branch
of art connected with pointed architecture can its onward
movement be more clearly traced than in the painted-glass
windows.
The painted glass of the eleventh and twelfth centuries,
like the Norman architecture of which it formed a part,
was stately and of a magnificent character. The colours
were of the most vivid and positive description. There was
no spot left for the eye to repose on; no neutral tints nor
secondary colours were introduced. The whole of the
ground and foliage were filled with intense colour, ruby
and blue invariably preponderating. The same love of
violent and striking contrast as is peculiar to man in a state
of semi-barbarism was manifested in the colouring of the
windows of that period, and the general effect must have
been congenial to the romantic and martial spirit of the age
of chivalry. The leading forms were massive and simple,
consisting chiefly of the circle and square, filled up chiefly
with clumsy imitations of the foliated ornament to be found
in Roman architecture. When figures were introduced,
they were like those in the Bayeux tapestry, marvellously
correct in costume, though disproportionate in drawing, and
filled up with strong positive colours, flat, and the outline
defined chiefly by the strong thick lines of the lead, re¬
sembling those highly titled personages represented on
packs of cards, or those in Chinese processions, as deline¬
ated by the native artists of the Celestial empire.
In the thirteenth century, the painted glass, like the pri¬
mary pointed or early English architecture of which it
formed a part, was of a light and elegant character. The
glass painter had then acquired a more correct idea of what
constituted beauty, both in form and colour. The positive
colours were now used more sparingly, and indeed were
almost confined to geometric bands, central points, and
borders continued round each entire light. The general
grounds were of a beautiful tint of neutral gray, produced
1 Glass Manufacture, Lardner’s Cabinet Cyclopaedia, No. 26.
668 GLASS.
Glass, by lines intersected at right angles, from which were re-
lieved by bold lines scrolls of foliated ornament in clear
colourless glass. The glass in the Sister windows of York
Minster may be named as one of the finest existing speci¬
mens of this description. Figures and subjects also, when
introduced, were better drawn than formerly. The faces
were kept colourless, slightly shaded with brown of a rough
gritty texture. The secondary colours were used in the
draperies with a most delicious effect, softening and harmo¬
nizing the whole composition, and giving a lightness and
variety previously unknown. In the leading forms of the
ornamental portions also were seen repeated the geometric
features of the building; and in the glass of the period we
can recognise repetitions of the ground plans of the shafts,
with the enrichments on the laps and on the mouldings of
the windows and doorways. In the foliaged backgrounds,
amid repetitions of the ancient Roman foliage, we now and
then get fragments of simple foliage, such as trefoils, evi¬
dently taken from nature; and we are able to trace in pro¬
gress an art which was shortly to become as original as
beautiful, and dependent entirely on the artist’s knowledge
and appreciation of nature and geometry.
During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when the
secondary pointed or decorated style of architecture gradu¬
ally developed its immense resources, and advanced steadily
toward perfection, we find that the glass advanced in the
same ratio as the art with which it was associated. In ac¬
cordance with certain fixed rules of proportion, the glass
artists elongated, intersected, diversified, and arranged rec¬
tangular, triangular, and curvilinear figures, and made these
harmonious combinations their leading points for colour.
They were thus enabled with certainty to produce a pleasing
effect, and to fill up the detail according to their own fancy,
with an imitation of the common weeds, flowers, and plants
that they found growing around them. This principle was
carried out in every portion of the detail in the remarkable
structures then erected ; and the exquisite imitations of
vegetables and plants on the carving of the caps, friezes,
and mouldings, show the extraordinary love of nature which
must have animated these fraternities of artistic minds by
whom these details were worked out. The monks of Melrose
made “ gude kail,” says the old song, and from the exquisite
manner in which that vegetable has been carved on some
of the portions of that fine old abbey, one would conclude
that the carvers must have shared largely and appreciated
highly the “ gude kail” of the holy brotherhood, a feel¬
ing no doubt also entertained by the glass painters of the
structure whose works would doubtless exhibit similar
genius with the glass of that period, which was well
characterized by a rich juicy natural freshness, as well as
an easy play of elegant outline and graceful proportion. In
many instances also, the gray background produced by in¬
tersected lines was abandoned, and a tint of rough gray
obscure substituted, which imparted to the whole a softer
effect, and gave a better relief to the outlined foliage of
which the diapering was composed. At this period also, glass
painting had attracted artists of high genius, and the figures
and subjects in the glass of the period are perfect speci¬
mens of what the art ought to be. These artists tested its
capabilities, and Ipw well and thoroughly they did so may
be seen in Cologne Cathedral, where the flowing, bold, and
elegant outline, the rough semi-transparent texture, the
calm expressive countenances and attitudes of the figures
of Durer and his contemporaries, fairly set aside and over¬
power the glowing, brilliant, but frowsy specimens there of
modern German art, as practised in Munich, under the au¬
spices of the Bavarian government. Perhaps, also, the or¬
namental glass of the period in that structure will be found
equal to any in the world for geometrical symmetry and
- natural foliage, the latter imitated from the common weeds
and plants indigenous to the locality. So fascinating and
far-famed were the painted-glass windows of that period, so Glass,
novel were the effects produced by the rich semi-transparent
shadows and reflected lights, that Mr Eastlake conjectures
that the increase of colour in shade which is so remarkable
in the Venetian and early Flemish pictures may have been
suggested by the rich and fascinating effects of the light
modified by the slight shading on the stained glass through
which it was transmitted. Over the Lady Chapel in the
north aisle of York Minster are two windows of this period
remarkable for the brilliancy and quiet feeling formerly
alluded to as indispensable in glass painting of a high cha¬
racter.
After the decorated period painted glass degenerated first
into the flat, tame insipidity of the perpendicular style, and
then ran riot in the extravagant tortuosities and monstrosi¬
ties of the capped, jewelled, and double gilt details of Eliza¬
bethan architecture, which it seems a fallacy to suppose
was imported from Italy. At the time of its introduction
a strong tide of feeling had set in against everything that
pertained to the Roman Catholic religion, and it seems un¬
likely that after having diverged from the style with which
that religion had so long been identified, the nation should
have imported anything from Italy, its headquarters and
chief stronghold. It rather seems probable that at a time
when attempts were made to get quit of every existing form
and style of architectural decoration, there would be awak¬
ened a strong desire for novelty ; and when it is remembered
that the newly discovered continent of America was visited
by crowds of adventurers, it will not appear unlikely that many
of these adventurers must have been delighted and dazzled
with the magnificent and unique architectural structures
which adorned the ancient cities of central America, and
may have imported home and introduced into English archi¬
tecture many of the features which we are accustomed to
believe were originated in the Elizabethan era. The painted
glass of that period partakes of the same character; and in
Du Paix’s great work on New Spain will be found something
very like the origin of many of these peculiarities, eccentrici¬
ties, and heterogeneous conglomerations which characterize
the wood and stone carving, as well as the wall and window
decorations of that extraordinary style of architecture.
From this rapid sketch of the history of the rise and
decadence of painted glass, it appears that there is no limit
to its capabilities; and that forming, as it does, a leading
architectural decoration, it is as well adapted to one style as
another. If the principles of harmonious colouring and
symmetrical proportion be carefully attended to, as was the
case in the best specimens of the art in the mediaeval period,
painted glass must ever be regarded as one of the most at¬
tractive decorations for church or mansion. It is no doubt
a species of mosaic, and the artist must generally depend on
harmonious combinations of colour and continuity and firm¬
ness of outline for the effect he intends to produce, as the
brilliant colouring and mosaic character are lost in the same
ratio as shading is introduced.
It is also true that windows are generally intended for
the transmission of light, and that in some cases the sacri¬
fice of light required for pictorial effect cannot be made.
Yet who can resist the attractions of such pictorial glass as
is to be found in the windows of St Gudule at Brussels,
or St Jans Kirk at Gouda, where the principles of chiar¬
oscuro and perspective are fully developed, where fore¬
ground and distance hold their proper places, and where
the lights and brilliant colours are arranged in a manner to
rival the best specimens of the ancient masters of painting
in oil. This mode of treatment is not to be advocated for
general use, but where there is light enough and to spare,
and where men of high artistic powers apply themselves to
glass painting, they may safely be left to their own genius,
and allowed to render their conceptions as vividly and per¬
fectly in glass as others do on canvas. The dull, heavy,
G L .
Glass, uniform opacity which pervaded the glass of the last century,
when it was made up in squares, the colours fused, and the
whole work looked like cloth transparencies, is not to be
tolerated. The brightest colours that can be produced in
pot metals joined in the ancient way by leading ought always
to be used; and although in general the effect of mosaics
in low relief may be preferable, yet the shading and toning
requisite to give full effect to a good pictorial design may
be given without detracting greatly from the light.
Glass is the most enduring species of artistic medium,
and it is to be hoped that this quality will yet cause emi¬
nent artists to leave the impress of their genius on painted
windows. Had the art of painting on glass been known in
the age of Phidias, we might have had preserved, in colours
as vivid as when the works were executed, the Jupiter of
Homer by Apelles, the pictorial embodiment of the Athe¬
nian character by Parrhasius. A singular fact illustrative
of the durability of painted glass may here be stated in
connection with York Minster. When the nave of that
fine structure was destroyed by fire, the heat was so intense
that many of the stones were calcined. When the leaden
framing of the windows melted, the glass made of many
small pieces fell down undamaged, and was afterwards
carefully rebuilt in new leading and fixed in its original
place, where it now remains the most fragile yet the most
enduring portion of the ancient structure.
In ornamental painted glass the positive colours ought
generally to be used sparingly, and confined to the chief
points in the composition. When overloaded with colour,
the sparkling brilliancy so desirable in painted glass is en¬
tirely lost. The general ground of the window should be
of a neutral tint suitable in tone to its character and situa¬
tion. In a southern aspect this tone should be of a cool
gray, and the positive colours blue, green, and purple, ought
to predominate over ruby, yellow, and orange. In a north¬
ern aspect the general ground should be of a warm sunny
tint, and the warm ought to predominate over the cold co¬
lours. An eastern window ought to approximate in colour
to a northern, a western to a south window.
It is always desirable to have a combination of straight
and curved lines in the leading forms of painted glass. As
in the human body, the effect of the elliptic curvature of the
muscles is enhanced by the angular position of the straight
lines on which they are placed, or by the sharp square indi¬
cations of the bony extremities, in like manner the curvi-
lineal lines in ornamental decorations appear to more ad¬
vantage when balanced by a harmonious proportion of
straight lines. A very important feature in glass is diapered
work in the backgrounds, a great variety of designs for
which may be obtained from plants and flowers by the way-
side, in the field, or the garden; and the more homely these
are, they are often the more suggestive and pleasing. Bor-
derings are almost indispensable in all ornamental painted-
glass windows. They bind together what might otherwise
be disjointed and scattered, and afford scope for endless
variety of design, both in form and colour. Heraldic sym¬
bols and emblazonments have always been amongst the
most attractive features in stained-glass windows. The
points which most shields form for a balance of positive
colour ; the crests, mantling, supporters, and mottoes, twist¬
ing or twining either quaintly or gracefully through the
composition, not to speak of the interesting nature of he¬
raldry as a guide through the intricate mazes of family
connection, wending through the depths of ages—all tend to
render it the most admirable field on which the glass painter
can be engaged. For hall or library windows such devices
are very appropriate, and indeed so highly are they appre¬
ciated, and so much is painted glass now coming into re¬
pute, that there is scarcely a new house of any pretensions
without its library or staircase stained-glass window. In
towns where back drawing-room windows look into mean
i S S. ‘ 669
or filthy lanes, what a delightful remedy is found in light Glass,
sparkling stained glass. Either heraldic blazon, family mo-
nograms, or ornamental devices, may be used; and if the
inner window be fitted up flush with the inner wall, and
the room lighted at night mainly from lights placed between
the outer and inner windows, the effect is chaste and beau¬
tiful.
Restorations of windows connected with ancient edifices
afford fine media for embodying local legends or historical
local incidents. In new structures for public purposes what
place so fitting or so striking as the windows for represen¬
tations of men eminent in connection with such institutions.
Monumental windows have recently been introduced into
churches with excellent effect, and they afford scope for in¬
vention as various as the characters of those whose virtues
they are designed to commemorate. In churches even in
Scotland stained glass is rapidly assuming its ancient im¬
portance, and there can be little doubt that it will ultimately
be so much encouraged and cultivated that the windows of
our public edifices will be the honoured medium of trans¬
mitting to remote posterity the works of the master-minds
of British art.
Except in the name, painting on glass has no resem¬
blance to any other department of the pictorial art but that
of porcelain. Both the colours, and the process of their
application throughout, are entirely different. While ani¬
mal and vegetable substances are freely used as colouring
matter in every other department of the pictorial art, they
are wholly excluded in that of glass painting, where all the
pigments used are subjected, after being laid on, to the
operation of fire, to make them penetrate the body of the
glass, or become fused on its surface—a process which
would wholly destroy the colouring properties of such sub¬
stances. All the colours employed :n glass painting and
staining are oxides of metals or minerals, as gold, silver,
cobalt, which not only stand the fire, but require the power¬
ful interference of that agent to bring out their brilliancy
and transparency. Some colours, on the application of heat,
penetrate the body of the glass, and, from this circumstance,
are called stains ; while others, being mixed with a vitreous
substance called flux, become fused or vitrified on the sur¬
face. The former produces a variety of colours, and all of
them are perfectly transparent. The produce of the latter
are only semitransparent, but they may be made to yield
any colour or tint required.
In preparing these colours, the most important point to
be attended to is, to have all those that are to be used at
the same time of an equal degree of softness. To attain
this, those that are hard, and require a great degree of heat
to make them effective, must be fixed first; leaving the soft
colours, for which a slight heat only is necessary, to the
last. If used promiscuously, and without regard to this
precaution, some of the colours would be rendered too
fluid, while others would be insufficiently fused, and the
work in consequence spoiled.
GLAZING OF WINDOWS.
Putty, an important and indispensable article in the gla¬
zier’s trade, is composed of whiting and linseed oil. Chalk
is sometimes used instead of the former, but the expense
and labour incurred in preparing it is much greater, and
besides it generally contains sand, so that it is no object to
the glazier to employ it. Whiting is in every way to be
preferred; it must be thoroughly dried before the oil is
added to it, otherwise the union will not be effected, or at
least it will be very imperfect.
After the whiting has been thoroughly dried and pre¬
pared, it ought to be passed through a very fine sieve, and
all the remaining lumps and knots pulverized, and then
also passed through the sieve. Great care must be taken
670
GLASS.
Glass, to keep the whiting free of sand and other extraneous sub-
StaUCCS.
When putty is to be made, put the proper quantity of
oil into a tub or other open vessel, and gradually add the
whiting whilst yet in a hot state, at the same time keeping
the whole in motion with a stick, until it becomes of a suf¬
ficient consistency to admit of being wrought by the hand
on a board or table. Having been removed thither from
the tub, it must be wrought up with dry whiting, until it is
converted into a compact mass. When brought to this state,
it ought to be put into a hollowed stone or mortar, and beat
with a wooden mallet till it becomes soft and tenacious,
when more whiting must be added, until it has attained a
proper consistency.
When putty is required of a superior degree of fineness,
and which will also dry quickly, add a little sugar of lead or
litharge ; and if an increase of strength be wanted, a little
white lead.
When the panes have been fitted into the checks of the
sashes, they must be removed, and the checks well bedded
with beat putty. This done, the panes are again returned
to their places, and gently pressed or lodged in the bed¬
ding, the workman, as it were, humouring the glass should
it be bent or twisted, and taking care that there is no hard
extraneous substance mingled with the putty, which might
endanger, if not actually break, the glass. When a pane
is perfectly bedded it lies quite firm, and does not spring
from the putty ; but when, either from a perverse bend or
twist in the glass, or any other accidental cause, it happens
that it cannot be made to go quite close to the check, the
vacant space must be carefully and neatly filled upon the
back puttying, otherwise the window will not be impervious
to the weather, and will be very apt to fall into decay by
the admission of moisture.
The convex or round side of the pane, where such a
shape occurs, should be presented to the outside, and the
concave or hollow to the inside. When thus placed, they
resist the weather better than if the hollow sides were ex¬
posed to it.
After the pane has been bedded, the next process is the
outside puttying. This putty should be kept in the fore
check, about the thirty-second part of an inch below the
level of the inside check, so as to allow the thin layer of
paint which binds these two substances together to join the
putty and glass; and that it may not offend the eye by
being seen from the inside ; and that, when it is painted,
the brush may not encroach on any visible part of the pane,
leaving those ragged lines or marks which are so often seen
from the inside on ill-finished windows, and which are so
displeasing to the eye. This operation, and finishing the
corners, are two nice points in the art, and therefore, when
properly done, discover the neat-handed and skilful work¬
man.
All frames or sashes of windows ought, before being
glazed, to receive one or two coats of white paint, to which
a small portion of red lead has been added to facilitate its
drying, and to give increased strength and durability to the
paint.
Lattice or Lead Windows.—This antique and singularly
beautiful style of glazing has unaccountably fallen much
into disuse, although of late years it has certainly undergone
something like a resuscitation, in consequence of a revival
of the public taste for stained glass, and a growing predi¬
lection for Mediaeval architecture in churches, cottages, and
the like. For these, and for staircase windows, and indeed
all windows similarly situated, as in halls, lobbies, or the
like, it is peculiarly adapted.
It may be proper to premise, that lead windows require
stained or coloured glass, for producing their fullest and best
effects, and it was with stained glass only that they were
originally constructed; but very neat and elegant windows
are executed in this style with plain glass, where variety Glass,
and beauty of figure are made to compensate in some mea-
sure for the absence of colour.
Lead windows may be made to any pattern, and in this
there is great scope for the display of a correct taste. In
the time of Elizabeth, this branch of the glazier’s art was
carried to great excellence, especially by one Walter Ged-
des, who was employed in glazing most of the royal and
public buildings of that period. Geddes executed in this
style some windows of transcendent beauty, displaying an
endless variety of the most elegant and elaborate figures.
The most useful and most common description of plain glass
lead windows, however, are those of the diamond or lozenge
shape; but, as already said, they may be made to any pat¬
tern desired.
The lead work can be adapted with ease to any pattern
that may be chosen for the glass; and it can likewise be
made to any breadth, from one-eighth to five-eighths of an
inch.
The apparatus and tools necessary for producing this are,
a glazier’s vice, or lead mill, moulds for casting the lead into
slender bars or rods of about eighteen inches in length,
which is the first process; a three-fourth inch chisel; a
hard-wood fillet for forcing the glass into the grooves in the
lead frame-work ; and an opener or wedge tool, made also
of hard wood, or ebony, for laying open the grooves for the
reception of the glass ; two copper bolts for soldering, the
end formed like an egg. A correct delineation of the vice
or mill alluded to is given in Plate CCLXXV., in describing
which, in its various connected parts, the same letters of re¬
ference are adapted to the different figures, so far as neces¬
sary, which, with the isometrical views, will facilitate the
comprehension of their parts and properties.
Fig. 1, an end view, partly open, of a mould for casting
three varieties of patterns, which are thus prepared for be¬
ing forced through the machine. By an ingenious con¬
struction of the handle, it is made to lock and unlock by
inclined planes, acting on studs aa. Fig. 2, a side view,
also partly open ; and fig. 3, an isometrical view of the
mould prepared for pouring in the metal.
The metal or cast being removed from the mould, a pair
of the dies (one only of each pair is represented), according
to the pattern required, figs. 4, 5, 6, 7, are placed in the
machine, as seen at cc, fig. 8, isometrical view. After they
are put in, a thin iron cover {b, fig. 10), with an oblong
hole in the middle, is put on to guide the metal into the
rollers. Figs. 9, 10, and 11, represent three views of the
machine as prepared for operating. In figs. 9 and 11, the
metal dd is represented passing through the machine, which
is accomplished by turning the winch handle ee, acting on
two equal-sized toothed wheels ff. On the axles of these
are two rollers gg, slightly serrated (dotted through in figs.
8 and 10) ; these rollers draw the metal through, while the
dies give the desired form. To allow the axles and rollers
to be placed in the frame or body of the machine A, the
cover h is removed by unscrewing the bolt i, figs. 8, 10, 11.
The toothed wheels ff are also taken off, by unscrewing the
nuts kk. The tempering screw bolt l is for adjusting the
dies after they are put in their place. The screw bolts mm
are for fixing the machine to a table or bench.
Fig. 12 is an isometrical view of the cover /*, removed
to show the ports nn, through which the axles of the rol¬
lers pass.
Fig. 13 shows the shape of the bolt used for soldering the
lead windows, and fig. 14 the opener already described.
The lead intended to be employed in window-making
must be soft, and of the very best quality; and great care
must be taken to have the moulds properly tempered, other¬
wise the lead will not be equally diffused in them, and the
castings consequently not perfectly solid throughout, as they
ought, to be.
The castings are, as already noticed, usually about
eighteen inches in length, and are afterwards extended by
the mill represented by the figure above, to the length of
five or six feet.
It may not be unnecessary to add, that the mill not only
extends the lead, and reduces it at the pleasure of the
operator to the dimensions required, but at the same time
forms the grooves into which the edge of the glass is after¬
wards introduced in forming the window.
When the lead has been prepared in the manner de¬
scribed, the glazier ought to proceed to cut out the panes
wanted. For this operation he must prepare by first out¬
lining the full dimensions of the window, and then lining it
off to the pattern required, shaping the panes accordingly.
If the window is of a large size, this may be done by com¬
partments, to be afterwards united, and thus be more con¬
veniently wrought.
When all the glass has been cut for the window, the next
thing to be done is to open the grooves in the lead with the
opener or wedge tool. The panes are then, in order that
they may be water-tight, fastened very firmly into the
grooves with the wooden fillet already spoken of (which
may be fixed on the handle of the chisel or cutting tool),
the parallel lines of lead being secured in their proper places
on the board, when the window is of the diamond shape, by
a small nail at either end, until the course is finished, when
the work is permanently fastened by running a small quan¬
tity of solder gently over the two connecting pieces of lead
at each joint, or angular point. When the window has been
completed, it should be removed from the working board to
a flat table, and there covered with a thick layer of cement,
composed of white lead, lamp black, red lead, litharge, and
boiled linseed oil, with a half-worn paint-brush, and the
composition carefully rubbed into every joint. This will
render the window completely impervious to the weather,
as the cement, if properly laid on, will fill every chink, where
it will soon become as hard and durable as any other of the
materials of which the window is composed.
The window, on being fitted into the frame, that is, on
being set in its place in the building for which it is intended,
ought to be supported with iron rods, extending three-
eighths of an inch beyond the breadth of the frame on each
side, running across it at the distance of from twelve to
fourteen inches from each other, and secured to the lead
frame-work at intervals with copper wire.
THE CUTTING DIAMOND.
Before the introduction of the diamond as an agent in
cutting glass, that operation was performed by means of
emery, sharp pointed instruments of the hardest steel, and
sometimes red-hot iron. These were the only contrivances
known and practised by the ancient glaziers.
In considering the diamond in its relations to the pur¬
poses of the window-glass cutter, there occur some circum¬
stances not unworthy of remark. Amongst these, it may
be noticed, that the cutting point of the diamond must be
a natural one ; an artificial point, however perfectly formed,
will only scratch the glass, not cut it. The diamond of a
ring, for instance, will not cut a pane, but merely mark it
with rough superficial lines, which penetrate but a very little
way inwards. Artificial points, corners, or angles, there¬
fore, produced by cutting the diamond, are adapted only for
writing or for drawing figures on glass, and such were those
used by Schwanhard, Host, and the other old artists who
were celebrated for ornamenting glass vessels. The cutting
diamond does not write so well on glass, from the circum¬
stance of its being apt to enter too deeply, and take too firm
a hold of the surface, and thus become intractable. It may
further be noticed, that an accidental point produced by
fracturing the diamond, is as unfit for cutting as an artifi¬
cial one. Such a point will also merely scratch the glass.
No point, in short, that is not given by the natural forma¬
tion of the mineral, will answer the purposes of the window-
glass cutter.
The large sparks, as the diamonds used for cutting glass
are called, are generally preferred to the small ones, from
the circumstance of their being likely to possess (although
this is by no means invariably the case) a number of cut¬
ting points; while the very small sparks are not always
found to possess more than one. Thus, if the point of the
latter is worn or broken off, although the spark be turned,
and reset in its socket, it will still be without the power of
cutting, and consequently useless; while the former, on un¬
dergoing the same operation, will present a new and effec¬
tive point.
The large sparks are called mother sparks, and are some¬
times cut down into as many smaller fragments, bearing the
same name, as there are natural points in them. Each of
these, therefore, can have only one cutting point, and are
consequently only proportionately valuable to the glazier,
since they cannot be restored by resetting.
The Setting of Diamonds is a process with which every
glazier ought to be acquainted ; nor is it an art of difficult
acquirement; some practice, and a little patience, are all
that is necessary.
After having selected a stone, as clear and pellucid as
possible, and of an octahedral shape, or as near to that form
as it can be procured, the workman proceeds to ascertain
which is its cutting point, or, if it has more than one, which
is the best. This will be found to be that point which has
the cutting edges of the crystal placed exactly at right
angles to each other, and passing precisely through a point
of intersection made by the crossing of the edges.
He then provides a piece of copper or brass wire, a quar¬
ter of an inch in diameter, having a hole drilled in one of
its ends large enough to contain three-fourths of the dia¬
mond to be set. Having temporarily secured the diamond
in this hole, the setter ascertains the cutting point by try¬
ing it on a piece of glass ; and when he has discovered it,
he marks its position by making a slight notch in the wire
with a file or otherwise, exactly opposite to the cutting
point, as a guide to him in his operations when he comes
to fix it permanently in the socket head of the handle.
When doing this, care is taken to keep it exactly parallel
with the inclined plane of the socket head.
The cutting point having been ascertained, and the dia¬
mond fixed into its place, the wire is then cut off about a
quarter of an inch below the diamond, and filed dow n to fit
exactly into the aperture in the socket head, into which it
must be soldered. The rough or superfluous metal around
the stone is removed with a file ; and, lastly, the setting is
polished with emery or sand paper. Such is the most ap¬
proved method of setting new diamonds, and it applies
equally to the resetting of old ones. But in the latter case,
the first process, that of detaching the stone from its bed,
is accomplished either by means of a knife, or by applying
the blowpipe.
The art of managing the diamonds in glass-cutting, so as
to produce effective results, can only be attained by consi¬
derable experience. The diamond must be held in a par¬
ticular position, and with a particular inclination, otherwise
it will not cut, and the slightest deviation from either ren¬
ders an attempt to do so abortive. In the hands of an in¬
experienced person it merely scratches the glass, leaving a
long rough furrow, but no fissure. The glazier judges by
his ear of the cut made. When the cut is a clean and effec¬
tive one, the diamond produces, in the act of being drawn
along, a sharp, keen, and equal sound. When the cut is
not a good one, this sound is harsh, grating, and irregular.
On perceiving this, the operator alters the inclination and
672 GLASS.
Glass, position of his diamond, until the proper sound is emitted,
when he proceeds with his cut.
The diamonds employed in glass-cutting are of the de¬
scription known by the technical name of bort, a classifica¬
tion which includes all such pieces as are too small to be
cut, or are of a bad colour, and consequently unfit for orna¬
mental purposes. These are accordingly selected from the
better sort, and sold separately, at an inferior price.
Though there are many substances that will scratch glass,
the diamond was thought to be the only one that would cut
it; but some experiments of Dr Wollaston have shown
that this is not strictly correct. That eminent philosopher
gave to pieces of sapphire, ruby, spinel ruby, rock crystal,
and some other substances, that peculiar curvilinear edge
which forms the cutting point in the diamond, and in which,
and in its hardness, its singular property of cutting entirely
lies, and with these succeeded in cutting glass with a per¬
fectly clear fissure. They lasted, however, but for a very
short time, soon losing their edge, although prepared at a
great expense of labour and care ; while the diamond comes
ready formed from the hand of nature, and will last for many
years.
MANUFACTURE OF FLINT-GLASS OR CRYSTAL.
This branch may be defined the art of forming useful
and ornamental articles of glass, and is the most ancient
department of glass manufacture. The manipulatory pro¬
cesses have scarcely been varied and only slightly extended
since the earliest times. The progress of chemistry has
supplied purer materials but introduced few new ones. Thus
we find that baryta has replaced the lead, and soda the
potash in ancient glass, while in the production of coloured
glasses purer and additional metallic oxides are used. Yet
this art has shown less tractability in the hands of the im¬
prover than perhaps any other industrial art.
The best flint glass or crystal is composed of silica, po¬
tash, and lead, the average proportion being one-half sand,
one-third red lead or litharge, one-sixth carbonate of potash,
and a little saltpetre, manganese, and white arsenic to cor¬
rect and improve the colour or accidental impurities of the
other materials. For inferior glass, or “ tail metal” as it is
technically called, soda is substituted for potash, and baryta
for lead or litharge. In still cheaper “ metal” for common
small phials or bottles, a mixture approximating that for
window-glass is used. For optical purposes the proportion
of lead is increased to improve the refractive properties,
which increase in proportion to the density of the medium.
The specific gravity of the metals varies from about 3’6 to
2-5.
The furnaces employed are generally circular, and con¬
tain eight or ten pots of the form represented in fig. 2,
Plate CCLXXVI. The “ found,” as the period of melting
the materials is termed, commences generally on a Friday
evening. The materials or “ batch,” and a portion of broken
glass or “ cullet” being mixed together are gradually intro¬
duced into the heated pot. Fig. 1, Plate CCLXXVI. re¬
presents the interior of a glass-house ; the building in the
centre being a large cone or chimney built over and around
the furnace which is seen through the arches a. The holes
into which the men at 5 and 6 are dipping iron tools are
the openings through which the batch is introduced and the
metal withdrawn. The grate is in the centre of the fur¬
nace, and there are flues at the back of the piers between
the arches. As the batch melts there is a considerable
evolution of gases, which at length subsides, when the metal
begins to “ fine” and reaches the “ crisis.” It is then cooled
until about the consistency of thick honey. The evolu¬
tion of the gases disperses air bubbles through it; and the
glass-maker endeavours so to regulate the heat of the fur¬
nace that the bubbles may rise to the surface, burst, and
leave the metal plain and fine, but if the heat be continued
beyond the crisis, the quality of the metal is deteriorated. Glass.
For some time after the greater part of the gas has escaped,
little bells or beads, technically called “ seeds,” rise and are
extricated more freely by agitation or alteration of tempera¬
ture. If the metal becomes solid while these bubbles are
rising, it retains them, and if the “crisis” is not quickly passed,
although the seed may be overcome by long continued fusion
yet bad colour and other defects arise. Strings and striae,
which upon close examination may be found in nearly all
glass, are very common and troublesome. They may be
caused by improper mixing of the materials, separation in
the pot of metal of different densities, large grains of sand or
pieces of refractory clay. But as strings and striae in clear ice
give pure water when melted, so in glass, mechanical rather
than chemical means must be used for their prevention and
cure. For optical glass Bontemps has carried out the re¬
commendation of Faraday, and by systematically stirring
the fluid glass has nearly reduced the manufacture of opti¬
cal glass for large lenses to a certainty.
Crystal glass is popularly called colourless, but a practised
eye quickly detects colour, which is more readily percepti¬
ble in the mass. It is probable that even pure silica, oxide
of lead, and carbonate of potash will not produce colourless
glass, but that there is a colour proper to glass as there is
to air and water. But the main causes of colour in crystal
are slight impurities, consisting of the oxides of iron or
compounds of sulphur or carbon. A large excess of lead
gives a yellowr colour,—the oxides of iron, orange or olive-
green tints, and compounds of sulphur or carbon, orange or
blue. The peroxide of iron gives orange of a light tint,
compared with the olive-green produced by the same quan¬
tity of the protoxide of iron. The addition of the black
oxide of manganese or of saltpetre, produces purple, per-
oxidizes the oxide of iron, and, combined, forms what is
called white, but practically an approach to black, and by a
large dose of these materials glass of opaque blackness may
be produced. Saltpetre also peroxidizes the iron, and
heightens the colour due to manganese. Purity of ma¬
terials is essential to success, and oxide of manganese was
formerly called glass-makers’ soap ; but although it reduces
the colour arising from iron, it does not annihilate it.
Glass rendered colourless by manganese becomes pink by
exposure to the direct rays of the sun, and if too much is
used in the “ batch” the metal is rendered pink, and is
called high-coloured. Glass with too little manganese
has a “low colour.” The high colour may be reduced
by the deoxidizing agency of a pole of wood, with which,
in such case, the metal is stirred. Some of the high
colour is lost in the annealing, and thick vessels remaining
long in the “ leir” or oven lose more than the light articles
which are passed quickly through; therefore to obtain equa¬
lity of colour, the metal for thick goods must be highest
coloured. Arsenious acid is also employed as a correc¬
tive of colour. Sulphur is a powerful agent in colouring
glass. Sometimes a pot of metal foams while melting and
is of a dark amber or orange colour, which occasionally it re¬
tains when cool, or at other times changes to the light blue
tint of the common soda-water bottle. Both tints are caused
by the presence of sulphur, the orange by the larger quantity.
One part of sulphur to two hundred of glass produces a dark
colour ; hence, by adding a sulphuret to the melted metal
the tints can be deepened at will. Splitgerber shows
that glass containing one of sulphur in three hundred of
glass becomes at a moderate low red heat nearly black and
opaque, but becomes more transparent at a higher temper¬
ature. Similar changes are produced by heat on sulphur
in its pure state. At its melting point it is lemon-yellow;
at higher temperatures it becomes orange, and gradually
deepens nearly black, and at a still stronger heat is vola¬
tilized in yellow vapours. Similar results are obtained
with glass coloured by gold, silver, and copper; glass co-
GLASS.
Glass.
loured by sulphur takes a deeper stain from silver than
other glass, but if overheated becomes a light greenish-yel¬
low on the reverse, and dark chestnut on the obverse, and is
rendered useless. In Bohemia, glass consisting only of pot¬
ash, silica, and lime is stained of a bright scarlet colour by
copper: the process is not followed in Britain probably in
consequence of British glass always containing lead or soda.
1 he metallic colours used for flint glass are cobalt for
blue ; chromium ora mixture of iron and copper for green ;
manganese for purple ; copper for deep scarlet or light blue;
gold for crimson; antimony or iron for yellow; uranium
for topaz. Glass coloured by the oxide of uranium exposed
in a dark room to the dim light of the electric Aurora be¬
comes translucent and illuminated throughout, and is par¬
tially so when exposed to the hydrogen flame. White ena¬
mel is obtained by the addition of oxides of arsenic, tin,
floor spar, or phosphate of lime, and coloured enamels are
produced by adding the appropriate metallic oxides.
In the manipulation of the glass the men are arranged in
sets of four, called chairs, and there are generally four chairs
to a furnace. The principal workman of each chair is called
the gaffer, the second the servitor, the third the foot-
maker, and a boy completes the set. The wages of these
men vary from 60s. to 20s. per week. The work is heavy,
and requires such skill and dexterity that few-first class
workmen are found. The men work in six-hour shifts,
there being a complete double set. The first operation of
the glass-blower is to skim the metal, as most impurities
float on its surface, and this is done with an iron rod heated
at its extremity and dipped into the metal, a little of which
adheres. This is flattened on an iron plate and repeatedly
introduced, gradually growing larger until it gathers and
removes all the floating matter from the surface of the metal.
The operation of making crystal articles then groes on as
follows.
An iron tube is heated at the end and dipped into the
semifluid metal, see Plate CCLXXVI. figs. 5 and 6, a por¬
tion of which is collected, withdrawn from the pot, and then
rolled on an iron plate called the marver, as in fig. 7, until
it has acquired the circular shape seen there. The marver
also equalizes the heat of the gathering, which the iron tube
cools and stiffens, and which requires to be equally ductile
in all its parts. The servitor now prepares a post, as a
flattened round hot lump of metal on a punty or iron rod is
called, and applies it to the end of the globe as shown in
fig. 9. The two masses of glass are thus united together,
and that attached to the hollow tube is separated by touch¬
ing it, near to where the tube enters the globe, with a small
piece of iron wetted with water. By this means the glass
cracks, and a smart blow on the iron tube completes the dis¬
union. The workman now takes the punty from his assist¬
ant, and laying it on his chair arm, rolls it backward and
forward with his left arm, while with his right he moulds it
into the various shapes required, by means of a very few
simple instruments. By one of these called a procello, the
blades of which are attached by an elastic bow like a pair
of sugar tongs, the dimensions of the vessel can be enlarged
or contracted at pleasure. Any superfluous material is cut
away by a pair of scissors. For smoothing and equalizing
the sides of the vessel a piece of wood is used. After the
article is finished it is detached from the punty and carried
on a pronged stick to the annealing oven or leir, a represen¬
tation of which is given in Plate CCLXXVI. fig. 3.
For a fluted or ribbed cane, as a solid glass rod is techni¬
cally called, the metal is forced into a mould of the requisite
shape and then withdrawn; after which, if attached to another
post and the two punties be twisted and drawn in opposite
directions, the ribs become spiral lines, which become more
acute as the drawing is extended. Venetian filigree work
is produced in this way; and if in the hollow flutes of the
mould coloured glass or enamels are inserted, and the ga-
vol. x.
673
thering introduced, the coloured glass or enamels are welded
to and withdrawn with it. When again heated, and twisted
or drawn, these streaks of colour or enamel become spiral,
and ornament the surface. If before being drawn the mass
be redipped into the pot of crystal glass and then twisted,
the spiral lines of colour or enamel become internal. By the
repetition of this process spirals can be formed within spirals,
and by placing these filigree canes side by side and weld¬
ing them together, very curious and intricate patterns are
obtained. By the ordinary process of blowing, vessels are
formed with smooth and concentric interior and exterior
surfaces, and do not exhibit the brilliancy of the crystal so
much as when it has numerous inequalities. The most
brilliant effect is produced by cutting, but moulding is much
cheaper, and this branch of the art has now reached a high
state of excellence. The moulds are generally of iron
highly polished, and are kept a little below a red heat.
The surface of the metal is injured by contact with the
mould, but its transparency is restored by being reheated.
A very exact regulation of the temperature is necessary in
reheating fine mouldings; too little heat does not give the
“ fire polish,” too much softens the metal and obliterates
the mouldings. The moulds for pressed goods are made
in pieces so hinged or connected as to close and leave a
vacuity, the form of the article required, the hollow in which
is not however produced by blowing but by the plunger of
the press under which the mould is placed. The required
quantity of metal is then dropt in, when the plunger de¬
scends and forces it into all parts of the cavity, completing
the formation of the article, which is then stuck to a punty,
and fire-polished and annealed.
What is called cased glass is crystal covered with coats of
coloured glass. It is thus obtained. The gathering of
crystal is thrust into a coloured or enamelled shell, which
is previously prepared. The welding is completed by re¬
heating ; and two or more coats of different colours or ena¬
mels may thus be employed. When cut through to the
crystal in various figures, the edges of the different colours
on enamel are seen.
The Venetian frosted glass is obtained by immersing the
hot metal gathering in cold water, quickly withdrawing it,
reheating and expanding it by blowing, before it becomes so
hot as to weld together the numerous cracks on the surface
caused by the cold water. These cracks only penetrate
where the metal has been cooled by the water, and remain
as depressions until the article is finished.
Venetian vitro-di-trono consists of spiral lines of enamels
or colours, crossing each other diamond-wise, in the body of
the glass, and inclosing an air-bubble in the centre of each
diamond. It is thus formed : a gathering is blown in the
mould with the necessary canes twisted and blown out as
formerly described for spiral filagree, the canes being left
projecting from the outside like ribs or flutes. A similar
piece is made and turned inside out. The projecting canes
on this piece are inside, and the spiral lines reversed. The
one piece is then placed under the other, and both are
welded together. The ribs or flutes projecting from the
two surfaces in contact inclose air in the diamonds, which
gradually assumes the bubble shape. The vessel is then
formed in the ordinary manner. The most beautiful regu¬
larity of lines is thus obtained; and when the ends are
closed by the procellos, the lines are drawn to a centre as
regularly arranged as if they had been turned in an engine.
Incrustations are formed by placing the substance to be
incased on the surface of the article, and dropping melted
metal on it, or by preparing an open tube of glass, inserting
the object, and welding the open end. By suction instead
of blowing, the metal is collapsed on the object, and the
air withdrawn. From the unequal contraction between the
object and the crystal by which it is surrounded there is
much difficulty in the annealing, and to avoid the risk of
4 Q
Glass.
674 GLASS.
Glass, breakage the object should be made of materials expanding
and contracting like the glass itself.
The round, heavy paper weights containing various or¬
naments apparently in the body of the metal are made as
follows :—Canes are made to the required pattern—say, for
example, a star within a tube. A gathering of white enamel
is formed in a star-shaped mould, and coated with crystal.
After this is marvered, it is dipped into a coloured enamel,
and drawn out into a cane; and if this is covered with crystal,
the eye cannot detect the junction of the external crystal
with that of the cane, but the enamel casing will appear as a
tube with the star standing in the centre. Devices of
numerous kinds are thus made in canes, and then welded
together. The end is then ground, and, after being heated
and incased in crystal, the lens-like shape of the paper¬
weights adds to the effect by magnifying the incrusted canes.
The light-refracting properties of crystal are best shown
by cutting and polishing. Fig. 4, PI. CCLXXVI. repre¬
sents a glass-cutter’s mill. A is the pulley and band com¬
municating motion to the mill, which is made of wrought
or cast iron. Stones of various textures, or wood, sand, or
emery, in water, are used with the metal mills, water only
with the stones, and pumice-stone and putty-powder with
the wood for smoothing and polishing. The articles are
held in the hand, and applied to the mill while rotating.
The punty marks are ground off tumblers, wine-glasses,
and such like, by boys holding them on small stone mills.
Ground or frosted glass is made by rubbing the surface
with sand and water. Iron tools fixed on a lathe and mois¬
tened with sand and water are used to rough out the stop¬
pers and necks of bottles, which are completed by hand
with emery and water. The neighbourhood of the coal-fields
is of course the chief seat of the manufacture, and probably
the best crystal is now made in Manchester.
BOTTLE-GLASS.
Plate CCLXXIV., fig. 4, is a ground-plan, showing all
the necessary buildings for two bottle-houses, and in one of
the houses the ground-plan of a four-pot furnace and ash
arches. The furnace is an oblong, similar to what we
have described the crown-furnace to be, but arched over
in the barrel shape. It is erected in the centre of the brick
cone, above a cave, which admits the atmosphere to the
grating. The working holes of this furnace, opposite each
pot, for putting in the materials and taking out the liquid
glass, are each about one foot in diameter. At each angle
of the furnace there is also a hole about the same size com¬
municating with the calcining arch, and admitting the flame
from the main furnace, which reverberates on and calcines
the materials in the arch. Fig. 1 shows the main furnace ;
2, 3, 4, 5, the ash arches for calcining the materials ; 6, 7, 8,
9, 10, 11, annealing arches; 12, two-pot arches; 13, what
is considered an improved plan; 14, clay-house, for pick¬
ing, grinding, sifting, and afterwards working the clay into
paste for the purpose of manufacturing pots; 15, mill house
for grinding clay ; 16, a building containing a calcar furnace
for experiments, or for preparing the materials, when the
ash arch attached to the main furnace is under repair, in¬
cluding, 1, a sand crib, and, 2, an ash crib for sifting and
mixing the materials, sufficient for two houses.
The common green or bottle-glass is made of the coarsest
materials; sand, lime, sometimes clay, any kind of alkali
or alkaline ashes, whose cheapness may recommend it to
the manufacturer, and sometimes the vitreous slag produced
from the fusion of iron ore. The mixture most commonly
used is soap-maker’s waste, in the proportion of three mea¬
sures to one measure of sand. The green colour of this
glass is occasioned by the existence of a portion of iron in
the sand, and, it may be, also in the vegetable ashes of which
it is composed.
When castor-oil or champaigne bottles are wanted, a Glass,
portion of crown-glass cullet is added, to improve the
colour. The impurity of the alkali, and the abundance of
fluxing materials of an earthy nature, combined with the
intense heat to which they are subjected, occasion the exis¬
tence of but a very small proportion of real saline matter
in the glass, and thereby render it better than flint-glass
for holding fluids possessing corrosive properties.
The soap-maker’s waste is generally calcined in two of
the coarse arches, figs. 3 and 4, which are kept at a strong
red heat from twenty-four to thirty hours, the time required
to melt the materials and work them into glass, which is
termed a journey. After the soap-maker’s waste is taken
out of the arch, it is ground and mixed with sand in the
proportions already mentioned. This mixture is put into
the fine arches, and again calcined during the working jour¬
ney, which occupies about ten or twelve hours more.
When the journey is over, the pots are again filled with
the red-hot materials out of the fine calcining arch. Six
horn’s are required to melt this additional quantity of mate¬
rials. The pots are again filled up, and in about four hours
this filling is also melted. The furnace is then kept at the
highest possible degree of heat, and in the course of from
twelve to sixteen hours, according as the experience of the
founder may determine, the materials in the potsax*e formed
into a liquid glass fit for making bottles. The furnace is
now checked by closing the doors of the cave, and the
metal cooling, it becomes more dense, and all the extra¬
neous matter not formed into glass floats upon the top.
Befoi'e beginning to work, this is skimmed oft’ in the
way already described in our account of crown-glass
making. A sufficient quantity of coals is added at in¬
tervals, to keep the furnace at a working heat till the jour¬
ney is finished.
After the pots have been skimmed, the person who begins
the work is the gatherer, who, after heating the pipe, gathers
on it a small quantity of metal. After allowing this to cool
a little, he again gathers such a quantity as he conceives to
be sufficient to make a bottle. This is then handed to the
blower, who, while blowing through the tube, rolls the
metal upon a stone, at the same time forming the neck of
the bottle. He then puts the metal into a bi-ass or cast-
iron mould of the shape of the bottle wanted, and, continu¬
ing to blow through tlxe tube, brings it to the desired form.
The patent mould now in use is made of brass, the inside
finely polished, divided into two pieces, which the workman,
by pressing a spxdng with his foot, opens and shuts at plea¬
sure. The blower then hands it to the finisher, who touches
the neck of the bottle with a small piece of ii’on dipt in
water, which cuts it completely oft’from the pipe. He next
attaches the punty, which is a little metal gathered from the
pot, to the bottom of the bottle, and thereby gives it the
shape which it usually presents. This punty may be used
for from eighteen to twenty-four dozen of bottles. It is
occasionally dipped into sand to prevent its adhering to the
bottle. The finisher then warms the bottle at the furnace,
and taking out a small quantity of metal on what is termed
a ring iron, he turns it once round the mouth, forming the
ring seen at the mouth of bottles. He then employs the
shears to give shape to the neck. One of the blades of the
shears has a piece of brass in the centre, tapered like a com¬
mon coi’k, which forms the inside mouth ; to the other
blade is attached a piece of brass, used to form the ring.
The bottle is then lifted by the neck on a fork by a little
fellow about ten years of age, and carried to the annealing
arch, where the bottles are placed in bins above one an¬
other. This arch is kept a little below melting heat, till the
whole quantity, which amounts to ten or twelve gross in
each arch, is deposited, when the fire is allowed to die out.
W. €—R. AND J. B.
G L A
Burning Burning Glass. See Burning Glasses.
Glass Looking Glass. See Mirror, and Foliating of
II Looking-Glasses.
Giatz. Glasses. See Harmonica.
Weather Glass. See Barometer.
GLASSITES or Sandemanians, a religious sect that
first appeared in Scotland about a.d. 1728, when Mr Glass,
a minister of the Scottish Established Church, avovred
opinions on church government approaching very nearly
to those of the Congregationalists. About 1757 Robert
Sandeman appeared as an advocate of the same opinions,
and in 1762 he organized a congregation. The prominent
distinguishing doctrine of the Glassites relates to the nature
of justifying faith, which Sandeman maintained to be “ no
more than a simple assent to the divine testimony passively
received by the understanding.” Certain peculiar prac¬
tices also are observed by this sect, which are by them
supposed to have been prevalent among the primitive
Christians, such as weekly communions, love-feasts, mutual
exhortations, washing each others’ feet, plurality of elders,
the use of the lot, and several others.
In 1851 the number of Glassite congregations in Great
Britain was twelve, wdth aggregate accommodation for about
2000 persons.
GLASTONBURY, a municipal borough and market-
town of England, county of Somerset, 24 miles S.W. of
Bath. It occupies a peninsula (formerly an island, the
Avalonia of the Romans) formed by the river Brue, be¬
tween the Poldew and Mendip hills. Glastonbury was
long celebrated for its abbey, one of the richest and most
powerful of the monastic institutions in England. It is said
to have been founded by Joseph of Arimathea, whose staff,
according to the legend, was converted into a budding
thorn, and hence the term Glastonbury thorn.” Having
fallen into decay, the abbey was rebuilt with great splen¬
dour by Ina, king of Wessex, about 708. a.d. It was in great
part rebuilt in the twelfth century, and was subsequently
repaired or enlarged. At the dissolution of the monas¬
teries in 1539, the last abbot, being unwilling to surrender
his abbey, was hanged without trial. The abbey buildings
ivere surrounded by a high wall inclosing about 60 acres.
The remains of this structure consist of some fragments of
the church, the chapel of St Joseph, and the abbot’s kit¬
chen. This last, which is in better preservation than any
other part, is an octagonal building, with a turret sur¬
mounted by a double lantern. The town of Glastonbury
took its rise from the abbey, to which also it was mainly
indebted for its prosperity. It was destroyed by the Danes
in 873, but was subsequently rebuilt by King Edmund.
It was burnt down with part of the abbey in 1184, and was
rebuilt by Henry III. Again it was destroyed, or nearly
so, by an earthquake in 1276, after which it was gradually
restored chiefly by the help of the abbey. It is governed
by a mayor, four aldermen, and twelve councillors. In the
centre of the town stands the cross, an ancient and now
ruinous structure. The churches of St John and St Bene¬
dict are fine old buildings, and the former is surmounted
by a beautiful tower. On a hill N.E. of the town is a curious
old tower called the Tor, or Tower of St Michael. The
other buildings of interest are St George’s Inn, formerly
the abbey hospitium ; the tribunal, the abbey-house, gate¬
house, hospital of St John, and the town-hall. Many of
the houses are composed of the stones of the abbey. It
carries on some trade in timber, slates, tiles, and agricul¬
tural produce by means of a canal connecting it with the
Bristol Channel. The silk manufacture is carried on to a
small extent. St Dunstan was a native of this town. Pop.
(1851) 3125.
GLATZ (Slav. Kladsko), a fortified town of Prussian
Silesia, government of Breslau, and 52 miles S.S.W. of a
town of that name. It stands in a narrow valley on the
G L A 675
left bank of the Neisse, not far from the Austrian frontier. Glauber.
It is strongly walled, and is further defended by an old ^ ^
castle built on a high hill on one side, and by a regular
modern fortress erected on a hill on the opposite side of
the town. It has several Lutheran and Catholic churches,
a gymnasium, asylum for destitute children, infirmary, a
large barracks, and other military buildings. Its chief
manufactures are linen, damask, broadcloth, leather, and
hosiery. It surrendered to Frederic the Great in 1742,
was retaken by the Austrians in 1759, and restored to
Prussia at the peace of 1763. Pop. (1849) 8222, exclu¬
sive of the garrison, which amounted to 2342.
GLAUBER, John Rodolph, a German chemist, born
at the commencement of the sixteenth century, was one of
those who were most ardently occupied with “ the great
work”—the discovery of the philosopher’s stone. Full of
love and enthusiasm for the marvellous, he abandoned
himself without reserve to the extravagant ideas which then
prevailed in chemistry. His long and painful labours, pur¬
sued with indefatigable perseverance, and an energy worthy
of a nobler object, w^ere almost always directed towards the
discovery of the panacea, the philosopher’s stone, and other
chimeras with which the alchymists amused themselves.
Infatuated with the doctrine of the adepts, he may be said
to have passed his life over alembics and furnaces; and, in
fact, he is regarded as a second Paracelsus. Not less pre¬
sumptuous than his model, he boasted of the discovery of
several wonderful secrets. Whether he was truly con¬
vinced of the reality of his inventions, or whether, like em¬
pirics of all classes, he proposed to profit by the ignorance
and blind credulity of men, he had the art to seduce many
persons by promises as vain as they were exaggerated. He
is even reproached with having carried on a vile traffic in
pretended secrets, which he sometimes sold at an exorbitant
price to different individuals, and afterwards published with
his name in order to enhance his reputation. Devoid of
the instruction and force of mind necessary to enable him
to deduce just inferences from the numerous experiments
which he had performed with ability and address, Glauber
only attained a subaltern or secondary rank amongst the
chemists. But he, nevertheless, discovered several im¬
portant facts, which have materially contributed to make
better known certain salts and some metals, which, eventu¬
ally, had a marked influence on the progress of chemistry
and materia medica. Thus, in examining the residue of
the decomposition of sea-salt by the sulphuric acid, this
laborious chemist discovered the sulphate of soda, to which
his name is permanently attached under the denomination of
Glauber’s Salt. His writings on dry baths and sulphurous
fumigations entitle him, in certain respects, to be regarded
as the inventor of confined vapour baths, which have been
latterly brought forward as a new discovery; and he is
equally the inventor of several chemical medicaments, the
use of which is still preserved in most of the pharma¬
copoeias.
We are also indebted to him for a great number of works (thirty
in all), an exact list of which may be found in the curious article
entitled Glauber, in Adelung’s History of Human Folly. A collec¬
tion of them was printed in several volumes 8vo, and in two
volumes 4to, at Frankfort, 1658,1659, and translated into English
by Pack, London, 1689, folio. Of these the principal are—Deutsch-
lands Wallfahrt, Amsterdam, 1656, often reprinted; Furni Novi
Philosophici, or Description of a new Method of Distilling, Am¬
sterdam, 1648, 8vo, translated into French by Duteil, Paris, 1659,
8vo; He Medicina Universali, sive de Auro potabili vero, Am¬
sterdam, 1658, 8vo; Miraculum Mundi, Amsterdam, 1653, 8vo;
Pharmacopoeia Spagyrica, Amsterdam, 1654, 8vo; He Tartaro
ex Vini foecibus, 1655, 8vo; Hissertatio Medica Hermetica et
Catholica magni Naturae magisterialis My stern, Frankfort, 1656,
8vo; Consolation of Navigators, Amsterdam, 1659, 8vo; Opus
Minerale, Amsterdam, 1651, 8vo; De Elia Artista, Amsterdam,
1668, 8vo. Glauber published many other alchymical produc¬
tions, which are neither less obscure or less enigmatical than
676 G L E
Glauchau the preceding. All his works are in German; and although most
of them have the first words of the title in Latin, there is good
Glee. ground for believing that Glauber did not understand that lan-
v guage. (j. B—E.)
GLAUCHAU, a town of Saxony, circle of Zwickau, on
the right bank of the Mulde, 12 miles S.E. of Altenburg.
It has several churches, a normal and other schools, an
orphan asylum, poorhouse, two hospitals, two castles, and
extensive manufactures of woollen and linen goods, hosiery,
leather, iron and copper wares, &c. Pop. (1849) 10,350.
GLAUCOMA (yAau/cds). a disease of the eye, in which
the crystalline humour assumes a bluish or greenish colour,
and its transparency is diminished. (See Lawrence’s Lec¬
tures on Surgery?)
GLAUCUS, son of Sisyphus and Merope, grandson of
iEolus, and grandfather of Bellerophontes. He dwelt at
Potniae; despised the power of Venus or Aphrodite; and
prevented his mares from breeding, in order that they
might be the stronger for the race. Another version is,
that he fed them on human flesh for the purpose of render¬
ing them spirited and warlike. This roused the anger of
Aphrodite, so that she destroyed him—some say by caus¬
ing his horses to take fright and throw him out of the
chariot, while he was contending at the funeral games in
honour of Pelias ; others, that his horses tore him to pieces,
having drunk from the waters of a sacred well in Boeotia,
which caused them to go mad. One of the lost tragedies
of iEschylus was called PAciukos IIoTvteus.
Glaucus, son of Hippolochus, and grandson of Bellero¬
phontes, was a Lycian prince, who assisted Priam in the
Trojan war. When he and Diomede, to whom he was
bound by ties of hospitality, recognised each other in battle,
they desisted from the contest, and exchanged arms.
Glaucus was afterwards slain by Ajax, but his body was
taken back to Lycia.
Glaucus, a son of Antenor; he fought in the Trojan
war, but was killed by Telamonian Ajax.
Glaucus, one of the sons of Priam.
Glaucus, one of the sons of the Cretan king Minos, by
Crete or Pasiphae. WTien a child, playing at ball or pur¬
suing a mouse, he fell into a cask of honey, and was
smothered. He was, however, discovered by the soothsayer
Polyidus of Argos, who was pointed out by Apollo for the
purpose. Minos then desired him to restore his son to life ;
but failing to do this, he was buried alive with young Glau¬
cus, when a serpent most opportunely revealed an herb
which restored the dead body to life. The story of Polyidus
was a favourite subject w ith ancient poets and artists.
Glaucus, a fisherman of Anthedon in Bceotia, who be¬
came a sea-god by eating part of the divine herb which
Cronos had sown. A general belief prevailed in Greece
that Glaucus every year, accompanied by marine monsters,
visited all the coasts and islands, and delivered his pro¬
phecies. Fishermen and sailors especially were attentive
to his oracles, in which they placed implicit confidence.
He is said to have instructed even Apollo in the prophetic
art. 1 he stories about his various loves were favourites
with the poets, but the place of his abode varied according
to local traditions.
Glaucus, a sculptor in metal, who dwelt in Chios, and was
considered by the Greeks as the inventor of the art of sol¬
dering metals. He lived about 490 B.c.
GLAZING of Earthenware. See Pottery and Stone¬
ware.
GLEBE (Lat. gleba), in Law, the land annexed to a
parish church, and belonging to the parson or vicar.
Glebe, among miners, a piece of earth containing some
mineral ore.
GLEE, in Music, a composition for three or more voices,
in simple counterpoint; the words generally upon some
lively subject. \\ hen the words are grave or pathetic, and
G L E
passages of fugue and imitation are introduced, the compo- Gleig.
sition is more properly called a madrigal. ■
GLEIG, George, afterwards Bishop of Brechin, was
born 12th May 1753, at Bog-Hall, in Kincardineshire. He
received the rudiments of his education in the school of
Arbuthnot, and passed from thence, at the age of thirteen,
to King’s College, Aberdeen, where his career was one of
the most brilliant on record. His scholarship was of a high
order ; and in mathematics and the moral and physical
sciences he carried off the first prizes. He won for himself
also an exhibition or bursary before the close of the first
session, and was selected, while yet an undergraduate, to
assist Professor Skene in the instruction of his class. For,
at the period of which we are writing, each professor in
King’s College, Aberdeen, carried his pupils through the
entire academical course, and was therefore glad to avail
himself of the co-operation of the ablest of his scholars, in
order to bring up such as could not keep pace with their
fellow-students except by extra care and labour bestowed
upon them.
There is reason to believe that Mr Gleig, after taking his
degree, might have aspired (in good hope) to the office of
assistant-professor, with the certainty of succeeding to the
first chair which should fall vacant. In this case, however,
it would have been necessary for him to subscribe to the
Confession of Faith of the Established Church of Scotland,
and to take the oaths of allegiance and abjuration; but he
was one of a family of Scotch Episcopalians which had ad¬
hered to the house of Stuart, and suffered for it; and the
time had not yet come when Jacobites could, with a safe
conscience, accept a descendant of the Elector of Hanover
as legitimate sovereign of these realms. Mr Gleig, there¬
fore, declined the tempting proposals that were made to him ;
and having resolved to take orders in the Episcopal Church,
gave himself up for a while to the careful study of theology
and a severe course of patristic reading. It is due to the
subject of our memoir to add, that he never gave to the
arguments of Irenaeus or Chrysostom the respect which was
due only to the statements of inspiration. His opinion of the
degree of deference which ought to be paid to the fathers
was this, that on matters of fact with which they were conver¬
sant their evidence deserved to be accepted as conclusive;
that in the discussion of doctrinal questions their authority
was not greater than that of any correct and learned modern
who takes Holy Scripture for his guide.
Mr Gleig had barely attained his twenty-first year when
he was ordained to the pastoral charge of a congregation in
Pittenweem, in Fife. The condition of the Scottish Epis¬
copal Church, though less perilous than it had been a few
years previously, was then critical enough. The penal laws
remained on the statute-book in all their ferocity; and it
was still in the power of any common informer to force the
magistrate into the execution of them. Mr Gleig, there¬
fore, like his brethren in general, officiated, so to speak, by
stealth, to a few faithful families who met in a room to wor¬
ship God according to the manner of their fathers. Not
that there prevailed among those in authority the slightest
inclination to persecute either Episcopalians or Jacobites,
as such. All fear of a renewed struggle for the throne had
subsided, and with it was passing away the disposition to
treat Episcopalians as necessarily disaffected persons, and
the use of the Liturgy in Scotland as high treason. Still,
the law, while it excluded from office under the crown all
laymen who attended the ministrations of the Episcopal
clergy, exposed the clergy themselves to imprisonment, and
even to transportation, should it be proved against them that
they had read the Liturgy to more than four persons over
and above the members of their own families. The con¬
sequence was, that by little and little the lay members of
the Scottish Episcopal Church fell away; and that such as
could not bring themselves to conform to the Presbyterian
G L E
Gleig. ritual, brought down clergymen from England to officiate to
them, under license from the civil government. This pro¬
cedure, which at the outset might have been defended on
the score of necessity, led by degrees to a habit of thinking
at least as fatal to the Episcopalian principle as direct con¬
formity to the Established Church. And Mr Gleig, with
others brought up in a sterner school, uniformly protested
against it.
The death of Prince Charles Edward and the peculiar posi¬
tion of his brother Cardinal York, removed at length the only
obstacle which stood between the Scottish Episcopalians and
the enjoyment of their full rights as citizens. In anticipation of
this event, Mr Gleig had tor some years previously laboured to
soften down the prejudices of the body to which he belonged.
A correspondence was opened with Moor, Arcliibishop of
Canterbury, the Lord Chancellor Thurlow,and other leading
statesmen, which gave good hope that a little yielding on
the part of the Jacobites would ensure the repeal of the
penal laws, and the restoration of the Episcopal Church to
the condition in which it stood during the latter part of
Queen Anne’s reign. Mr Gleig, indeed, made a journey
to London, in 1786, with a view to bring this important
negotiation to an issue. Unfortunately, however, there
were those among his brethren who could not be persuaded
to accept free toleration except on their own terms ; and
an arrangement eminently advantageous to the little
church was in consequence set aside. By and by a second
treaty was set on foot, which relieved the Episcopal Church
from the pressure of the law; but placed it, towards the
sister Church of England, on a footing somewhat disadvan¬
tageous for both. For this defect in the bill, which gave to
his church her status, Mr Gleig was not responsible ; and he
lived to see the most obnoxious clause in it so modified as to
amount to a virtual repeal.
All this while the subject of our memoir was pursuing an
honourable and useful career as a man of letters. He con¬
tributed to several of the leading magazines of the day ; he
was in correspondence with almost all the distinguished au¬
thors of the age; elected into the Royal Society of Edin¬
burgh, he read at the meetings of that body several able
papers on literary and scientific subjects. It is, however,
because of his connection with the Encyclopcedia Britan-
nica that we are chiefly bound to make a record of his
merits. Having contributed some able articles (especially
that upon Instinct) to the third edition of that miscellany,
he was chosen, on the death of Mr Ferguson, the original
editor, to bring the work to a conclusion—a task which he
accomplished with consummate ability, no slight portion of
the matter being supplied by his own pen. The two sup¬
plemental volumes which appeared soon afterwards, he
wrote almost entirely without any assistance whatever.
Mr Gleig removed from Pittenweem to Stirling in 1790 ;
and married, soon afterwards, Janet, the youngest daughter
of Robert Hamilton, Esq. of Kilbrachmont, and widow of
Dr Fullton. By her he had four children, of whom one
only (the present chaplain-general to the forces) survives.
Mr Gleig was consecrated Bishop of Brechin in 1808,
and died at Stirling in February 1839, in the eighty-sixth
year of his age.
He was a man of rare piety, unostentatious, charitable,
and generous. As a metaphysician, he deserves to take
rank with Dr Reid and Dugald Stewart. His learning
was profound, his reading extensive, and his memory—till
growing years and infirmities affected it—singularly tena¬
cious. His conversational powers were, moreover, of a very
high order, and his wit and humour remarkable. He has
left behind him few separate writings—only a volume of
sermons, and Letters on the Study of Theology—a very
valuable treatise. But his edition of Stackhouse’s History
of the Bible contains much original matter, which deserves a
better place than amid the pages of that heavy compilation.
G L I 677
He was a regular contributor, for many of their best years, to Gleim
the Anti-Jacobin and British Critic, and embellished an 11
edition of Dr Robertson’s works with one of the most ^ isson.^
agreeable lives of that eminent historian which have ap-
peared. (g. r. g.)
GLEIM, Johann Wilhelm Ludwig, a German poet,
born April 2, 1719, near Halberstadt, where he also died
Feb. 18, 1803, at the age of eighty-three, after having oc¬
cupied, during half a century, the lucrative situation of
secretary to the chapter of Halberstadt. “ Father Gleim,”
for such was the title accorded to him throughout all literary
Germany, is considered one of the best German poets of his
time. He distinguished himself particularly in his fables,
tales, epigrams, and songs tor children. His war-songs, com¬
posed for the Prussian army, were very popular, and his lighter
strains obtained for him the designation of the Anacreon of
Germany. Originally his poems appeared in periodical
publications, but were republished at Leipzig in 6 vols. 8vo,
1 798. A complete edition of his works was printed at Hal¬
berstadt in 7 vols. 8vo, 1811-13. The odes and songs
{Lieder) of Gleim are not destitute of grace and elegance,
but their monotony soon fatigues the ear. His fables are in
general more simple and unaffected than those of Gellert,
and deserve honourable mention. Still, the serious draw¬
back in many of his romances is the close imitation of the
pretentious style of Gongora, the Spanish poet, whose con¬
ceits sound badly when clothed in German phraseology;
but the merit belongs to Gleim of having introduced to the
Germans this kind of popular literature.
GLEIWITZ, a town in the Prussian province of Silesia,
government of Oppeln, and 35 miles S.E. of the town of
that name; on the Klodnitz, and on the railway between
Oppeln and Cracow. It is the seat of a royal mining board,
and has very extensive iron-works. Pop. (1849) 8506.
GLENCOE, a valley of Scotland, Argyllshire, extend¬
ing for about 10 miles in a S.E. direction from Loch Leven.
The lower portion of the glen next Loch Leven is culti¬
vated and wooded, but the signs of cultivation gradually dis¬
appear on approaching the upper portion, which presents a
scene of unmingled wildness and grandeur. On both sides
mountains rise almost perpendicularly to a great height,
while in the huge clefts of their rocky and blackened sum¬
mits wreaths of snow may be seen all the year round. In
the middle of the valley is the small lake Treachtan, from
which issues the Cona. The well-known massacre of
Glencoe occurred here in February 1692. See Britain,
vol. v., p. 443-4.
GLENDALAGH, or Glandelagh. See Wick¬
low, CoUNTT OF.
GLENDOWER, or Glendwr, Given, a famous Welsh
chief, descended in the maternal line from Llewellyn, the
last Welsh Prince of Wales, and notable for the long con¬
test which he maintained against Henry IV. He was born
in a.d. 1349, crowned by his followers and adherents in
1402, and died in 1415. See Wales, and Britain.
GLIN, a market-town and seaport of Ireland, county of
Limerick, on the left bank of the estuary of the Shannon,
30 miles W. by S. of Limerick. It has a considerable trade
in butter, grain, and salmon. Pop. (1851) 1243.
GLISSON, Francis, an English physician, born in
1597, at Rampisham, in the county of Dorset, was edu¬
cated at Cambridge, and during forty years occupied the
chair of medicine in that university. In 1634 he was ad¬
mitted into the College of Physicians in London, of which
he afterwards became president; and in 1639 this body ap¬
pointed him professor of anatomy. He filled this situation
with much credit at the commencement of the civil war,
when he took refuge in Colchester ; but after the surrender
of that city to the parliamentary forces he went to London,
and became a member of that association of learned men
which afterwards formed the Royal Society.
678 G L 0
Globe In 1650 he published his treatise De Rachitide, seu morbo puerili,
a malady then new in England, where it had only appeared about
Gloucester, thirty years before. In 1654 appeared his Anatomia Hepatis, in
l ^ , j 8vo, in which he first described the capsule of the vena portarum,
known by his name; in 1672 the Tractatus de natura substantial
energetica, seu de vita Natura ejusque tribus primis facultatibus ; and
in 1677, the year of his death, the book De Ventriculo et Intestinis,
in 4to, the first work containing conjectures as to the nature of the
simple fibre, and an exposition of the innate principle of irritability.
Glisson was also the first who attributed the contraction of the heart,
and of the other muscles, to the action of a stimulus on their irri¬
table principle. The greater part of his works have often been re¬
printed in different countries. He was also the author of a treatise i»e
Lymphceductis nuper repertis, Amsterdam, 1659, which, with his book
entitled Anatomica prolegomena et Anatomia Hepatis, are considered
the best of his works, lloerhaave regarded him as the most exact
of all anatomists; but Glisson’s views on physiology are now held
in little estimation. (j. b—E.)
GLOBE, a sphere; a round solid body which may be
conceived to be generated by the revolution of’ a semicircle
about its diameter.
Artificial globes, for illustrating problems in geography
and astronomy, are fully described, and their uses explained,
under Geography, § Mathematical Geography^ chap. iii.
GLOGAU, or Gross Glogae, a strongly fortified town
of Prussia, province of Silesia, and government of Liegnitz,
on the left bank of the Oder, 35 miles N. of Liegnitz.
The Dominsel or Cathedral island, in the Oder, is likewise
strongly fortified, and is connected with the town by a
wooden bridge. Glogau is the seat of a superior court, and
has numerous churches, a synagogue, two hospitals, a Ro¬
man Catholic and a Protestant gymnasium, a citadel, and
manufactures of woollens, cottons, hosiery, tobacco, paper,
straw hats, &c. It carries on some trade by means of the
river, and is connected by a branch with the Berlin and
Breslau railway. Pop. (1849) 12,190, besides 3146 military.
Oher or Klein Glogau, a town also in the province of
Silesia, government of Oppeln, and 23 miles S. of the town
of that name, on the right bank of the Hotzenplotz. It has
a castle, a Roman Catholic seminary, and manufactures of
linen and woollen goods. Pop. (1849) 4334.
GLOMMON, a river of Norway. See Norway.
GLOSS (yAwo-o-a, tongue; Lat. glossa, interpretation),
in literature, a comment in explanation of the text, parti¬
cularly of an antiquated or obsolete word or phrase.
GLOSSARY, a dictionary explaining obscure and anti¬
quated terms found in old authors. Such are Du Cange’s
Latin and Greek Glossaries, Spelman’s Glossary, and Ken-
net’s Glossary at the end of his Parochial Antiquities.
GLOSSOP, a township of Derbyshire, near the Man¬
chester and Sheffield railway, 14 miles E.S-E. of Man¬
chester. It is the chief seat of the cotton manufacture in
Derbyshire, having in the town and neighbourhood above
fifty cotton mills. It has also woollen and paper mills, dye¬
ing, bleaching, and print works, iron foundries, &c. Pop.
(1851) 5467."
GLOUCESTER, a city, and the capital of a county
situated in the west midland census district of England. It
is 106 miles from London by the highroad, and 114 miles
by railway. The authorities are divided relative to the
origin of Gloucester; some hold that it was founded by the
Britons, who called it Caer-Gloew, signifying “ the city of
the pure stream;” others, that it was so called after its
founder, Gloew, a British chief; others, that the Claudian
legion, which landed in Britain with Julius Caesar, having
been stationed there to check the irruptions of the Silures,
it was called Claud-cestra (Latin castra, signifying camp
or barrack), now corrupted into Gloucester; and others,
that the West Saxons having captured the city in a.d. 575
called it Gleaucester, whence comes the present name. It
is certain that Gloucester became a Roman station under
the name of Colonia Glevium; and at the present time the
soil is rarely stirred without the discovery of pavements,
G JL 0
altars, coins, pottery, and other Roman remains, and espe- Gloucester
daily in the suburb of Kingsholm, which seems to have ,
been a place of sepulture, situated, according to the Roman
manner, beyond the bounds of the city. In the eighth
century, Gloucester, it is stated by Bede, was one of the
noblest cities in the land; but it was repeatedly ravaged
and burnt by the Danish invaders, and in the civil wars of
later ages. In the contest between Charles I. and the par¬
liament, the citizens of Gloucester espoused the cause of
the latter, though they professed to hold the city—“ to
obey the commands of the king, as signified by both houses
of parliament;” but they really turned the tide against
him, at a moment when the nation was wavering, by suc¬
cessfully resisting a siege carried on by 30,000 men. Glou¬
cester was the only place in the south-west that the par¬
liamentarians held ; and if it had been lost the king would
have been master along the whole course of the Severn.
The inhabitants, rather than surrender the city, burnt its
suburbs, thereby sacrificing property worth L.26,000; so
that, to use the words of a civic dignitary of that time, “ we
are a garment without skirts, which we are willing to part
withal, lest our enemy should sit upon them.” The de¬
fences of Gloucester were levelled at the Restoration, but
some portions of the walls still remain, and the trenches
here and there have been turned into gardens. The city
is seated on a gentle knoll, overlooking the river Severn ;
it is sheltered on the east by the Cotswold hills, and looks
towards the Malvern hills, which, impressive by their magni¬
tude, and softened by distance, rise up like shadows on the
western horizon. North and south of the city the country
is almost a dead level. The river Severn divides into two
channels at Gloucester; these inclose the island of Alney,
where Canute and Edmund Ironside met to fight a battle,
but agreed instead to share Britain between them. The
tide reaches Gloucester, though the city is forty miles from
the mouth of the river; and at certain times, owing to a
sudden contraction ot the channel at Newnham, it rushes
up in a great wave called the Bore, from seven to nine feet
high. Gloucester consists of four principal streets, inter¬
secting each other at the cross, where the Tolsey or guild¬
hall stands, like the Roman forum of old; these streets,
indeed, formed part of Roman roads traversing the county.
Of late years a large number of new houses have been
built in the suburbs beyond the boundaries of the city, but
the city itself still retains many marks of its age—quaint
old gables and timber houses being intermingled with
handsome modern buildings, chief amongst which are four
banking-houses. The discovery of a spring of saline chaly¬
beate water on the south side of the city in 1814 led to the
erection of what is now the handsomest portion of Glou¬
cester.
The New Inn, the oldest inn, and perhaps the oldest house in
the city, is a very remarkable building; it was built for pilgrims
by Abbot Sebroke about the end of the fifteenth century. The
chief public building is the cathedral, which is 427 feet long and
154 feet broad. The central tower, a beautiful structure in the
perpendicular style, is 223 feet high. The cathedral is remark¬
able not onlj' for general beauty, but as furnishing an epitome of
the growth of ecclesiastical architecture in this country. It has
gradually grown up from a monastery founded in 672 by Wul-
phere, king of the Saxons; it was twice burnt down and rebuilt
in the eleventh century, and was completed in the fifteenth cen¬
tury. The crypt is early Norman, the nave later Norman, and
nearly every style of Gothic architecture was incorporated in
the building as it proceeded. The east window is the largest in
England, and is ingeniously curved to give it an appearance of
greater size. Among the historical personages buried within its
walls are Robert and Richard, sons of William the Conqueror, and
Edward II., who was murdered at Berkeley Castle, and lies in a
beautiful canopied tomb ; a great part of the building was erected
with the offerings made by pilgrims at the shrine of the “ sainted
king/’ There is also a marble statue in memory of Dr Jenner, the
discoverer of vaccination, who was a native of the county ; and a
monument to the Rev. Richard Raikes, the originator of Sunday
G L 0
Gloucester- schools, the first of which was held in Gloucester. The other public
shire. buildings of the city are the shire hall, containing two assize courts,
and a large apartment used for public meetings, a building erected
in 1814 by Smirke, and presenting externally an Ionic portico;
the county jail, which stands on the site of the ancient castle, close
to the Severn; the county lunatic asylum; the corn exchange, and
a handsome market-house, both recently erected; a castellated
militia store ; a blue-coat school; a general infirmary ; and St Bar¬
tholomew’s Hospital, an almshouse for the maintenance of indigent
citizens, built in the style of architecture which prevailed in the
reign of Henry VII I., the period of its foundation. There are also
three other almshouses, but though ancient their appearance is
mean. Gloucester is divided into ten parishes, with several extra-
parochial places attached to them ; and there are fourteen churches,
besides several handsome dissenting chapels in the city. While,
however, some of the parishes have two or three churches, others
have none. Oliver Cromwell declared that in Gloucester there
were ‘‘ more churches than godliness,” and several were destroyed
by public ordinance ; one was converted into a guildhall. There
are three endowed schools—the college school, founded by Henry
VIII., as part of the cathedral establishment; the crypt school,
founded in the same reign by Dame Joan Cooke, and a blue-coat
hospital, founded by Sir Thomas Rich in 1666 for the education
and maintenance of thirty boys.
Gloucester has returned two members to parliament
since the 23d year of Edward I. It was created a county
at an early period, and city as well as county assizes are
held. It also possesses a court of quarter sessions. Richard
III. granted a charter to the city, under which it elected
a corporation consisting of a mayor, sheriff, twelve aider-
men, and twelve burgesses ; it is now governed by a mayor,
six aldermen, and eighteen burgesses. The corporation
formerly possessed a considerable income arising from land,
but they were obliged to sell the property in 1855 to de¬
fray the cost of new water works, new markets, sewers, and
other public improvements. The custom of borough Eng¬
lish, by which landed property descends to the youngest
son instead of the eldest, prevails in this city. The city
and county were created a bishopric by Henry VIII., but
the see is now united to that of Bristol. Gloucester was
anciently very busily engaged in iron-founding and cloth¬
making; to these succeeded cap-making, pin-making, and
bell-founding, but they have all ceased to exist. A con¬
siderable foreign commerce has, however, sprung up. Not
long since the only vessels frequenting the port were a few
coasters, which came up the Severn to the old Roman
quays; but the tortuous and dangerous navigation of the
river has been superseded by a noble ship canal sixteen
miles long, falling into the Sevei'n at Sharpness Point; and
great quantities of timber and wheat are imported, and salt,
iron, and coal are exported. The imports amounted in
1853 to 242,094 tons, and the exports to 59,989 tons.
Gloucester is admirably situated for commerce, as it is the
centre of a system of railways, as well as on the course of a
large river navigated by steamers, and connected by canals
with the interior of the country. In the reign of William
the Conqueror the population of Gloucester, it is stated, was
2500; in 1801 it amounted to 7597; in 1811 to 8280; in
1821 to 9744; in 1831 to 11,993; in 1841 to 14,497; and
in 1851 to 17,572. (F c)
GLOUCESTERSHIRE, a county in the west mid¬
land census district of England; its name is derived from
its capital town, like all the other counties comprised within
the Saxon kingdom of Mercia. This county is bounded
on the N. by Worcestershire and Warwickshire, on the S.
by Somersetshire, on the E. by Oxfordshire and Wilt¬
shire, and on the W. by Herefordshire and Monmouth¬
shire. Its boundary is formed on the W. by the river
Wye, and on the S. by the Somersetshire Avon. The
shape of the county is irregular; its greatest length is
about 70 miles N. and S., and its greatest breadth 45
miles E. and W. Some parts of the county were for¬
merly detached, and situated within the counties of Wor¬
cester and Warwick ; and detached parts of Worcester and
G L/ O 67 9
Wilts were situated within the boundaries of Gloucester- Gloucester¬
shire ; but by an act of parliament passed in 1844, these shlre-
detached parts were incorporated with the counties by
which they were surrounded. The area of Gloucester¬
shire was thus diminished by about 3000 acres. The total
area of the county, according to the tithe surveys, is 805,102
acres, exclusive of 17,688 acres of water, and nearly the
wdiole of it is capable of cultivation. The county is divided
into twenty-eight hundreds and 351 parishes, and contains
two cities, Bristol and Gloucester, and tw'enty-eight market-
towns.
Gloucestershire exhibits three natural divisions—the
hill, the vale, and the forest. The hill country is an
undulating tableland, on the summit of a range of hills
called the Cotswolds, which gradually rise at Chipping-
Campden, traverse the county nearly north and south on
the eastern side, and pass out of the county into Somerset,
forming the high ground on the north side of Bath. The
average elevation of these hills is about 700 feet, though
some of them are much higher, as for instance Cleeve Hill,
which is 1134 feet. The vale is that part of the county
extending from the slope of the Cotswolds to the east bank
of the river Severn. The upper part of this expanse is
locally known as the Vale of Gloucester, which is a con¬
tinuation of the Vale of Evesham, and the lowrer part as
the Vale of Berkeley. The forest formerly consisted of the
whole district on the western bank of the Severn, but is
now limited to that part of it which lies upon the slopes and
between two high ridges, bounded by the Severn and Wye,
and extending from East Chepstow to the Malvern range
of hills. The hill, the vale, and the forest districts run
parallel to each other, north and south; and if the views of
geologists be correct, the vale was formerly the bed of a
strait which connected the Bristol and Irish Channels. It
is impossible to look down from any of the outlying hills of
the Cotswolds upon the fertile Vale of Gloucester, watered
by the tortuous course of the broad Severn, without being
struck with the conviction that its beauty is the result of
some great physical change; and Murchison has come to
the conclusion, from the sandy nature of the soil, the shingle
beaches raised high above the Severn, the indigenous ma¬
rine plants, and the outlying hills—some of which present
the same strata as the Cotswolds, but reversed, as if they
had been undermined by water and toppled over from the
cliffs—that the vale was once a rolling sea, the waves of
which beat against the Cotswold cliffs on the east, and May
Hill and the Malverns on the west; that the bed of the
vale has been raised by volcanic action and the drifting of
detritus; and that the lovely little hollows, beautifully
rounded in the escarpment of the Cotswolds, were quiet
little bays, worked by the tide of the ancient “ Strait of
Malvern.”
The soil of the hill country is a few inches of calcareous sand,
resting on freestone rubble, locally called stone brash. Every time
it is ploughed a large quantity of stone is turned up, and the cus¬
tom is therefore to plough very shallow furrows, leaving an alter¬
nate strip of the surface. There is so much lime in the soil that it
requires much manure; this is supplied both by folding sheep, and
by paring and burning the turf, and strewing the ashes upon the
surface. Good crops of barley and oats are thus obtained, and even
of wheat when the soil is mixed with clay. The poorest land on
the hills, however, affords excellent pasturage for sheep ; and these
are the staple produce of the district. Sainfoin grows wild, and
its cultivation yields abundantly. The Cotswold sheep, it is said,
are the progenitors of the famous long-woolled sheep of Spain, and
are certainly the finest breed in the south of England. They are
hardy and prolific ; the lambs quickly become clothed with fleece,
and are proof against any degree of dry cold, as indeed is necessary
to their existence, for the air of the hills is sharp and bracing, and
vegetation is always a month later than in the vale. The indi¬
genous breed has been greatly improved by crossing it with the
Leicester sheep, and the produce has reached high perfection in
point of shape, weight, quality, and fleece. Some of the Cotswold
sheep have weighed eighty lbs. per quarter. The hill farmers are
GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
680
Gloucester-generally very enterprising, and the agriculture of the district has
shire. greatly improved of late years. This has been much aided by the
t j establishment of the Royal Agricultural College of England, an
institution incorporated by royal charter in 1845 for the purpose
of instructing young men in the general sciences connected with
agriculture, and in the practice of farming. For this purpose lec¬
tures are delivered by resident professors, and the pupils also en¬
gage in the practical cultivation of a farm of 700 acres attached to
the institution. The college, situated near Cirencester, the chief
town of the district, is a Gothic structure, ornamented by a cen¬
tral tower, and has hitherto contained on an average about 100 pu-
jjils. Notwithstanding the march of improvement, the naturally
sterile and dreary look of the district still remains. There are few
trees, as may be gathered from the name, for “wold” signifies in
Saxon a place without wood; there are no hedgerows, but rough
stone walls instead ; the homesteads and cottages scattered over the
farms, which run from 300 to 1200 acres, are hidden in the undu¬
lations of the ground, to shelter them from the biting blasts of
winter; and thus the hills, thinly peopled in reality, appear to
be depopulated. Descending to the vale, the soil is a rich deep
loam, both black and red, and is well adapted for cattle; while a
moist, mild climate, partly arising from defective drainage, is
highly suitable for the growth of grasses and root crops. Fully
one-half of the vale is in permanent pasture ; and as the vale farmers
rely on hay for the subsistence of their stock during the winter,
they have become very skilful in making it. The hay is very fre¬
quently stacked on the third or fourth day after cutting, and is as
green and sweet as new-mown grass; indeed, the hay made in this
county is rarely equalled in quality elsewhere. The cattle in the
vale are chiefly shorthorns, though the Herefords predominate in
that part of the county adjoining Herefordshire. They are gene¬
rally fine animals; one is kept for every four or six acres, and the
total number in the vale cannot be much less than 10,000. Some
are fed for distant markets, others used for dairy purposes. Where
the grass is rich, feeding is preferred to rearing and to the dairy.
The vale has long been famous for butter and cheese; that known
as “double Gloucester” is made only in the Vale of Berkeley. The
average produce is about 350 lbs. each cow ; and dealers, judging of
the quality of the produce from that of the land upon which the
cattle are pastured, are accustomed to contract for the whole “ make”
of a farm. In former years the vale was famous for its vineyards ;
and, according to William of Malmsbury, who wrote in the twelfth
century, the grapes grown in Gloucestershire, and the wine made
from them, were very nearly as sweet as those of France. Wine¬
making has, however, entirely ceased in this county as well as
throughout England; not, as the notion is, for want of heat, for
Sweden produces excellent grapes, but because the vine requires an
intensity of light rarely if ever observed in this misty climate.
The surface of the vale country varies in character ; north of Glou¬
cester it is almost a dead level, while south of that city it presents
a series of gentle undulations. The aspect of the vale is highly
pastoral; grass lands succeed each other almost without interruption,
they are hemmed in by a pi’ofusion of hedges and hedgerow timber,
and dotted by apple, pear, and elm trees, which overshadow the
soil, suck out its fertilizing properties, diminish the surface, while
they impart richness and picturesque beauty to the landscape. The
vale is subject to severe storms of wind and rain, the result of its
position and the varying climate of the county.
The forest district formerly included the greater part of
the county west of the Severn, but has now become con¬
tracted to a surface of 8 miles in length and the same in
breadth, the boundary being a circuit of 30 miles. The
centre of the forest is about 5 miles N.W. of Newnham,
on the bank of the Severn. The surface is agreeably di¬
versified by numerous undulations, varying in height from
120 to 1000 feet, and much of it has been suffered to be¬
come waste. The soil is a sandy peat; but though unfit for
agricultural purposes, it is admirably adapted for the growth
of timber, and it has formed one of the royal forests from
time immemorial. In the middle ages it afforded a safe re¬
fuge for robbers, who used often to go afloat on the Severn
and plunder the vessels. The commanders of the Spanish
Armada had orders not to leave a tree standing in it, “ if,”
says Evelyn, “ they should not be able to subdue our
nation.” In the time of Charles I. the forest contained
105,537 trees ; pressed for money, the king granted it to
Sir John Wyntour for the sum of L.l 0,000, and a fee-farm
rent of L.2000. The grant was cancelled by Cromwell;
but at the Restoration the number of trees had been reduced
to 30,000, and Wyntour having obtained another grant, de- Gloucester-
stroyed all but 200 of the trees fit for shipbuilding. To shire,
repair the mischief, 11,000 acres were inclosed and planted ;
and at the present time the forest is nearly covered with tim¬
ber in various stages of growth. The oaks are of the finest
quality and size grown in England.
Generally speaking, the soil as well as the climate of Gloucester¬
shire, except on the Cotswold Hills, is admirably adapted for
mixed husbandry. The geological formation chiefly regulates the
nature of the surface soil, which is of medium friability. Part of
the county rests upon the blue lias and oolite, the new and old
sandstones, and the mountain limestone; the soils are consequently
somewhat retentive, but drainage would greatly improve them.
There are extremely rich meadows on the banks of the Severn,
where river deposits are still going on, and they might be rendered
as fertile as any in England by freeing them from water. Not
only, however, is drainage neglected, but the facilities for irriga¬
tion presented by the level surface, and the existence of streams of
water, are overlooked. The soil is seldom stirred beyond a depth
of ten inches, and the process of paring and burning is much used.
The produce of wheat for the whole county averages from 20 to 25
bushels an acre. Barley is grown more generally than wheat, as
it yields more money, though it is of inferior quality; oats are not
much cultivated, as the horses employed in agriculture are fed on
hay and chaff, and chemical analysis has demonstrated the accuracy
of the local belief, that oats form a scourging crop. Beans of excel¬
lent quality are produced in the low-lying lands, as they luxuriate
in a warm climate, and on a clay soil; the yield averages four
quarters an acre. Teazles are also grown largely and profitably.
Many of the farms have orchards, and a large quantity of cider and
perry is made. The best cider, after being kept a year, resembles
the light Rhenish wines; the worst is sold to retailers. It is less
profitable to grow apple-trees than beef and mutton, but the far¬
mers cannot get labourers without providing cider for them. The
allowance is half a gallon daily for each man, and as much more
as they can consume in harvest time. The horses of this county
are a race peculiar to the S. W. of England—lean, slow, and clumsy ;
but attempts are now making to improve the breed by the intro¬
duction of Flemish and Suffolk stallions. Defective sight is very
common amongst them,—this is attributable to inflammation caused
by the dust of the limestone with which the roads are made, but
chiefly to the mode of feeding; the animals are compelled to stuff
themselves so full of chopped hay to satisfy their hunger, that when
they exert themselves the collar used presses on the vessels of the
neck, and checks the passage of the blood to and from the brain.
Oxen are also much employed for draught; and, occasionally, a yoke
may be seen drawing a cart with a pole, and even with solid wheels
similar to those of the Roman times. A large number of pigs are
reared, principally of the Berkshire breed. In curing bacon, instead
of removing the hair with hot water, it is burnt off with straw.
Gloucestershire is at present the resort of invalids and
pleasure-seekers, who form large populations at Cheltenham
and Clifton, where there are medicinal springs. If the soil
were better cultivated, not only would the beauty of the
scenery be heightened, but the climate would be rendered
even more salubrious than it now is.
Gloucestershire is a maritime as well as an agricultural
county; its cities, Bristol and Gloucester, carry on an ex¬
tensive foreign commerce. The approach to the first is by
the Somerset Avon, and to the latter by the Severn. The
navigation of the Severn below Gloucester is, however,
very dangerous, owing to its tortuous course, rapid tides,
and shifting sandbanks; and having been superseded by
the Gloucester and Berkeley canal, it is now deserted ex¬
cept by a few country barges. This canal was commenced
in 1794, but from want of funds it was not completed till
1827. Its entrance is at Sharpness Point, near Berkeley,
and it terminates in very spacious docks at Gloucester. It
is 16 miles long, without a single lock, is 18 feet deep, 60
feet wide, and is navigable by vessels of 600 tons fully laden.
Prior to the construction of the canal, the trade of Glouces¬
ter was confined to a few coasters, which shot up and down
the Severn at particular tides. Not only does the Severn,
the second of the English streams, cease to be a river in this
county, but the first, the mighty Thames, begins its exist¬
ence within its boundaries. About three miles south of
Cheltenham, at the back of Leckhampton Hill, two little
■
GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
681
Gloucester- streams take their rise, one at Thames Head, the other at
shire. Seven Springs, and mingling about a mile from their source,
form the Chura, which becomes the Isis, and afterwards the
Thames. It is a moot point which is the true head of the
river; but the general opinion is in favour of the Seven
Springs, which pour forth the greater volume of water. The
springs lie in a little dell, close to a highroad, and are
shaded by overhanging trees ; the water issues forth clear
and pure from seven openings. A canal unites the Severn
and the Thames at points where vessels of 70 tons burthen
can navigate them. It commences at Lechlade, on the
latter, and joins the Stroudwater canal, which crosses the
Gloucester and Berkeley canal, and opens into the Severn
at Framilode. The summit level of the Thames and Severn
canal is at Sapperton, near Cirencester; here it passes by
a tunnel 2f miles long through a hill chiefly composed of
hard rock, rising 250 feet above it. The tunnel is reached
from the bank of the Thames by an ascent of 134 feet,
which is effected by 14 locks; and from the bank of the
Severn by an ascent of 243 feet, effected by 28 locks; the
latter are concentrated between Sapperton and Wallbridge,
in a space of 7f miles. The total distance from river to
river is 39 miles. The other rivers of the county are the
Upper Avon, which, after passing through the county for
five miles, flows into the Severn at Tewkesbury ; the Chelt
rising near Cheltenham, the Ledden rising in Herefordshire,
the Frome rising near Brimpsfield, and the Middle Avon
rising near Berkeley, all of which also feed the Severn ; the
Colne rising to the east of Cheltenham, and the Leach near
Northleach, tributaries of the Thames ; and the Windrush,
which rises near Winchcomb, and flows into Oxfordshire.
The Wye is also occasionally included amongst the rivers
of this county, but it merely skirts part of its western
boundary. In addition to the canals already described, there
is one which runs from the Severn at Gloucester to the
city of Hereford, about 35 miles. A large sum of money
has been spent in improving the Severn from Gloucester
to Stourport, in Worcestershire, where it is connected with
a system of canals ramifying throughout England. The
county is also traversed north and south, and east and west,
by railways, which intersect each other at Gloucester ; these
different means of communication afford great facilities to
the trade of the county.
The mineral productions of the county are—good free¬
stone found in the hills, paving-stone and grit in the forest,
and an excellent limestone near Bristol. Lead is found in
different parts of the county, but the veins are too poor to
repay the cost of working them. There are also beds of
coal alternating with ironstone a short distance north of
Bristol and in Dean Forest. The ironstone in the former dis¬
trict is not worked, but iron mines were opened in the latter
as early as the days of the Romans, and extensive work¬
ings, locally called scoivles, partly attributable to that people,
still exist. There are upwards of 200 coal mines in the
forest, and they present the peculiarity, that while the highest
and middle of the three seams of coal which it exhibits
are worked by deep pits, the lowest seam is worked by
adits or levels driven into the side of the hills until they
strike the coal. This apparent anomaly is in accordance
with a general law of stratified rocks, by which the strata
lowest in geological position usually rise to the greatest al¬
titude above the level of the sea. The forest is locally go¬
verned by two deputy-gavellers appointed by the crown to
Superintend the woods and mines, besides four verderers
elected by the freeholders ; but the office of the latter has
become purely honorary, especially since the herds of deer
which used to wander through the forest were destroyed, to
put a stop to poaching and its demoralization. The mining
customs of the forest are ancient and peculiar. From time
immemorial, all persons born in the hundred of St Briavel’s,
who have worked a year and a day in a coal-mine become
yol. x.
freeminers, and are entitled to work coal in any part of the Gloucester-
forest not previously occupied. Of late the custom has grown
up of assigning the permission formally obtained from the
crown, or gale, as it is locally termed, to “ foreigners,” that
is, persons who are not freeminers. But though the prac¬
tice introduced capital, the operations of persons contend¬
ing for the possession of mines to which no limit was as¬
signed, led to contests underground, and created great con¬
fusion of rights. To remedy this, an act of parliament was
passed in 1844, by which the ancient customs have been
moulded into a rational and provident system of mining.
The forest is traversed by tramroads, and has been opened
on the east and west sides by locomotive railways. In the
centre of the forest is the Speech House, where the king’s
officers used to meet to administer the forest laws, and the
ffeeminers to regulate their affairs. It is now merely a
picturesque inn, situated in the midst of highly romantic
scenery.
Gloucestershire is also an important manufacturing county. The
manufacture of woollen cloth has been established for centuries in
the valleys or “ bottoms” of the Ootswold Hills ; and several of these
valleys meetin the Stroud district, andare watered by clear and rapid
streams, which, after supplying the mills, unite in one stream, the
Prome, and flow into the Severn at Pramilode. The parishes of Bis-
ley, Minchinhampton, Painswick.Woodchester, Horsley, Stonehouse,
Stanley, Ebley, Dursley, and Wotton-under-Edge, were formerly
the principal seats of the manufacture ; but it has fallen into decay
in many of these parishes ; and the town of Stroud is now the
centre of the fine-cloth manufacture. Large and increasing manu¬
facturing establishments have been formed in the immediate neigh¬
bourhood of that town, and give employment to several thousands
of workmen. Since the introduction of power-looms into the chief
establishments, the whole process of manufacturing is performed
by machinery, which is of a very elaborate and superior descrip¬
tion. Although the counties of Lancashire and Yorkshire have
made greater comparative progress, this county is still unrivalled
in the manufacture of fine woollen cloths. The best cloths are ma¬
nufactured from the fine wools of Saxony and Silesia, and the con¬
sumption of the better description of Australian wools is also
greatly increasing. Formerly, a large quantity of the wools from
Cotswold, Hereford, and Southdown sheep, was used in making
cloth for the East India Company’s trade ; but this branch of manu¬
facture has become almost extinct. Most of the cloth manufactured
in this county is intended for the home trade; the light texture
and superficial character of the cloths usually required for exporta¬
tion precludes the Gloucestershire manufacturers from engaging
largely in the foreign trade; still they occasionally export to the
colonies and America. The dyers in this district are celebrated for
the scarlet colours which they produce, the beauty and brilliancy
of which are attributed to some peculiar property in the water of
the Stroud valleys. The dark blue colours dyed in this district are
also of very durable quality. The greater part of the cloths are now
dyed in the wool, and not in the piece as formerly. The Great
Western railway passes through Stroud, connecting it with London
and Wales; and the Midland railway connects it with the north
and west of England.
Henry III. was crowned at Gloucester ; Edward II. was
murdered at Berkeley; the wars of the Roses were quenched
at the battle of Tewkesbury, where Queen Margaret and
her son, Prince Edward, were taken prisoners; and Charles
I. lost his crown mainly through the repulse he sustained
at Gloucester. The county is strewed with relics of
past ages and events. It is traversed by four Roman
roads—the Fossway, Ermine Street, Ikenild Street, and the
Via Julia. Many Roman pavements have been found at
Cirencester, Gloucester, and Woodchester, those at the
latter place being far superior to all others in this country.
Camps—British, Saxon, Danish, and Roman—exist in nu¬
merous places ; and there are many interesting remains of
the middle ages. Amongst these are the ruins of Sudeley
Castle, near Winchcombe, built in the reign of Henry VII.,
by Ralph Boteler, and described by Fuller as being “ of
subjects’ castles the most handsome habitation, and of hand¬
some habitations the strongest castle ;” Thornbury Castle,
the intended strength of which having excited the jealousy
of Henry VII., he destroyed it while in an unfinished state,
4 R
682
G L 0
G L 0
Glove, and beheaded its owner, the Duke of Buckingham, in 1522;
St Briavel’s Castle, built in the time of Henry L, by Milo
P'itzwaiter, to curb the incursions of the Welsh, now the vil¬
lage post-office and prison ; and Berkeley Castle, built prior
to the time of Henry II., and now a fine example of the
feudal residences of ancient times, in perfect preservation,
and inhabited by a descendant of its founders, Earl Fitz-
hardinge. The machicolated gatehouse by which the castle
is entered, the baronial hall and chapel attached, the keep
and its towers, its dungeons, in one of which King Edward
II. was murdered, serve to recal the times when the bold
barons were petty kings. The chief mansions in the county
are Badminton House, the residence of the Duke of Beau¬
fort ; Barrington Hall, of Lord Dynover; Oakley Park, of
Earl Bathurst; Tortworth Park, of Earl Ducie ; Sherborne
House, of Lord Sherborne; Clearwell Court, of the Earl of
Dunraven; Highnam Court, of T. Gambler Parry, Esq. ;
and Southam House, a perfect specimen of the domestic
building of the time of Henry VII., the seat of the Earl of
Ellenborough. Besides these, there are many other resi¬
dences of note, though inferior in size.
Gloucester is formed into two divisions for election pur¬
poses, each of which returns two members.
Population of Gloucestershire.
In 1831,
1841,
1851
Males ...
Females
,218,187 \
,240,618 f
.387,398
.431,495
458,805
Area, in square miles, 1258 ; in statute acres, 805,102.
Pop. to a square mile, in 1851, 364 persons, or 69 houses.
The county returns 4 members to parliament—viz., 2 for the
eastern division, and 2 for the western division; Cheltenham 1,
Cirencester 2, Gloucester 2, Stroud 2, and Tewkesbury 2, in the
eastern division; and Bristol 2, in the western division. Total 15.
Annual value of real property assessed to property tax, 1850-1,
L.2,235,627.
Principal Towns and their Population in 1851.
Bristol (Gloucester and
Somersetshires) 137,328
Cheltenham    35,051
Cirencester.,..,  6,096
Dursley  2,617
Gloucester   17,572
Newent   1,547
Stroud  36,535
Tetbury  2,615
Tewkesbury  5,878
Thornsbury  1,470
Winchcomb   2,052
Religious worship.-—Belonging to Church of England; places of
worship, 433; sittings, 165,003. Other denominations, 495; sit¬
tings, 129,798.
Education.—Day schools, 1283 ; day scholars, 56,218; Sunday
schools, 606 ; Sunday scholars, 59,154. (F-c-)
GLOVE (Sax. glof), a covering for the hand, with a
separate sheath for each finger.
Among our ancestors, to throw down the glove or
gantlet was equivalent to a challenge to single combat; and
the person thus defied signified his acceptance of the chal¬
lenge by taking up the glove, and casting down his own ;
which ceremony was regarded as a mutual compact to meet
at the time and place specified. This custom, according to
Favyn (Theatre d'Honneur et de Chevalerie), was derived
from the Oriental mode of contracting sales of land and the
like by giving the purchaser a glove, by way of delivery or
investiture; and to this effect he quotes the book of Ruth,
iv. 7, in which passage the Chaldee paraphrase renders by
glove the word commonly translated ‘ shoe.’ He adds that
the rabbin interpret similarly that passage in Psalm cviii.—
“ over Edom will I cast out my shoe.” It may be observed
that in several of the modern European languages a glove
is termed a hand-shoe.
The use of gloves is of high antiquity. There is reason
to believe the ancient Persians wore them, since it is men¬
tioned in the Cyropcedia of Xenophon that on one occasion
Cyrus went without his gloves ; and we know they were
used by the Greeks and Romans in certain kinds of manual
labour. During the middle ages gloves were worn by
ecclesiastical dignitaries and others as a mark of distinction ;
but as civilization advanced they gradually became common Glover,
to all classes of the community. x
The glove manufacture has long been an important
branch oi industry. I he materials employed are very
various, including the skin of the chamois, kid, lamb,
beaver, doe, elk, and other animals, besides cotton, wool,
silk, linen thread, &c. Glove-leather is prepared by curing
the skins with alum, which renders them soft and pliable.
Woodstock and Worcester, but particularly the former,
are famed for the manufacture of kid-gloves of superior
quality ; and Dundee has long been celebrated for the ex¬
cellence of its kid gloves. Those of France, however, still
continue to maintain their superiority over the kid gloves of
British make, and are very largely imported into this
country. This also holds true of the ordinary French
leather, the durability of which, combined with superi¬
ority ot style and fitting, has occasioned the French boots
and shoes to be preferred to those of British manufacture.
Machinery is sometimes employed in sewing and pointing
leather gloves, though only on a very limited scale in this
country, almost the whole being made by the hand, and for
the most part by females ; but in Paris it is much used, and
is said to have had the effect of reducing the price of gloves
30 per cent, below their former wholesale prices. Besides
the English towns above mentioned, large quantities of
leather gloves are produced in London, Yeovil, Ludlow,
Leominster, and elsewhere. Limerick has long been famous
for a very fine kind of ladies’ leather gloves, known as
chicken gloves. Until the year 1825 the importation of
leather gloves and mits was prohibited, but since that time
they have been admitted on payment of a certain duty.
Large quantities of cotton gloves are made at Nottingham
and Leicester. According to the census of 1851 the total
number of persons employed in the glove manufacture in
the kingdom was 32,982.
GLOVER, Richard, author of Leonidas, was born in
1712 in London. Flis father was a Hamburg merchant,
and, as Richard was intended to join him in business, the
youth’s school-education was of the commonest kind. He
early displayed a love of letters, howrever, and at the age of
sixteen wrote a poem to the memory of Sir Isaac Newton,
which was highly thought of at the time. In 1737 (the
year of his marriage) appeared the work with which his
name is now always associated—his Leonidas. This is an
epic poem on the subject of the great Persian war with
Greece; but as it was believed by some of the leading
statesmen of the day to have a present political significance,
it was very warmly commended by the regent and his
court, by Lord Lyttleton, and the novelist Fielding.
I hrough their influence the poem enjoyed a success al¬
together beyond its real merit, and in less than two years
passed through three editions. Like the tragedies of
Boadicea and Medea, published respectively in 1753 and
1 (61, the Leonidas exhibits a well-cultivated taste, some
skill in versifying, and a good ear for music; but no pas¬
sion, no poetry—none of the qualities, in short, which are
the soul and marrow of the epic. In J 739 Glover wrote
his London, or the Progress of Commerce, and a ballad en¬
titled Hosier’s Ghost, with a view, it is said, to rousing the
nation to a Spanish war. This ballad is certainly effective,
if it be nothing more, and was in its day nearly as popular
as Cowper’s ballad John Gilpin at a later period. Glover
was twenty-seven years of age when he wrote Hosier’s
Ghost, and he used to sing it regularly himself to the end of
his life, though Hannah More, who tells us that she heard
him sing it in his last days, is mistaken in saying that he was
then past eighty. He died in November 1785, in the
seventy-fourth year of his age.
During his lifetime Glover was highly esteemed for his
practical qualities. He was distinguished as a city political
leader, and ably advocated liberal views in opposition to
Glow-
Worm
Giuck.
G L U
Walpole. On entering parliament in 1760, as member for
Weymouth, he made a considerable figure in the house as
a speaker, but was valued still more highly for his sound
j and sagacious views on commercial questions. (Johnson’s
English Poets; Chalmers’s Biog. Diet. ; Craik’s English
Lit.\ Spalding’s English Lit.)
GLOW-WORM, the female of lampyris noctiluca.
See index to Entomology.
GLUCHOW, a town of European Russia, government
of Tchernigov, and ] 40 miles E. by N. of the town of that
name ; on the Jasmen. It is surrounded by an earthen
wall, has several churches and convents, and a considerable
trade. It is the seat of three annual fairs, which are well
attended. Pop. (1849) 8006.
GLUCK, Christopher Willibald yon, an eminent
musical composer, born July 2, 1714, at Weidenwang,
near Neumarkt, in the Ober-Palatinate, where his father
resided as a forester. He was placed, from his twelfth
to his eighteenth year, in the Jesuit seminary at Kom-
motau, where he acquired some practical knowledge of
music.1 In Italy,. whither he went in the service of a
nobleman, he received instructions from Martini, and pro¬
duced his first opera at Milan. He came to England in
1745. The rebellion having then just broke out, foreigners
were regarded with jealousy, and the opera was on that ac¬
count closed; but through the exertions of Lord Middle¬
sex it was re-opened with a temporary political performance
called La Caduta de Giganti, the music of which Gluck
was employed to compose. He afterwards brought out his
Piramo e Tisbe, which was little else than an assemblage
of favourite airs from his previous works. The cold re¬
ception this opera met with first convinced him that music
to be effective must be strictly adapted to the spirit and
character of the poetical subject. This consideration in¬
duced Gluck to lay down certain general principles, which
are said to have influenced all his subsequent labours in
composition. These were, first, to impart to music all the
force and expression it is capable of producing, and which
w’as best attained by uniting it to simple but animated poetry
full of natural and well-defined ideas; secondly, to make
the air follow the rhythm and accents of the words, and
construct the accompaniments so as to invigorate the senti¬
ment, or to contrast them with it. The system he adopted
may be described as one entirely subservient to the effect
of dramatic performance, where the music is never estranged
from the scene and situations of the characters, and where
the interest results from the perfect interfusion of sound
with sense.
His unsuccessful attempts in England at length induced
Gluck again to visit Italy, where, in pursuance of his new
design, he applied to the study of the classical Italian poets.
His great object now was to connect himself with some man
of true poetic genius; and he was so fortunate as to find
such a co-operator in Calsabigi, who undertook to write
dramas exactly to his taste.
The opera of Orfeo was the first attempt of Gluck in the
new course he had shaped out for himself. It was pro¬
duced at Vienna, and at first excited astonishment, which,
however, soon gave way to delight; and the opera was per¬
formed in all the principal cities of Italy with rapturous
applause. The Italians were transported with a style at
once so novel and chaste, so masculine and energetic.
When the Orfeo afterwards came to be translated into
French, Rousseau was so much charmed with it that he did
not miss a single representation ; and it is in allusion to this
circumstance that he says—“If so much exalted pleasure
can be enjoyed in the space of two hours, it serves to con¬
vince us that life is really good for something.”
In 1774 Gluck came to Paris, where he composed his
G L U
6S3
famous operas of Iphigenie en Aulide and Alceste, which Gliickstadt
were received with a degree of enthusiasm unparalleled in
the annals of music. By these successes Gluck came to be
regarded as the national musician of France. The con¬
geniality of his style with the standard favourites Lulli and
Rameau called forth general admiration.
Gluck composed in 1774 his opera of Armide, which was
followed by Iphigenie en Tauride, and some others ; and
after having completely revolutionized the music of France,
he returned to Vienna, where he remained until his death,
which took place in 1787.
Gluck has been well called the Michel Angelo of music.
He was the originator of a school which has opened up great
and various sources of enjoyment to taste, and mightily in¬
fluenced the character of the whole art. His genius was
of the highest order. His invention was unequalled, par¬
ticularly in dramatic painting and theatrical effect. Some
ciitics complain that he is defective in song; but an in¬
timate acquaintance with his works disproves the assertion
It is true that we cannot perhaps cull from his compositions
such melodious flowers as luxuriate in the chef-d’ceuvres of
Cimarosa, Mozart, and Rossini, and which gratify the sense
frequently as much when detached as when blended in
their original wreath. The melodies of Gluck will not,
with a few exceptions, stand the test of such a partition.
Ihey are essentially musical phrases which belong to a
great and expanded work of imagination. They are the
links of a chain, the component elements of a comprehen¬
sive design, which must be judged of relatively, and with
reference to combination. Thus it is that, when' we criti¬
cise Gluck, we should not examine his operas in detail.
We must consider them as we would a noble edifice, in the
aggregate of its beauty. The same spirit that actuates us
in reading the epics of Virgil and Tasso should exercise
its dominion when we listen to the music of Gluck.
\\ hatever may be the opinion of some persons in regard
to the general effect of the music of Gluck, all are agreed
in assigning to him the palm of superiority in his treatment
of classical subjects, and depicting scenes of deep and over¬
powering grief. “He is,” says an anonymous author,
“ the only master capable of grappling with a classical sub¬
ject; he could give us, better than any,
‘Ariadne passioning for Theseus’ injury
And unjust flight.’
No lovers, tyrannically separated for ever, have the despair
of his.” “ It is,” says a writer in the Harmonicon, “ in
scenes of great distress, in which the human heart is rent
by complicated misery, or in situations where it is torn by
the tempestuous fury of unbridled passions, that Gluck,
transported beyond the bounds of ordinary genius, shows
such energy and colouring of passion, as to become at once
poet, painter, and musician. It may be that his expression
of passion is sometimes too strong for common hearers: but
‘ II 6chappe souvent des sons a la douleur,
Qui sont faux pour I’oreille, mais soiit vrais pour le coeur.’ ”
The operas of Gluck, much to the discredit of modern
taste, are seldom heard in France or England; but in Ger¬
many they are frequently performed ; and in Berlin, when
any of his great operas are given, the theatres are crowded.
The style of his airs is studied, and great attention be¬
stowed on their effect; and there is a warmth and an
intensity displayed by the performers in taking the recita¬
tive, and an energy in their action, which nothing but such
music as Gluck’s could inspire.
Gluck is described as having been of a frank and open
character, although his temper was hasty and choleric. He
was very rigid in exacting from performers the- utmost
purity and correctness of execution. (a. h.)
GLUCKSTADT, a town of Denmark, capital of the
1 See Anton Schmid’s Life of Gluck (in German), Leipzig, Fleischer, 1855.
684 G L U
Ulue duchy of Holstein, on the right bank of the Elbe, where it
I! receives the small river Rhin, 28 miles N.W. of Hamburg.
Gluten. Tllis town was founded by Christian IV. in 1616, and for-
tified in 1620. In 1627-8 it was in vain besieged lor
fifteen weeks by Tilly. In 1815 its fortifications were
demolished, and in 1830 it was made a free port. It is the
seat of several courts, and has a gymnasium, navigation
school, &c. Its arsenal is now used as a prison and work-
house. The inhabitants are chiefly engaged in trade and
navigation. Gliickstadt is connected by railway with
Altona, Kiel, and Rendsburg. It is traversed by several
canals, but is very deficient in water for culinary purposes,
so that the rain has to be carefully preserved in cisterns.
Pop. (1849) 6186.
GLUE, inspissated animal jelly, much used as a cement,
especially for wood. It is made from various animal sub¬
stances, according to the uses for which it is designed.
Common glue is prepared from the parings of hides, hoofs,
and other offal, which are first digested in limewater to
free them from grease and all extraneous matter, then
washed in water, and afterwards boiled. The viscid solu¬
tion thus obtained is first strained through a wicker basket,
and then gently evaporated to a proper consistence. The
heat is generally so regulated as to keep the liquid near
the boiling point, without entering into ebullition. The
liquid glue is poured into flat moulds; and when it has be¬
come firm, it is cut up into square pieces, and placed on a
coarse net to dry. Glue improves by age, and that is
considered as the best which, if steeped in cold water for
three or four days, swells without melting, and resumes its
former dimensions after being dried. The clear pale brown
glue is the best, though the darker and less pure is often
ignorantly preferred. A transparent and beautiful glue is
made of the shreds and parings of vellum, fine white leather,
or of isinglass. (See also Gelatine.)
A preparation of glue, convenient on account of the
facility with which it is rendered fit for immediate use, is
made by adding a small proportion of any good spirit, or of
wood naphtha, to melted glue. It is to be kept in a well-
corked bottle, and when required for use may readily be
liquefied by placing the bottle in hot water. It answers
all the purposes of ordinary glue.
Indian Glue, as it is called, consists of common glue
melted with a little sugar, and moulded for convenience
into small flat cakes. When used, the edge of the cake is
moistened, and rubbed upon the surfaces to be united. It
is a slight cement, used only for such purposes as mending
prints, &c.
Jeffery's Marine Glue.—This powerful cement has been
most successfully used as a substitute for pitch in the seams
of decks, as well as for strengthening large timbers for
naval purposes. It is said to consist of caoutchouc dis¬
solved in coal naphtha, to which shellac (previously dis¬
solved in wood naptha ?) in proper proportions is afterwards
added. The joinings of built masts secured with this ce¬
ment are said to have resisted separation by the wedge after
ten years’ service.
Liquid Glue.—Under this name is frequently sold a
cement consisting of shellac dissolved in wood-naphtha.
GLUTEN, a viscid, elastic, grayish-coloured substance
which exists in greater or less quantity in most plants that
afford farina, as well as in the leaves of many esculent vege¬
tables (such as the cabbage for instance), but more parti¬
cularly in wheat, which of all the cerealia appears to con¬
tain, in proportion to its bulk, the greatest amount of nutri¬
ment, a property derived from its abounding in this
substance. Gluten may be readily obtained from wheaten
flour by making it into a paste, and then working the mass
with the hands below a stream of water, when the starch
and other soluble matters are carried away, and the gluten
remains in a pure state. In its properties gluten bears a
G L Y
strong resemblance to animal substances ; and, indeed, it is Glutton
found by chemical analysis to contain a large proportion of II _
nitrogen. Hence it may be considered as the most ani- Glycerine,
malized of vegetable products. v—
GLUTTON. See index to Mammalia.
GLYCAS, Michael, a Byzantine historian, often called
Siculus, from his supposed native island Sicily. The time
when he flourished is very uncertain. He was probably
an ecclesiastic. He knew several languages, and is justly
reckoned among the better Byzantine historians on account
of the terseness and perspicuity of his style. His MS.
letters still extant are addressed to the last Constantine,
who perished in the storming of Constantinople by the Turks
in 1453. Their authenticity, however, has been ques¬
tioned. His chief work is Bt/3A.os xf>0VLKV (or Annals),
which is divided into four parts: the first treats of the
creation of the world; the second narrates the history from
the creation to Christ; the third, from Christ till Con¬
stantine the Great; and the fourth, from Constantine till
the death of the emperor Alexis I. Comnenus, a.d. 1118.
The best edition of this work is that by J. Bekker, in the
Bonn collection of the Byzantines, 1836, 8vo.
GLYCERINE. Oils and fats, whether of animal or ve¬
getable origin, are compounds of certain acids, such as the
stearic, margaric, and oleic, with a base named glycerine.
(See Oil.) Fatty substances may, in fact, be represented
as salts of glycerine, and as such are capable of being re¬
solved into their proximate elements like other salts. Thus,
in the process of soap-making, a fat or an oil is saponified
by means of potash or soda; that is, the caustic alkali
unites with the stearic, margaric, or oleic acid, and glycerine
is set free. If, for example, the stearate of glycerine be
treated with caustic soda, the stearic acid unites with the
soda, and forms stearate of soda, while the glycerine is libe¬
rated. A fatty body may also be decomposed by means
of oxide of lead, as in the process for making diachylon
plaster (Emplastrum plumbi). By boiling a rr .xture of
finely pulverized or newly precipitated oxide ot lead in
water with any ordinary fat or oil, the lead unites with the
fatty acids, and forms a solid compound, while the gly¬
cerine dissolves in the water. The solution contains a
considerable portion of lead, which may be separated
by passing sulphuretted hydrogen through it, and filter¬
ing ; the solution is then evaporated to the consistence
of syrup, and the evaporation is completed in vacuo, in the
presence of sulphuric acid, until it ceases to lose weight.
The uncrystallizable inodorous syrup thus obtained has
a swreet taste, and was hence termed by Scheele, who dis¬
covered it in 1789, the sweet principle of oils, ox glycerine,
from yXvKvs, sweet; but it was not until Chevreul under¬
took the investigation of fatty substances in general that
the true chemical relations of this body were understood.
During many years large quantities of impure glycerine
had been produced as a waste product in the preparation
of lead plaster from olive oil and litharge, and in the
manufacture of soap and of stearic candles. In this last
example the palm oil or other fatty substance was decom¬
posed by means of lime, and the liberated glycerine was
allowed to run to waste. In the remarkable series of im¬
provements in this manufacture, which are due to the
scientific knowledge and enterprise of the managing direc¬
tors of Price’s Patent Candle Company at the Belmont
Works, Vauxhall, London, the lime saponification was
superseded by the action in the first instance of sulphuric
acid, which combines with the whole of the fatty substance,
and the glycerine is afterwards isolated under the action of
water and of a high temperature in the form of sulpho-
glyceric acid, and is obtained pure by distillation. This
process was partly superseded by the discovery made by
Scharling in the year 1853, that neutral fats may be decom¬
posed by the action of steam alone under great pressure.
G L Y
Glycerine. In this process steam, at a temperature of from 550° to 600°
'•>«—^ Fahrenheit, is introduced into a distillatory apparatus which
already contains a quantity of palm oil. Under these cir¬
cumstances, the fatty acids take up their equivalents of
water; the glycerine also combines with an equivalent of
water, and the whole of these compounds distil over, and
the condensed glycerine, from its greater specific gravity,
sinks below the fat acids in the receiver. In this process
a sufficient quantity of steam must be supplied, and the
proper temperature be kept up, or acroleine, an acrid vapour,
especially irritating to the eyes, will be produced by the
decomposition of the glycerine. According to another pro¬
cess, contrived by Tilghmann, water mixed with the oil or
fat which is to be decomposed, is forced through tubes at
a temperature of from 500° to 600°, or even higher.
Glycerine is distinguished by remarkable solvent powers,
and hence, as obtained by the former processes, it was
scarcely possible to get rid of such impurities as lime or
lead, indeed, several specimens of the “ pure glycerine” of
the shops, which have been sold at double the price of
common glycerine, have been found to contain lead—a cir¬
cumstance which may have greatly interfered with the
medicinal or economical application of this valuable sub¬
stance. By this new process, however, glycerine is obtained
in combination with water only; if it be discoloured it can
be rectified by a second distillation, and it can be concen¬
trated so as to have at the temperature of 60° a density of
1*240, in which case it contains 94 per cent, of anhydrous
glycerine. It can even be concentrated to 1*260 or 98 per¬
cent. of pure glycerine, the remaining 2 per cent, being com-
a bined water.
Since this new source of glycerine has been opened, a
variety of applications have been made for it, and they are
briefly stated in a paper read at the Glasgow meeting of
the British Association (1855) by G. F. Wilson, Esq.,
F.R.S., one of the managing directors of Price’s Patent
Candle Company. The first suggestion of a use for gly¬
cerine winch Mr Wilson has been able to trace w?as by Mr T.
De La Rue, who, early in 1844, operating on some glycerine
which he procured from Mr Warington of Apothecaries’
Hall, tried the effect of it on a burn and irritation of the
skin. He found it to have a soothing effect, and to keep
the part moist, and he suggested the use of it to Mr Startin,
through whos'e means it came to be extensively applied in
the hospital for skin diseases. It is being introduced as an
article of the toilet, as a soothing remedy for chapped hands
and sun-burnt faces. In June 1849 Mr Thomas Wakley
published in the Lancet the results of one year’s experience
on the use of glycerine in diseases of the ear, giving a num¬
ber of cases in which it had proved a cure for deafness.
M. Cap {Journal de Pharmacie et de Chimie, February
and October 1854) suggests a number of valuable uses for
glycerine as follows:—“ Glycerine dissolves the vegetable
acids, the deliquescent salts, the sulphates of potassa, soda,
and copper, the nitrates of potassa and silver, the alkaline
chlorides, potassa, soda, baryta, strontia, bromine, iodine,
and even oxide of lead. It dissolves or suspends the vege¬
table alkaloids in the same manner as the aqueous liquids,
and at the same time the resulting products may be used
for the same purposes as though mixed with oil. Thus the
salts of morphia dissolve in it completely, even cold, in all
proportions. Sulphate of quinine, in the proportion of -j^th,
dissolves in it when hot, but when cold separates into clots,
which, when triturated with the supernatant liquid, give it
the consistence of a cerate very useful for frictions and
embrocations. It is the same with the salts of brucine,
strychnine, veratrine, and most preparations of the same
order, which enables us to consider that we have now, if
not medicinal oils with a vegetable alkaloid base, at least a
series of new preparations which will fulfil a perfectly analo¬
gous use in therapeutics.”
G M E
685
Gmelin.
M. Cap further speaks of glycerine as a solvent for sul- Glyptics
phuret of potassium, sulphuret of lime, iodine, iodide of
sulphur, iodide of potassium, iodide of mercury, for some v
chlorides, and for quinine and sulphate of quinine.
From the great solvent power of glycerine, Mr Wilson
suggests that it might be injected into the bladder for the
purpose of dissolving calcareous deposits; from its bland¬
ness it might not cause irritation, while as a solvent of urea
and phosphate of lime it might answer the desired purpose.
Some of the medical authorities have received glycerine for
the purpose of this experiment. Glycerine is also used in the
same way as cod-liver oil as a medicine. In the preparation
of several medicines, glycerine has been most advantageously
substituted for the syrup ©f sugar, with the effect of pre¬
serving the medicine in an active state free from change,
and also of greatly improving its taste.
Glycerine has a remarkable preservative power on animal
and vegetable substances, an application of it which formed
the substance of a patent takea out by Mr Warington in
1846. A portion of a neck of mutton kept in glycerine for
several months was cooked by Soyer, and eaten with great
satisfaction. Glycerine has been used for mounting objects
for the microscope, and also for preserving objects in natural
history. Mr Wilson’s first experiment was upon a bril¬
liantly coloured two-pound trout, caught in one of the
Perthshire lochs. Immediately on taking it out of the
water a quantity of glycerine was poured over it, and a cloth
wrapped round it. Next day it was again wrapped in a
saturated cloth. Two days afterwards, in Edinburgh, the
colour of the scales was unchanged. When it arrived in
London, part was steeped in water, and then cooked. It
was perfectly fresh and firm, but had lost nearly all its
flavour. The uncooked portion, immersed in glycerine, was
sent to Professor Owen, who suggested that the brilliant
fishes of tropical seas might be brought home in kegs of
glycerine. Specimens of trout, roach, and perch, preserved
in glycerine, some of them for more than two months, were
shown by Mr Wilson to have retained their natural colours.
Glycerine consists of C6 H8 0G. The chemistry of gly¬
cerine involves a number of highly interesting points, for
an account of which we must refer to a memoir by Berthe-
lot in the Annales de Chimie for 1854. (c. t.)
GLYPTICS (y/Vucpw, I engrave), the art of engraving
figures of any kind on precious stones or other hard sub¬
stances, either in raised work (as in cameos), or by figures
cut into the surface, when it is called intaglio. See
Engraving on Precious Stones, vol. viii., p. 813.
GMELIN, Johann Friedrich, a German naturalist of
some celebrity, was born at Tubingen in 1748. After
taking his degree of M.D., he travelled through England
and Holland, lecturing on his favourite subjects of botany
and natural history, and finally settled at his native town
as extraordinary professor of medicine. He afterwards re¬
moved to Gottingen in the same capacity, and remained
there till his death in 1804. His name is preserved by his
edition (the thirteenth) of Linnaeus’Systema Naturce,yv\y\c\\,
however, is hardly so wrell known as Cuvier’s criticism of it,
in which it is described as “ an ignorant compilation, use¬
less to the professor, and more likely to mislead the student
than to enlighten or instruct him. In fact, under the pre¬
tence of giving a complete list of synonymes, he collected
indiscriminately all the names which he found in different
authors, without observing whether such a plant, animal, or
mineral had been differently designated by different natu¬
ralists, so that the same name has often been given to dis¬
tinct objects. This double error, which constantly recurs
throughout Gmelin’s work, shows that the too prolific
writer had but a very superficial knowledge of his subject,
and did not study the book of nature.”
Though these charges of the great French critic are
quite true, yet Gmelin’s book is acknowledged to possess a
686 G N O G N O
Gmelin certain value, as being the only book which even professes
II to include all the objects of natural history described up to
nome. ^.jie year i79Q> pjjg other works are not entitled even to
that humble praise.
Gmelin, Johann Georg, a distinguished German natu¬
ralist, was born Aug. 12, 1709, at Tubingen. Soon after
graduating as M.D., at the early age of nineteen, he went
to St Petersburg, where, in 1731, he was appointed profes¬
sor of chemistry and natural history. He was afterwards
sent by the Empress Anna, along with G. F. Muller and a
scientific party, to explore Siberia, which he penetrated as
far as the Lena. After an absence of nine years and a half,
Gmelin returned to St Petersburg, and published his Flora
Sibirica. On revisiting Germany in 1747 he was chosen
professor of chemistry at Tubingen, where he died in 1755,
not long after the publication of his Reise durch Sibirien,
or, Travels in Siberia. Linnaeus named a genus of Asiatic
plants Gmelina in honour of him.
Gmelin, Samuel Gottlieb, nephew of the preceding, was
born at Tubingen in 1745. Like his uncle, he graduated
as M.D. at the age of nineteen, but instead of practising
medicine, he devoted himself to natural science. In 1766 he
went to St Petersburg, and obtained leave from Catherine
II. to join a scientific expedition then on the point of setting
out to explore the S.E. possessions of the Russian empire.
Departing in June 1768, he wintered at Woronetz, and
thence sailed down to Tcherkask, the capital of the Cos¬
sacks of the Don. In the following year he reached Astra¬
khan, and explored the lower part of the course of the
Wolga. In 1770 he directed his chief attention to the
Caspian Sea and those parts of Persia that bordered on it,
and wintered at Enzelli. Next year, after visiting the
southern shores of the Caspian and the Persian provinces
of Ghilan and Mazanderan, he returned to Astrakhan, and
wrote out the narrative of his travels. The year 1773 he
devoted to the Caspian ; and in 1774, when on his way back
to Russia, he was seized by Usmey Khan, of the Kaitak
tribe, as a hostage, and was so ill-used by that chief that
he died, June 27, at Achmetschet in the Caucasus. Some
of his papers, however, were recovered, and published under
the editorial care of the famous Pallas. His principal
works are his Historia Fucorum iconibus illustrata, St
Petersburg, 1768, 4to; Voyages dans differentes parties
de VEmpire de Russie, pour faire des Recherches relatives
d Vllistoire Naturelle, St Petersburg, 1770, 1774, 1784,
in four vols. 4to; several Memoirs in the Collections of the
Society of Haarlem, and of the Academy of St Petersburg.
GMUND, a town of Wiirtemberg, circle of Jaxt, on the
Rems, 28 miles E.N.E. of Stuttgart. It is surrounded by
old walls, flanked with towers, and has three very ancient
churches, a handsome town-hall, normal school, hospital,
deaf-mute institution, a blind and an orphan asylum, &c.
The chief manufactures are woollens, jewellery, and wooden
wares. ..Pop. 6898.
GMUNDEN, a town of Upper Austria, circle of Traun,
at the northern extremity of the Traun or Gmiinden Lake,
where the river Traun issues from it, 36 miles S.W. of
Linz, with which it is connected by railway. It is noted
for the beauty of its situation ; and in the vicinity'are nume¬
rous salt-mines, which afford employment to the greater
part of its inhabitants. Pop. 3300.
GNESEN, a town in the Prussian province of Posen,
government of Bromberg, 32 miles E.N.E. of Posen. In
early times the archbishop of Gnesen was primate of all
Poland, and the kings were crowned here. The archbishop
of Gnesen now resides at Posen. Besides the cathedral
there are eight Roman Catholic churches, convents, eccle¬
siastical seminary, &c. A great horse and cattle market is
held here annually. Pop. (1849) 7*341.
GNOME (yvaj/^wv, from ycyvwcrKe), I know), a name given
by writers of the cabalistic school to a certain class of ima¬
ginary beings supposed to inhabit the inner parts of the Gnomon
earth, and to be the guardians of mines, quarries, &c. The |J _
reader need hardly be reminded of the admirable use that Gmostirism.
Pope has made of the gnomes and sylphs in the Rape of
the Lock. Darwin, also, in his Botanic Garden, has em¬
ployed similar machinery.
GNOMON, the style of a dial; so called because it
makes known, by its shadow, the hour of the day. See
Dialling.
GNOSSUS, an ancient town of Crete. See Cnossus.
GNOSTICISM, a general name applied to various forms
of speculative heresy in the early Church, from the Greek
-yvwcmKos, a verbal derivative of yivwcn<w, I learn. The
term is now only used in this heretical sense; but in the
early ecclesiastical writers it had also a favourable significa¬
tion. A Gnostic did not then necessarily denote a heretic.
The enlightened and philosophical Christian was also called
by this name. The expression abounds in this latter use
in the writings of Clemens Alexandrinus. In the seventh
book of the Stromata of that father, the Gnostic is considered
to be the true and perfect Christian.
Gnosticism, in its different heretical forms, sprung out of
the mixture of Oriental and Hellenic elements of culture
with Christianity towards the close of the first, and through¬
out the second century. In one and all of these forms it
may be said to represent the systematic attempts made by
the prevailing religious philosophies to understand Chris¬
tianity, and adapt themselves to it. Refusing to accept it in
its simple historical character, in its simple majesty of divine
truth, and having with it in'these respects no affinity, these
philosophies could not yet help recognising in Christianity
a sublime spiritual power of which they must give an ac¬
count. They sought, therefore, to find, from their own
pointof view, a theosophic meaning in it, and to bring it into
alliance with their own wild and fantastic schemes of cos¬
mogony.
The fundamental questions with which Gnosticism con¬
cerned itself are the same which in all ages have agitated
inquiry and baffled speculation, viz., the origin of life and
the origin of evil. How life sprung from the Infinite Source ?
How a world so imperfect as this could proceed from a su¬
premely perfect God ? The Oriental notion of matter as
utterly corrupt is found to pervade all Gnostical systems, and
to give so far a common character to their speculations. It
may be said to be the ground-principle of Gnosticism.
Setting out from this principle, all the Gnostics agree in
regarding this world as not proceeding immediately from the
Supreme Being. A vast gulf, on the contrary, is supposed
to separate them. In the general mode in which they con¬
ceive this gulf to be occupied they also agree, although with
considerable varieties of detail.
The Supreme Being is regarded as wholly inconceivable
and indescribable—as the unfathomable Abyss (Valentinus)
—the Unnameable (Basilides). From this transcendent
source existence springs by emanation in a series of spiritual
powers (Swotyueis). It is only through these several powers
or energies that the Infinite passes into life and activity, and
becomes capable of representation. To this higher spiritual
world is given the name of TrXr/pwya, and the divine powers
composing it, in their ever-expanding procession from the
Highest, are called .Eons.
So far a common mode of representation characterizes all
the Gnostical systems. All unite in this doctrine of a higher
emanation-world. It is in the passage from this higher spi¬
ritual world to the lower material one, that a speculative
distinction of an important character begins to characterize
them. On the one hand, this passage is apprehended as a
mere continued degeneracy from the Source of Life, at length
terminating in the kingdom of darkness and death—the bor¬
dering chaos surrounding the kingdom of light. On the
other hand, this passage is apprehended in a more precisely
a N 0 S T
Gnosticism. Dualistic form, as a positive invasion of the kingdom of light
by aseh-existent kingdom of darkness. According as Gnos¬
ticism adopted one or other of these modes of explaining the
existence ot the present world, it fell into two great divi¬
sions, which, from their supposed origin, have received the
respective names of the Alexandrian and Syrian Gnosis.
The one obviously presents more a Western, the other more
an Eastern type of speculation. The Dualistic element in
the one case scarcely appears beneath the Pantheistic, and
bears resemblance to the Platonic notion of the vXrj'—a
mere blank necessity, a limiting void. In the other case,
the Dualistic element is clear and prominent, correspond¬
ing to the Parsic doctrine of an active principle of evil as
well as of good—of a kingdom of Ahriman as well as a king¬
dom of Ormuzd.
In the Alexandrian Gnosis a link of subordination is
preserved between the two kingdoms, separated as they are.
For the v\y] only becomes a living and active power of evil
through the quickening impartation of some element from
the higher kingdom in its progressive descent from the su¬
preme Source. The stream of being in its ever-outward flow
at length comes in contact with dead matter, which thus
receives animation, and becomes a living source of evil. Its
life and power, however, are withal only derived from the
higher kingdom. But in the Syrian Gnosis the kingdom of
darkness has no such dependence upon the kingdom of light.
There appears from the first a hostile principle of evil in
collision with the good.
Out of this main distinction other more special distinc¬
tions arise, still more clearly defining the one form of yvokris
from the other. According as the two kingdoms are recog¬
nised as subordinate the one to the other, or as opposed to
each other, it is obvious that different views will prevail as
to the character of the Aq/xLovpyos, or maker of this world,
whose name and functions are so prominent in all systems
of Gnosticism. In the one case, his relation to the supreme
Source of life will be apprehended as more dependent—in
the other, as more hostile. In the former view, the yiwi?,
while rising in its pride of speculation far above all mere
earthly relations and historical religions, could yet find in
these a point of contact, whereby the higher spiritual truth,
penetrating this lower world, would gradually raise it to its
own elevation. In the latter, no such point of contact is
left between nature, or history, and the yvwo-ts. Accord¬
ingly, while the Alexandrian form of Gnosticism was found
to embrace Judaism, as a truly divine institution, although
very inferior and defective in its manifestation of the Divine
character, the Syrian rejected it as being wholly the work of
the spirit of the lower world—the Aq/uovpyos warring with
the supreme God. This anti-Judaical spirit is found de¬
veloped to its extreme in Marcion.
The Gnostic conception of Christ, in so far uniform, is
also of course greatly modified by the different relations
which the systems thus bore to Judaism. In all he is re¬
cognised as a higher AHon, proceeding from the kingdom
of light for the redemption of this lower kingdom of dark¬
ness. But, in the one case, however superior, he is yet
allied to the lower angels and the Arjpuovpyos, governing this
lower world. His appearance, accordingly, admits of being
historically connected with the previous manifestations of
the Divine presence upon earth. But, in the other case,
he is apprehended as a being wholly distinct from the A^i-
ovpyos, and his appearance takes place in this lower world
without any previous preparation, in order that he may draw
to himself all kindred spiritual natures held in bondage by
the Power of this lower world. If any point of connection
is admitted in this latter case betwixt Christianity and the
lower world, it is certainly not found in Judaism or any his¬
torical religion, but in the theosophic schools, where an
esoteric knowledge of the Supreme was cultivated.
The rise of Gnosticism can be traced back even to the
I C I S M. • 687
apostolical age. Simon the Samaritan appears to have been Gnosticism,
a Gnostic. He appears, in fact, not merely to have taught a K*—^s***-'
kind of Gnosticism, but to have represented himself as an
impersonation of the Divine. This is implied in the state¬
ment of the Acts of the Apostles (viii. 10), and is plainly
asserted by Irenaeus (Ada. Hcer. i. 23, § 1) and Jerome.
Cerinthus, according to well-known tradition, disputed with
St John ; and the opening chapter of the fourth gospel
was probably directed against his false Gnostical concep¬
tion of the doctrine of the Logos. He is regarded by
Neander as forming the connecting link between the Ju-
daising and the Gnostic sects. He taught that this world
was created by an Aion proceeding from the supreme
God, and that this fEon was to be considered as the special
ruler of the Jewish people, and the being through whom
the supreme God revealed himself to them. The divine
character of the Mosaic economy was thus recognised, but
in a subordinate degree. In order to complete it, and to
raise those under it to the full knowledge of the truth,
Christ came a second JEon from the Source of Light. This
higher iEon became united with the man Jesus at his bap¬
tism, and abode with him till his last sufferings and death.
The human being was simply the organ or vehicle of the
Divine; and the former alone suffered, or could suffer—
the notion of the true Christ suffering being altogether
abhorrent to Gnosticism. This higher iEon or Christ,
Cerinthus further taught, would again unite himself to the
man Jesus, and establish a blessed millenium in Jerusa¬
lem. The mixture of purely Gnostic and Jewish concep¬
tions throughout this scheme of Cerinthus is obvious at a
glance.
It was only, however, in the course of the second century
that Gnosticism became developed under a succession of able
teachers into definite and elaborate systems. Throughout
the whole of this century, and onward into the third, Gnos¬
ticism constituted a very powerful element of disturbance,
and, to some extent, of advancing culture in the Christian
Church. It appears to have exercised a living sway over
some of the highest minds drawn to the truth. Whatever
absurd opinions may have long prevailed as to the Gnostic
teachers, these are now entirely exploded under the more
impartial and more critical labours of modern historians;
and, wild as we may still think their speculations, such
men as Basilides and Valentinus stand out in the pages of
Neander and Bunsen as truly noble and earnestly thought¬
ful men.
These two teachers are the most illustrious representa¬
tives of the Alexandriatj or Hellenic Gnosticism. Basi¬
lides, probably born in Syria, taught in Alexandria about
the year 125. He represented existence as springing from
the infinite and unnameable Source ($eos avovoyaacTos) in
a sevenfold series of vEons, under the several names, Nofs,
Aoyos, d’povrjcris, '2t6<fna, Arm//is, Alk(uo(tvv7), Elprjvrj. These,
with the unknown and inexpressible Original, constituted
the first octave (-irpojTq oySdas) of existence. From this
first kingdom of spirits (ovpavds) emanated a second, and so
on in unbroken gradation, each successive kingdom forming
a less perfect expression of the original. This sevenfold
emanation is supposed to have repeated itself no fewer than
365 times, so that the whole spirit-world or TrXqpwpia was
represented by the days of the year. From this cor¬
respondence he applied the mystical name of d/3pa£ds or
a/Spaadg (whose letters denote 365) to this completed mani¬
festation of the Primal essence. Through the contact of
the lowest range of this spirit-world with the bordering chaos,
and especially thiough the operation of the Archon (ap/^wj/)
or chief angel of this lowest kingdom, arose the present
world. 1 he Archon is the immediate creator of men, and
the spiritual ruler ot the Jews. He is not evil, but only
limited, and unable in his strife with dead matter to raise
those under his rule to a true communion with the Divine.
688 G N 0 S T
Gnosticism. To effect this, the highest iEon, the Nous, descended to
earth and united himself with the man Jesus at his baptism.
The higher aims of the redeeming ^Eon are not opposed by
the Archon when made known to him ; and being success¬
fully accomplished, he separates from the man Jesus before
his crucifixion, and ascends again to his kingdom of light,
into which he has provided an entrance for all kindred and
purified natures. The followers of Basilides continued
into the fourth century, and rendered themselves in cer¬
tain cases particularly obnoxious by their impious indiffer¬
ence to the crucified One, and the slackness of their moral
code.
The system of Valentinus is perhaps the most elaborate
and ingenious of all the Gnostical systems. This teacher
came from Alexandria to Rome about the year 140, and
died in Cyprus about ICO. The principles of life, or Alons,
were conceived by him to proceed from the ineffable Source
(Bu0os TrpoTnmop) in pairs. In the evolution of the primal
being, there is first of all the consciousness of himself (4Wota,
cnyr]). Thence spring, on the one hand, three male or
formative JEons, respectively named Nous, Ao-yos, and vAi/-
#pco7ros, and three female or receptive JEons, respectively
named ’AXr/Oeiaj Zorrj, YiKKXrjala. From the Aoyos and the
Zwr/ there spring further ten iEons, and from the AvOpomus
and EKKXrjaLa twelve, making in all thirty, which form to¬
gether the ■n-Xrjpwp.a. They were all duly arranged according
to their nature and power, each occupying its proper position
to all the others ; and this order and proportion (opotfecria)
it was which constituted the harmony of the TrXrjpup-a. But
through the passionate desires of the last ./Eon, the Hotpia,
to attain to the full knowledge of the Bufios, which is only
given to the Nous, disturbance was introduced into the
TrXripwp.a. Out of the same undue desire of the Utofta arose
the Achamoth (rj Karr o-opta), an untimely being, who, wan¬
dering outside of the 7rXr]pwp.a, came in contact with the
surrounding void or dead matter, and communicated life to
it. Hence sprang various orders of existence, some more
allied to the spiritual, others more allied to the material
element. The Demiurge, who is the production of the
Sofita, and represents her, is the immediate former of this
mixed world, according to the course of which the spiritual
natures are to be evermore separated from the material, and
restored to the higher kingdom of light. In the meantime
there arose a restorer of the disturbed harmony of the
7rX^po)p.a, a saviour, variously represented as the Nous or
highest iEon, the Adyos, the Christ. His redeeming power
is first exercised in the Achamoth, who, becoming united to
him, inspires the Demiurge with the same exalted ideas,
and thus prepares the way for the redemption of the lower
world. This is effected by the manifestation of the owjjp
in the man Jesus, the psychical Messiah, with whom, as
usual, he becomes united at baptism.
The most illustrious disciples of the Valentinian Gnosti¬
cism, which prevailed on till the sixth century, were Pto-
lemaeus, Heracleon, and Marcus. Each of these had of
course their own peculiarities of system—such theosophic
dreams admitting of endless confusion and diversity.
Carpocrates of Alexandria, with his son Epiphanes, stand
in some degree by themselves. Their Gnosticism appears,
upon the whole, to have been of a simple character, arising
more directly out of a mixture of Platonic ideas with
Christianity. The Divine Being they conceived as simple
unity (//.oms). Hence proceeded a succession of spirits, or
angels, by the lowest of whom the world wras formed and
governed. The spirit of man is confined in the body as in
a prison, and it is the aim of the yvwo-is to liberate the spirit
from this confinement, and to enable it to attain to a truly
divine communion. Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle are
all representatives of such a yvajcris—of that mystical con¬
templative spirit, by which man frees himself from bond¬
age to the Demiurgi, or rulers of this world. Jesus was
I C I S M.
merely the man in whom this spirit was developed in the Gnosticism,
highest degree. The mystical abstract views of the sect are
said to have led to great laxity of social and moral principle.
Among the most singular of the Gnostic sects were the
Ophites or serpent-worshippers, whom we may mention
here, as considered by Neander, to form the connecting
link between the Alexandrian and the Syrian Gnostics.
Very different opinions, however, prevail as to their proper
position in a classification of the Gnostic systems. Bunsen,
founding on the lately-discovered treatise of Hippolytus,
would trace their origin even to the apostolical age. Ac¬
cording to their doctrine, so far as it seems possible to find
any consistent meaning in it, life sprung from the Abyss in
a threefold order of emanation, viz., the first man, the second
man, or Son of man, and the Holy Spirit. The last gave
birth, by means of the first two, to the perfect masculine
or heavenly nature—the Christ, and the defective female
2o^)ia. From this latter, in her descending contact with
the lifeless void, proceeds the A^/itoup-yos, Jaldabaoth, who
is an evil spirit or demon, altogether hostile to the higher
world. Jaldabaoth, by means of the living principle trans¬
mitted to him, calls into being six planet-spirits, and,
through their agency, men. In man, however, there was
also implanted some portion of a higher spirit, and of a
longing after the higher order of things. It is the aim of
Jaldabaoth to crush and destroy this better spirit in man ;
but the %o<j>ujL, awakened to a renewed consciousness of her
heavenly origin, watches over him, and never ceases to im¬
part to him fresh supplies of the spiritual influence. His
redemption is at length completed by the manifestation of
the heavenly nature, or Christ of the 2Eon-world, in the
man Jesus. In this mystical process of conflict and redemp¬
tion there is also in the Ophitic system a further agent,
under the name of ’0</nop.op<£os. The distinct function of
this agent seems involved in confusion, but the etymology of
the term suggests that it must have been, in such a sect, of
an important character.
The chief representatives of the Syrian or Oriental Gnos¬
ticism are Saturninus, Tatian, and Bardesanes, although
some have classed the latter as a follower of Valentinus.
The general characteristic of this Gnosticism, as we found
already, was the more definite development of the doctrine
of Dualism. This was associated with a more rigid practical
asceticism, and altogether with a deeper and more earnest
moral spirit.
In the system of Saturninus, who lived at Antioch under
the emperor Hadrian, the iEon-world proceeded from the
original Source (Tlar^p ayvcucrros) in a successive develop¬
ment, much the same as that of the preceding systems;
but opposed to this spiritual kingdom stood a living prin¬
ciple of evil (6 Sarams). The lowest stage of the emana¬
tion-world consists of seven planet-spirits, at whose head is
the God of the Jewish. These, removed to a distance from
the supreme Source of Light, create the present world and
men, and strive to defend them from the power of the
prince of darkness. This, however, in their weakness
and distance, they are unable to do, when God himself
infuses into man sparks of the true light, and especially
sends down an AEon fully animated by this light to be their
redeemer. It remains for man, through ascetic self-denial,
particularly through abstinence from marriage and the eat¬
ing of flesh, to separate themselves from all contamination
of the evil principle, and render themselves capable of
sharing in the higher kingdom.
Tatian was an Assyrian, and a disciple of Justin Martyr at
Rome. He distinguished himself, while yet an adherent to the
common doctrines of the Church, by a well-known discourse
on behalf of Christianity, addressed to the Greeks. It was
after his return to Syria, about the year GO, that he ap¬
pears to have adopted Gnostic views, and to have become
particularly remarkable for his ascetic abstinence from mar-
GNU
Gnu riage and the use of flesh, and of wine even in the celebra-
II tion of the Lord’s Supper.
Goa• Bardesanes flourished towards the end of the second cen-
tury, in Edessa. Although he seems clearly to have adopted
certain Gnostical tenets, and especially that of the indepen¬
dent existence of the evil principle, he yet retained his con¬
nection with the church, and even acquired a high reputa¬
tion in it as a learned and accomplished man—one of the
first of those hymn writers to whom, reaching down to
Ephraim Syrus in the fourth century, the Syrian Church
owed so much.
In Marcion and his school, as we formerly observed, is
to be seen the extreme development of the Syrian Gnosti¬
cism on that side on which it naturally stood opposed to
Judaism. Excommunicated, as is commonly alleged, by his
father, who was bishop of Sinope, Marcion attached himself
to a Gnostic of Antioch, of the name of Cerdo, and founded
with him a Gnostic school. He taught that there were
three principles (dp^ai), viz. the ®eos aya0ds, the A^/uoupyds
StKaios, and the vXrj. with its ruler Satan. The Demiurge
is of course the creator of this world and men, and the spe¬
cial guardian of the Jews, to whom he gave the Mosaic law.
This law, however, was quite ineffectual to deliver them
from the evil principle, and guide them to moral purity;
and for this purpose Christ descended to earth with the
appearance of a body, and proclaimed to men the good
God, hitherto unknown. The God of the Jews, or the
Demiurge, opposed him in this redeeming mission, and
thus it was that the opposition between Christianity and
Judaism became sharpened on the system of Marcion. The
cause of Christ, however, triumphed on his apparent death.
All who have faith in him have power to rise above the
thraldom of the Demiurge, and enter into communion with
their Lord, the giver of a new pneumatic life. In confor¬
mity with the spirit of his whole system, Marcion rejected
the Old Testament, and, of the New Testament, accepted
only the gospel of St Luke and ten of the Pauline epistles,
with corruptions, however, in both cases. In a work, bear¬
ing the title Antitheses, of which some fragments still exist,
it was his aim to prove in detail the opposition between
Judaism and Christianity.
Gnosticism survived throughout the third, and even into
the fourth century, passing, in its Syrian type, into Manichse-
ism. Its influence on the Church, irrational in many of its
aspects as it may now seem, is by no means to be considered
wholly detrimental. It served by its opposition to impart
depth and comprehensiveness to Christian science, to destroy
the narrow spirit of Judaism, and to awaken the Church to
a more expansive consciousness of its true doctrine and
strength. (j.t—H.)
GNU. See index to Mammalia.
GOA, formerly a celebrated city of Western India, and
the capital of the Portuguese settlements in the East In¬
dies, but now fast becoming a mass of deserted ruins. Its
original grandeur may, however, be distinctly traced in its
decay; the streets are straight, the houses regularly and
handsomely built of stone in the European style, many of
them large and magnificent, though now no longer inhabited.
Among the public buildings are many noble churches, ex¬
hibiting specimens of architecture superior to anything at¬
tempted by Europeans in other parts of India, particularly
the church and convent of St Augustin. Pangaum, which
has supplanted the old city, is now the residence of the
viceroy and of the chief Portuguese inhabitants, and the seat
of the supreme court of judicature. The new town is con¬
nected with Goa by a stone causeway about 300 yards long.
From this bridge it extends towards the harbour, but the
site of Pangaum is said to be low and sandy, and its build¬
ings poor and wretched. Algoada Point, which is in
E. Long. 73. 57. 15., N. Lat. 15. 28. 18., forms the north¬
ern extremity of Goa Bay. It has a lighthouse and small
VOL. x.
GOA 689
fort on it; but the principal fort is situated close to the Goa.
east on the S.E. side of the headland, where there is a
well of excellent water, from which the shipping are sup¬
plied. Nostra Senhora de la Cabo, a large monastery, of a
white appearance, is situated on the summit of the blulf
point of land, about two miles and a half S.E. of Al¬
goada, which forms the S. side of the bay. The com¬
mon anchorage is abreast of Algoada Fort, the flag-staff
bearing about north at half a mile distance from the shore.
The bar at the entrance of the river is about two miles to
the eastward of Algoada Point, having sixteen or eighteen
feet on it at high-water of spring-tides. The bottom is
hard and rocky; and the channel so winding and intricate,
that a ship ought not to enter the river without a pilot.
After the early part of May, when it is considered unsafe
to remain at the anchorage in the roads, the Portuguese
send their large ships, which cannot run into the river, to
Marmagon Roads, four or five miles to the southward of
Algoada Fort, where they are sheltered from the S.W.
monsoon by mooring close under the N.E. side of that
peninsula. The colonial settlement at Goa seems now to
be almost abandoned by the mother country, and the inha¬
bitants scarcely retain the national language or manners.
The trade has also greatly fallen off, and the people are im¬
poverished, so that the best families are reduced to gain a
scanty subsistence by working at lace or muslin. Not more
than three ships arrive from Portugal in the course of the
year, and these generally proceed to the British settlements
to complete their cargoes for Europe. The trade from Goa
to China is carried on by one or two ships in the year,
which are called China ships. These carry to Surat, and
the ports to the northward, Chinese and European goods,
and returning with cotton and other articles, call at Goa to
complete their cargoes for China. They commence their
trade at the most southern settlement, which is Ajengo, and
thence they proceed to Cochin, Calicut, Tellicherry, and
Mangalore, and then to Goa; at these different places they
take in pepper, cardamoms, cassia lignea, and other arti¬
cles, which they resell at their northern settlements, and
complete the voyage within the year. A coasting trade is
carried on in small vessels with the different ports on the
coast, whence they return to Goa with produce, which forms
the home cargoes of their ships. With Macao and the
British settlements an inconsiderable trade is carried on;
the imports consisting principally of piece goods, raw silk,
grain, sugar, woollens, and a few European articles; whilst
the exports are piece goods, betel-nut, hemp, and other
articles of trifling amount. But Goa “ the golden” exists
no longer. Goa—where the aged Da Gama closed his glo¬
rious life—where the immortal Camoens sung and suffered—
is now one vast and grassy tomb. And it seems as if its
thin and gloomy population of priests and friars were spared
only to chant requiems for its departed souls. During the
sixteenth century, when its prosperity was at its highest,
the Jesuits introduced themselves and established the Holy
Tribunal; the home government became unsettled; the
Mahratta power rose rapidly; pestilence broke out in the
city; and thus, all these misfortunes conspiring, the down¬
fall of the city was very much accelerated. The Inquisition
was abolished in 1812 at the solicitation of the British
government. In 1800 it was a city of churches, which the
wealth of the province had been exhausted in erecting. At
Goa the ancient specimens of architecture far excel any¬
thing that has been attempted in modern times in any other
part of the East, both in taste and grandeur.
Goa was taken from its Hindu rajahs of Bijanagur by
the Bhamenee sovereigns of the Deccan. On the arrival
of the Portuguese on the Malabar coast it was an opulent
place, well fortified, and subject to Zabaim, a potent prince,
from whom it was taken by the Portuguese general Albu¬
querque. It was retaken by the native prince, after which
690 GOA
Goalparah Albuquerque, having received reinforcements, again suc-
II . ceeded in 1510 in making himself master of the city after
Godaiming. a {jj00(jy assault. He improved its defences, and consti-
tuted it the capital of all his conquests; and it has ever
since remained in possession of the Portuguese, who dur¬
ing the sixteenth century extended their conquests, and
obtained possession of numerous places on the sea-coasts of
India. In the course of these operations they were in¬
volved in hostilities with the Mahrattas; and advancing
inland, laid siege to the town of Pondah. Here they were
surrounded by a large Mahratta force, and effected their
retreat with great difficulty and serious loss. Having formed
an alliance with Aurungzebe, they succeeded in repulsing
the Mahrattas, with whom they at length concluded a peace.
In 1518 the Portuguese power in India was at its height,
and from this period it began to decline. The territory of
Goa now extends from Lat. 14. 54. to 15. 45., and from
Long. 73. 45. to 74. 26.; it is sixty-two miles in length from
N. to S., and 40 in its greatest breadth, and contains an area
of 1066 square miles. The population has been returned
at 313,262. Of this number two-thirds are stated to be
Christians of the Roman Catholic persuasion ; but these are
not under the direct jurisdiction of the Church of Rome, the
throne of Portugal claiming the right of appointing its own
bishop, and assuming the control and direction of the Ca¬
tholic Church in its Indian possessions. The military force
of the state of Goa consists of 3300 fighting men, of whom
about 400 are Europeans. The revenues are estimated at
L.71,920, an amount stated to be annually exceeded by the
expenditure. The chief products are rice, pepper, cocoa-
nuts, betel-nut, and salt, which latter article is manufac¬
tured to a very large extent. Besides Goa the only remain¬
ing Portuguese possessions in India consist of the unimpor¬
tant settlements of Diu and Demaun. Goa is distant S.
from Bombay 250 miles.
GOALPARAH, a town of Hindustan, presidency of
Bengal, and the chief place of the British district of the
same name, is situated on the south shore of the Brahma¬
pootra, near the frontier of Assam. The district of which
this town is the capital contains an area of 3506 square
miles, with a population of 400,000. The principal crops
of the district are cotton, tobacco, and sugar. Mustard also
is said to be extensively grown. This district formed a
portion of Bengal in 1765, when the British government
obtained a grant of the Dewanny from the emperor of
Delhi. The town of Goalparah is in E. Long. 90. 32., N.
Lat. 26. 8.
GOAT. See index to Mamjmalia.
GOAT ISLAND. See Niagara. This is also the
name of the smallest of the Bashee Islands in the Eastern
Archipelago, and of a small island in the Pacific, 3 miles
S.W. of Juan Fernandez.
GOBELIN, the name applied to a very exquisite spe¬
cies of tapestry, in honour of Giles Gobelin, a celebrated
French dyer in the reign of Francis I., and the discoverer
of a method of dyeing a beautiful scarlet, which was named
after him. His house in the suburb of St Marcel at Paris,
and the rivulet he made use of, are still called the Gobelins.
An academy for drawing, and a manufactory of fine tapes¬
tries, were established in this quarter by Colbert in 1666;
and hence the tapestries made there received the name of
Gobelin.
GOBI or Shamo, an extensive tract of desert country in
Central Asia. See Asia.
GOCH, a walled town of Rhenish Prussia, government
of Dusseldorf, and circle of Cleve, on the left bank of the
Niers, 8 miles S. of Cleve. It has an old castle; several
distilleries ; manufactures of woollen, linen, cotton, and silk
goods ; and 3919 inhabitants.
GOD. See Theology.
GODALMING, a municipal borough and market-town
GOD
of England, county of Surrey, in a valley on the right bank Godavery
of the Wey, 32 miles S.W. of London. It consists prin¬
cipally of one street, nearly a mile in length, on the high Godf,rey'
road between London and Portsmouth. The chief public
buildings are the parish church, an ancient cruciform edi¬
fice with a lofty steeple, and the town-hall, a neat modern
building. It has manufactures of paper, leather, parch¬
ment, hosiery ; and some trade in corn, malt, bark, timber,
and hoops, by the Wey, which is navigable hence to the
Thames. The town is governed by a mayor, four aider-
men, and twelve councillors. Pop. (1851) 2218.
GODAVERY, a large river of India, which has its rise
in the Western Ghauts, seventy miles to the N.E. of
Bombay, and which, with a circuitous curve, flows nearly
over the whole breadth of the peninsula in a S.E. di¬
rection. After traversing, from W. to E., the British dis¬
trict of Ahmednuggur and the dominions of the Nizam or
ruler of Hyderabad, receiving in its course the waters of
the Doodna, the Manjara, the Manair, and the Wein Gunga,
it crosses the Nizam’s frontier into the British district of
Rajahmundry through a deep chasm in the Eastern Ghauts,
and entering the low tract which appears to have been
formed from its alluvial deposits, it separates near the town
of Rajahmundry into two principal channels, one of which
falls into the Bay of Bengal a few miles south of the town
of Coringa, and the other a little below Narsipore, forming
between them the island of Nagur, comprehending 500
square miles, and which, being intersected by various rami¬
fications from these rivers, includes several tide-harbours
for vessels of moderate burden, and is highly fertile and
productive. Ingeram, Coringa, Yanaon, and Narsipore are
among the places situated at the mouth of this river, which
appears to be the most considerable stream that rises be¬
tween the Ganges and Cape Comorin. Its whole course
may be estimated at nearly 800 miles, having, owing to
the peculiar configuration of the Indian peninsula, which
rises to its height much nearer the western than the eastern
shore, nearly traversed the country from sea to sea. Dur¬
ing the rainy season the Godavery rolls a prodigious volume
of water towards the ocean, which being economized by
means of a dam or annicut thrown across the river at the
head of the delta, supplies to the rich alluvial soil the means
of constant irrigation during the dry season. The value of
this river as an instrument of communication, for commer¬
cial and military purposes, has been frequently urged upon
the attention of the ruling authorities, and measures for the
improvement of its navigation have at length been sanc¬
tioned ; in many places it is more than a mile in breadth.
During the dry season its bed consists in many places of an
expanse of sand, the river being divided into numerous shal¬
low streams. Extensive forests of teak trees line the shores
of the river until it emerges from the Ghaut Mountains.
GODFATHERS and GODMOTHERS, persons who,
at the baptism of infants, answer for their future conduct,
and solemnly promise for them that they will renounce the
devil and all his works, and follow a life of piety and virtue ;
and thus bind themselves to see that they be properly in¬
structed in the duties of religion. This custom, which is of
great antiquity in the Christian Church, was probably insti¬
tuted to prevent children being brought up in idolatry in
case their parents died before they arrived at years of
discretion. The number of godfathers and godmothers is
reduced to two in the Church of Rome, and three in the
Church of England; but formerly there was no limit to the
number.
GODFREY of Bouillon, Prince of Lorraine, and first
Christian king of Jerusalem, was born in 1061 at Bezy, near
Nivelle; died at Jerusalem, June 18, 1100. For the de¬
tails of his life see Chivalry, and Crusades. (See also
Gibbon, Decline and Fall, chap. Iviii.; Michaud’s Histoire
des Croisades, &c., &c.)
GOD
GOD
691
Godman- GODMANCHESTER, a municipal borough of Eng-
chester land, county of Huntingdon, on the River Ouse. It is in-
II . eluded within the parliamentary limits of Huntingdon, of
Godwin, it forms a suburb, being only three-quarters of a mile
S. S.E. It has a handsome church in the later English style,
and a free grammar-school. Pop. (1851) 2337.
GODOLPHIN, Sydney, Earl of Godolphin, was a cadet
of an ancient Saxon family of Cornwall. It is not known
with certainty in what year he was born, but it was pro¬
bably about 1640. He began his political career at an
early age under Charles II., and was one of those who
voted for the exclusion of the Duke of York from the
throne in 1680. When that prince, however, became
king on his brother’s death, Godolphin was still continued
in office, though in a subordinate situation at the treasury-
board, of which during Charles’s latter days he had been the
head. On the accession of William of Orange, Godolphin
took office under his government; and shortly after Queen
Anne came to the throne, in 1702, he was made lord-high-
treasurer, being the first person who had held that office
since the Restoration. In 1706 Godolphin was created
Viscount Rialton and Earl of Godolphin, and from this
time is considered to have deserted his original party, and
attached himself openly to the Whigs. In the struggle
between him and Harley for the premiership, Godolphin
was at first successful, but not being able to counterwork
the intrigues of his rival he was suddenly and rudely ex¬
pelled from office in 1710. He survived his loss of power
for about two years, and died Sept. 15, 1712.
The character of Godolphin has been very variously es¬
timated, and, indeed, presents such strange contradictions
as to be scarcely intelligible. In manner he was cold and
calm, and, as Tindal says, as modest and silent a man as
ever was bred at a court. He had a faculty for despatching
business thoroughly and rapidly, and such a command of
temper that he had few or no personal enemies. He had
also a real pride in his work, and sought always to have it
done so that it would not require to be done again. Ac¬
cordingly he was careful in the choice of his instruments,
and was generally happy in searching out able men, who
were at the same time men of integrity, to aid him in his
undertakings. Of personal vanity he does not seem to
have had much ; and he was utterly inaccessible to a bribe
—a somewhat rare virtue in those days. As a set-off
against these good qualities, it must be stated that Godol¬
phin was one of the keenest gamblers and horse-racers of
his day, and that his intimates were often persons notable
either as gamesters or jockeys. He was never charged,
however, with any of the mal-practices which are supposed
to be inseparable from a love of the dice-box and the turf.
He used to say that he played merely because it delivered
him from talking; but the great stain on the character of
Godolphin is his treasonable correspondence with James,
while he was for several years first lord of the treasury to
William, and in the full confidence of his master. (Dal-
rymple’s Memoirs of Great Britain and Ireland; Fox’s
History of the Early Part of the Reign of James II.;
T. B. Macaulay’s History of England, &c.)
GODWIN, Francis, son of Dr Godwin, bishop of
Bath and Weils, was born at Havington, Northampton¬
shire, in 1561. After passing through the usual course of
grammar-school instruction, he was sent to Christ Church
College, Oxford, where he took his degree of bachelor in
1580, and that of master of arts in 1583. About this time
he wrote an amusing piece on a philosophical subject, which
he never published, but which appeared about five years
after his death, under the title of The Man in the Moon, or
a discourse of a Voyage thither, by Domingo Gonzalez,
1638, in 8vo. This satirical production, which displays
considerable fancy and even genius, seems to have afforded
to Swift several hints of which he availed himself in his
voyage to Laputa; and, what is still more remarkable, it Godwin,
shows the author to have been acquainted with the Coper-
nican system. He also suppressed another piece, entitled
Nuncius Inanimatus, or the Inanimate Messenger, intended
to communicate various methods for conveying intelligence
secretly, speedily, and safely; a production which appears
to have been the prototype of Bishop Wilkin’s Mercury,
or Secret and Swift Messenger. It was published, however,
in 1657, and afterwards translated by Dr Thomas Smith.
Some time after he had taken his degree, Godwin entered
into holy orders, and soon became rector of Samford-Orcais
in Somersetshire, a prebendary in the church of Wilts, and
canon-residentiary, also vicar of Weston-in-Zoyland, in the
same county. Having turned his attention to the subject
of British antiquities, he became acquainted with Camden,
whom he accompanied in a journey through Wales in 1590,
in search of curiosities; but, although he took great plea¬
sure in these inquiries, he at length confined himself en¬
tirely to ecclesiastical history and antiquities. He was cre¬
ated bachelor of divinity in 1593, and doctor in 1595,
when, having resigned the vicarage of Weston, he was ap¬
pointed rector of Bishop’s-Lidiard in the same county.
In 1601 he published his Catalogue of the Bishops of England,
since the first planting of the Christian religion in this island—a
work in which he embodied his collections in ecclesiastical bio¬
graphy, and which, through the intercession of Lord Buckhurst, to
whom he acted as chaplain, procured him the bishopric of Llandaff.
In 1615 he published another edition, with numerous alterations
and additions; but this having been very erroneously printed, owing
to the author’s distance from the press, he recast the whole in an
elegant Latin dress, and the year after sent it abroad to be printed.
This last edition was dedicated to the king, who, in return, conferred
upon him the bishopric of Hereford, to which he was translated in
1617. The work was afterwards reprinted, in the year 1743, with
a continuation by Dr Richardson, the whole being in one volume
folio, with a portrait of Godwin, and other embellishments. In
1616 he published, in Latin, Rerum Anglicarum Henrico VIII., etc.
regnantihus, which was translated and published b}' his son, under
the title of Annals of England, containing the reigns of Henry VIIL,
Edward VI., and Queen Mary, in folio. His last publication was a
Computation of the Value of the Roman Sesterce and Attic Talent,
which appeared in the year 1630.
After this he fell into a languishing disorder, which cut
him off in April 1633. (j. b—e.)
Godwin, William, an English author of great ver¬
satility, original power, and unwearied application, was the
son of a dissenting minister, and was born at Wisbeach,
Cambridge, March 3, 1756. He was educated for his father’s
profession, and afterwards officiated for four years as pastor
of a congregation at Stowmarket in Suffolk, Many of the
English dissenting ministers were at this time zealous poli¬
tical reformers. They felt the Test and Corporation Acts
to be badges of persecution, and naturally wished to abate
somewhat of the power of the High-church clergy and
rural aristocracy, by whom they were regarded with suspicion
and dislike. Godwin participated in these sentiments, but
went much further than most of his brethren. He aimed
at the complete overthrow of all existing institutions, poli¬
tical, social, and religious. An intellectual republic was
the dream of his youthful ambition ; and to promote its an¬
ticipated advent he resigned his clerical charge, repaired to
London, and set about the work of regeneration with his
pen, which at all times he valued as highly as ever monarch
did his sceptre. This was in 1782, and the same year
Godwin commenced his career as author by publishing a
series of six sermons entitled Sketches of History. He
wrote largely in the Annual Register and other periodicals,
and associated with Florne Tooke, Holcroft, Thelwall, and
others who, from their political doctrines and activity, were
obnoxious to men in power. Godwin, however, was no plat¬
form agitator. He was the mildest of enthusiastic philoso¬
phers, and had no talent or inclination for public life. In
1793 appeared his greatest work on political science, The
Inquiry concerning Political Justice, and its Influence on
692 GOD
Godwin. General Virtue and Happiness. Though now rarely met
with, this work was read with great avidity, and exercised
no small influence in shaping the opinions and aspirations
of many young men of genius, who were captivated with
the author’s argument for universal benevolence as the im¬
mediate motive of our actions, and the true basis on which
to found society. The French Revolution had then run
to its wildest excesses, and appeared rather as a beacon to
warn off political adventurers than a light to steer by;
but Godwin conceived that he could build upon the ruins
of monarchy a glorious fabric of equal rights and happiness
for all mankind. Still further to illustrate his peculiar views,
and show the evils of our artificial system, he wrote and
published next year his political novel of Things as they
are, or the Adventures of Caleb Williams, which, with the
other tales of Godwin, will be found noticed under the head
of Romance. The political object of Caleb Williams was
overlooked by the mass of readers in the strong interest of
the story, and in the author’s vivid description of incidents
and character. It is a work of great genius, and was the
most popular of all Godwin’s productions. His next im¬
portant effort to propagate his opinions was in the form of a
series of essays entitled the Inquirer, which appeared in
1796. A more remarkable exemplification of his views on
social questions was afforded by his Memoirs of the Author
of the Rights of Woman. This was the once celebrated
Mary Wollstonecraft, whom Godwin had married, though
neither approved of the “ slavery” of wedlock The details
and principles laid bare in this memoir shocked even God¬
win’s philosophical admirers. He had gone too far for
English feeling, however modified by political sentiments;
and though his own equanimity was probably never for a
moment disturbed by the comments his work provoked,
his position, both as a literary man and a citizen, was low¬
ered by the publication. His next appearance was in the
field of fiction. His St Leon, a tale of the sixteenth cen¬
tury, was published in 1799 ; and though the subject was
avowedly of the miraculous class (his hero being invested
with the fabulous powers of alchymy and the elixir vitce,
by which he commands all riches, and can renew his youth),
the work contains many splendid and pathetic descriptions.
The utter desolation of St Leon, who survives all the ob¬
jects of his affection, and longs for dissolution notwith¬
standing his supernatural endowments, is one of the most
powerful and harrowing pictures in the whole region of
romance. The other works of Godwin during his long
literary life were, Antonio, a tragedy, produced in 1801 ; a
Life of Chaucer, in two quarto volumes—filled, of course,
by a vast amount of episodical description and illustration—
published in 1803; Fleetwood, a novel, 1805 ; Faulkner,
a tragedy, 1807 ; an Essay on Sepulchres, 1809 ; Lives of
Edward and John Philips, the nephews of Milton, 1815;
Mandeville, a tale of the times of Cromwell, 1817; a His¬
tory of the Commonwealth, in four volumes, published at
intervals between 1824 and 1828 ; Cloudesley, a novel,
1830 ; and Lives of the Necromancers, 1834. Many other
short and anonymous works proceeded from his ever-busy
hand, for some years Godwin carried on business as a
bookseller under the name of Edward Baldwin, and ushered
into the world a number of small educational works. Into
such humble usefulness had subsided the daring and san¬
guine speculatist, who was to overturn thrones, and re¬
generate the civilized world! Misfortune seems to have
fallen upon him about the year 1816, as at that time we
find Byron concurring with Mackintosh and Rogers as to
some measures for his relief. In his latter years the go¬
vernment of Earl Grey conferred upon Mr Godwin a small
office known as “ Yeoman Usher of the Exchequer,” to
which were attached apartments in Palace Yard ; and there
the veteran author died, April 7, 1836, having completed
his eightieth year. From the glimpses of Godwin’s fami-
G 0 D
liar life afforded by Charles Lamb, Hazlitt, and other as- Godwin,
sociates, he appears to have been an easy complacent man,
esteeming literature above all pursuits and distinctions,
and enjoying his game of whist in the evenings with a few
select and congenial friends. His latter works are distin¬
guished by great elegance of style. Details are worked up
with brilliancy and effect in his essays and novels ; though
in the delineation of passion he is often exaggerated and un¬
natural. His History of the Commonwealth disappointed
the public. The subject was one that seemed peculiarly
suited to his genius and research, but he taxed himself to
be rigidly accurate and impartial; and in the process, he had
neglected the animation and colouring necessary to give
life and interest to his narrative. The work, however, is a
valuable repository of facts. The theory of political optim¬
ism by which Godwin was first distinguished was success¬
fully answered by Malthus and Dr Parr. It has been
fairly refuted on philosophical principles. In excluding
the particular affections, he deprives us, as Sydney Smith
has remarked, of our most powerful means of promoting his
own principle of universal good :—“ For it is as much as to
say that all the crew ought to have the general welfare of
the ship so much at heart that no sailor should pull ecny par¬
ticular rope, or hand any individual sail.” A theory which
runs counter to the natural feelings, habits, and business of
mankind, can only be considered as one of the refinements
of sophistry, put forth at a time of peculiar excitement and
speculation. It is in the regions of fiction that Godwin
earned his lasting and most distinctive laurels. As a gene¬
ral writer on so many classes of subjects, he is well entitled
to honourable mention, but in romance only is he original
and striking. His political theories and elaborate essays
are already left behind in the onward progress of society in
practical government and knowledge. A work of genius,
however, such as Caleb Williams or St Leon, which ap¬
peals to the heart and imagination, and evinces the skill of
the master, can never become uninteresting, (r. c—s.)
Godwin, Mary Wollstonecraft, an English autho¬
ress of the last century, celebrated for her literary
talents, her opinions, and her misfortunes. She was born
in 1759, either in the environs of London, or at Loddon in
Norfolk, where it is known that her father was in practice
as a surgeon and apothecary not long after her birth. In
1768 she accompanied her father to Beverley in Yorkshire,
where the only education she got was that afforded by the
humble day-schools of the town. This was of itself suffi¬
cient to disgust her with the life she was obliged to lead ;
and her unhappiness was embittered by the cruel treatment
of her father, who was a man of ill-regulat.ed mind and un¬
governable temper. “ Mary Wollstonecraft was not formed,”
says the author of Caleb Williams in the memoir of his
wife, “ to be the unresisting and contented subject of a
despot; but I have heard her remark more than once, that
when she felt she had done wrong, the reproof or chastise¬
ment of her mother, instead of being a terror to her, she
found to be the only thing capable of reconciling her
to herself. The blows of her father, on the contrary,
which were the mere ebullitions of a passionate temper,
instead of humbling her, roused her indignation.” She
resolved to provide for herself; and on the death of her
mother, went to live as a companion with a lady in Bath.
In 1783, along with two of her sisters and a friend, she
opened a school, first at Islington and afterwards at New¬
ington Green. She was succeeding well in a very conge¬
nial sphere, when the news reached her of the serious
illness of her attached friend at Lisbon, whom she in¬
stantly set off to nurse in her dying moments. On her
return she found her school ruined by mismanagement, and
was obliged to enter as governess the family of Lord Kings-
borough. She had already made herself favourably known
as an authoress by a little work On the Education of
G 0 E
G O E
693
Goes Daughters, published in 1786. The success of this work
|| tempted her to London to seek a livelihood there by her
Goethe. pen. During three or four years she was able not only to
—maintain herself but to educate two younger sisters, and
prop up the fortunes of the family, which the imprudence
of her father now threatened to involve in ruin. She con¬
tributed largely to the periodical press, and translated
Lavater’s Physiognomy, Salzman’s Elements of Morality,
and other works. In 1791 she emerged all at once into a
publicity that was at once fame and notoriety by publish¬
ing an answer to Burke’s Reflections on the French Revo¬
lution, and her still more noted Vindication of the Rights
of Woman. In the latter work she maintains, as might be
inferred from its title, that woman is called by nature to
share with man the lofty functions which he has arrogated
exclusively to himself; that man has no other superiority
over the weaker sex than that of physical strength ; and
that it is only through the devotedness of her love that
woman has fallen into that degradation in which the au¬
thoress believes her now to be. In 1 792 she passed over
into France, with the idea, as she expressed it, “ of losing
in the bosom of the public happiness the idea of her private
misfortunes.” Her hopes were cruelly deceived ; for she
had the misfortune to see nearly all the leading Girondists,
among whom she had chosen her personal friends, perish
on the scaffold. A still more bitter cup remained for her
to drink in the French capital. An American, by name
Imlay, had gained her affections, and seducing her under a
promise of marriage, had failed to fulfil his vow. She had
no sooner given birth to a child than she made two attempts
on her life, which were both luckily unsuccessful. But her
delicate sensibilities had sustained a shock which it re¬
quired all her fierce energy of character to endure. In the
interval between these two attempts on her life she wrote
her Letters on Norway, which country she had visited
during her stay at Paris. These letters amply attest the
unimpaired strength of her intellect. In 1796 she became
acquainted with the author of Caleb Williams, with whom
she cohabited for some months before being formally mar¬
ried to him. Mrs Godwin had only completed her 38th
year when she died in childbed, Sept. 10, 1797. Her
posthumous works were published by her husband in the
following year, with an interesting and touching memoir of
tier life.
GOES, or Ter-Goes, a fortified town of Holland, pro¬
vince of Zealand, on the island of South Beveland. It has
a harbour formed by a short canal communicating with the
Scheldt, and carries on an active trade in corn, salt, hops, &c.
Shipbuilding is also carried on, but the manufactures are
unimportant. Pop. (1850) 5296.
GOETHE, John Wolfgang von, a man ot command¬
ing influence in the literature of modern Germany
throughout the latter half of his long life, and possessing
two separate claims upon our notice; one in right of his
own unquestionable talents; and another much stronger,
though less direct, arising out of his position, and the ex¬
travagant partisanship put forward on his behalf for the
last forty years. The literary body in all countries, and
for reasons which rest upon a sounder basis than that of
private jealousies, have always been disposed to a repub¬
lican simplicity in all that regards the assumption of rank
and personal pretensions. Valeat quantum valere potest, is
the form of license to every man’s ambition, coupled with
its caution : let his influence and authority be commensu¬
rate with his attested value : and, because no man in the
present infinity of human speculation, and the present
multiformity of human power, can hope for more than a
very limited superiority, there is an end at once to all ab¬
solute dictatorship. The dictatorship in any case could
be only relative, and in relation to a single department of
art or knowledge; and this for a reason stronger even
than that already noticed, viz. the vast extent of the field
on which the intellect is now summoned to employ itself. Goethe.
That objection, as it applies only to the degree of the diffi-
culty, might be met by a corresponding degree of men¬
tal energy; such a thing may be supposed, at least. But
another difficulty there is, of a profounder character, which
cannot be so easily parried : those who have reflected at
all upon the fine arts, know that power of one kind is often
inconsistent, positively incompatible, with power of ano¬
ther kind. For example, the dramatic mind is incompa¬
tible with the epic. And though we should consent to
suppose that some intellect might arise endowed upon a
scale of such angelic comprehensiveness as to vibrate
equally and indifferently towards either pole, still it is
next to impossible, in the exercise and culture of the two
powers, but some bias must arise which would give that
advantage to the one over the other which the right arm
has over the left. But the supposition, the very case put,
is baseless, and countenanced by no precedent. Yet, under
this previous difficulty, and with regard to a literature
convulsed, if any ever was, by an almost total anarchy,
it is a fact notorious to all who take an interest in Ger¬
many and its concerns, that Goethe did in one way or
other, through the length and breadth of that vast coun¬
try, establish a supremacy of influence wholly unexam¬
pled ; a supremacy indeed perilous in a less honourable
man, to those whom he might chance to hate, and with re¬
gard to himself thus far unfortunate, that it conferred upon
every work proceeding from his pen a sort of papal indul¬
gence, an immunity from criticism, or even from the ap¬
peals of good sense, such as it is not wholesome that any
man should enjoy. Yet we repeat that German literature
was and is in a condition of total anarchy: with this soli¬
tary exception, no name, even in the most narrow section of
knowledge or of power, has ever been able in that coun¬
try to challenge unconditional reverence ; whereas, with
us and in France, name the science, name the art, and
we will name the dominant professor ; a difference which
partly arises out of the fact that England and France are
governed in their opinions by two or three capital cities,
whilst Germany looks for its leadership to as many cities
as there are residenzen and universities : for instance, the
little territory with which Goethe was connected present¬
ed no less than two such public lights; Weimar, the resi-
denz or privileged abode of the Grand Duke, and Jena,
the university founded by that house. Partly, however,
this difference may be due to the greater restlessness,
and to the greater energy as respects mere speculation,
of the German mind. But no matter whence arising, or
how interpreted, the fact is what we have described: ab¬
solute confusion, the “ anarch old” of Milton, is the one
deity whose sceptre is there paramount; and yet there it
was, in that very realm of chaos, that Goethe built his
throne. That he must have looked with trepidation and
perplexity upon his wild empire and its “ dark founda¬
tions,” may be supposed. The tenure was uncertain to
him as regarded its duration ; to us it is equally uncertain,
and in fact mysterious, as regards its origin. Meantime
the mere fact, contrasted with the general tendencies of
the German literary world, is sufficient to justify a notice,
somewhat circumstantial, of the man in whose favour,
whether naturally by force of genius, or by accident con¬
curring with intrigue, so unexampled a result was effected.
Goethe was born at noonday on the 28th of August
1749, in his father’s house at Frankfort on the Maine.
The circumstances of his birth were thus far remarkable,
that, unless Goethe’s vanity deceived him, they led to a
happy revolution hitherto retarded by female delicacy
falsely directed. From some error of the midwife who at¬
tended his mother, the infant Goethe appeared to be still
born. Sons there were as j'et none from this marriage;
everybody was therefore interested in the child’s life;
and the panic which arose in consequence, having sur-
694 G O E
Goethe, vived its immediate occasion, was improved into a public
resolution (for which no doubt society stood ready at that
moment) to found some course of public instruction from
this time forward for those who undertook professionally
the critical duties of accoucheur.
We have noticed the house in which Goethe was born,
as well as the city. Both were remarkable, and fitted to
leave lasting impressions upon a young person of sensibi¬
lity. As to the city, its antiquity is not merely venerable,
but almost mysterious; towers were at that time to be
found in the mouldering lines of its earliest defences,
which belonged to the age of Charlemagne, or one still
earlier; battlements adapted to a mode of warfare ante¬
rior even to that of feudalism or romance. The customs,
usages, and local privileges of Frankfort, and the rural dis¬
tricts adjacent, were of a corresponding character. Fes¬
tivals were annually celebrated at a short distance from
the walls, which had descended from a dateless antiquity.
Every thing which met the eye spoke the language of el¬
der ages ; whilst the river on which the place was seated,
its great fair, which still held the rank of the greatest in
Christendom, and its connection with the throne of Cas-
sar and his inauguration, by giving to Frankfort an inte¬
rest and a public character in the eyes of all Germany, had
the effect of countersigning, as it were, by state authority,
the importance which she otherwise challenged to her
ancestral distinctions. Fit house for such a city, and in
due keeping with the general scenery, was that of Goethe’s
father. It had in fact been composed out of two contigu¬
ous houses; that accident had made it spacious and ram¬
bling in its plan ; whilst a further irregularity had grown
out of the original difference in point of level between the
corresponding stories of the two houses, making it neces¬
sary to connect the rooms of the same suite by short flights
of steps. Some of these features were no doubt removed
by the recast of the house under the name of “ repairs”
(to evade a city bye-law), afterwards executed by his
father; but such was the house of Goethe’s infancy, and
in all other circumstances of style and furnishing equally
antique.
The spirit of society in Frankfort, without a court, a
university, or a learned body of any extent, or a resident
nobility in its neighbourhood, could not be expected to
display any very high standard of polish. Yet, on the
other hand, as an independent city, governed by its own
separate laws and tribunals (that privilege of autonomy so
dearly valued by ancient Greece) and possessing besides
a resident corps of jurisprudents and of agents in various
ranks for managing the interests of the German emperor
and other princes, Frankfort had the means within herself
of giving a liberal tone to the pursuits of her superior ci¬
tizens, and of co-operating in no inconsiderable degree
with the general movement of the times, political or intel¬
lectual. The memoirs of Goethe himself, and in particu¬
lar the picture there given of his own family, as well as
other contemporary glimpses of German domestic society
in those days, are sufficient to show that much knowledge,
much true cultivation of mind, much sound refinement
of taste, were then distributed through the middle classes
of German society; meaning by that very indeterminate
expression those classes which for Frankfort composed the
aristocracy, viz. all who had daily leisure, and regular funds
for employing it to advantage. It is not necessary to add,
because that is a fact applicable to all stages of society,
that brankfort presented many and various specimens
of original talent, moving upon all directions of human
speculation.
Yet, with this general allowance made for the capaci¬
ties of the place, it is too evident that, for the most part,
they lay inert and undeveloped. In many respects Frank¬
fort resembled an English cathedral city, according to the
THE.
standard of such places seventy years ago, not, that is to Goethe,
say, like Carlisle in this day, where a considerable manu-
facture exists, but like Chester as it is yet. The chapter
of a cathedral, the resident ecclesiastics attached to the
duties of so large an establishment, men always well edu¬
cated, and generally having families, compose the original
nucleus, around which soon gathers all that part of the
local gentry who, for any purpose, whether of education
for their children, or of social enjoyment for themselves,
seek the advantages of a town. Hither resort all the
timid old ladies who wish for conversation, or other forms
of social amusement; hither resort the valetudinarians,
male or female, by way of commanding superior medical
advice at a cost not absolutely ruinous to themselves; and
multitudes besides, with narrow incomes, to whom these
quiet retreats are so many cities of refuge.
Such, in one view, they really are ; and yet in another
they have a vicious constitution. Cathedral cities in
England, imperial cities without manufactures in Ger¬
many, are all in an improgressive condition. The public
employments of every class in such places continue the
same from generation to generation. The amount of su¬
perior families oscillates rather than changes; that is, it
fluctuates within fixed limits : and, for all inferior families,
being composed either of shopkeepers or of menial ser¬
vants, they are determined by the number, or, which, on
a large average, is the same, by the pecuniary power, of
their employers. Hence it arises, that room is made for
one man, in whatever line of dependence, only by the
death of another; and the constant increments of the
population are carried off into other cities. Not less is
the difference of such cities as regards the standard of
manners: how striking is the soft and urbane tone of the
lower orders in a cathedral city, or in a watering place
dependent upon ladies, contrasted with the bold, often
insolent, demeanour of a self-dependent artisan or mu¬
tinous mechanic of Manchester and Glasgow.
Children, however, are interested in the state of socie¬
ty around them chiefly as it affects their parents. Those
of Goethe were respectable, and perhaps tolerably repre¬
sentative of the general condition in their own rank. An
English authoress of great talent, in her Characteristics
of Goethe, has too much countenanced the notion that
he owed his intellectual advantages exclusively to his
mother. Of this there is no proof. His mother wins
more esteem from the reader of this day, because she
was a cheerful woman, of serene temper, brought into ad¬
vantageous comparison with a husband much older than
herself, whom circumstances had rendered moody, fitful,
sometimes capricious, and confessedly obstinate in that
degree which Pope has taught us to think connected with
inveterate error:
Stiff in opinion, always in the wrong,
unhappily presents an association too often actually oc¬
curring in nature, to leave much chance for error in pre¬
suming either quality from the other. And, in fact,
Goethe’s father was so uniformly obstinate in pressing his
own views upon all who belonged to him, whenever he
did come forward in an attitude of activity, that his fami¬
ly had much reason to be thankful for the rarity of such
displays. Fortunately for them, his indolence neutralized
his obstinacy. And the worst shape in which his trouble¬
some temper showed itself, was in what concerned the reli¬
gious reading of the family. Once begun, the worst book as
well as the best, the longest no less than the shortest, was
to be stedfastly read through to the last word of the last
volume ; no excess of yawning availed to obtain a reprieve,
not, adds his son, though he were himself the leader of
the yawners. As an illustration, he mentions Bowyer’s
History of the Popes; which awful series of records, the
G O E
Goethe, catacombs, as it were, in the palace of history, were actual-
traversed from one end to the other of the endless
suite by the unfortunate house of Goethe. Allowing,
however, for the father’s unamiableness in this one point,
upon all intellectual ground both parents seem to have
met very much upon a level. Two illustrations may suf¬
fice, one of which occurred during the infancy of Goethe.
The science of education was at that time making its
first rude motions towards an ampler development; and,
amongst other reforms then floating in the general mind,
wras one for eradicating the childish fear of ghosts, &c.
The young Goethes, as it happened, slept not in separate
beds only, but in separate rooms ; and not unfrequently
the poor children, under the stinging terrors of their
lonely situation, stole away from their “ forms,” to speak
in the hunter’s phrase, and sought to rejoin each other.
But in these attempts they were liable to surprises from
the enemy; papa and mamma were both on the alert,
and often intercepted the young deserter by a cross
march or an ambuscade; in which cases each had a sepa¬
rate policy for enforcing obedience. The father, upon
his general system of “ perseverance,” compelled the fu¬
gitive back to his quarters, and, in effect, exhorted him
to persist in being frightened out of his wits. To his
wife’s gentle heart that course appeared cruel, and she
reclaimed the delinquent by bribes; the peaches which
her garden walls produced being the fund from which
she chiefly drew her supplies for this branch of the secret
service. What were her winter bribes, when the long
nights would seem to lie heaviest on the exchequer, is not
said. Speaking seriously, no man of sense can suppose
that a course of suffering from terrors the most awful,
under whatever influence supported, whether under the
naked force of compulsion, or of that connected with
bribes, could have any final effect in mitigating the pas¬
sion of awe, connected, by our very dreams, with the sha¬
dowy and the invisible, or in tranquillizing the infantine
imagination.
A second illustration involves a great moral event in
the history of Goethe, as it was, in fact, the first occa¬
sion of his receiving impressions at war with his reli¬
gious creed. Piety is so beautiful an ornament of the
youthful mind, doubt or distrust so unnatural a growth
from confiding innocence, that an infant freethinker is
heard of not so much with disgust as with perplexity. A
sense of the ludicrous is apt to intermingle ; and we lose
our natural horror of the result in wonder at its origin.
Yet in this instance there is no room for doubt; the fact
and the occasion are both on record ; there can be no ques¬
tion about the date ; and, finally, the accuser is no other
than the accused. Goethe’s own pen it is which proclaims,
that already, in the early part of his seventh year, his re¬
liance upon God as a moral governor had suffered a vio¬
lent shock, was shaken, if not undermined. On the 1st of
November 1755 occurred the great earthquake at Lisbon.
Upon a double account, this event occupied the thoughts
of all Europe for an unusual term of time ; both as an ex¬
pression upon a larger scale than usual of the mysterious
physical agency concerned in earthquakes, and also for the
awful human tragedy1 which attended either the earthquake
itself, or its immediate sequel in the sudden irruption of
the Tagus. Sixty thousand persons, victims to the dark
powder in its first or its second avatar, attested the Titanic
scale upon which it worked. Here it was that the shallow
piety of the Germans found a stumbling-block. Those
who have read any circumstantial history of the physical
THE. 695
signs which preceded this earthquake, are aware that in Goethe.
England and Northern Germany many singular phenomena
were observed, more or less manifestly connected with the
same dark agency which terminated at Lisbon, and run¬
ning before this final catastrophe at times so accurately
varying with the distances, as to furnish something like
a scale for measuring the velocity with which it moved.
These German phenomena, circulated rapidly over all Ger¬
many by the journals of every class, had seemed to give to
the Germans a nearer and more domestic interest in the
great event, than belonged to them merely in their univer¬
sal character of humanity. It is also wrell known to ob¬
servers of national characteristics, that amongst the Ger¬
mans the household charities, the pieties of the hearth, as
they may be called, exist, if not really in greater strength,
yet with much less of the usual balances or restraints. A
German father, for example, is like the grandfather of other
nations; and thus a piety, which in its own nature scarce¬
ly seems liable to excess, takes, in its external aspect, too
often an air of effeminate imbecility. These two considera¬
tions are necessary to explain the intensity with which this
Lisbon tragedy laid hold of the German mind, and chiefly
under the one single aspect of its undistinguishing fury.
Women, children, old men—these, doubtless, had been
largely involved in the perishing sixty thousand ; and that
reflection, it would seem from Goethe’s account, had so far
embittered the sympathy of the Germans with their distant
Portuguese brethren, that, in the Frankfort discussions, sul¬
len murmurs had gradually ripened into bold impeachments
of Providence. There can be no gloomier form of infidelity
than that which questions the moral attributes of the Great
Being in whose hands are the final destinies of us all. Such,
however, was the form of Goethe’s earliest scepticism,
such its origin ; caught up from the very echoes which
rang through the streets of Frankfort when the subject
occupied all men’s minds: and such, for any thing that
appears, continued to be its form thenceforwTards to the
close of his life, if speculations so crude could be said to
have any form at all. Many are the analogies, some close
ones, between England aud Germany with regard to the
circle of changes they have run through, political or social,
for a century back. The challenges are frequent to a com¬
parison ; and sometimes the result would be to the advan¬
tage of Germany, more often to ours. But in religious
philosophy, which in reality is the true popular philosophy,
how vast is the superiority on the side of this country.
Not a shopkeeper or mechanic, wre may venture to say,
but would have felt this obvious truth, that surely the
Lisbon earthquake yielded no fresh lesson, no peculiar
moral, beyond what belonged to every man’s experience in
every age. A passage in the New Testament about the
fall of the tower of Siloam, and the just construction of that
event, had already anticipated the difficulty, if such it could
be thought. Not to mention, that calamities upon the
same scale in the earliest age of Christianity, the fall of the
amphitheatre at Fidenae, or the destruction of Pompeii,
had presented the same problem as the Lisbon earthquake.
Nay, it is presented daily in the humblest individual case,
where wrong is triumphant over right, or innocence con¬
founded with guilt in one common disaster. And that the
parents of Goethe should have authorized his error, if only
by their silence, argues a degree of ignorance in them
which could not have co-existed with much superior know¬
ledge in the public mind.
Goethe, in his Memoirs (book vi.), commends his father
for the zeal with which he superintended the education of
Of this no picture can ever hope to rival that hasty one sketched in the letter of the chaplain to the Lisbon factory. The
plague of Athens as painted by Thucydides or Lucretius, nay even the fabulous plague of London by De Foe, contain no scenes or
situations equal in effect to some m this plain historic statement. Nay, it would perhaps be difficult to produce a passage from Lze-
Kiel, from Aischylus, or from Shakspeare, which would so profoundly startle the sense of sublimity as one or two of his incidents.
696
GOETHE.
Goethe, his children. But apparently it was a zeal without know-
. , ^ y ledge. Many things were taught imperfectly, but all ca¬
sually, and as chance suggested them. Italian was studied
a little, because the elder Goethe had made an Italian tour,
and had collected some Italian books, and engravings by
Italian masters. Hebrew was studied a little, because
Goethe the son had a fancy for it, partly with a view to
theology, and partly because there was a Jewish quarter,
gloomy and sequestrated, in the city of Frankfort. French
offered itself no doubt on many suggestions, but originally
on occasion of a French theatre, supported by the staff of
the French army when quartered in the same city. Latin
was gathered in a random way from a daily sense of its ne¬
cessity. English upon the temptation of a stranger’s adver¬
tisement, promising upon moderate terms to teach that lan¬
guage in four weeks ; a proof, by the way, that the system of
bold innovations in the art of tuition had already commenced.
Riding and fencing were also attempted under masters ap¬
parently not very highly qualified, and in the same desultory
style of application. Dancing was taught to his family,
strange as it may seem, by Mr Goethe himself. There is
good reason to believe that not one of all these accomplish¬
ments was possessed by Goethe, when ready to visit the
university, in a degree which made it practically of any use
to him. Drawing and music were pursued confessedly as
amusements ; and it would be difficult to mention any at¬
tainment whatsoever which Goethe had carried to a point
of excellence in the years which he spent under his father’s
care, unless it were his mastery over the common artifices
of metre and the common topics of rhetoric, which fitted
him for writing what are called occasional poems and im¬
promptus. This talent he possessed in a remarkable degree,
and at an early age ; but he owed its cultivation entirely to
himself.
In a city so orderly as Frankfort, and in a station privi¬
leged from all the common hardships of poverty, it can
hardly be expected that many incidents should arise, of
much separate importance in themselves, to break the mo¬
notony of life ; and the mind of Goethe was not contem¬
plative enough to create a value for common occurrences
through any peculiar impressions which he had derived
from them. In the years 1763 and 1764, when he must
have been from fourteen to fifteen years old, Goethe wit¬
nessed the inauguration and coronation of a king of the
Romans, a solemn spectacle connected by prescription
with the city of Frankfort. He describes it circumstan¬
tially, but with very little feeling, in his Memoirs. Pro¬
bably the prevailing sentiment, on looking back at least
to this transitory splendour of dress, processions, and ce¬
remonial forms, was one of cynical contempt. But this
he could not express, as a person closely connected with a
German court, without giving much and various offence. It
is with some timidity even that he hazards a criticism
upon single parts of the costume adopted by some of the
actors in that gorgeous scene. White silk stockings, and
pumps of the common form, he objects to as out of har¬
mony with the antique and heraldic aspects of the gene¬
ral costume, and ventures to suggest either boots or san¬
dals as an improvement. Had Goethe felt himself at li¬
berty from all restraints of private consideration in com¬
posing these Memoirs, can it be doubted that he would
have taken his retrospect of this Frankfort inauguration
from a diiferent station ; from the station of that stern
revolution which, within his own time, and partly under
his own eyes, had shattered the whole imperial system of
thrones, in whose equipage this gay pageant made so
principal a figure, had humbled Caesar himself to the dust,
and left him an emperor without an empire. WTe at least,
for our parts, could not read without some emotion one
little incident of these gorgeous scenes recorded by
Goethe, namely, that when the emperor, on rejoining his
wife for a few moments, held up to her notice his own Goethe,
hands and arms arrayed in the antique habiliments of ’-■v-'—
Charlemagne, Maria Theresa—she whose children were
summoned to so sad a share in the coming changes—gave
way to sudden bursts of loud laughter, audible to the
whole populace below her. That laugh on surveying the
departing pomps of Charlemagne, must, in any contem¬
plative ear, have rung with a sound of deep significance,
and with something of the same effect which belongs to a
figure of death introduced by a painter, as mixing in the
festal dances of a bridal assembly.
These pageants of 1763-64 occupy a considerable space
in Goethe’s Memoirs, and with some logical propriety at
least, in consideration of their being exclusively attached
to Frankfort, and connected by manifold links of person
and office with the privileged character of the city. Per¬
haps he might feel a sort of narrow local patriotism in re¬
calling these scenes to public notice by description, at a
time when they had been irretrievably extinguished as
realities. But, after making every allowance for their
local value to a Frankfort family, and for their memor¬
able splendour, we may venture to suppose that by far
the most impressive remembrances which had gathered
about the boyhood of Goethe, were those which pointed
to Frederick of Prussia. This singular man, so imbecile
as a pretender to philosophy and new lights, so truly he¬
roic under misfortunes, was the first German who created
a German interest, and gave a transient unity to the Ger¬
man name, under all its multiplied divisions. Were it
only for this conquest of difficulties so peculiar, he would
deserve his German designation of Fred, the Unique
(Fritz der einzige). He had been partially tried and
known previously; but it was the Seven Years’ War which
made him the popular idol. This began in 1756; and to
Frankfort, in a very peculiar way, that war brought dis¬
sensions and heart-burnings in its train. The imperial
connections of the city with many public and private in¬
terests, pledged it to the anti-Prussian cause. It happen¬
ed also that the truly German character of the reigning
imperial family, the domestic habits ot the empress and
her young daughters, and other circumstances, were of
a nature to endear the ties of policy : self-interest and
affection pointed in the same direction. And yet were
all these considerations allowed to melt away before
the brilliant qualities of one man, and the romantic en¬
thusiasm kindled by his victories. Frankfort was divided
within herself; the young and the generous were all de¬
dicated to Frederick : a smaller party, more cautious and
prudent, were for the imperialists. Families were di¬
vided upon this question against families, and often against
themselves; feuds, begun in private, issued often into
public violence ; and, according to Goethe’s own illustra¬
tion, the streets were vexed by daily brawls, as hot and as
personal as of old between the Capulets and Montagues.
These dissensions, however, were pursued with not
much personal risk to any of the Goethes, until a French
army passed the Rhine as allies of the imperialists. One
corps of this force took up their quarters in Frankfort;
and the Comte Thorane, who held a high appointment
on the staff, settled himself for a long period of time in
the spacious mansion of Goethe’s father. This officer^
whom his place made responsible for the discipline of the
army in relation to the citizens, was naturally by temper
disposed to moderation and forbearance. He was indeed
a favourable specimen of French military officers under
the old system; well bred, not arrogant, well informed,
and a friend of the fine arts. For painting, in particular, he
professed great regard and some knowledge. The Goethes
were able to forward his views amongst German artists;
whilst, on the other hand, they were pleased to have thus
an opportunity of directing his patronage towards some
GOETHE.
697
Goethe.
of their own needy connections. In this exchange of good
offices, the two parties were for some time able to main¬
tain a fair appearance of reciprocal good will. This on
the comte’s side, if not particularly warm, was probably
sincere; but in Goethe the father it was a masque for in¬
veterate dislike. A natural ground of this existed in the
original relations between them. Under whatever dis¬
guise or pretext, the Frenchman was in fact a military
intruder : he occupied the best suit of rooms in the house,
used the furniture as his own; and, though upon private
motives he abstained from doing all the injury which his
situation authorized (so as in particular to have spread
his fine military maps upon the floor rather than disfigure
the decorated walls by nails), still he claimed credit, it
not services of requital, for all such instances of forbear¬
ance. Here were grievances enough ; but, in addition to
these, the comte’s official appointments drew upon him a
weight of daily business, which kept the house in a con¬
tinual uproar. Farewell to the quiet of a literary amateur,
and the orderliness of a German household. Finally, the
comte was a Frenchman. These were too many assaults
upon one man’s patience. It will be readily understood,
therefore, how it happened, that, whilst Goethe’s gentle-
minded mother, with her flock of children, continued to be
on the best terms with Comte Thorane, the master of the
house kept moodily aloof, and retreated from all inter¬
course.
Goethe, in his own Memoir, enters into large details upon
this subject; and from him we shall borrow the denoue¬
ment of the tale. A crisis had for some time been lower¬
ing over the French affairs in Frankfort; things seemed
ripening for a battle; and at last it came. Flight, siege,
bombardment, possibly a storm, all danced before the
eyes of the terrified citizens. Fortunately, however, the
battle took place at the distance of four or five miles from
Frankfort. Monsieur le Comte was absent, of course, on
the field of battle. His unwilling host thought that on
such an occasion he also might go out in quality of spec¬
tator ; and with this purpose he connected another, worthy
of a Parson Adams. It is his son who tells the story,
whose filial duty was not proof against his sense of the lu¬
dicrous. The old gentleman’s hatred of the French had
by this time brought him over to his son’s admiration of
the Prussian hero. Not doubting for an instant that vic¬
tory would follow that standard, Ire resolved on this day to
offer in person his congratulations to the Prussian army,
whom he already viewed as his liberator from a domestic
nuisance. So purposing, he made his way cautiously to
the suburbs; from the suburbs, still listening at each ad¬
vance, he went forward to the country; totally forgetting,
as his son insists, that, however completely beaten, the
French army must still occupy some situation or other
between himself and his German deliverer. Coming, how¬
ever, at length to a heath, he found some of those marau¬
ders usually to be met with in the rear of armies, prowling
about, and at intervals amusing themselves with shooting
at a mark. For want of a better, it seemed not improbable
that a large German head might answer their purpose :
certain signs admonished him of this, and the old gentle¬
man crept back to Frankfort. Not many hours after came
back also the comte, by no means creeping, however ; on
the contrary, crowing with all his might for a victory which
he averred himself to have won. There had in fact been
an affair, but on no very great scale, and with no distin¬
guished results. Some prisoners, however, he brought, to¬
gether with some wounded; and naturally he expected all
well disposed persons to make their compliments of con¬
gratulation upon his triumph. Of this duty poor Mrs
Goethe and her children cheerfully acquitted themselves
that same night; and Monsieur le Comte was so well pleased
with the sound opinions of the little Goethes, that he sent
VOL. x.
them in return a collection of sweetmeats and fruits. All Goethe,
promised to go well; intentions, after all, are not acts ; and
there certainly is not, nor ever was, any treason in taking
a morning’s walk. But, as ill luck would have it, just as
Mr Goethe was passing the comte’s door, out came the
comte in person, purely by accident, as we are told;
but we suspect that the surly old German, either under
his morning hopes or his evening disappointments, had
talked with more frankness than prudence. “ Good even¬
ing to you, Herr Goethe,” said the comte; “ you are
come, I see, to pay your tribute of congratulation. Some¬
what of the latest, to be sure; but no matter.” “ By no
means,” replied the German ; “ by no means ; mit nichten.
Heartily I wished, the whole day long, that you and your
cursed gang might all go to the devil together.” Here was
plain speaking, at least. The Comte Thorane could no
longer complain of dissimulation. His first movement was
to order an arrest; and the official interpreter of the
French army took to himself the whole credit that he did
not carry it into effect. Goethe takes the trouble to re¬
port a dialogue, of length and dulness absolutely incredi¬
ble, between this interpreter and the comte. No such dia¬
logue, we may be assured, ever took place. Goethe may,
however, be right in supposing that, amongst a foreign
soldiery, irritated by the pointed contrasts between the
Frankfort treatment of their own wounded, and of their
prisoners who happened to be in the same circumstances,
and under a military council not held to any rigorous re¬
sponsibility, his father might have found no very favour¬
able consideration of his case. It is well, therefore, that
after some struggle the comte’s better nature triumphed.
He suffered Mrs Goethe’s merits to outweigh her hus¬
band’s delinquency ; countermanded the order for arrest,
and, during the remainder of their connection, kept at
such a distance from his moody host as was equally de¬
sirable for both. Fortunately that remainder was not very
long. Comte Thorane was soon displaced ; and the whole
army was soon afterwards withdrawn from Frankfort.
In his fifteenth year Goethe was entangled in some con¬
nection with young people of inferior rank, amongst whom
was Margaret, a young girl about two years older than
himself, and the object of his first love. The whole affair,
as told by Goethe, is somewhat mysterious. What might
be the final views of the elder parties it is difficult to say;
but Goethe assures us that they used his services only in
writing an occasional epithalamium, the pecuniary acknow¬
ledgment for which was spent jovially in a general ban¬
quet. The magistrates, however, interfered, and endea¬
voured to extort a confession from Goethe: he, as the son
of a respectable family, was to be pardoned; the others to
be punished. No confession, however, could be extorted;
and for his own part he declares that, beyond the offence
of forming a clandestine connection, he had nothing to
confess. The affair terminated, as regarded himself, in a
severe illness. Of the others we hear no more.
The next event of importance in Goethe’s life was his
removal to college. His own wishes pointed to Gottingen,
but his father preferred Leipsic. Thither accordingly he
went, but he carried his obedience no farther. Declining
the study of jurisprudence, he attached himself to general
literature. Subsequently he removed to the university of
Strasburg; but in neither place (could it be said that he
pursued any regular course of study. His health suffered
at times during this period of his life; at first from an
affection of the chest, caused by an accident on his first
journey to Leipsic; the carriage had stuck fast in the
muddy roads, and Goethe exerted himself too much in as¬
sisting to extricate the wheels. A second illness connected
with the digestive organs brought him into considerable
danger.
After his return to Frankfort, Goethe commenced his
4 x
698 G O E
Goethe. career as an author. In 1773, and the following year, he
made his maiden essay in Goetz of Berlichingen, a dra¬
ma (the translation of which, remarkably enough, was des¬
tined to be the literary coup d'essai of Sir Walter Scott),
and in the far-famed Werther. The first of these was
pirated; and in consequence the author found some diffi¬
culty in paying for the paper of the genuine edition, which
part of the expense, by his contract with the publisher,
fell upon himself. The general and early popularity of the
second work is well known. Yet, except in so far as it
might spread his name abroad, it cannot be supposed to
have had much influence in attracting that potent patronage
which now began to determine the course of his future
life. So much we collect from the account which Goethe
himself has left us of this affair in its earliest stages.
“ I was sitting alone in my room,” says he, “ at my fa¬
ther’s house in Frankfort, when a gentleman entered, whom
at first I took for Frederick Jacobi, but soon discovered by
the dubious light to be a stranger. He had a military air ;
and announcing himself by the name of Von Knebel, gave
me to understand in a short explanation, that being in the
Prussian service, he had connected himself, during a long
residence at Berlin and Potsdam, with the literati of those
places ; but that at present he held the appointment from
the court of Weimar of travelling tutor to the Prince
Constantine. This I heard with pleasure ; for many of our
friends had brought us the most interesting accounts from
Weimar, in particular that the Duchess Amelia, mother of
the young grand duke and his brother, summoned to her
assistance in educating her sons the most distinguished
men in Germany; and that the university of Jena co-ope¬
rated powerfully in all her liberal plans. I was aware also
that Wieland was in high favour ; and that the German Mer¬
cury (a literary journal of eminence) was itself highly cre¬
ditable to the city of Jena, from which it issued. A beauti¬
ful and well-conducted theatre had besides, as I knew, been
lately established at Weimar. This, it was true, had been
destroyed; but that event, under common circumstances
so likely to be fatal as respected the present, had served
only to call forth the general expression of confidence in
the young prince as a restorer and upholder of all great
interests, and true to his purposes under any calamity.”
Thinking thus, and thus prepossessed in favour of Weimar,
it was natural that Goethe should be eager to see the prince.
Nothing was easier. It happened that he and his brother
Constantine were at this moment in Frankfort, and Von
Knebel willingly offered to present Goethe. No sooner
said than done; they repaired to the hotel, where they
found the illustrious travellers, with Count Goertz, the tutor
of the elder.
Upon this occasion an accident, rather than any previ¬
ous reputation of Goethe, was probably the determining
occasion which led to his favour with the future sovereign
of Weimar. A new book lay upon the table; that none
of the strangers had read it, Goethe inferred from observ¬
ing that the leaves were as yet uncut. It was a work
of Moser {Patriotische Phantasien); and, being political
rather than literary in its topics, it presented to Goethe*
previously acquainted with its outline, an opportunity for
conversing with the prince upon subjects nearest to his
heart, and of showing that he was not himself a mere stu¬
dious recluse. The opportunity was not lost; the prince
and his tutor were much interested, and perhaps a little
surprised. Such subjects have the further advantage, ac¬
cording to Goethe’s own illustration, that, like the Arabian
thousand and one nights, as conducted by the Sultana
Scheherezade, “ never ending, still beginning,” they
rarely come to any absolute close, but so interweave one
into another, as still to leave behind a large arrear of inte¬
rest. In order to pursue the conversation, Goethe was in¬
vited to meet them soon after at Mentz. He kept the ap-
T H E.
pointment punctually; made himself even more agreeable ; Goethe,
and finally received a formal invitation to enter the service
of this excellent prince, who was now beginning to collect
around him all those persons who have since made Weimar
so distinguished a name in connection with the German
literature. With some opposition from his father, who
held up the rupture between Voltaire and Frederick of
Prussia as a precedent applying to all possible connections
of princes and literati, Goethe accepted the invitation ; and
henceforwards, for upwards of fifty-five years, his fortunes
were bound up with those of the ducal house of Weimar.
The noble part which that house played in the great
modern drama of German politics is w ell known, and would
have been better known had its power been greater. But
the moral value of its sacrifices and its risks is not the
less. Had greater potentate shown equal firmness, Ger¬
many wmuld not have been laid at the feet of Napoleon.
In 1806 the grand duke was aware of the peril which
awaited the allies of Prussia ; but neither his heart nor his
conscience would allow of his deserting a friend in whose
army he held a principal command. The decisive battle
took place in his own territory, and not far from his own
palace and city of Weimar. Personally he was with the
Prussian army; but his excellent consort stayed in the
palace to encourage her subjects, and as far as possible to
conciliate the enemy by her presence. The fortune of that
great day, the 14th of October 1806, was decided early;
and the awful event was announced by a hot retreat and a
murderous pursuit through the streets of the town. In the
evening Napoleon arrived in person ; and now' came the
trying moment. “ The duchess,” says an Englishman well
acquainted with Weimar and its court, “ placed herself on
the top of the staircase to greet him with the formality of a
courtly reception. Napoleon started when he beheld her,
Qui etes vous ? he exclaimed with characteristic abruptness.
Je suis la Duchesse de Weimar. Je vous plains, he retort¬
ed fiercely, J'ecraserai votre mari ; he then added, ‘ I shall
dine in my apartment,’ and rushed by her. The night w as
spent on the part of the soldiery in all the horrid excesses
of rapine. In the morning the duchess sent to inquire con¬
cerning the health of his majesty the emperor, and to soli¬
cit an audience. He, who had now benefited by his dreams,
or by his reflections, returned a gracious answrer, and in¬
vited himself to breakfast with her in her apartment.” In
the conversation which Insued, Napoleon asked her if her
husband were mad, upon which she justified the duke by
appealing to his own magnanimity, asking in her turn if
his majesty would have approved of his deserting the king
of Prussia at the moment w hen he was attacked by so po¬
tent a monarch as himself. The rest of the conversation
was in the same spirit, uniting with a sufficient concession
to the circumstances of the moment a dignified vindication
of a high-minded policy. Napoleon wras deeply impressed
with respect for her, and loudly expressed it. For her
sake, indeed, he even affected to pardon her husband, thus
making a merit with her of the necessity which he felt, from
other motives, for showing forbearance towards a family so
nearly allied to that of St Petersburg. In 1813 the grand
duke was found at his post in that great gathering of the
nations which took place on the stupendous fields of Leip-
sic, and was complimented by the allied sovereigns as one
of the most faithful amongst the faithful to the great cause,
yet undecided, or national independence.
With respect to Goethe, as a councillor so near the
duke’s person, it may be supposed that his presence was
never wanting where it promised to be useful. In the
earlier campaigns of the duke, Goethe was his companion ;
but in the final contest with Napoleon he was unequal to
the fatigues of such a post. In all the functions of peace,
however, he continued to be a useful servant to the last,
though long released from all official duties. Each had in-
GOETHE.
Goethe, deed most honourably earned the gratitude of the other.
Goethe had surrendered the flower of his years and the
best energies of his mind to the service of his serene mas¬
ter. On the other hand, that master had to him been at
once his Augustus and his Maecenas ; such is his own ex-
piession. Under him he had founded a family, raised an
estate, obtained titles and decorations from various courts ;
and in the very vigour of his life he had been allowed to
retire, with all the honours of long service, to the sanctuary
of his own study, and to the cultivation of his leisure, as
the very highest mode in which he could further the pub¬
lic interest.
The life of Goethe was so quiet and so uniform after
the year 1775, when he may first be said to have entered
into active life, by taking service with the Duke of Wei¬
mar, that a biographer will find hardly any event to notice,
except two journeys to Italy, and one campaign in 1792,
until he draws near the close of his long career. It cannot
inteiest an English reader to see the dates of his succes¬
sive appointments. It is enough to know that they soon
raised him to as high a station as was consistent with lite-
rary leisure; and that he had from the beginning enjoy¬
ed the unlimited confidence of his sovereign. Nothing
remained, in fact, for the subject to desire which the prince
had not previously volunteered. In 1825, they were able
to look back upon a course of uninterrupted friendship, main¬
tained through good and evil fortunes unexampled in their
agitation and interest for fifty years. The duke com¬
memorated this remarkable event by a jubilee, and by a
medal in honour of Goethe. Full of years and honour, this
eminent man might now begin to think of his departure.
However, his serenity continued unbroken nearly for two
years more, when his illustrious patron died. That shock
was the first which put his fortitude to trial. In 1830
others followed; the duchess, who had won so much ad¬
miration from Napoleon, died ; then followed his own son ;
and there remained little now to connect his wishes with
the earth. The family of his patron he had lived to see
flourishing in his descendants to the fourth generation.
His own grandchildren were prosperous and happy. His
intellectual labours were now accomplished. Ail that re¬
mained to wish for was a gentle dismission. This he found
in the spring of 1832. After a six days’ illness, which
caused him no apparent suffering, on the morning of the
22d of March he breathed away as if into a gentle sleep,
surrounded by his daughter-in-law and her children. Never
was a death more in harmony with the life it closed ; both
had the same character of deep and absolute serenity.
Such is the outline of Goethe’s life, traced through its
principal events. But as these events, after all, borrow
their interest mainly from the consideration allowed to
Goethe as an author, and as a model in the German literature,
—that being the centre about which all secondary feelings
of interest in the man must finally revolve, it thus be¬
comes a duty to throw a glance over his principal works.
Dismissing his songs, to which has been ascribed by some
critics a very high value for their variety and their lyrical
enthusiasm ; dismissing also a large body of short miscel¬
laneous poems, suited to the occasional circumstances in
which they arose ; we may throw the capital works of
Goethe into two classes, philosophic novels, and dramas.
1 he novels, which we call philosophic by way of express¬
ing their main characteristic in being written to serve a
preconceived purpose, or to embody some peculiar views
of life, or some aspects of philosophic truth, are three, viz.
the Werthers Leiden; secondly, the Wilhelm Mcister ■ zm\
lastly, the Wahlver-wandschaften. The first two exist in
English translations ; and though the Werther had the dis¬
advantage of coming to us through a French version, al¬
ready, perhaps, somewhat coloured and distorted to meet
the Parisian standards of sentiment, yet, as respects
699
Goethe and his reputation amongst us, this wrong has been Goethe,
redressed, or compensated at least, by the good fortune of ~y^
his Wilhelm Meister, in falling into the hands of a transla¬
tor whose original genius qualified him for sympathizing
even to excess with any real merits in that work. This
novel is in its own nature and purpose sufficiently obscure ;
and the commentaries which have been written upon it by
the Humboldts, Schlegels, &c. make the enigma still more
enigmatical. We shall not venture abroad upon an ocean
of discussion so truly dark, and at the same time so illimit¬
able. \\ hether it be qualified to excite any deep and sin¬
cere feeling of one kind or another in the German mind,—
in a mind trained under German discipline,—this we will
consent to waive as a question not immediately interesting
to ourselves. Enough that it has not gained, and will not
gain, any attention in this country; and this not only be¬
cause it is thoroughly deficient in all points of attraction
to readers formed upon our English literature, but because
m^ some capital circumstances it is absolutely repulsive.
Me do not wish to offend the admirers of Goethe ; but the
simplicity of truth will not allow us to conceal, that in vari¬
ous points of description or illustration, and sometimes in
the very outline of the story, the Wilhelm Meister is at
open war, not with decorum and good taste merely, but
with moral purity and the dignity of human nature. As a
novelist, Goethe and his reputation are problems, and like¬
ly to continue such, to the countrymen of Mrs Inchbald,
Miss Harriet Lee, Miss Edgeworth, and Sir Walter Scott,
io the dramatic works of Goethe we are disposed to pay
more homage ; but neither in the absolute amount of our
homage at all professing to approach his public admirers,
nor to distribute the proportions of this homage amongst his
several performances according to the graduations of their
scale. The Iphigenie is built upon the old subject of Iphi-
genia in Tauris, as treated by Euripides and other Grecian
dramatists; and, if we are to believe a Schlegel, it is in
beauty and effect a mere echo or reverberation from the
finest strains of the old Grecian music. That it is some¬
what nearer to the Greek model than a play after the fa¬
shion of Racine, we grant. Setting aside such faithful
transcripts from the antique as the Samson Agonistes, we
might consent to view Goethe as that one amongst the
moderns who had made the closest approximation to the
Greek stage : Proximus, we might say, with Quintilian, but
with him we must add, “ sed longo intervallo ; and if in the
second rank, yet nearer to the third than to the first. Two
other di amas, the Clavigo and the Lgmont, fall below the
Iphigenie by the very character of their pretensions; the
first as too openly renouncing the grandeurs of the ideal;
the second as confessedly violating the historic truth of
character, without temptation to do so, and without any
consequent indemnification, dhe Lasso has been suppos¬
ed to realize an Italian beauty of genial warmth and of
sunny repose; but from the common defect of German
criticism—the absence of all sufficient illustrations—it is as
difficult to understand the true nature and constituents of
tne supposed Italian standard set up for the regulation of
out judgments, as it is to measure the degree of approach
made to that standard in this particular work. Eugenie is
celebiated for the artificial burnish of the style, but other-
v\ ise has been little relished. It has the beauty of marble
sculptuie, say the critics of Goethe, but also the coldness.
We are not often disposed to quarrel with these critics as
below the truth in their praises; in this instance we are.
The Eugenie is a fragment, or (as Goethe himself called
it in conversation) a torso, being only the first drama in a
ti ilogy oi series of three dramas, each having a separate
plot, whilst all are parts of a more general and comprehen¬
sive plan. It may be charged with languor in the movement
of the action, and with excess of illustration. Thus, e. g.
the grief of the prince for the supposed death of his daugh-
700
GOETHE.
Goethe.
ter, is the monotonous topic which occupies one entire act.
But the situations, though not those of scenical distress,
are so far from being unexciting, that, on the contrary,
they are too powerfully afflicting.
The lustre of all these performances, however, is eclips¬
ed by the unrivalled celebrity amongst German critics of
the Faust. Upon this it is better to say nothing than too
little. How trifling an advance has been made towards
clearing the ground for any sane criticism, may be under¬
stood from this fact, that as yet no two people have agreed
about the meaning of any separate scene, or about the drift
of the whole. Neither is this explained by saying, that
until towards the close of Goethe’s life the Faust was a
fragment; for no additional light was thrown upon the
main question by the publication of the second part.
One work there is of Goethe’s which falls into neither
of the classes here noticed; we mean the Hermann and
Dorothea, a narrative poem, in hexameter verse. This ap¬
pears to have given more pleasure to readers not critical,
than any other work of its author; and it is remarkable
that it traverses humbler ground, as respects both its
subject, its characters, and its scenery. From this, and
other indications of the same kind, we are disposed to infer
that Goethe mistook his destination ; that his aspiring na¬
ture misled him; and that his success would have been
greater had he confined himself to the real in domestic life,
without raising his eyes to the ideal.
We must also mention, that Goethe threw out some
novel speculations in physical science, and particularly in
physiology, in the doctrine of colours, and in comparative
anatomy, which have divided the opinions of critics even
more than any of those questions which have arisen upon
points more directly connected with his avowed character
of poet.
It now remains to say a few words by way of summing
up his pretensions as a man, and his intellectual power in
the age to which he belonged. His rank and value as a
moral being are so plain as to be legible to him who runs.
Everybody must feel that his temperament and constitu¬
tional tendency was of that happy quality, the animal so
nicely balanced with the intellectual, that with any ordinary
measure of prosperity he could not be otherwise than a good
man. He speaks himself of his own “ virtue,” sans phrase ;
and we tax him with no vanity in doing so. As a young
man even at the universities, which at that time were bar¬
barously sensual in Germany, he was (for so much we col¬
lect from his own Memoirs) eminently capable of self-re¬
straint. He preserves a tone of gravity, of sincerity, of re¬
spect for female dignity, which we never find associated
with the levity and recklessness of vice. We feel through¬
out, the presence of one who, in respecting others, respects
himself; and the cheerfulness of the presiding tone per¬
suades us at once that the narrator is in a healthy moral
condition, fears no ill, and is conscious of having meditated
none. Yet at the same time we cannot disguise from our¬
selves that the moral temperament of Goethe was one
which demanded prosperity: had he been called to face
great afflictions, singular temptations, or a billowy and agi¬
tated course of life, our belief is that his nature would have
been found unequal to the strife ; he would have repeated
the mixed and moody character of his father. Sunny pros¬
perity was essential to his nature; his virtues were adapt¬
ed to that condition. And happily that was his fate. Fie
had no personal misfortunes; his path was joyous in this
life; and even the reflex sorrow from the calamities of his
friends did not press too heavily on his sympathies; none
of these were in excess either as to degree or duration.
In this estimate of Goethe as a moral being, few people
will differ with us, unless it were the religious bigot. And
to him we must concede thus much, that Goethe was not
that religious creature which by nature he was intended to
become. This is to be regretted: Goethe was naturally pious, Goethe,
and reverential towards higher natures; and it was in the
mere levity or wantonness of youthful power, partly also
through that early false bias growing out of the Lisbon
earthquake, that he falsified his original destination. Do we
mean, then, that a childish error could permanently master
his understanding ? Not so; that would have been cor¬
rected with his growing strength. But having once arisen,
it must for a long time have moulded his feelings; until
corrected, it must have impressed a corresponding false bias
upon his practical way of viewing things; and that sort of
false bias, once established, might long survive a mere error
of the understanding. One thing is undeniable. Goethe
had so far corrupted and clouded his natural mind, that he
did not look up to God, or the system of things beyond the
grave, with the interest of reverence and awe, but with the
interest of curiosity.
Goethe, however, in a moral estimate, will be viewed
pretty uniformly. But Goethe intellectually, Goethe as a
power acting upon the age in which he lived, that is ano¬
ther question. Let us put a case; suppose that Goethe’s
death had occurred many years ago, say in the year 1785,
what would have been the general impression? Would
Europe have felt a shock? Would Europe have been sen¬
sible even of the event? Not at all: it would have been
obscurely noticed in the newspapers of Germany, as the
death of a novelist who had produced some effect about ten
years before. In 1832, it was announced by the post-horns
of all Europe as the death of him who had written the Wil¬
helm Meister, the Iphigenie, and the Faust, and who had
been enthroned by some of his admirers on the same seat
with Homer and Shakspeare, as composing what they term¬
ed the trinity of men of genius. And yet it is a fact, that,
in the opinion of some amongst the acknowledged leaders
of our own literature for the last twenty-five years, the
Werther was superior to all which followed it, and for mere
power was the paramount work of Goethe. For ourselves,
we must acknowledge our assent upon the whole to this ver¬
dict ; and at the same time we will avow our belief that the
reputation of Goethe must decline for the next generation
or two, until it reaches its just level. Three causes, we are
persuaded, have concurred to push it so far beyond the
proportion of real and genuine interest attached to his works-.
First, his extraordinary age; for the last twenty years
Goethe had been the patriarch of the German literature :
secondly, the splendour of his official rank at the court of
Weimar; he was the minister and private friend of the patriot
sovereign among the princes of Germany : thirdly, the quan¬
tity of enigmatical and unintelligible writing which he has
designedly thrown into his latter works, by way of keeping
up a system of discussion and strife upon his own meaning
amongst the critics of his country. These disputes, had his
meaning been of any value in his own eyes, he would natu¬
rally have settled by a few authoritative words from him¬
self ; but it was his policy to keep alive the feud in a case
where it was of importance that his name should continue
to agitate the world, but of none at all that he should be
rightly interpreted. (t. de q.)
(Consult especially the original and profound views of
Goethe’s life and writings in Carlyle’s Miscellanies. An
admirable paper on Goethe in Passing Thoughts, by James
Douglas, Esq. of Cavers, is one of the most eloquent and
appreciative dissertations on his religious and philosophical
opinions that has yet appeared. In Germany have recently
appeared Goethe’s Leben, von Heinrich Viehoff, 4 vols.
1847-1853 ; and Goethe’s Leben, von J. W. Schafer, 1851,
Consult also Goethe and his contemporaries, by Mrs Austin;
and Mr Oxenford’s translation of Eckermann’s Conversa¬
tions. A complete and valuable biography of Goethe,
with sketches of his age and contemporaries, has just
(1855) appeared, by G. H. Lewes, in 2 vols. 8vo.)
GOG
Gog GOG (Jjij) occurs in Ezek.xxxviii. 3, 14, andxxxix. 11,
|] as a proper name.
Goguet. Interpreters have given very different explanations of the
terms Gog and Magog; but they have generally under¬
stood them as symbolical expressions for the heathen na¬
tions of Asia, or more particularly for the Scythians, a vague
knowledge of whom seems to have reached the Jews in
Palestine. Thus Josephus1 has dropped the Hebrew word
Magog, and rendered it by %kv6<u: and so does Jerome;
while Suidas renders it by Ueptrat—a difference which
matters but little in the main question, since %kv6cu, in the
ancient authors, is but a collective name for the northern
but partially-known tribes ;2 and, indeed, as such a col¬
lective name, Magog seems also to indicate in the Hebrew
the tribes about the Caucasian mountains.3 Bochart4 sup¬
ports the opinion of Josephus, though by but very preca¬
rious etymologies. According to Reinegge some of the
Caucasian people call their mountains Gog, and the highest
northern points Magog.
GOGGRAH, a large river of Hindustan, the remotest
feeder of which is the Eastern Kalee, having its source on
the south-western declivity of the Himalayan range forming
the northern boundary of the British district of Kumayon.
The elevation above the sea of the source is between 17,000
and 18,000 feet. The Kalee takes a southerly direction,
receiving in its course the Dhouli, the Gori or Gorigunga,
the Chumulea, and the western Surjoo. The last-named
stream is the most important of its feeders, and below the
confluence the united stream is no longer called the Kalee,
but variously the Sarda, the Sarjoo, and the Goggrah. By
subsequent accessions it becomes a considerable river ; and
at Birimdeo, distant 148 miles from its source, it leaves the
mountains and enters the plains of Bengal. From this
point the Goggrah takes a south-easterly direction, and
after a total course of about 600 miles falls into the Ganges
in Lat. 25. 46., Long. 84. 40.
GOGO, a sea-port of Hindustan, in the peninsula of
Kattywar and district of Ahmedabad, situated on the west
side of the Gulf of Cambay. It is considered as a safe
roadstead during the south-west monsoon, where ships may
be supplied with stores and provisions, and repair any da¬
mage they may have sustained. The inhabitants, who are
principally Mohammedans, build vessels of from 50 to 300
tons burden ; and carry on a considerable trade with Bom¬
bay and other places, the chief export being cotton. The
Lascars of this place are named Siddhees: they are de¬
scendants of the Abyssinians, and are held in much estima¬
tion for their nautical skill and bravery. It is an ancient
town, and has fallen greatly into decay; but since it came
into the possession of the British it has been gradually in¬
creasing in commerce and population. E. Long. 72. 21.,
N. Lat. 21. 39.
GOGUET, Antoine-Yyes, a distinguished French wri¬
ter, born at Paris Jan. 18, 1716. From his infancy he was
connected by ties of friendship with Alexander Conrad
Fugere, the learned editor of the Journal des Savans;
they studied philosophy together at the college of Harcourt;
and when Goguet undertook the work which distinguishes his
name, Fugere assisted him with criticisms and materials.
In the midst of these labours Goguet was cut off by an at¬
tack of small-pox, May 1, 1758, and his friend was so deeply
affected by his bereavement that he only survived the shock
three days. Goguet’s work is entitled De VOrigins des
Lois, des Arts, et des Sciences, et des leur Progres chez les
anciens peuples, Paris 1758, 3 vols. 4to. Of this valuable
work there have been several editions; but the first is the
best. An excellent translation of it was published at Edin¬
burgh in 1761, in 3 vols. 8vo, by Dr Henry, the historian
of Great Britain. The period embraced in the work ex-
G 0 L 701
tends from the establishment of civil society to the reign of Gohud
Cyrus. It is divided into three parts, and each part into
six books, which treat separately of government, the arts v v
and manufactures, the sciences, commerce and navigation, /~"*J
the military art, and, lastly, manners and usages. The style
is agreeable, though occasionally marred by traces of bad
taste. At the end of each volume are discussed, in learned
dissertations, those points the detailed examination of which
could not easily enter into the body of the work. An Eloge
of Goguet was printed in the Annee Litter air e, 1758, tome
iv., and in the supplement to the Journal des Savans for
the month of July in the same year.
GOHUD, a fortified town of Hindustan, in the territory
of G walior, or possessions of the Scindia family, situated on
the route from Etawa to Gwalior, 28 miles N.E. of the
latter. About the middle of the last century Gohud was a
small village attached to the district of Gwalior, and the
rannah’s ancestors were zemindars of this village. Bheem
Singh, the rannah, prior to the battle of Paniput, in 1761
acquired possession of Gwalior, but it was taken from him
by the Mahrattas. When this nation lost the battle of Pa¬
niput, the rannah of Gohud attempted to shake off their
yoke, but was conquered by Ragoonauth Row in 1766, and
compelled to continue tributary. On a subsequent rupture
Gohud was taken by Scindia, in 1784. A treaty was con¬
cluded by the British government, 17th Jan. 1804, with the
rannah of Gohud, by which he was to be established in the
sovereignty of Gohud, Gwalior, and a considerable number
of adjacent districts. This treaty however was never car¬
ried into effect, and a new treaty was concluded, by which
the rajah agreed to relinquish the country and fort of Go¬
hud and the adjoining districts to Scindia, receiving in ex¬
change from the British government the territory of Dhol-
poor, which is still ruled by his descendants. Gohud is in
E. Long. 78. 26., N. Lat. 26. 25.
GOITRE, the name given to an encysted tumour seated
in the thyroid gland ; a disease of frequent occurrence among
the Swiss Alps and in South America. See Cretins.
GOIZUETA, a town of Spain, 27 miles N.W. of Pam-
peluna, and in the province of Navarra. It stands in a
valley traversed by the river Urumea, a tributary of the
San Sebastian, teeming with trout, salmon, and other excel¬
lent fish. In the vicinity of Goizueta there are iron and
copper mines,but very inefficiently worked. Pop. about 3200.
GOLCONDA, a strong fortress of Hindustan, on a hill
about six miles W.N.W. from Hyderabad, strongly de¬
fended both by nature and art, but being situated on a
rock, it is excessively hot and unhealthy. The principal
inhabitants and bankers of Hyderabad are permitted to re¬
side in this fort, which is also the depository of the trea¬
sures of the Nizam. The wealth of Golconda is proverbial;
but the diamond mines so often referred to by old writers
have ceased to be remunerative. Golconda was once the
capital of an extensive kingdom of native Hindu princes,
which arose on the dissolution of the Bhamenee dynasty;
but being taken by Aurungzebe by treachery in 1687, after
a siege of seven months, the whole territory became incor¬
porated with the empire of Delhi. In its vicinity are nume¬
rous handsome tombs. The fort is in Lat. 17.22., Long. 78.29.
GOLD is, next to iron, the most widely diffused metal
on the face of the earth. It occurs in granite, the oldest
rock known to us, and in all the rocks derived from it; it is
also found in the vein-stones which traverse other geologi¬
cal formations. From other metals it is readily distinguished
by its reddish-yellow colour, and from metallic compounds of
a similar tint by its high specific gravity, which varies from
19‘2 when it is fused, to 19‘4 or 19‘5 when it is hammered.
Its chemical equivalent on the hydrogen scale is generally
taken as 98’5, but some prefer to double this and make its
1 Antiq. i., 6, 3.
Cellar, Notit. ii., 753, sq.
3 Comp. Jerome on Ezek., ibid.
* Phal. ill., 13.
Gold
702 G O L
Gold, atomic weight 197. Its symbol is Au, from the Latin
Aurum.
Unlike the great majority of the metals, it does not rust,
«>., oxidize in the air, neither does it, if pure, tarnish by ex¬
posure. In this respect, it contrasts strikingly with silver,
which, though indifferent to the rusting action of oxygen,
is rapidly blackened by the sulphuretted hydrogen o"f the
atmosphere. Exposed gilding tarnishes, but only because
it is alloyed with silver and copper, on which this prejudi¬
cial gas can act.
Gold is readily crystallizable, and always assumes one or
other of the symmetrical shapes, such as the cube, or regu¬
lar octahedron, which characterize the simplest crystallo¬
graphic system. It is softer than silver, and nearly as soft
as lead, so that in tenacity it is inferior to copper, silver, iron,
and platinum, and a wire ^th of an inch in diameter will
support without breaking only 191 lb. On the other hand,
it is the most ductile and malleable of the metals. One
grain can be hammered into leaves sufficient to cover 56^
square inches, and the thickness of the gold-leaf will not then
exceed °fan inch. When of this tenuity it is trans¬
parent, and transmits a faint but beautiful bluish-green light.
Gold melts at a high white heat, and remains unchanged
in the hottest furnaces. In the focus of a lens, however,
it is vaporized by the sun’s rays; and the oxyhydrogen
blowpipe or a large voltaic battery can also develop heat
sufficient to volatilize it. It contracts in the act of solidify¬
ing from a state of fusion, and cannot, in consequence, be
made to receive sharp impressions by casting it in moulds.
Coins, accordingly, and plate are stamped or embossed, and
afterwards chased and carved, if necessary, by cutting tools.
Gold does not dissolve in any of the ordinary acids, such
as the nitric, sulphuric, hydrochloric, or acetic, but a rare
acid, the selenic, can dissolve it. Its best solvent is a mix¬
ture of hydrochloric acid, with some oxidizing agent like
nitric acid or oxide of manganese, which causes the hydro¬
chloric acid to part with its chlorine. If the gold be in leaf,
chlorine at once unites with it, and the resulting chloride is
readily soluble in water. Bromine acts in the same way
on the metal; and it may also be dissolved by boiling it with
sulphur, potash, and water. The older chemists speculated
on the possibility of Moses having dissolved the golden calf
of the Israelites in this way.
Gold is also soluble in mercury, and advantage is largely
taken of this property of quicksilver to dissolve the precious
metal from its ores. The gold-amalgam resulting from the
union of the metals is also extensively employed in gilding.
The most important chemical compounds of gold are the
following, in referring to which the equivalent of gold is
taken as 98,5.
The chlorides are two in number. The sesquichloride,
Au2C13, is prepared in the mode above mentioned. It
forms orange-red crystals, but in aqueous solution appears
yellow. It is very easily decomposed by heat, light, organic
substances, and all deoxidizing or reducing agents. A so¬
lution of this salt in sulphuric ether is sometimes used for
gilding steel. The aqueous solution is employed in pho¬
tography, and from it nearly all the other useful prepara¬
tions of gold are made. When this salt is heated cautiously
to about 392° Fahr., it loses two-thirds of its chlorine, and
becomes the sub-chloride Au2C1.
The oxides correspond to the chlorides, and are obtained
from them. The only important one is the sesquioxide
Au203, prepared by precipitating the corresponding chloride
by magnesia, and washing the precipitate with nitric acid
and water. This oxide is of a yellow or brown colour, and
by solution in potass, in cyanide of potassium, or sulphite of
soda, forms a liquid which is used in gilding. A solution of
the oxide in hyposulphite of soda is employed to protect and
make more visible daguerreotype portraits on silver. The
sulphurets of gold are not important.
G O L
Gold is readily identified by chemical tests. When its
colour and specific gravity cannot be appealed to as means II
of identification, its behaviour with the stronger liquid re- Gold-
agents is had recourse to. It resists the solvent action of the beatinS-
most powerful acids or alkalies taken singly, but at once
dissolves in aqua regia (a mixture of nitric and hydrochloric
acid), or in any similar liquid containing free chlorine.
The resulting solution is tested,—1. By adding to it a solu¬
tion of protosulphate of iron. This causes the gold to se¬
parate in the condition of a very fine powder, which remains
for hours suspended in the liquid, although it is more than
nineteen times heavier than water. The finely divided
metal appears brown by reflected, and bluish-green by trans¬
mitted light, and if dried and rubbed by any smooth solid,
acquires the characteristic colour and lustre of the metal in
mass. 2. By neutralizing the solution with carbonate of
potass or soda, and boiling with excess of oxalic acid, when
the gold separates in highly characteristic splendent flakes.
3. By adding to the solution diluted, a few drops of solution
of protochloride of tin, when a rich purple precipitate falls.
Very minute traces of gold may be discovered in this way.
The precipitate, which has gone for centuries by the name of
Purple of Cassius, appears to be a compound of oxide of
gold and oxide of tin (Au20, Sn304). It is used to stain
glass ruby-red, and to give to porcelain and enamel a rose-
pink, crimson, and purple colour. (See Precious Metals.)
GOLDBEATING. The art of goldbeating is of great
antiquity, being referred to by Homer; and Pliny states
that one ounce of gold was extended to 750 leaves, each leaf
being four fingers square, which is three times the thickness
of the ordinary leaf gold of th» present time. The ancient
Peruvians made very thin sheets of gold, and nailed them
together on the walls of their temples of worship ; on the
coffins of the Theban mummies specimens of original leaf¬
gilding are met with where the gold is in so thin a state
that it resembles modern gilding. The art seems to have
been practised in India, judging from the rude specimens
of gilding at Tippo Saib’s palace at Bangalore.
In modern times it has been practised in the capitals of
the principal commercial countries of Europe. In England
it was confined to London until within the present century.
It has been introduced into Scotland and the United States
of America within that period. It is now practised in
several towns in England, and to a small extent in Ireland,
at Dublin only.
The manufacture being attendant upon an advanced
state of the arts, it is only found in old established countries,
and is not yet practised in any of the British colonies.
From the existence here of some now obsolete-fashioned
tools, similar to those at present in use at Paris, it would
appear to have travelled to England from that quarter.
The art has nowhere been so perfected as in London ; but
of late years, from intercourse with English goldbeaters,
efforts have been made on the Continent, with the aid of
English goldbeaters’ skin, to rival the extreme fineness of
the English product.
The ordinary size of a leaf of gold is 3 inches and 3-8ths,
for the production of 2000 leaves of which from 18 to 19
dwts. of gold were allowed to the workman fifty years since
in London, but now, owing to the improvement in the qua¬
lity of the skin and superior skill on the part of the work¬
men, not more than an average of 16 dwts. are required,
and with very skilful workmen it is sometimes accomplished
with 14 dwts. This, however, is not to be taken as any
test of the extreme malleability of gold ; it is only the point
to which it is desirable to attain for commercial purposes.
Experiments have been made to ascertain to what degree
of thinness gold and silver could be reduced : it was found
that one grain of gold was spread to the extent of 75 square
inches, and the same weight of silver to the still more ex¬
traordinary dimension of 98 square inches. Taking one
G 0 L
Gold- cubic inch of gold at 4900 grains, it will be found that the
beating, was 367,650th part of an inch in thickness, or
about 1200 times thinner than ordinary printing paper.
Thus, if this number of leaves of gold were placed on one
another, they would constitute a pile an inch high ; the
same number of leaves of paper would form a pile half the
height of the Monument of London. The silver, though
spread over a much larger surface, was thickest, owing to
the difference in its specific gravity; but, calculated by
weight, silver is the most malleable metal with which we are
acquainted, considerably exceeding that of gold. This ex¬
periment does not, however, determine the extent of the
malleability of either metal, as the means employed to test
it were found to fail before there was any appearance of the
malleability of the metals being exhausted.
I he gold used by the goldbeater is variously alloyed
according to the variety of colour required. Fine gold is
commonly supposed to be incapable of being reduced to
thin leaves. This is an error. It is objectionable for com¬
mercial purposes on account of its greater cost. It also
adheres on one part of a leaf touching another, thus causing
a waste of labour by the leaves being spoiled; but for work
exposed to the weather it is much preferable, as it is more
durable, and does not tarnish or change colour.
The specimens of gold leaf exhibited by Mr E. S. Mar¬
shall, goldbeater of London, at the Great Exhibition of
1851, and for which the prize medal was awarded to him,
were twelve in number, and embraced a regular gradation
in colour from red down to nearly white, viz.,—red, pale
red, extra deep, deep, orange, lemon, deep pale, pale, pale
pale, deep party, party, and fine gold. The deeper colours
were alloyed with from 12 to 16 grs. of copper per oz., but
without any silver, as any alloy of silver with this quantity
of copper would considerably impair the malleability. The
middle colours contained from 12 to20grs. of silver, and from
6 to 8 grs. of copper to the ounce; the paler golds contained
from 2 to 20 dwts. of silver to the ounce, but no copper, for
the same reason that the silver was omitted in the red-golds.
The process of goldbeating is thus conducted. The gold
having been alloyed according to the colour desired, it is
melted in a crucible, at a higher temperature than is simply
necessary to fuse it, as its malleability is improved by ex¬
posure to a greater heat; sudden cooling does not inter¬
fere with its malleable properties, differing in this property
from some other metals. It is then cast into an ingot, and
flattened into a ribbon of 1^ inch wide and 10 feet in
length to the ounce. After being flattened it is annealed and
cut into small pieces of about 6 grs. each, and placed be¬
tween the leaves of a cutch, which is about half an inch
thick and 3^ inches square, containing about 160 leaves of a
tough paper manufactured in France. Formerly fine vellum
was used for this purpose. The cutch is beaten on for about
20 minutes with a 1 7-pound hammer, which rebounds by
the elasticity of the skin, and saves the labour of lifting, by
which the gold is spread to the size of the cutch; each leaf
is then taken out, and cut into four pieces, and put between
the skins of a shoder 4^ inches square and fths of an inch
thick, containing about 700 skins, which have been worn
out in the finishing process. The shoder requires about
two hours’ beating upon with a 9-pound hammer. As the
gold will spread unequally, the shoder is beaten upon after
the larger leaves have reached the edges. The effect of this
is, that the larger leaves come out of the edges in a state of
dust. This allows time for the smaller leaves to reach the
full size of the shoder, thus producing a general evenness of
size in the leaves.
Each leaf is again cut into four pieces, and placed between
the leaves of a mould composed of about 900 of the finest
skins, five inches square and three-quarters of an inch thick ;
this is the last and most difficult stage of the process ; and on
the fineness of the skin and judgment of the workman the
G O L 703
perfection and thinness of the leaf of gold depend. During
the first hour the hammer is allowed to fall principally upon
the centre of the mould. This causes gaping cracks upon
the edges of the leaves, the sides of which readily coalesce
and unite without leaving any trace of the union after being
beaten upon. At the second hour, when the gold is about the
150,000 of an inch in thickness, it for the first time permits
the transmission of the rays of light. In pure gold, or gold
but slightly alloyed, the green rays are transmitted; and
in gold highly alloyed with silver the pale violet rays pass.
I he mould requires in all about four hours’ beating with a
7 lb. hammer, when the gold will have arrived at the ordi¬
nary thinness for the gold leaf of commerce. It is then
taken out of the mould, and the rough edges are cut off by
slips of the rattan fixed in parallel grooves of an instrument
called a waggon, the leaf being laid upon a leathern cushion
for that purpose. The leaves thus prepared are placed into
a book capable of holding twenty-five leaves each, which
have been rubbed over with red ochre to prevent the gold
clinging to the paper, and is used for gilding picture-
frames, books, and for numerous other ornamental purposes.
The dryness of the cutch, shoder, and mould is a matter
of extreme delicacy. They require to be hot-pressed every
time they are used, although they may be used daily, to
remove the moisture which they acquire from the atmo¬
sphere, except in extremely frosty weather, when they ac¬
quire so little moisture that then a difficulty arises from their
over-dryness ; the brilliancy of the gold is diminished, and
it spreads very slowly under the hammer. On the contrary,
if the cutch or shoder be damp, the gold will become that
which is technically termed hollow or sieve-like ; that is, it is
pierced with innumerable small microscopical holes ; and in
the moulds in its more attenuated state it will become re¬
duced to a pulverulent state. This condition is more easily
produced in alloyed golds than in fine gold.
It is necessary that each skin of the mould should be rubbed
over with calcined gypsum (the fibrinated variety) each time
the mould may be used, in order to prevent the adhesion of
the gold to the surface of the skin in the process of beating.
Dentist gold is gold leaf carried no farther in the process
than that of the cutch, and should be perfectly pure gold.
By the above process silver is beaten, but not so thin,
the inferior value of the metal not rendering it commer¬
cially desirable to bestow so much labour upon it. Cop¬
per, tin, zinc, palladium, lead, cadmium, platinum, and alu¬
minium can be beaten into thin leaves, but not to the extent
of gold or silver.
Shell Gold, used in painting and illuminating, is made
by grinding gold leaves with honey, and afterwards sepa
rating the honey from the powdered gold by means of water
When the honey is washed away, the gold may be put on
paper or kept in shells. When used, it is commonly diluted
with gum-water. The German gold powder, prepared in
this manner from the Dutch gold leaf, is generally used;
and when it is well secured with varnish, it answers the end
in japanners’ gilding tolerably well.
Gold Size, for burnished gilding, is prepared of one
pound and a half of pipe clay, half an ounce of red chalk,
a quarter of an ounce of black lead, forty drops of sweet
oil, and three drams of pure tallow. The clay, chalk, and
black lead are to be ground very fine, separately, in water,
then mixed together; the oil and tallow are next added,
and the mixture is ground to a due consistence.
Gold Thread is formed of flattened gold wire wrapped
closely over a thread of yellow silk, by means of a wheel
and iron bobbins.
Gold Wire is made by taking a cylindrical ingot of silver
which has been superficially coated with gold, and drawing
it successively through a series of holes in a hardened steel
plate, each of which is a degree smaller than the preceding
hole, and proceeding thus until the requisite degree of fine-
Shell
Gold
Gold Wire.
704
G O L
G O L
Gold Coast ness is attained. It may be observed that in this process,
II however fine be the wire, its gilded surface exhibits no flaw
Goldoni. eyen w^en viewed by the microscope. Flattened gold wire
same wire after it has been passed between rollers of
polished steel.
GOLD COAST. See Guinea.
GOLDAPP, a town, capital of a cognominal circle, in
the province of East Prussia and government of Gumbinnen.
It stands on a small river of the same name, 20 miles S. of
Gumbinnen ; and has several tanneries and breweries, and
some trade in cattle. Pop. (1849) 3754.
GOLDAU, a village of Switzerland, canton of Schwytz,
in a valley between the Rigi and the Rossberg. The former
village of this name was entirely destroyed by a landslip of
the Rossberg on 2d Sept. 1806, together with those of Bus-
singen, Rother, and part of Lowerz.
GOLDBERG, a town, capital of a cognominal circle, in
the Prussian province of Silesia, government of and 14 miles
S.W. of Liegnitz, on the Katzbach, an affluent of the Oder.
It received its name from a gold mine in the neighbourhood,
formerly productive, but now abandoned. Wallenstein was
educated at the gymnasium of this town. The chief ma¬
nufactures are woollen cloth, flannel, stockings, &c. At the
hamlet of Wahlstadt, six miles E. of the town, the French
were defeated by the Prussians on the 26th August 1813.
Pop. (1849) 7119.
GOLDEN FLEECE, in Mythology, the fleece of the
ram upon which Phrixus and Helle crossed the sea to Col¬
chis, and which, being sacrificed to Jupiter, was hung upon
a tree in the grove of Mars, guarded by two brazen-hoofed
bulls, and a monstrous dragon that never slept. The fleece
wascarriedoff by Jason and the Argonauts. See Argonauts.
Many authors have endeavoured to show that this fable
is an allegorical representation of some real history; while
others explain it by the profit of the wool trade to Colchis,
or the gold which was gathered in the rivers of that coun¬
try by means of fleeces.
Golden Fleece, Order of The. See Fleece.
GOLDEN NUMBER, in Chronology, a number show¬
ing what year of the moon’s cycle any given year is. See
Calendar, vol. vi., p. 81.
GOLDONI, Carlo, a celebrated comic poet of Italy,
whom his countrymen delight to call the Italian Moliere,
was born at Venice in 1707. His life falls naturally into
three distinct parts; the strange career of his youth, the
more sober era of his toils and struggles in middle age,
and his old age of moderate independence and well-earned
fame. Goldoni was brought up in the midst of fetes and
theatrical performances by his grandfather, a man of plea¬
sure, whose chief amusement was in the society of players
and musicians. In this company his mind received a bent
which afterwards decided his course. He went through
the usual studies of the young Italians of those days ; but he
gained little at the various schools and colleges to which he
was sent, except a knowledge of life in all its varieties. 1 his
knowledge he enlarged by often exchanging the dull rou¬
tine of work for the rambling life and reckless gaiety of a
strolling player. His friends, little dreaming that he was in
this way educating himself for his future calling, besought
him to reform, to study law or medicine, and to bring no
discredit on the family name. He chose the profession of
medicine, and had no sooner made his choice than he aban¬
doned it. He next tried the law, graduated after various
mishaps at Padua, and began to practise at Pisa as an ad¬
vocate with every prospect of success. In an evil hour he
wrote a comedy, which was played by a strolling company
at Venice amidst overwhelming applause. From that time
he became a stage-poet; and though the companies for
which he wrote were all itinerant and held in no high re¬
respect, yet Goldoni was too much of a Gil Bias to exchange
a life so congenial to his temper for the tame monotony of
burgher respectability. Being now in a sphere in all re¬
spects suited to him, he resolved to turn its capabilities to v
account. He found the stage occupied either by the opera,
or by that species of comedy called the “ commedia dell’
arte,” or “ a soggetto,”—a kind of comic acting peculiar to
Italy, and long the only pretender to the title of national.
These plays were not written out in full. The plot was
sketched, and the actors filled in the dialogue as they went
along. The chief characters in these plays wore masks,
thence called maschere, and caricatured the local humours
and salient weaknesses of the various states of Italy.
The success of such plays depended of course on the
cleverness of the individual actors ; and in the hands of
good performers they became amusing enough. The ma¬
jority of strolling players, however, had to conceal their lack
of genuine wit and humour under personal scurrility or ob¬
scene inuendoes. Goldoni determined to reform the stage,
—and as there was no drama at that time in Italy suited to
the modern manners of the people, he wrote a vast number
of plays descriptive of the life and habits of his countrymen.
His reform he was obliged to effect by degrees. He began
by writing only the more serious parts of his plays; then
he wrote parts for the masks, which he strove to raise out
of the region of the mere burlesque ; then he discarded
the masks almost entirely, aimed at a higher style, and
besides criticising the manners, lashed the follies and vices
of his countrymen. He was a keen observer of men, and
wrote with much ease and variety. The best of his works
are those written in the Venetian dialect, which are there¬
fore not very readily appreciable by foreigners. To most
Englishmen, indeed, the fine aroma of Goldini’s diction is as
much lost as the peculiar zest of broad Scotch or the local
dialects of Yorkshire are thrown away upon an Italian. But
all native critics agree in pronouncing them remarkable for
raciness of humour and felicity of diction. He revels
especially in descriptions of low life in Venice, where the
national manners have longest preserved their most striking
peculiarities; and these descriptions are sometimes so broad
as to be quite inadmissible even on a French stage. As he
wrote for bread, he often wrote in great haste, a fact which
accounts for the inequality of his works and the mistakes
into which he often falls, especially when he trenches upon
foreign manners and customs. Despite these faults, how¬
ever, it is hardly too much to call Goldoni the father, or at
least the restorer, of the Italian comedy. Flis works are
still highly popular among his countrymen ; and though are-
action in favour of the “ commedia dell’ arte'’ was effected by
his rival Gozzi, it ended with the life of that powerful but
ill-regulated genius; and such comic writers as have since^
attained distinction in Italy profess themselves followers ot
Goldoni. The rivalry between Gozzi and Goldoni made a
great noise in its day, and as a fact of considerable impor¬
tance in the literary history of Italy is still interesting to
us. It is pretty fully discussed by Ugoni in his Lettera-
tura Italiana, and by Baretti in his Manners and Customs
of Italy. The third and happiest portion of Goldoni’s life
was that spent in Paris. In 1761 he was invited to that
city by the Italian company playing there, and wrote a num¬
ber of plays, some of which were eminently successful.
Among these may be numbered Le Bourru Bienfaisant,
in French, which still maintains its ground as a standard
play on the French stage. This play made him known at
court (1771), where he was appointed teacherof Italian to the
three daughters of Louis XV., and finally rewarded with a
pension of 4000 francs. When the revolution broke out
he was deprived of it. On the motion ol Chenier, how¬
ever, a decree was passed restoring it and paying up the
arrears. But Goldoni died the very day after this decree
was passed, January 8, 1793. The arrears and a small
additional pension were paid to his widow. T here have been
countless editions of Goldoni’s works, among which may be
Goldoni.
Goldsmith.
«
GOT.
specified that of Venice in 44 vols. 8vo, 1794-5 ; and that
of Lucca in 26 vols. 1809. Selections from his best plays
still appear from time to time in Italy. He wrote in French,
besides his play of Le Bourru Bienfaisant, a number of
minor pieces, and a very interesting biography of himself
under the title of Memoires pour servir d VHistoire de sa
vie, et d celle de son Theatre, which appeared in 1787, when
the author was in his 81st year.
GOLDSMITH or Silversmith, one who makes vessels
and ornaments of gold or silver. The goldsmith’s work is
either performed in the mould, or beat out with the ham¬
mer or other instrument. Works which have raised figures
are cast in a mould, and afterwards polished and finished;
plates or dishes of silver or gold are beaten out from flat
plates ; and tankards and other vessels of the kind are formed
of plates soldered together, their mouldings being beaten
out, not cast. The business of the goldsmith formerly in¬
volved the hammering of the metal from the ingot to the
degree of thinness required ; but the necessity for this labo¬
rious process is now entirely obviated by the flatting mill.
GOLDSMITH, Oliver, one of the most pleasing Eng¬
lish writers of the eighteenth century. He was of a Pro¬
testant and Saxon family which had been long settled in
Ireland, and which had, like most other Protestant and Saxon
families, been, in troubled times, harassed and put in fear
by the native population. His father, Charles Goldsmith,
studied in the reign of Queen Anne at the diocesan school
of Elphin, became attached to the daughter of the school¬
master, married her, took orders, and settled at a place called
Pallas in the county of Longford. There he with difficulty
supported his wife and children on what he could earn,
partly as a curate and partly as a farmer.
At Pallas Oliver Goldsmith was born in November 1728.
That spot was then, for all practical purposes, almost as
remote from the busy and splendid capital in which his
later years were passed, as any clearing in Upper Canada
or any sheep-walk in Australasia now is. Even at this day
those enthusiasts who venture to make a pilgrimage to the
birthplace of the poet are forced to perform the latter part
of their journey on foot. The hamlet lies far from any high
road, on a dreary plain which, in wet weather, is often a
lake. The lanes would break any jaunting car to pieces ;
and there are ruts and sloughs through which the most
strongly built wheels cannot be dragged.
While Oliver was still a child his father was presented to a
living worth about L.200 a-year, in the county of Westmeath.
The family accordingly quitted their cottage in the wilderness
for a spacious house on a frequented road, near the village
of Lissoy. Here the boy was taught his letters by a maid¬
servant, and was sent in his seventh year to a village school
kept by an old quartermaster on half-pay, who professed to
teach nothing but reading, writing and arithmetic, but who
had an inexhaustible fund of stories about ghosts, banshees
and fairies, about the great Ilapparee chiefs, Baldearg
O’Donnell and galloping Hogan, and about the exploits of
Peterborough and Stanhope, the surprise of Monjuich, and
the glorious disaster of Brihuega. This man must have
been of the Protestant religion ; but he was of the abori¬
ginal race, and not only spoke the Irish language, but could
pour forth unpremeditated Irish verses. Oliver early became,
and through life continued to be, a passionate admirer of
the Irish music, and especially of the compositions of Caro-
lan, some of the last notes of whose harp he heard. It ought
to be added that Oliver, though by birth one of the Eng-
lishry, and though connected by numerous ties with the
Established Church, never showed the least sign of that
contemptuous antipathy with which, in his days, the ruling
minority in Ireland too generally regarded the subject ma¬
jority. So far indeed was he from sharing in the opinions
and feelings of the caste to which he belonged that he con¬
ceived an aversion to the Glorious and Immortal Memory,
VOL. x.
G 0 L 705
and, even when George the Third was on the throne, main- Goldsmith,
tained that nothing but the restoration of the banished dy-
nasty could save the country.
From the humble academy kept by the old soldier Gold¬
smith was removed in his ninth year. He went to several
grammar-schools and acquired some knowledge of the an¬
cient languages. His life at this time seems to have been
far from happy. He had, as appears from the admirable por¬
trait of him at Knowle, features harsh even to ugliness.
Ihe small-pox had set its mark on him with more than
usual severity. His stature was small, and his limbs ill put
together. Among boys little tenderness is shown to per¬
sonal defects ; and the ridicule excited by poor Oliver’s ap¬
pearance was heightened by a peculiar simplicity and a dis¬
position to blunder which he retained to the last. He became
the common butt of boys and masters, was pointed at as a
fright in the play-ground, and flogged as a dunce in the
school-room. When he had risen to eminence, those who
had once derided him ransacked their memory for the
events of his early years, and recited repartees and couplets
which had dropped from him, and which, though little no¬
ticed at the time, were supposed, a quarter of a century
later, to indicate the powers which produced the Vicar of
Wakefield and the Deserted Village.
In his seventeenth year Oliver went up to Trinity Col¬
lege, Dublin, as a sizar. The sizars paid nothing for food
and tuition, and very little for lodging; but they had to
perform some menial services from which they have long
been relieved. They swept the court: they carried up the
dinner to the fellows’ table, and changed the plates and
poured out the ale of the rulers of the society. Goldsmith
was quartered, not alone, in a garret, on the window of which
his name, scrawled by himself, is still read with interest.
From such garrets many men of less parts than his have
made their way to the woolsack or to the episcopal bench.
But Goldsmith, while he suffered all the humiliations, threw
away all the advantages of his situation. Fie neglected the
studies of the place, stood low at the examinations, was
turned down to the bottom of his class for playing the buf¬
foon in the lecture room, was severely reprimanded for
pumping on a constable, and was caned by a brutal tutor
for giving a ball in the attic story of the college to some gay
youths and damsels from the city.
While Oliver was leading at Dublin a life divided be¬
tween squalid distress and squalid dissipation, his father
died, leaving a mere pittance. The youth obtained his
bachelor’s degree, and left the university. During some
time the humble dwelling to which his widowed mother had
retired was his home. He was now in his twenty-first year ;
it was necessary that he should do something; and his edu¬
cation seemed to have fitted him to do nothing but to dress
himself in gaudy colours, of which he was as fond as a mag¬
pie, to take a hand at cards, to sing Irish airs, to play the
flute, to angle in summer, and to tell ghost stories by the
fire in winter. He tried five or six professions in turn with¬
out success. He applied for ordination; but, as he applied
in scarlet clothes, he was speedily turned out of the episco¬
pal palace. He then became tutor in an opulent family, but
soon quitted his situation in consequence of a dispute about
play. Then he determined to emigrate to America. His
relations, with much satisfaction, saw him set out for Cork
on a good horse, with thirty pounds in his pocket. But
in six weeks he came back on a miserable hack, without a
penny, and informed his mother that the ship in which he
had taken his passage, having got a fair wind while he was
at a party of pleasure, had sailed without him. Then he re¬
solved to study the law. A generous kinsman advanced
fifty pounds. With this sum Goldsmith went to Dublin,
was enticed into a gaming house, and lost every shilling.
He then thought of medicine. A small purse was made up ;
and in his twenty-fourth year he was sent to Edinburgh. At
GOLDSMITH.
706
Goldsmith. Edinburgh he passed eighteen months in nominal attendance
on lectures, and picked up some superficial information about
chemistry and natural history. Thence he went to Leyden,
still pretending to study physic. He left that celebrated
university, the third university at which he had resided, in
his twenty-seventh year, without a degree, with the merest
smattering of medical knowledge, and with no property but
his clothes and his flute. His flute, however, proved a use¬
ful friend. He rambled on foot through Flanders, France,
and Switzerland, playing tunes which everywhere set the
peasantry dancing, and which often procured for him a sup¬
per and a bed. He wandered as far as Italy. His musical
performances, indeed, were not to the taste of the Italians ;
but he contrived to live on the alms which he obtained at
the gates of convents. It should, however, be observed,
that the stories which he told about this part of his life ought
to be received with great caution; for strict veracity was
never one of his virtues ; and a man who is ordinarily inac¬
curate in narration is likely to be more than ordinarily in¬
accurate when he talks about his own travels. Goldsmith,
indeed, was so regardless of truth as to assert in print that
he was present at a most interesting conversation between
Voltaire and Fontenelle, and that this conversation took
place at Paris. Now it is certain that Voltaire never was
within a hundred leagues of Paris during the whole time
which Goldsmith passed on the continent.
In 1756 the wanderer landed at Dover, without a shilling,
without a friend, and without a calling. He had, indeed,
if his own unsupported evidence may be trusted, obtained
from the University of Padua a doctor’s degree; but this
dignity proved utterly useless to him. In England his flute
was not in request: there were no convents; and he was
forced to have recourse to a series of desperate expedients.
He turned strolling player; but his face and figure were
ill suited to the boards even of the humblest theatre. He
pounded drugs and ran about London with phials for chari¬
table chemists. He joined a swarm of beggars, which made
its nest in Axe Yard. He was for a time usher of a school,
and felt the miseries and humiliations of this situation so
keenly, that he thought it a promotion to be permitted to
earn his bread as a bookseller’s hack; but he soon found
tne new yoke more galling than the old one, and was glad
to become an usher again. Lie obtained a medical appoint¬
ment in the service of the East India Company; but the
appointment was speedily revoked. Why it was revoked
we are not told. The subject was one on which he never
liked to talk. It is probable that he was incompetent to
perform the duties of the place. Then he presented him¬
self at Surgeons’ Llall for examination, as mate to a
naval hospital. Even to so humble a post he was found
unequal. By this time the schoolmaster whom he had
served for a morsel of food and the third part of a bed
was no more. Nothing remained but to return to the
lowest drudgery of literature. Goldsmith took a garret in a
miserable court, to which he had to climb from the brink of
Fleet Ditch by a dizzy ladder of flagstones called Breakneck
Steps. The court and the ascent have long disappeared;
but old Londoners well remember both. Here, at thirty,
the unlucky adventurer sat down to toil like a galley slave.
In the succeeding six years he sent to the press some things
which have survived, and many which have perished. He
produced articles for reviews, magazines, and newspapers;
children’s books, which, bound in gilt paper and adorned
with hideous wroodcuts, appeared in the window of the once
far-famed shop at the corner of Saint Paul’s Churchyard; An
Inquiry into the State of Polite Learning in Europe, which,
though of little or no value, is still reprinted among his
works; a Life of Beau Nash, which is not reprinted, though it
well deserves to be so ; a superficial and incorrect, but very
\'esL(\ab\e, History of England,\n a series of letters purporting
to be addressed by a nobleman to his son ; and some very
lively and amusing Sketches of London Society, in a series of Goldsmith,
letters purporting to be addressed by a Chinese traveller to
his friends. All these works were anonymous ; but some of
them were well known to be Goldsmith’s ; and he gradually
rose in the estimation of the booksellers for whom he
drudged. He was, indeed, emphatically a popular writer.
For accurate research or grave disquisition he was not well
qualified by nature or by education. He knew nothing
accurately : his reading had been desultory; nor had he
meditated deeply on what he had read. He had seen much
of the world; but he had noticed and retained little more
of what he had seen than some grotesque incidents and
characters which had happened to strike his fancy. But,
though his mind was very scantily stored with materials, he
used what materials he had in such a way as to produce a
wonderful effect. There have been many greater writers;
but perhaps no writer was ever more uniformly agreeable.
His style was always pure and easy, and, on proper occa¬
sions, pointed and energetic. His narratives were always
amusing, his descriptions always picturesque, his humour
rich and joyous, yet not without an occasional tinge of
amiable sadness. About everything that he wrote, serious
or sportive, there was a certain natural grace and decorum,
hardly to be expected from a man a great part of whose
life had been passed among thieves and beggars, street¬
walkers and merryandrews, in those squalid dens which are
the reproach of great capitals.
As his name gradually became known, the circle of his
acquaintance widened. He was introduced to Johnson, who
was then considered as the first of living English writers ; to
Reynolds, the first of English painters; and to Burke, who
had not yet entered parliament, but had distinguished him¬
self greatly by his writings and by the eloquence of his con¬
versation. With these eminent men Goldsmith became
intimate. In 1763 he was one of the nine original mem¬
bers of that celebrated fraternity which has sometimes been
called the Literary Club, but which has always disclaimed
that epithet, and still glories in the simple name of The Club.
By this time Goldsmith had quitted his miserable dwell¬
ing at the top of Breakneck Steps, and had taken chambers
in the more civilised region of the Inns of Court. But he
was still often reduced to pitiable shifts. Towards the close
of 1 764 his rent was so long in arrear that his landlady
one morning called in the help of a sheriff’s officer. The
debtor, in great perplexity, despatched a messenger to
Johnson ; and Johnson, always friendly, though often surly,
sent back the messenger with a guinea, and promised to
follow speedily. He came, and found that Goldsmith had
changed the guinea, and was railing at the landlady over a
bottle of Madeira. Johnson put the cork into the bottle,
and entreated his friend to consider calmly how money was
to be procured. Goldsmith said that he had a novel ready
for the press. Johnson glanced at the manuscript, saw that
there were good things in it, took it to a bookseller, sold it
for L.60, and soon returned with the money. The rent
was paid ; and the sheriff’s officer withdrew. According to
one story, Goldsmith gave his landlady a sharp reprimand
for her treatment of him ; according to another, he insisted
on her joining him in a bowl of punch. Both stories are
probably true. The novel which was thus ushered into the
world was the Vicar of Wakefield.
But before the Vicar of Wakefield appeared in prim,
came the great crisis of Goldsmith’s literary life. In Christ¬
mas week 1764, he published a poem, entitled the Travel¬
ler. It was the first work to which he had put his name ; and
it at once raised him to the rank of a legitimate English
classic. The opinion of the most skilful critics was, that
nothing finer had appeared in verse since the fourth book
of the Dunciad. In one respect the Traveller differs from
all Goldsmith’s other writings. In general his designs were
bad, and his execution good. In the Traveller, the execu-
GOLD
Goldsmith, tion, though deserving of much praise, is far inferior to the
design. No philosophical poem, ancient or modern, has a
plan so noble, and at the same time so simple. An English
wanderer, seated on a crag among the Alps, near the point
where three great countries meet, looks down on the bound¬
less prospect, reviews his long pilgrimage, recalls the varie¬
ties oi scenery, of climate, of government, of I'eligion, of
national character, which he has observed, and comes to the
conclusion, just or unjust, that our happiness depends little
on political institutions, and much on the temper and regu¬
lation of our own minds.
While the fourth edition of the Traveller was on the
counters of the booksellers, the Vicar of Wakefield appeared,
and rapidly obtained a popularity which has lasted down to
our own time, and which is likely to last as long as our lan¬
guage. The fable is indeed one of the worst that ever was
constructed. It wants, not merely that probability which
ought to be found in a tale of common English life, but that
consistency which ought to be found even in the wildest
fiction about witches, giants, and fairies. But the earlier
chapters have all the sweetness of pastoral poetry, together
with all the vivacity of comedy. Moses and his spectacles,
the vicar and his monogamy, the sharper and his cosmogony,
the squire proving from Aristotle that relatives are related,
Olivia preparing herself for the arduous task of converting
a rakish lover by studying the controversy between Robin¬
son Crusoe and Friday, the great ladies with their scandal
about Sir Tomkyn’s amours and Dr Burdock’s verses, and
Mr Burchell with his “Fudge,” have caused as much harm¬
less mirth as has ever been caused by matter packed into
so small a number of pages. The latter part of the tale is
unworthy of the beginning. As we approach the catas¬
trophe, the absurdities lie thicker and thicker; and the
gleams of pleasantry become rarer and rarer.
The success which had attended Goldsmith as a novelist
emboldened him to try his fortune as a dramatist. He
wrote the Goodnatured Man, a piece which had a worse
fate than it deserved. Garrick refused to produce it at
Drury Lane. It was acted at Covent Garden in 1768, but
was coldly received. The author, however, cleared by his
benefit nights, and by the sale of the copyright, no less than
L.500, five times as much as he had made by the Traveller
and the Vicar of Wakefield together. The plot of the
Goodnatured Man is, like almost all Goldsmith’s plots, very
ill constructed. But some passages are exquisitely ludi¬
crous ; much more ludicrous, indeed, than suited the taste
of the town at that time. A canting, mawkish play, entitled
False Delicacy, had just had an immense run. Sentimen¬
tality was all the mode. During some years, more tears
were shed at comedies than at tragedies; and a pleasantry
which moved the audience to anything more than a grave
smile was reprobated as low. It is not strange, therefore,
that the very best scene in the Goodnatured Man, that in
which Miss Richland finds her lover attended by the bailiff
and the bailiff’s follower in full court dresses, should have
been mercilessly hissed, and should have been omitted after
the first night.
In 1770 appeared the Deserted Village. In mere dic¬
tion and versification this celebrated poem is fully equal,
perhaps superior to the Traveller ; and it is generally pre¬
ferred to the Traveller by that large class of readers who
think, with Bayes in the Rehearsal, that the only use of a plan
is to bring in fine things. More discerning judges, how¬
ever, while they admire the beauty of the details, are shocked
by one unpardonable fault which pervades the whole. The
fault which we mean is not that theory about wealth and
luxury which has so often been censured by political econo¬
mists. The theory is indeed false : but the poem, considered
merely as a poem, is not necessarily the worse on that ac¬
count. The finest poem in the Latin language, indeed the
finest didactic poem in any language, was written in defence
SMITH. 707
of the silliest and meanest of all systems of natural and Goldsmith,
moral philosophy. A poet may easily be pardoned for rea-
soning ill; but he cannot be pardoned for describing ill,
for observing the world in which he lives so carelessly that
his portraits bear no resemblance to the originals,for exhibit¬
ing as copies from real life monstrous combinations of things
which never were and never could be found together. What
would be thought of a painter who should mix August and
January in one landscape, who should introduce a frozen
river into a harvest scene ? Would it be a sufficient de¬
fence of such a picture to say that every part was exqui¬
sitely coloured, that the green hedges, the apple-trees loaded
with fruit, the waggons reeling under the yellow sheaves, and
the sun-burned reapers wiping their foreheads were very
fine, and that the ice and the boys sliding were also very
fine ? To such a picture the Deserted Village bears a great
resemblance. It is made up of incongruous parts. The
village in its happy days is a true English village. The
village in its decay is an Irish village. The felicity and the
misery which Goldsmith has brought close together belong
to two different countries, and to two different stages in the
progress of society. He had assuredly never seen in his
native island such a rural paradise, such a seat of plenty,
content, and tranquillity, as his Auburn. He had assuredly
never seen in England all the inhabitants of such a paradise
turned out of their homes in one day and forced to emigrate
in a body to America. The hamlet he had probably seen
in Kent: the ejectment he had probably seen in Munster;
but by joining the two, he has produced something which
never was and never will be seen in any part of the world.
In 1773 Goldsmith tried his chance at Covent Garden
with a second play, She Stoops to Conquer. The manager
was not without great difficulty induced to bring this piece
out. The sentimental comedy still reigned, and Goldsmith’s
comedies were not sentimental. The Goodnatured Man
had been too funny to succeed ; yet the mirth of the Good-
natured Man was sober when compared with the rich drol¬
lery of She Stoops to Conquer, which is, in truth, an incom¬
parable farce in five acts. On this occasion, however, genius
triumphed. Pit, boxes, and galleries, were in a constant
roar of laughter. If any bigoted admirer of Kelly and
Cumberland ventured to hiss or groan, he was speedily
silenced by a general cry of “ turn him out,” or “ throw him
over.” Two generations have since confirmed the verdict
which was pronounced on that night.
While Goldsmith was writing the Deserted Village and
She Stoops to Conquer, he was employed on works of a
very different kind, works from which he derived little repu¬
tation but much profit. He compiled for the use of schools
a History of Rome by which he made L.300, a History of
England by which he made L.600, a History of Greece
for which he received L.250, a Natural History, for which
the booksellers covenanted to pay him 800 guineas. These
works he produced without any elaborate research, by merely
selecting, abridging, and translating into his own clear, pure,
and flowing language, what he found in books well known
to the world, but too bulky or too dry for boys and girls.
He committed some strange blunders : for he knew nothing
with accuracy. Thus in his History of England he tells us
that Naseby is in Yorkshire ; nor did he correct this mistake
when the book was reprinted. He was very nearly hoaxed
into putting into the History of Greece an account of a
battle between Alexander the Great and Montezuma. In
his Animated Nature he relates, with faith and with perfect
gravity, all the most absurd lies which he could find in books
of travels about gigantic Patagonians, monkeys that preach
sermons, nightingales that repeat long conversations. “ If
he can tell a horse from a cow,” said Johnson, “ that is the
extent of his knowledge of zoology.” How little Goldsmitn
was qualified to write about the physical sciences is suffi
ciently proved by two anecdotes. He on one occasion de-
GOLDSMITH.
708
Goldsmith, nietl that the sun is longer in the northern than in the
southern signs. It was vain to cite the authority of Mau-
pertuis. “ Maupertuis!” he cried, “ I understand those
matters better than Maupertuis.” On another occasion he,
in defiance of the evidence of his own senses, maintained
obstinately, and even angrily, that he chewed his dinner by
moving his upper jaw.
Yet, ignorant as Goldsmith was, few writers have done
-more to make the first steps in the laborious road to know-
_ ledge easy and pleasant. His compilations are widely dis-
” tinguished from the compilations of ordinary bookmakers.
He was a great, perhaps an unequalled, master of the arts
of selection #md condensation. In these respects his his-
tories of-lTOMe and of England, and still more his own
abridgments of these histories, well deserved to be studied.
' In general nettoflrrtftJiyffi attractive than an epitome : but
thcS epitomes of even when most concise, are al¬
ways amusing; and to read them is considered by intelli¬
gent children,'not as a task but as a pleasure.
Goldsmith might now be considered as a prosperous man.
He had the means of living in comfort, and even in what
to one who had so often slept in barns and on bulks must
have been luxury. His fame was great and was constantly
rising. He lived in what was intellectually far the best
society of the kingdom, in a society in which no talent or
accomplishment was wanting, and in which the art of con¬
versation was cultivated with splendid success. There pro¬
bably were never four talkers more admirable in four dif¬
ferent ways than Johnson, Burke, Beauclerk, and Garrick;
and Goldsmith was on terms of intimacy with all the four.
He aspired to share in their colloquial renown; but never
was ambition more unfortunate. It may seem strange that
a man who wrote with so much perspicuity, vivacity, and
grace, should have been, whenever he took a part in con¬
versation, an empty, noisy, blundering, rattle. But on this
point the evidence is overwhelming. So extraordinary was
the contrast between Goldsmith’s published works and the
silly things which he said, that Horace Walpole described
him as an inspired idiot. “ Noll,” said Garrick, “ wrote
like an angel, and talked like poor Pol.” Chamier declared
that it was a hard exercise of faith to believe that so foolish
a chatterer could have really written the Traveller. Even
Boswell could say, with contemptuous compassion, that he
liked very well to hear honest Goldsmith run on. “ Yes,
sir,” said Johnson, “ but he should not like to hear himself.”
Minds differ as rivers differ. There are transparent and
sparkling rivers from which it is delightful to drink as they
flow; to such rivers the minds of such men as Burke and
Johnson may be compared. But there are rivers of which
the water when first drawn is turbid and noisome, but be¬
comes pellucid as crystal and delicious to the taste if it be
suffered to stand till it has deposited a sediment; and such
a river is a type of the mind of Goldsmith. His first
thoughts on every subject were confused even to absurdity,
but they required only a little time to work themselves clear.
When he wrote they had that time ; and therefore his readers
pronounced him a man of genius: but when he talked he
talked nonsense, and made himself the laughing-stock of
his hearers. He was painfully sensible of his inferiority in
conversation ; he felt every failure keenly; yet he had not
sufficient judgment and self-command to hold his tongue.
His animal spirits and vanity were always impelling him to
try to do the one thing which he could not do. After every
attempt he felt that he had exposed himself, and writhed with
shame and vexation ; yet the next moment he began again.
His associates seem to have regarded him with kindness,
which, in spite of their admiration of his writings, was not
unmixed with contempt. In truth, there was in his charac¬
ter much to love, but very little to respect. His heart was
soft even to weakness: he was so generous, that he quite
forgot to be just; he forgave injuries so readily, that he
might be said to invite them, and was so liberal to beggars, Goldsmith,
that he had nothing left for his tailor and his butcher. He v—
was vain, sensual, frivolous, profuse, improvident. One
vice of a darker shade was imputed to him, envy. But
there is not tha least reason to believe that this bad passion,
though it sometimes made him wince and utter fretful ex¬
clamations, ever impelled him to injure by wicked arts the
reputation of any of his rivals. The truth probably is, that
he was not more envious, but merely less prudent than his
neighbours. His heart was on his lips. All those small
jealousies, which are but too common among men of letters,
but which a man of letters who is also a man of the world
does his best to conceal, Goldsmith avowed with the sim¬
plicity of a child. When he was envious, instead of affect¬
ing indifference, instead of damning with faint praise, in¬
stead of doing injuries slily and in the dark, he told every¬
body that he was envious. “ Do not, pray, do not, talk of
Johnson in such terms,” he said to Boswell; “ you harrow
up my very soul.” George Steevens and Cumberland were
men far too cunning to say such a thing. They would
have echoed the praises of the man whom they envied, and
then have sent to the newspapers anonymous libels upon
him. Both what was good and what was bad in Gold¬
smith’s character was to his associates a perfect security
that he would never commit such villany. He was neither
ill-natured enough, nor long-headed enough, to be guilty of
any malicious act which required contrivance and disguise.
Goldsmith has sometimes been represented as a man of
genius, cruelly treated by the world, and doomed to strug¬
gle with difficulties, which at last broke his heart. But no
representation can be more remote from the truth. He
did, indeed, go through much sharp misery before he had
done anything considerable in literature. But after his
name had appeared on the title-page of the Traveller, he
had none but himself to blame for his distresses. His
average income, during the last seven years of his life, cer¬
tainly exceeded L.400 a-year, and L.400 a-year ranked,
among the incomes of that day, at least as high as L.800
a-year would rank at present. A single man living in the
Temple, with L.400 a-year, might then be called opulent.
Not one in ten of the young gentlemen of good families
who were studying the law there had so much. But all
the wealth which Lord Clive had brought from Bengal, and
Sir Lawrence Dundas from Germany, joined together, would
not have sufficed for Goldsmith. He spent twice as much
as he had. He wore fine clothes, gave dinners of several
courses, paid court to venal beauties. He had also, it
should be remembered, to the honour of his heart, though
not of his head, a guinea, or five, or ten, according to the
state of his purse, ready for any tale of distress, true or false.
But it was not in dress or feasting, in promiscuous amours
or promiscuous charities, that his chief expense lay. He
had been from boyhood a gambler, and at once the most
sanguine and the most unskilful of gamblers. For a time
he put off the day of inevitable ruin by temporary expe¬
dients. He obtained advances from booksellers, by pro¬
mising to execute works which he never began. But at
length this source of supply failed. He owed more than
L.2000; and lie saw no hope of extrication from his em¬
barrassments. His spirits and health gave way. He was
attacked by a nervous fever, which he thought himself com¬
petent to treat. It would have been happy for him if his
medical skill had been appreciated as justly by himself as
by others. Notwithstanding the degree which he pre¬
tended to have received at Padua, he could procure no
patients. “ I do not practise,” he once said ; “ I make it a
rule to prescribe only for my friends.” “ Pray, dear Doc¬
tor,” said Beauclerk, “ alter your rule; and prescribe only
for your enemies.” Goldsmith now, in spite of this excel¬
lent advice, prescribed for himself. The remedy aggra¬
vated the malady. The sick man was induced to call in
G 0 L
Golega real physicians; and they at one time imagined that they
had cured the disease. Still his weakness and restlessness
j continued. He could get no sleep. He could take no food.
“ You are worse,” said one of his medical attendants, “ than
you should be from the degree of fever which you have.
Is your mind at ease?” “ No; it is not,” were the last
recorded words of Oliver Goldsmith. He died on the 3d
of April 1774, in his forty-sixth year. He was laid in the
churchyard of the Temple; but the spot was not marked
by any inscription, and is now forgotten. The coffin was
followed by Burke and Reynolds. Both these great men
were sincere mourners. Burke, when he heard of Gold¬
smith’s death, had burst into a flood of tears. Reynolds
had been so much moved by the news, that he had flung
aside his brush and palette for the day.
A short time after Goldsmith’s death, a little poem ap¬
peared, which will, as long as our language lasts, associate
the names of his two illustrious friends with his own. It
has already been mentioned that he sometimes felt keenly
the sarcasm which his wild blundering talk brought upon
him. He was, not long before his last illness, provoked
into retaliating. He wisely betook himself to his pen ; and
at that weapon he proved himself a match for all his as-
saflants together. Within a small compass he drew with a
singularly easy and vigorous pencil the characters of nine
or ten of his intimate associates. Though this little work
did not receive his last touches, it must always be regarded
as a masterpiece. It is impossible, however, not to wish
that four or five likenesses which have no interest for pos¬
terity were wanting to that noble gallery, and that their
places were supplied by sketches of Johnson and Gibbon,
as happy and vivid as the sketches of Burke and Garrick.
Some of Goldsmith’s friends and admirers honoured him
with a cenotaph in Westminster Abbey. Nollekens was the
sculptor ; and Johnson wrote the inscription. It is much to
be lamented that Johnson did not leave to posterity a more
durable and a more valuable memorial of his friend. A
life of Goldsmith would have been an inestimable addition
to the Lives of the Poets. No man appreciated Goldsmith’s
writings more justly than Johnson : no man was better ac¬
quainted with Goldsmith’s character and habits; and no
man was more competent to delineate with truth and spirit
the peculiarities of a mind in which great powers were found
in company with great weaknesses. But the list of poets
to whose works Johnson was requested by the booksellers
to furnish prefaces ended with Lyttelton, who died in 1773.
The line seems to have been drawn expressly for the pur¬
pose of excluding the person whose portrait would have
most fitly closed the series. Goldsmith, however, has
been fortunate in his biographers. Within a few years
his life has been written by Mr Prior, by Mr Washington
Irving, and by Mr Forster. The diligence of Mr Prior de¬
serves great praise ; the style of Mr Washington Irving is
always pleasing; but the highest place must, in justice,
be assigned to the eminently interesting work of Mr
Forster. (x. b. m.)
GOLEGA, a town of Portugal, province of Estrema-
dura, 12 miles S.S.W. of Thomar on the Tagus, and 16
miles S.W. of Santarem. It is situated in a beautiful rich
plain planted with olives, and producing abundance of cereal
crops, as well as wine, oil, and sheep. Golega is especially
celebrated for its annual fair, which is held on Nov. 11, and
the two following days. Merchants from all parts of the
kingdom, as well as from Old Castile, meet here for the
purchase and interchange of numerous kinds of merchan¬
dise, especially woollen manufactures. Pop. (1855) 3742.
GOLF (Dutch kolf, a club), a well-known game, played
with ball and club. It is said to be of Scottish origin ; and
it is certainly of very ancient date in Scotland, since there
exist statutes prohibiting the game as early as the year 1457,
lest it should interfere with the practice of archery. It is
G 0 M 709
commonly played over links or commons with smooth grass Golgotha
and broken surfaces, by parties of one or more on each side, II
each party playing a separate ball; and the skill of a player Gombroon*
consists in landing the ball in a given series of holes with
the fewest strokes of the club. The balls were formerly
made of thick leather, filled with feathers, but those gene¬
rally in present use are of solid gutta percha. The clubs
are of various shapes and materuils to suit the position of
the ball on the green, and its distance from the hole. To .
place the ball in a fit position for striking off is called teeing,
and the green in the neighbourhood of each hole is called
the ‘putting ground.
GOLGOTHA, the name of the “mount” on which our
Lord was crucified. See Jerusalem.
GOLIUS, James, an eminent Dutch orientalist, was
born at the Hague in 1596. He studied, at Leyden, and
made such progress in his studies that afcthh age of twenty-
one he was chosen professor of Greek at Rochelle. After
a short time, however, he resigned that appointment and
returned to Leyden to apply himself to the eastern tongues
under Erpenius. To perfect his knowledge of Arabic, he
went with the Dutch embassy to the emperor of Morocco,
and was able while there to present to that potentate a
petition written in Arabic. On returning home, he was
chosen to succeed Erpenius in the chair of Arabic at
Leyden in 1624. In the following year he set out on a
tour through the east, visiting Arabia and Mesopotamia,
and returning to Holland via Constantinople in 1626. The
remainder of his life was spent at Leyden, where he died
in 1667. He wrote many works, of which by far the
greatest is his Lexicon Arabico-Latinum, fob, Leyd. 1653.
It is based on the Al-Sihah of Djeheri, and was reckoned
a wonderful monument of learning for that age. Indeed it
has only recently been superseded by Freitag’s Lexicon.
Of Golius’ other works may be mentioned his Chadzrata-
ladab min kelon Alarab, i.e., Proverbia qucedam, Alis
imperatoris Muslemici, et Carmen Tograi poetce, Leyd.
1629; Ahmedis Ara,bsiadce vitce et rerum gcstarum Timuri
historia, Leyd. 1636. After his death, a Persian diction¬
ary was found among his MSS., which was published, with
additions by Castell, in his Lexicon Heptaglotton. (See
Schnurrer’s Bibliotheca Arabica ; Biog. Univers., &c.)
GOLLNOW, a town in the Prussian province of Po¬
merania, government of Stettin, and 14 miles N.N.E. of
the town of that name, on the right bank of the lima. This
was at one time a Hanse town. It has manufactures of
linen and woollen goods, and copper wares. Pop. (1849)
5458.
GOLNITZ, a market-town of Hungary, county of Zips,
20 miles S.W. of Eperies. In the vicinity are iron and
copper mines, which, with the iron forges, afford employ¬
ment to most of the inhabitants. It is the seat of a mining
board. Pop. 5100.
GOMBROON or Bunder Abbas, a seaport-town of
Persia, province of Kerman, at the entrance of the Persian
Gulf, nearly opposite the island of Ormuz, in 27. 18. N.
Lat., 56. 12. E. Long. This was at one time the first sea¬
port of Persia, and was then strongly fortified; but it is
now a paltry town of about 4000 inhabitants, with no traces
of its former condition but ruins of European buildings. The
English were permitted to establish a factory here in 1613,
and about 1620 the Dutch obtained the same privilege.
When the island of Ormuz was taken by the English and
Persians in 1622, merchants resorted thither in great num¬
bers, and its commerce greatly increased. The English
remained here till 1759, when the factory was taken by the
French ; and though afterwards re-established, it has long
since been withdrawn on account of the unhealthiness of
the climate. The town is surrounded by a mud wall about
three-quarters of a mile in circumference, and the houses
are rather commodiously built, but the streets are narrow
710
G O N
Gomera and dirty. A considerable trade is still carried on. Though
II situated in Persia, it is a dependency of the Imam of
Gongora y Mugcat>
v' |rg0_^’) GOMERA, one of the Canaries. See Canary Islands.
GOMOR, a town of Hungary, capital of a cognominal
county, on the Sajo, 90 miles N.E. of Pesth. It has a gym¬
nasium, with a good library, and museum ; and some trade
in wine and tobacco. Pop. 1050. The county of Gomor
has an area of i694 square miles, and contained in 1850
160,674 inhabitants.
GOMORRAH, one of the cities of the plain or of the
vale of Siddim, destroyed with Sodom by fire from heaven,
on account of the wickedness of the inhabitants. Gen. xix.
GONDAR, a large town of Abyssinia, the residence of
the Negus or nominal monarch of that country, is situated
about 30 miles N. by E. of the lake of Dembea, on a lofty
insulated hill, between two rivers which unite below the
town. It is about 11 miles in circuit, but is built in a very
straggling manner, and the houses are only of one story,
and thatched. The only building of importance in the
town is the palace, a square stone building flanked with
towers, but a great part of it is now in ruins. There are
no shops or bazaars, and all goods for sale are exposed on
mats in the open market-place. It has some manufactures
of swoi’d-blades, knives, razors, fire-arms, &c.; and also
some trade in elephants’ tusks, coffee, honey, wax, slaves,
&c. Pop. estimated as above 50,000.
GONDOLA, a kind of barge used chiefly on the canals
of Venice, where gondolas supply the place of carriages.
The gondola is flat-bottomed, very long and narrow (ave¬
raging about 30 feet by 4), and its two sharply-pointed ex¬
tremities are curved upwards to the full height of a man.
It is also provided with a small chamber placed near its
centre, and elevated to a convenient height above the line
of the gunwale. It is propelled by oars or a pole, by the
gondolier, who stands at the stern. The word gondola
is derived by Du Cange from the modern Greek KowreAas,
a bark or little ship ; Lancelot again deduces it from yovSv,
a term in Athenaeus for a sort of vase.
The gondoliers of Venice were formerly an interesting
part of the population, and were noted for the practice of
whiling aw'ay time by singing alternately stanzas of poems,
particularly of Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered, though with
great changes from the original; but this custom has be¬
come almost entirely obsolete.
GONG, a Chinese musical instrument of percussion,
formed entirely of metal, which yields a very loud and
peculiarly harsh sound when struck with force. It is made
of an alloy of tin and copper, and in form it nearly resem¬
bles the common tambourine. Gongs are much used in
China for making loud sonorous signals, particularly on the
canals, as well as for adding to the clangour of martial in¬
struments.
GONGORA Y ARGOTE, Luis de, a gentleman of
Cordova, was born Jan. 11, 1561, and educated at Sala¬
manca, where it was intended by his father, himself an
» eminent lawyer, that he should qualify himself for the legal
profession. It was too late ; his taste for poetry was already
developed ; and the only permanent result of his university
studies may be found in numerous ballads and other light
compositions, often written in a bitter satirical vein, yet
with simplicity and spirit. In fact, the greater part of his
satirical, jocose, and amatory pieces, were written during
his stay at the university, and are justly considered the
best of his compositions as to style, language, and versifica¬
tion. Gongora’s sarcastic muse was unfortunately but evi¬
dently embittered by his frequent struggles with poverty.
At last, however, he took holy orders in his forty-fifth year,
and received a scanty prebend in the cathedral of his native
city. To improve his inadequate means, he went to Ma-
G O O
drid, where, after eleven years of weary expectation, he
was appointed one of the chaplains of Philip III., in whose
court his peculiar talents found ample scope and appre¬
ciation. But suddenly a severe illness deprived him of
memory, and he retired to Cordova, where he died, May
24, 1627.
The disciples of the Spanish classic school were already
tainted with the extravagant ideas of the Italian Marinists,
when Gongora arose, and brought them into full fashion.
His mind was shrewd and powerful ; yet it was per¬
verted by pursuing the most absurd critical reveries. His
early satirical sonnets, romances, and songs, have seldom
been exceeded in bitterness. In language and versifica¬
tion they are elegant and correct; and from the piquant
simplicity of the style it 'could never have been antici¬
pated that the ambition of introducing something new in
literature would have betrayed the author into the affecta¬
tion which afterwards distinguished him. It was, no doubt,
in some of his fits of vexation that Gongora conceived the
idea of distinguishing himself by the invention of a pe¬
culiar poetic phraseology which he called estilo culto,
“ polished style.” In order to accomplish this, he formed
with great labour and research an affected, obscure, and
ridiculously allegorical language, totally at variance with all
the ordinary modes of speaking or writing. Not only did
he seek the most uncommon words, but attached to com¬
mon ones a new signification, and laid mythology under
contribution for fresh ornaments. He used in Spanish the
boldest inversions of Greek and Latin, and invented a new
system of punctuation to determine the sense. The most
obvious feature of his style, however, is, that it consists al¬
most entirely of metaphors heaped upon each other in so
grotesque a mass that it is often difficult to discover the real
meaning. In this manner Gcngora wrote his Soledades,
his Polyphemus, and several other pieces. In the former
he speaks of a maiden so beautiful that she might parch
up Norway with her two suns, and bleach Ethiopia with
her two hands. In translation, it is impossible to do justice
to this style, for we cannot display in our own language those
labyrinths of phrases which make the original so obscure.
None of the imitators of Gongora had his native talent;
and soon they divided into the two sects—the “ Cultoris-
tos,” retaining only the pedantry of their founder ; and the
“ Conceptistos,” aspiring to his genius by revelling in the
wildest regions of fancy, and searching after strange ideas
as well as eccentric language.
There are various compositions of Gongora still unpub¬
lished, but a romancero, under the title of Delicias del Par-
naso, contains all his romances and letrillas. The Cul-
toristo Alonso Castillo Solorzano extended Gongorism even
to America, where he published his own works in Mexico
in 1625 ; and the earliest German romances were imitations
of Gongora by Gleim.
GONIOMETER, an instrument principally used for
measuring solid angles, such as those presented by the faces
of crystals. The goniometer in general use is one invented
by Dr Wollaston on optical principles.
GONONG APEE, one of the Banda Islands, which
see.
GOOD FRIDAY, the name given in England to the
Friday of passion week, which is observed as a fast day, as
being the anniversary of our Saviour’s crucifixion. Among
the Saxons it was called Long Friday, probably from the
length of the religious services observed. In Germany it
is called Stiller Freitag, from the reverential silence main¬
tained in the churches, but more commonly Char Freitag,
from an obsolete word signifying penitence. In the Greek
and Latin Churches many of the ceremonies still practised
on this day remount in antiquity to the days of Constantine
the Great. %
Gonio¬
meter
II
Good
Friday.
711
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE,
Cape of Strictly speaking, a small promontory, nearly the most
Good Hope. southern point of Africa, but it gives its name to the large
tract of country which forms the most southern part of that
continent, and is now a colony of Great Britain. It lies for
the most part between S. Lat. 29 and 34^., and E. Long.
18. and 28. It is bounded on the N. by the Orange and the
Gariep rivers, on the E. by the river Keiskammaand Kafraria,
on the S. by the Southern Ocean, and on the W. by the
Atlantic. Its extreme breadth is from N. to S. about 450
miles, and its length from E. to W. about 600 miles, its area
containing about 250,000 square miles. The country rises
from the sea by a series of terraces, of which the support¬
ing walls are nearly parallel chains of rugged and barren
mountains intersected by deep ravines, the beds of streams,
feeble or dry in the summer, but rushing down in torrents
in the winter. The first of these mountain ranges of which
Drackenstein, Hottentots’ Holland, and Lange Kloof form
a part, runs from the N.W. round the colony towards
the E., where it terminates in the promontory of Cape St
Francis. Between it and the sea, on the W. coast, the coun¬
try is sandy and sterile, but on the S. and E. coast it
possesses some good soil, and is clothed with vegetation.
The second great chain, containing the Karroo Berg, Oli-
phant’s River, Cold Bokkeveld, and Zuurbergen mountains,
runs parallel to the first and terminates near the mouth of
the Great Fish River. Its average height is about 4000
feet, and its greatest about 6500. Between this chain and
the first the surface is varied, some parts consisting of arid
plains and hills, others of good arable soil with a large por¬
tion of excellent grazing land. The third great range also
runs nearly parallel to the others, and includes the Kam-
mies Bergen, Roggeveld Bergen, Nieuwveld, and Sneeuw-
Bergen mountains. This is the highest part of the colony,
and from it the land gradually descends to the Orange
River. Between this range and the second is the vast de¬
solate plain called the Great Karroo, nearly 300 miles
in length E. and W., and about 90 in breadth N. and S.
Its soil is a sand mixed with clay, and particles of iron :
all soil of a similar character in other parts of the colony is
called karroo ground. These mountain chains are mostly
composed of sandstone resting upon a base of granite, which
are the prevailing rocks, the next in abundance being clay
slate, grauwacke, quartz rock, and dolerite. In some parts
the ironstone is traversed by veins of red iron ore. Depo¬
sits of coal are said to have been discovered in Kafirland
and Victoria division, and copper ore has been found in
some abundance in Namaqualand.
The Rivers, with exception of the Orange River, are
small; they all more or less partake of the character of
mountain streams, having numerous falls, and being low and
feeble in the dry season, but swollen and rapid in the rainy
weather. They are of course not navigable, and their
mouths are mostly barred with sand. The Knysna, the
Cowie, and the Briede are however accessible for a short
distance from their entrance to small vessels.
The chief rivers are, on the W. coast, the Orange, the
Elephant, and Great Berg rivers; on the S. coast, the
Briede Knysna, Sunday, Cantoos, Great Fish, and Keis-
kamma. The only one of them deserving special notice is
the Orange River, which rises in Kathlamba or Drackenberg
Mountains, flows for nearly 1200 miles generally in a west¬
erly direction, and discharges itself into the Atlantic, form¬
ing the northern boundary of the colony. It is on the whole
a noble stream, and in some parts its banks are shaded by
huge Mallows.
The Soil.-—It is considered that about two-fifths of the Cape of
colony consist of arid mountain ridges and sandy plains, un- Good Hope,
fit either for agriculture or pasture. The remainder is not
generally fit for agricultural purposes, although it contains
some very fertile spots; a large portion of it, however,
especially in the eastern part, affords excellent pasture for
cattle and sheep.
The coast is indented by various bays and inlets ; few of
them, however, afford convenient harbours. Saldanha Bay,
on the west coast, is one of the most extensive and secure
havens in this part of the world, but it is rendered compara¬
tively useless by the M^ant of a sufficient quantity of fresh
water near it for the supply of shipping. Simon’s Bay, near
the bottom of False Bay, is a good harbour, and is used as
a station for the royal navy. Table Bay, though somewhat
protected by Robben Island, is little better than an open
roadstead. It affords shelter, however, to ships during the
summer months, but in the winter from May to September it
is very unsafe. Algoa Bay is an open roadstead, but it is
the chief port of the eastern province, and is much fre¬
quented by ships, which in certain winds can lie in it safely.
Mossel Bay and the Cowie are also resorted to by small
vessels, but they are little better than open roadsteads.
The climate is generally milder and drier than that of
England. December, January, and February are the sum¬
mer months ; June, July, and August the winter. In the
M'estern part the summer is dry and clear, but in the east it is
M et and stormy. In the vicinity of Cape Town, the highest
temperature is about 84°, the lowest about 40°, and the
mean of the year about 65°. In the mountainous districts
and elevated plains, the heat of summer and the cold of
M'inter are greater.
The vegetation of the colony is remarkably rich and va¬
ried. Some of the finest botanical specimens that now
adorn the gardens of Europe have been derived from this
region. In no other place do bulbous plants and heaths
exhibit so many beautiful varieties. Besides a number of
other ornamental tribes, there are some plants which might
be used in medicine and dyeing. The aloe, however, is the
only one which has been made an article of export. The
most remarkable trees are, the silver tree, which only growrs
in the vicinity of Table Mountain; the Protea; and in the
eastern province, the Euphorbia. There is on the whole a
scarcity of indigenous timber, though there are in some parts
extensive forests. Some of the native w oods furnish materials
for furniture and the wood-work of houses. The oak, fir,
and other European forest trees, have, however, been long
since introduced, and thriven very well; some of them have
attained a great size, and their wood is extensively used.
There are few indigenous fruits, but most of the fruits
both of the north and south of Europe, such as grapes,
figs, oranges, mulberries, apples, pears, peaches, nectar¬
ines, and others, are grown in abundance ; but strawber¬
ries rarely come to perfection, and the gooseberry cannot
be raised.
In regard to the zoology of the Cape, there is little to
distinguish it from the rest of Africa, under the head of
which will be found sufficient information on this subject;
we may, however, notice the domestic animals of the colony.
Sheep, cattle, and dogs, of an inferior breed, were all pos¬
sessed by the natives on the discovery of the country.
Horses, asses, mules, goats, and inferior breeds of cattle and
sheep, have been introduced, and thrive well. The Merino
sheep, in particular, has proved a valuable acquisition to the
colony. Among the game birds are the bustard, called by
CAPE OF GOOD PIOPE.
712
Cape of the Dutch the pouw, and a smaller kind called the coran,
Good Hope. wild duck, teal, snipe, and partridge.
History.—This Cape was discovered by Bartholomew
Diaz, the Portuguese navigator, in 1493, who first landed
at Algoa Bay, having, after exploring the west coast, been
driven out to sea by a storm, and thus accidentally doub¬
ling the Cape which he saw on his way back, giving it the
name of the Cape of Storms (Cabo Tormentoso).
The king of Portugal, however, gave it the more auspicious
name it still bears, as its discovery afforded a hope of a new
and easier way of reaching India, the great object of all the
maritime expeditions of that age.
The great navigator Vasco de Gama doubled the Cape
in 1497, and carried the Portuguese flag into the Indian
seas. His countrymen, however, attracted by the riches of
the East, made no permanent settlement at the Cape, al¬
though they frequently touched there on the voyage to India.
But the Dutch, who, on the decline of the Portuguese
power, established themselves in the East, early saw the im¬
portance of the place as a station where their vessels might
take in water and provisions. They did not, however, co¬
lonize it till 1650, when the Dutch East India Company
directed Jan Van Riebeeck, with a small party of colonists,
to form a settlement there. The country was at that time
inhabited bya people called Quaiqu0e,buttowhomthe Dutch
seem to have given the name of Hottentots. The Riebeeck
settlers had at first great difficulties and hardship to en¬
dure, and their territory did not extend beyond a few miles
round the site of the present Cape Town, where they first
fixed their abode. They gradually, however, extended their
limits^ by driving the natives back or reducing them to serf¬
dom. These colonists, although under Dutch authority,
were not wholly of that nation, but consisted partly of per¬
sons of various nations, especially Germans and Flemings,
with a few Poles and Portuguese. They were for the most
part people of low station or indifferent character; there was,
however, a small number of a higher class, from whom was
selected a council to assist the governor. About the year
1686 the European population was increased by a number
of the French refugees who left their country on the revo¬
cation of the edict of Nantes. Our limits forbid our at¬
tempting to trace the history of the Cape Colony during
the lengthened period it remained under the Dutch govern¬
ment. We may, however, mention some of its prominent
incidents, the effects of which are visible in the colony to
this hour.
ls£. The Dutch, partly by so-called contracts, partly by
force, gradually deprived the Hottentots of their country.
2d. They reduced to slavery a large part of that unfor¬
tunate people whom they did not destroy. 3c?. They intro¬
duced a number of Malays and negroes as slaves. A.ih.
They established that narrow and tyrannical system of
policy which they have adopted in other colonies, prescrib¬
ing to the farmers the nature of the crops they were to
grow, demanding from them a large part of their produce,
and harassing them with other exactions tending to discou¬
rage industry and enterprise. We are of opinion that to this
mischievous policy is due the origin of those unsettled ha¬
bits, that dislike to orderly government, and that desire to
escape from its control, which characterize a considerable
part of the so-called Dutch boers of the present day, quali¬
ties so utterly at variance with the character of the Dutch
in their native country, but which were strongly mani¬
fested at the Cape long before they came under British
rule, and under those influences to which some exclusively
attribute the insubordination of those men. The attempts
of the boers to escape from the Dutch power, and so form
an independent government beyond the borders of the
colony, especially in the district since called Graaff-Reinet,
are strikingly similar to their proceedings at a later date
under the British government. 5th. The Gamtoos River
formed the boundary between the Hottentot and Kafir Cape of
races, and was early adopted by the Dutch as their eastern Good Hope,
limit; but about the year 1740 they began to pass this river,
and came into collision with the Kafirs, and in 1780 ex¬
tended their frontier to the Great Fish River.
In 1795 the colonists, having imbibed the revolutionary
principles then prevailing in Europe, attempted to throw
off the yoke of the Dutch, upon which the British sent a
fleet to support the authority of the Prince of Orange, and
took possession of the country in his name. As, how¬
ever, it was evident that Holland would not be able to hold
it, and that at a general peace it would be made over to
England, it was ruled by British governors till the year
1802, when, at the peace of Amiens, it was again restored
to Holland. In 1806, on renewal of the war, it was again
taken by the British under Sir David Baird, and has since
remained in their possession, having been finally ceded by
the king of the Netherlands at the peace of 1815.
A summary of the chief events which have taken place
since 1806 may be given under the following heads :—
1st. The Kafir Wars.—The first of these wars took place
in 1811-12; the second in 1819, when the boundary of
the colony was extended to the Keiskamma. The thir,d
occurred in 1835, under Sir Benjamin D’Urban, when the
boundary was advanced to the Kei; but on the recall of that
officer, the country between the Kei and Keiskamma
rivers was restored to the Kafirs. The fourth Kafir war
took place in 1846, and, after being conducted by governors
Maitland and Pottinger, it was terminated by Sir Harry
Smith in 1848. The fifth war broke out at the end of 1850,
and after being for some time carried on by Governor Sir
H. Smith, it was conducted in 1852 by Governor Cathcart.
A somewhat more detailed account of these wars will be
found under the head of Kafraria.
2d. In 1820, Scottish emigrants, to the number of 5000,
arrived at Algoa Bay, and laid the foundation of the settle¬
ments on the eastern frontier which have since become the
most thriving part of the colony, and includes the important
town of Graham’s Town and Port Elizabeth.
3d. In 1834 the great measure of slave emancipation
took effect in the Cape Colony, and has been of immense
service in raising the character and condition of the Hot¬
tentots and other races before held in bondage. These
people keep the anniversary of this great event as a holiday,
which they enjoy in pleasure parties and innocent amuse¬
ments. We have more than once been present on these
occasions, and have had pleasure to observe, by their sober
and orderly conduct, that they knew how to enjoy without
abusing the blessings of freedom.
4th. The disaffection of the Dutch boers. In 1835-6
a large number of these people resolved to free themselves
from the British government by removing with their fami¬
lies beyond the limits of the colony. With this object they
sold their farms, mostly at a great sacrifice, and crossed the
Orange River into the territories chiefly inhabited by tribes
of the Kafir race. After meeting with great hardships and
varied success in their contests with the natives, a part of
their number, under one Peter Retief, crossed the Drac-
kenberg Mountains and took possession of the district of
Natal, where they established a republican government, and
maintained their ground against powerful nations of Zulu
Kafirs till 1842, when they were forced to yield to the
authority of the British government, which took possession
of Natal.
The boers beyond the Orange River and west of the
Drackenbergs still, however, retained a sort of independence
till 1848, when, in consequence of the lawless state of the
country, and the solicitation of part of the inhabitants, the
governor, Sir Harry Smith, declared the supremacy of the
crown over the territory, which was thenceforth called the
Orange River Sovereignty. Shortly after this, in conse-
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.
713
Cape of sequence, as it is alleged, of certain acts of the British go-
GoodHope.Vernment in Natal, Andrew Pretorius, an intelligent boer
of that district, crossed the Drackensberg Mountains with
his followers, and after being joined on the western side by
large numbers of disaffected boers, he raised the standard
of rebellion. Upon this the governor, Sir H. Smith, crossed
the Orange River at the head of a detachment of troops,
and encountered and defeated the rebels in a short but
brilliant skirmish at Boem Plaats. After this Pretorius
and the most disaffected part of the boers retreated to be¬
yond the Vaal River (the northern limit of the sovereignty),
where they established a government of their own. They
were subsequently, in 1852, absolved from their allegiance
to the British crown by treaty with the governors and her
Majesty’s commissioners for settling frontier affairs.
In 1853-54, in consequence of the troubled state of the
Orange River Sovereignty, and the difficulty of maintain¬
ing with becoming dignity the authority of her Majesty
there, it was resolved to abandon the country to the settlers,
mostly Dutch boers. This was carried into effect by a
special commissioner, Sir George Clerk, K.C.B., sent from
England for the purpose ; and the country, under the name
of the Orange Free State, is constituted a republic, with a
president at its head, assisted or controlled by an assembly
called the Volksraad (people’s councils), elected by nearly
universal suffrage.
The chief causes of the disaffection of the boers, and
their emigration from the colony, are supposed to have been,
1-tf, the emancipation of their slaves in 1834 ; 2d, the sup¬
posed too lenient policy adopted by the British government
towards the Kafirs, and more especially the reversal of Sir
Benjamin D’Urban’s policy by Lord Glenelg in 1837.
Without at all denying that these and other measures of the
government were the immediate moving causes of the mi¬
gration, there is little doubt that the germ of the disposition
to remove out of the colonial boundary, and shake off
government control, was engendered in the boers by the
policy of the government of our predecessors the Dutch.
5th. The Convict Agitation.—After the government had
felt itself compelled to discontinue the sending of convicts
to New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land, the subject
of transportation became one of great difficulty, more espe¬
cially at a time when an unusually large number of prison¬
ers was on its hands in consequence of the prosecution
arising out of the disturbed state of Ireland. Under these
circumstances an order in council was passed in 1848, under
authority of the Act 5th Geo. IV., authorizing the secretary
of state to send certain convicts to such colonies as he might
think proper. A circular was sent by Earl Grey, then
colonial secretary, to the governor of the Cape (among
other colonial governors), requesting him to ascertain the
feelings of the colonists regarding the reception of a certain
class of convicts. It should be borne in mind, 1^, that the
proposal to send convicts to the Cape did not originate
with Lord Grey—the same project had been entertained
by several of his predecessors in office; 2d, that some of
the most influential popular leaders at the Cape had, some
years before, suggested the employment of British convicts
in the building of a breakwater at Table Bay; 3c/, that it is
shown, by the correspondence which has been published,
that Lord Grey was influenced in this proceeding by a de¬
sire to benefit both the convicts and the colony to which
they were to be sent. For he informed the governor that
the wives and children of the convicts, and also free emi¬
grants, in proportion to the number of convicts, would be
sent out at the expense of the mother country ; and fur¬
ther, that to guard the convicts, military pensioners would
be sent out, who, with their families, would settle in the
colony, whereby the supply of labour and the security of
the country would be increased. It should further be re¬
membered, that the convicts proposed to be sent were not
VOL. x.
of the worst class, but men convicted of crimes to which
they had been incited by famine or wrong-headed political
opinion, or men who had undergone some probationary im¬
prisonment, and were supposed to be in some degree re¬
formed. Unfortunately, owing to some misunderstanding,
a vessel, the Neptune, was despatched to the Cape before
the opinion of the colonists had been received, having on
board 289 convicts, among whom were John Mitchell, the
Irish rebel, and his colleagues. When the news reached
the Cape that this vessel was on her way, the people of the
colony became violently excited ; and, goaded to fury by the
inflammatory articles in the local newspapers, and guided by
a few demagogues, they established what was called the
Anti-Convict Association, by which they bound themselves
by a pledge to cease from all intercourse of every kind with
persons in any way connected “ with the landing, supplying,
or employing convicts.” People who refused to take this
pledge were also subjected to great annoyance and petty
persecution. The banks, the government contractors, and
a large number of the farmers and dealers about Cape Town
were thus pledged. On the 19th of September 1849, the
Neptune arrived in Simon’s Bay ; and when the intelligence
reached Cape Town, the people assembled in vast masses,
and their behaviour was violent and outrageous in the ex¬
treme. The governor, after adopting several resolutions,
and again abandoning them under the pressure of popular
agitation, agreed not to land the convicts, but to keep them
on board ship in Simon’s Bay till he received orders to send
them elsewhere. Even this concession did not satisfy any
but a small number of more moderate men. The mass of
the population, under the guidance or domination of a few
agitators, continued to do all in their power to prevent the
convicts and all the officers of the government from obtain¬
ing supplies. Tradesmen and others were prohibited from
selling to the proscribed class even the commonest neces¬
saries of life. When the home government became aware
of the state of affairs it immediately sent orders directing
the Neptune to proceed to Van Diemen’s Land, and the
agitation ceased.
Upon an impartial review of these proceedings, the con¬
duct of the people of the Cape appears utterly indefensible.
Granting, what, however, may be open to discussion, that
the project of sending convicts to the Cape was wrong, it was
evidently formed with no disregard to the interests of that
colony; and it is also clear that a temperate statement of their
views on the part of the colonists would have secured its in¬
stant abandonment.
This agitation did not, however, pass away without im¬
portant results, since it led to another agitation, the* object
of which was to obtain a free representative government for
the colony. This concession, which had been previously
promised by Lord Grey, has been granted by her Majesty’s
government; and, in 1853, a constitution was established of
almost unexampled liberality. Whether this constitution,
in its present form, is suited to the colony, time alone can
determine; but the free expression of the opinions of the
colonists through their representatives will, it is to be hoped,
prevent the repetition of such disgraceful proceedings as
marked the convict agitation.
Divisions, Towns, and Villages. — The colony is divided at present
into two provinces, which are further divided into divisions. The
western province comprises the divisions of Cape Malmesbury, Stel¬
lenbosch, Paarl, Worcester, Swellendam, Caledon, Clanwilliam,
George Beaufort. The eastern province includes the divisions of Al¬
bany, Fort Beaufort, Graaff-Reinet, Somerset, Colesberg, Cradock,
Witenhage, Port Elizabeth, Albert and Victoria. We have not space
for description of each of these divisions. We shall therefore give
a brief account of such of them as merit particular attention.
The Cape division, the oldest and most important, includes Cape
Town, Wynberg, Constantia, and Simon’s Town. It is remarkable
for the beauty of its scenery. Its most prominent features are the
Cape Peninsula and Table Mountain. The former is a narrow
neck of land about 32 miles long by 6 to 8 broad, formed by a
4 x
Cape of
Good Hope.
714 CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.
Cape of series of rugged, broken mountains. Its extreme point is the cele*
Good Hope Crated Cape of Good Hope. The Table Mountain, with its branches,
. the Devil’s Mountain and the Lion’s Rump, rises immediately at
the back of Cape Town. Its greatest height is 3582 feet. During
the prevalence of certain winds it is covered by a dense whitish
cloud, partially overlapping its sides like a table-cloth. Along the
base of this mountain, where lie the villages of Rondebosch, Wyn-
berg, and Constantia, the land is covered with luxuriant vege¬
tation, including oaks and firs of great size, and is studded with
villas,* the abodes of official persons and others engaged in business
in Cape Town. The neighbourhood is remarkable for the abun¬
dance and variety of its flowers and shrubs, especially of heaths,
of which there is great variety. The division produces corn of
good quality, and a considerable quantity of wine, including the
famous Constantia, made at the village of that name.
Cape Town lies at the bottom of Table Bay, and at the foot of
Table Mountain, and about 32 miles N. of the Cape of Good Hope.
The streets are laid out at right angles; some of them are adorned
with trees. The houses are generally built of brick, faced with
stucco. Some of them in the older parts of the town are decorated
with cornices and architectural devices, and have in front raised
platforms of stone or brick called stoeps, about six to eight feet
wide, and two or three feet above the level of the street. Here the
inhabitants used to sit and enjoy the air and converse with their
friends. The interior of the house is generally spacious and com¬
modious. There is a castle and several batteries for the defence of
the town and harbour, and jetties are erected for landing goods.
There are various public buildings, the chief of which are the Go¬
vernment House, the Colonial Office, the Post-office, the Barracks,
the Commercial Exchabge, and the Public Library. There is a
broad public walk, shaded by large oak trees, on one side of which
are the gardens of Government House, and on the other the botani¬
cal garden, stocked with a great variety of valuable plants. There
are churches and chapels belonging to the Church of England, the
Dutch Reformed, the Scotch, Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Wesleyan
churches, and other denominations. The Dutch Reformed church
is capable of holding 2000 persons, and the English cathedral up¬
wards of 1000. The Roman Catholic church is also a handsome
and spacious building. The population is about 25,000.
The division of Stellenbosch contains a very pretty village of the
same name, a favourite resort of strangers and invalids. It is only
a few hours’ drive from Cape Town, with which it is connected by
an excellent road. The division of Caledon has some warm mine¬
ral springs containing muriate of soda and iron. Their heat is 98
and 117° of Fahrenheit, and their waters are used both internally
and as baths. They are very beneficial for rheumatism, and dis¬
eases of the skin. In the division of Swellendam is Cape Agulhas,
the most southern point of Africa. In this division there are two
warm mineral springs.
The Eastern Province.—The greater part of this district of coun¬
try was, at the beginning of this century, in the possession of the
Kafirs, and it can hardly be said to have been settled before 1820,
when a large number of emigrants arrived chiefly from Scotland.
It is now the most prosperous part of the colony. The most im¬
portant places in it are Graham s Town and Port Elizabeth.
The former is situated on a plain surrounded by low sandstone
hills covered with grass, but bare of trees except in the ravines or
foldings of the hills. The town is large and straggling ; its streets
are laid out at right angles. In some of them are rows of oak
trees. There are many handsome shops, numerous churches and
chapels, but no public buildings wrorthy of special notice. The
town is the head-quarters of the military stationed in the colony.
It is now also the see of a bishop, whose authority extends over
the Eastern Province and Kafirland.
The town of Port Elizabeth on Algoa Bay is built along the, base
and up the sides of the low hills which overlook the bay. Viewed
from the sea, owing to the newness and uniformity of its houses,
it reminds one of the mimic towns built by children with toy
houses. The houses, however, are substantially built in the Eng¬
lish style, and the streets contain good shops. There are Church
of England, Roman Catholic, Wesleyan, and Independent churches,
some of them handsome edifices. The town possesses banks and
three newspapers. Its population is about 6000.
Population.—The total population of the colony is stated
in the returns as 217,921, of which 118,088 are persons ot
colour. The latter consist of Hottentots (so called), Malays,
Negroes, and Kafirs. The white population is chiefly com¬
posed of colonial Dutch and British.
The aborigines of the country had originally the generic
name of Quaequae, and received the name of Hottentots
from the Dutch. Owing to intermarriages with Malays,
negroes, and others, and illicit intercourse with whites, the
race has lost much of its distinctive character. Indeed, a Cape of
pure Hottentot is scarcely to be found in the colony, although Good Hope,
the people, in whom the blood of that race preponderates,
are still known by that name. There is no return of their
number, but we do not think it can exceed 25,000.
The Malays were introduced by the Dutch as slaves;
their descendants still retain the Mohammedan religion, and
most of the distinctive habits and customs of their race.
We have no means of ascertaining their number, but it can¬
not be large. They reside for the most part in the Cape
division. The negroes are mostly from the eastern coasts
of Africa.
The Kafirs residing within the colony are chiefly com¬
posed of the section of them called Fingoes, who originally
came from Natal and its vicinity, whence they were driven
by Chaka, king of the Zulus, and took refuge with Kafirs
on the frontier of the Cape Colony, by whom they were re¬
duced to serfdom, from which they were liberated by Sir Ben¬
jamin D’Urban, and have, up to this time, remained faithful
allies of the British. Their number may be about 25,000.
The exact proportion which the white population of
Dutch descent bears to the British is not known ; but
there is no doubt that it still greatly preponderates. ’ We
have called these people Dutch for sake of convenience, as
they speak that language, but many of them are descended
from Europeans of other countries—a considerable number
from the French refugees. The latter have lost the lan¬
guage, but still retain the names of their forefathers, such
as Du Plessis, De Villiers, Marais, and others. The British
and their descendants require no special remark.
Government, local and general.—Prior to 1827, there
existed in the several districts or divisions of the colony,
an institution established by the Dutch, called the Board of
Landrost and Heemraaden. The former was the chief ma¬
gistrate of the district, appointed and paid by the govern¬
ment. The latter was a council to assist him, composed of
respectable inhabitants appointed by the governor, on the
recommendation of the Landrost. These boards not only
had the administration of the local affairs usually en¬
trusted to municipal bodies, but they also possessed exten¬
sive judicial authority. In consequence of abuses, more
especially in the exercise of the latter functions, these in¬
stitutions were in 1827 abolished, and the present system
established. By this, every division is presided over by
a civil commissioner, whose duties as such are chiefly of
a financial nature, such as collecting the inland revenue,
paying salaries, and other disbursements of the government
in the division. For judicial purposes many of the divi¬
sions are subdivided into two or more districts, each with
an officer called the resident magistrate, possessing a limited
civil and criminal jurisdiction. The civil commissioner is
always the resident magistrate of the division ; or, if that
be divided into districts, of the district in which he resides.
The districts are again subdivided into a number of smaller
divisions called Feld cornetcies, over each of which is an
officer called Feld cornet, whose duties nearly resemble
that of a high bailiff or chief constable.
Prior to 1835 the whole authority of the general govern¬
ment was vested in the governor, assisted by a small council
of officials. In that year a legislative council was established,
consisting of certain government officials, and six persons
nominated by the crown. An executive council was also
established to assist the governor in executive matters, con¬
sisting of certain high officers of government,—such was
the form of government till 1853, when the legislative coun¬
cil as thus established was abolished, and a new constitu¬
tion introduced. Under this, the legislature consists of the
governor and two chambers, called the legislative council
and the house of assembly, both elected by the people. The
former body is composed of eight members for the western,
and seven for the eastern province, chosen by the whole
CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.
715
Cape of body of electors of those provinces. To qualify a man to
GoodHope.be elected for this chamber, he must possess property in
land worth L.1000 clear of charges, or L.2000 in landed
and personal property together; he must be thirty years of
age, and must have been invited to become a candidate by
written requisition, signed by not less than twenty-five elec¬
tors. Another peculiarity in this election is, that any elec¬
tor may give all his votes (that is, as many as there are
members to be chosen) to one candidate, or he may distri¬
bute them among two or more candidates as he pleases.
The object of this provision is believed to be to permit the
minority to be represented. The council is elected for ten
years, but so that half its number, as near as may be, go
out every five years.
The legislative assembly is chosen by the electors of the
town, and electoral districts into which the colony is di¬
vided. The candidates have to be proposed and seconded
at the hustings as in England. There is no property qua¬
lification required of the candidates. The assembly con¬
sists of forty-six members, and is elected for five years.
The qualification of electors of both houses is the same,
namely, the occupation of fixed property worth L.25.
The colonial secretary, the attorney-general, the treasurer,
and the auditor, may sit and take part in the discussions in
both houses, but they are not entitled to vote in either.
The governor may dissolve both houses, or he may dis¬
solve the house of assembly without dissolving the council.
He may give or refuse his assent to bills in the Queen’s
name, or he may reserve them for the decision of her Ma¬
jesty. The Queen may disallow any bill assented to by the
governor at any time within two years of its receipt.
It is further provided, that all bills appropriating any part
of the revenues must be recommended to the house of as¬
sembly by the governor.
Religion.—The chief religious bodies in the colony are,
—'[st, The Dutch Reformed Church, which comprises the
entire Dutch population, including a large number of Hot¬
tentots and other persons of colour, has about 60,000 ad¬
herents. In form of church government and in devotion
it closely resembles the Church of Scotland, to which coun¬
try a considerable number of its ministers belong. 2d,
The Church of England. In 1847 a bishop of Cape Town
was appointed to preside over the church, whose diocese
extended not only over the Cape Colony and Natal, but
also over the Island of St Helena. Recently, however,
separate bishops have been appointed for Eastern Pro¬
vince and Natal. The members of this church in the
colony are stated to be about 12,000. 2>d, The Scotch
Presbyterians are a comparatively small body, and in the
rural districts especially, its members are absorbed in the
Dutch Reformed Church. 4th, The Wesleyans are a large
and very respectable body, especially in the Eastern Pro¬
vince. Their number is stated to be about 10,000. 5th,
The Roman Catholics number about 3500 adherents.
Their church is ruled by two bishops; one living at Cape
Town, the other at Graham’s Town. Qth, The Indepen¬
dents number about 7000 ; and the Lutherans about 1500.
Besides these bodies there are several foreign missions
in the colony having numerous followers : the most im¬
portant are the Moravians, who have been established there
since 1732, and have laboured hard to convert the coloured
races. The government recognizes no particular body as
the established church, but it contributes to the support of
the clergy of most of the denominations of Christians.
Education.—A good system of education has been es¬
tablished by the government, and ‘there is a free school in
every district. Two colleges have also been established,
one called the South African College, the other, an excel¬
lent institution, called the Bishop’s College, was founded
by Bishop Gray.
Trade.—The following table, giving the amount of im¬
ports and exports in several years, taken at intervals, ex¬
hibits the progress of the commerce of the colony :—
Year.
Imports.
Exports.
Shipping.
1836
1840
1849
1850
1853
1854
L.541,038
732,494
944,535
1,277,101
1,651,597
985,266
L.362,280
775,060
594,920
637,252
1,064,884
691,352
Tons.
134,875
184,442
204,049
224,126
323,884
Cape of
Good Hope.
These exports do not entirely consist of colonial jiroduce, but
partly of goods re-exported. The value of colonial produce alone
exported during 1853 was L.732,245, of which L.297,346 was from
Cape Town, and L.435,899 from Port Elizabeth. The amount of
tonnage, however, of vessels entering Table Bay is much greater than
that entering Port Elizabeth, on account of the large number of
Indiamen and other vessels calling at the former for provisions; but
the actual trade of the latter is much greater, as shown by the exports.
The following is a table of the chief articles of colonial
produce and manufactures exported during 1853, from
Cape Town and Port Elizabeth respectively
Port Cape
Elizabeth. Town.
Aloes L.1,250 L.1,546
Argol  — 1,161
Beef and pork 2,309 3,709
Butter  1,360 642
Copper ore ... — 3,463
Corn and meal —
Barley   — 1,061
Beans & pease 79 1,577
Bran  — 2,865
Flour  — 29,783
Oats  5 18,709
Wheat  — 250
Feathers   1,519 3,309
Fish (cured)... 398 9,876
Fruits (dried) — 20,274
Port Cape
Elizabeth. Town.
Hides  L.9,136 L.7,304
Horns  1,022 1,383
Horses  — 8,414
Ivory   12,143 75
Mules   — 894
Oil  — 566
Goat skins  8,426 12,626
Seal skins ..... — 69
Sheep skins... 2,327 11,953
Spirits, Brandy — 3,352
Tallow  1,387 494
Wine, Constan-
tia  — 66
Ordinary  — 26,799
Wool 390,637 110,498
is wool, and the following
of this article :—
Cape Town.
73,324 lbs.
534,377
1,703,692
The most important export
table shows the progress of the export
Port Elizabeth.
1833   39,753 lbs.
1843   1,220,380
1853   6,160,916
There were imported into London from the Cape terri¬
tories 22,706 bales of wool in 1853 ; 22,602 in 1854; and
28,087 in 1855.
By the summary of an official table in the Cape Govern¬
ment Gazette, the Custom-house returns of goods imported
for the first six months of 1854 and 1855 give the follow¬
ing results:—For the first six months of 1854, goods
imported, L.879,788 ; for the same months of 1855,
L.622,218—making for those twelve months, L.1,502,006.
Goods entered for consumption for the first six months of
1854, L.827,702 ; for the same monthsof 1855, L.643,485—
for those twelve months, L.l,47l,187. The exports of ar¬
ticles the produce of the colony for the first six months of
1854 were valued at L.315,579; for the same months of
1855, at L.440,816—for those twelve months, L.756,395.
The excess of imports for consumption over the estimated
value of colonial produce exported during the twelve months
referred to is thus shown to be L.714,792.
In these returns we have the amount of customs-duties
collected only for the first six months of 1855. They
amount to L.31,770 for the first quarter ; and to L.35,106
for the second—total for six months, L.66,876. The two
chief articles of export are wool and wine. On both the
increase has been very great. The wool exported during
the first six months of 1854 was valued at L.221,865. In
the same months in 1855, at L.297,885. The wine for the
same months respectively was valued at L.13,425 and
L.33,169. Wine was once the staple export, amounting
in seven years to between L.80,000 and L.100,000. 1 he
quantity produced is supposed to be as great as ever it was,
716
GOO
G 0 P
Goodwin but it has found a more profitable market within the colony.
Sands The wool of the eastern and middle districts is indirectly
„ II exchanged for the wines, dried fruits, and flour of the west-
Goomsur. P.
 ) ern division.
Copper ore is a new article of export. For the first six
months of 1854 this export was valued at L.4720; in
1855, at L.14,179.
The revenue of the colony is derived chiefly from cus¬
toms-duties, stamp and auction duties, and a direct tax
called transfer dues, at the rate of 4 per cent, on the pur¬
chase money of all landed property sold, whether by auction
or privately. The expenditure is for payment of sala¬
ries of the officials and other disbursements incidental to
the support of the civil government. The military expen-
dituie is at present borne by the imperial treasury. The Goomty
subjoined table shows the progress of the revenue and ex- ||
penditure:— ‘ Goppingen.
Revenue. Expenditure. < v
1832  L.130,808 L.126,889
1842   226,261 226,025
1852   289,482 252,495
1853   308,472 268,111
The construction of good roads of late years, by the ju¬
dicious employment of the convicts, the establishment of
road boards, and other measures for the same object by
the late able colonial secretary, Mr Montagu, have tended
greatly to develop the resources of the colony, and to
increase its commerce and revenue. (b. c.p.)
GOODWIN SANDS, a range of sandbanks lying about
4 or 5 miles off the east coast of Kent, between the North
and South Forelands. They are about 10 miles in length
from N. to S. and vary in breadth from 1 ^ to 3 miles. They
are divided into two portions by a narrow channel, navigable
by small boats. They are in many places dry at low water,
and from their shifting and loose nature are very dangerous
for shipping. Between them and the mainland is the road¬
stead termed the Downs. These sands are said to have at
one time formed part of the Kentish land, and to have been
submerged about the end of the reign of William Rufus, or
the beginning of that of Henry I. Several light-vessels are
fixed here as beacons; and during foggy weather gongs
are sounded every ten minutes.
GO OLE, a market-town and river-port of England,
west-riding of Yorkshire, on the right bank of the Ouse,
22 miles W. of Hull. Not many years ago, Goole was an
obscure hamlet. Its situation on a navigable river, the
opening of the Aire and Calder Canal to Ferrybridge, its
being made a bonding port in 1829, the erection of its
docks, and the completion of the Goole, Pontefract, and
Wakefield Railway, have all contributed to its rapid rise.
The docks of Goole constitute its most important feature.
The ship-dock is 600 feet long and 200 wide, with a depth
of 18 feet water; the barge-dock is 900 feet long by 150
wide, and could contain 200 vessels, averaging 50 or 60 tons
each. There is a commodious dock for large steam-vessels,
a large dry dock, and a patent slip for repairing vessels.
The basin or entrance harbour is 250 feet long by 200
wide, with a depth of 9 feet wTater. There are extensive
bonding warehouses for grain and other goods. The town
itself is well built; a handsome church with a lofty tower,
and a neat custom-house, are its chief public buildings.
Market-day, Wednesday. On 31st December 1853, 512
sailing vessels of 33,865 tons, and 9 steamers of 707 tons,
were registered at the port; and during that year, 2091
sailing vessels of 129,006 tons, and 115 steam-vessels of
20,316 tons entered, and 1993 sailing vessels of 111,428
tons, and 165 steam-vessels of 27,386 tons, cleared at the
port. Pop. (1851) 4722.
GOOMSUR, a town of Hindustan, at the N.W. extre¬
mity of the Northern Circars, 43 miles N.W. from Ganjam.
I he town and neighbouring country formerly belonged to
a native chief tributary to the British, who, failing in his
feudal obligations, and rising in rebellion, was deprived of
his possessions by the paramount power. This event oc¬
curred in 1835. Ihe place had acquired an infamous cele¬
brity from the encouragement afforded by its native rulers to
the perpetration of human sacrifices; and upon its transfer
to its new masters, measures were adopted for the suppres¬
sion of the horrible practice. Several chiefs of the adjacent
frontier tracts have entered into formal engagements to
abandon the inhuman practice on condition of British pro¬
tection ; and the barbarous rite may now be regarded as
effectually suppressed. The town of Goomsur is in N. Lat.
19. 50., E. Long. 84. 40.
GOOMTY, a river of Hindustan, so named from its
winding course, having its source in the British district of
Shahjehanpore, whence it flows in a S.E. direction through
the province of Oude, and passes by the city of, Lucknow,
where it is navigable, and crossed by a bridge of stone.
From Lucknow the river continues in a south-easterly
direction, passing the towns of Sultanpore and Jounpore,
and after a total course of 480 miles, during which it re¬
ceives the waters of several tributary streams, it falls into the
Ganges in N. Lat. 25. 29., E. Long. 83. 15.
GOORGAON, a town of Hindustan, giving name to
one of the districts subject to the jurisdiction of the lieu¬
tenant-governor of the N.W. provinces. The district is
bounded on the N. by the Jaghire or feudal possession of
Jujhur, and the British district of Delhi, on the E. by the
River Jumna, on the S. by the native state of Bhurtpore,
and on the W. by the territory of Tijarra. It lies between
N. Lat. 27. 40. to 28. 30., E, Long.76. 21. to 77.35.,and con¬
tains an area of 1939 sq. miles. The population, according
to the census of 1853, amounts to 662,486, of whom 460,774
are Hindus, and 201,712 Mohammedans. The greater part
of the district of Goorgaon passed to the British by the
treaty of Serjee Anjengum, dated 30th December 1803,
by which Doulut Rao Scindia ceded to the East India Com¬
pany his territories northward of those of the rajahs of
Jeypore and Joudpore, and of the Ranah of Gohud. Part
of it, containing about 180 square miles, was held in Jaghire
by the Kashmirian adventurer, Zebal Nissa, more generally
known under the name of the Beegum Sumroo, and lapsed
to the British on her death in 1836. Another portion of
about 200 square miles, termed the Jaghire of Ferozepore,
from its principal place, was held with Loharoo, by Shum-
suddeen Khan, who took it by descent from Ahmad Buksh
Khan, to whom it had been granted by the British govern¬
ment early in the present century, on account of services
rendered against the Mahrattas. Shumsuddeen Khan hav¬
ing, with the view of defeating certain contemplated mea¬
sures, which would have affected his Jaghire, caused the
murder of Mr William Fraser, the British political agent at
Delhi, he was hanged at that city in October 1835, and his
Jaghire forfeited. Loharoo was, by the British government,
bestowed on the offender’s half-brothers, but the territory
of Ferozepore was incorporated with the district of Goor¬
gaon. The town of Goorgaon is in N. Lat. 28. 28., E.
Long. 77. 5.
GOOSE. See index to Ornithology.
GOOSEBERRY. See Horticulture.
GOPPINGEN, a town of Wiirtemberg, circle of the
Danube, on the right bank of the Fils, 22 miles E.S.E. of
Stuttgart. It has an old castle, a town-hall, a handsome
church, and mineral baths; also manufactures of woollen
and linen cloth, and an active trade in wool. Pop. 5035.
G 0 R
Gorcah GORCAH, or Ghoorcah. See Nepaul.
II GORCUM, or Gorkum (Dutch, Gorinchem), a town of
Gordon. Holland, province of South Holland, on the right bank of
the Meuse, at the influx of the Linge, by which it is inter¬
sected, 22 miles E.S.E. of Rotterdam. It is surrounded by
walls, and has an old town-house, prison, custom-house,
barrack, arsenal, and military hospital. The charitable and
benevolent institutions are numerous. There is also a lib¬
rary and several learned associations. Gorcum possesses a
good harbour, and carries on a considerable trade in grain,
hemp, cheese, potatoes, and other agricultural produce.
Pop. (1850) 8780.
GORDIAN KNOT See Gordium.
GORDIANUS, Marcus Antonius Africanus, was a
member of one of the noblest and wealthiest families of
Rome, and gained unbounded popularity by the magnifi¬
cence, games, and shows, with which he amused the people
during his quaestorship. He was proconsul of Africa in
a.d. 237, when that province rebelled against Maximin;
and so popular had been his rule, that he was then saluted
emperor. After much reluctance, he accepted the proffered
dignity, though upwards of eighty years old, insisting only
that his son should be conjoined with him in office. The
two had barely been installed as emperors at Carthage,
when Capellianus, a general of Maximin, hastily collecting
troops, marched against them, defeating and slaying the
younger in battle. His father, hearing the news of his
death, strangled himself. They had scarcely enjoyed their
imperial honours two months. Both the Gordians were
fond of literature, and were themselves the authors of seve¬
ral books. They were both men of considerable accom¬
plishments ; but rather intellectual voluptuaries than able
statesmen or powerful rulers.
Gordianus, M. Antonius, surnamed Pius, was grand¬
son of the elder Gordian, and raised to the empire at thir¬
teen years of age; and when Maximus and Balbinus fell in
an insurrection of the soldiers, he was left sole emperor.
Having married Fabia Sabina Tranquillina, the daughter of
his master of rhetoric, he appointed his father-in-law, Misi-
theus, prefect of the praetorian guards, and through his assist¬
ance emancipated himself from the hands of his mother’s
eunuchs. Misitheus proved himself an able minister, and
discharged the military duties of his office with vigour and
ability. He induced the young emperor to proceed against
the Persians, who had invaded Mesopotamia; and during the
whole of the expedition Misitheus watched over the safety
and discipline of the army. He was suddenly cut off, how¬
ever, and the suspicion was general that he had been poi¬
soned by Philip, his successor in the prefecture. A short
time afterwards a sedition broke out among the soldiers,
which was fomented by this same Philip, and Gordian was
killed, a.d. 244, near the conflux of the Euphrates with
the little river Aboras. (See IJHistoire des quatre Gor-
diens, par Abbe Dubois; also Caspar, Historia trium Gor-
dianorum, Deventer, 1697.)
GORDIUM, in Ancient Geography, a once large and
important city of Asia Minor, on the confines of Bithynia
and Galatia, a few miles north from the right bank of the
Sangarius. It was at one time the residence of the old
kings of Phrygia, and a place of considerable note, but it
dwindled down into a mere village, and was at length re¬
built by Augustus, who called it Juliopolis. Its name has
been preserved by the story of the Gordian knot, which
it was foretold that he who should first untie should re¬
ceive the empire of Asia. Alexander the Great, in the
course of his eastern conquests, arriving at Gordium, cut
the knot with his sword, and applied the oracle to himself.
GORDON, Robert (1786-1853), an eminent Scottish
preacher and theologian, was a native of Glencairn in Dum¬
friesshire. At the early age of sixteen he succeeded his
father as schoolmaster of the parish, and held this office till
G O R 717
lie removed to Edinburgh, to carry out his plan of studying Gordon
for the church. Difficulties and hardships almost incredi- II
ble impeded and embittered the years of his student life ; Gorgo”s,y
but he overcame them all, and after being ordained was
appointed one of the masters in the Perth Academy. He
now devoted peculiar attention to the exact sciences, and
contributed largely to many of the scientific periodicals of
the day. In 1816 he became minister of Kinfauns in Perth¬
shire, whence he removed in 1820 to Edinburgh, in which
city he held some minor charges, till he was translated in
1830 to the High Church. He joined the Free Church
at the time of the Disruption, and, indeed, contributed not
a little to accelerate that movement. He died in 1853.
As a preacher Dr Gordon was surpassed by few pulpit
orators of his day in Scotland. His chief contribution to
theology is a posthumous collection of discourses, entitled,
Christ as made knoivn to the Ancient Church.
Gordon, Thomas, a political and miscellaneous writer of
democratic principles, was born in 1684, at Kirkcudbright in
Galloway. At an early age he removed to London, where
he maintained himself by teaching languages. Some of his
political writings attracted the notice of the Earl of Oxford,
who is said to have employed his pen. His death took
place in 1750. It was almost simultaneous with that of
Conyers Middleton; and when both were announced to¬
gether to Lord Bolingbroke, he is said to have observed,
“ Well, then, we have lost the best and the worst writers
in England.” Gordon’s political writings, it is true, were
often coarse and needlessly violent; but his name bids fair
to be kept alive by his translation of Tacitus in two vols.
fob, 1728-31.
GORE, in Heraldry, one of the abatements, which, ac¬
cording to Guillim, denotes a coward. See Heraldry.
GOREE, a small island on the W. coast of Africa, be¬
longing to the French, immediately S. of Cape-de-Verd,
in N. Eat. 14. 39., W. Long. 17. 26. It is about three miles
in circumference, and has a small sandy bay on the N.E.
side. On an elevated plateau in the centre is Fort St
Michael, which commands the town. The town occupies
more than two-thirds of the island. The island is de¬
ficient in water, but is said to be healthy. It is an en¬
trepot for Senegal gum, ivory, gold dust, and other pro¬
ductions of the coast. Pop. nearly 5000, comprising a few
Europeans.
GORGE, in Architecture, the narrowest part of the Tus¬
can and Doric capitals, between the astragal, above the
shaft of the pillar and the annulets.
Gorge, in Fortification, the entrance into any piece of
fortification, consisting of the distance or space between the
extremities of the two faces ; as between the faces of a half¬
moon, redoubt, or bastion.
GORGED, in Heraldry, bearing a crown, coronet, or
the like, about the neck.
GORGET, a piece of armour for defending the neck.
Also a small ornament shaped somewhat like a half-moon,
formerly worn by officers on the breast.
Gorget, in Surgery, a cutting instrument used in litho¬
tomy. Also a cannulated conductor, called a blunt-gorgci.
GORGONS, in Grecian Mythology, three sisters of ter¬
rible aspect and fierce disposition, but who do not seem to
have had any special function. Homer makes mention of
only one, who is described as dwelling in Hades. Hesiod,
however, extends the list to three, calling them daughters
of Phorcys and Ceto, and naming them Stheino, or Stheno,
Euryale, and Medusa. Of these the last alone was mortal.
They dwelt in the Western Ocean, according to Hesiod,
but most writers place them in Libya. They are described
as monsters with immense claws and teeth, sometimes with
wings, and coiled round with snakes, hissing and quivering
their forky tongues. Medusa is generally represented as a
woman with snakes wreathed round her temples instead of
718 G O R
Goritz hair, and presenting so fearful an appearance, that the sight
li of her turned into stone every living being that looked
Gorack- Up0n ]ien After Perseus had slain her, he cut off her head,
v pore j which Minerva fastened in the centre of her aegis. The
“ origin of the idea of the Gorgons has never been satisfac¬
torily explained.
GORITZ (German Gorz, Italian Gorizia), a town of
Illyria, capital of a cognominal circle in the government of
Triest, on the Isonzo, 22 miles N.N.W. of Triest. It con¬
sists of an upper and a lower town ; the upper town is the
more ancient, is surrounded by walls, and contains the old
castle of the counts of Gdrz, now partly in ruins and partly
used as a prison. The lower town is generally neat and
well built. Goritz is the seat of an archbishop, and has a
fine cathedral, several churches and monasteries, episcopal
palace, court-house, town-house, and an elegant theatre. An
old Jesuit college has been converted into a barrack.
There are several literary and benevolent institutions, and
an episcopal seminary for the government of Triest. The
chief manufactures are leather, sugar, and silk. Pop. (1851)
10,851.
GORLITZ, a walled town in the Prussian province of
Silesia, government of Liegnitz, capital of a cognominal
circle on the left bank of the Neisse, 52 miles W. of Lieg¬
nitz, and 56 miles E. of Dresden, on the railway between
these two towns. It is pleasantly situated, and is generally
well and regularly built, and has three suburbs. It has eight
churches, that of St Peter being a very fine edifice, a town-
house, a house of correction, orphan asylum, three hospitals,
a public library of 9000 volumes, a gymnasium, Moravian
training institution, and several literary and scientific asso¬
ciations. It has also manufactures of linen and woollen
cloths, and a considerable trade in grain and other agricul¬
tural produce. Pop. (1849) including the military and the
suburbs, 19,032.
GORT (literally garden), a market-town of Ireland,
county of Galway, 18 miles S.E. of the town of that name.
The town is generally neat and regular, and the three
principal streets diverge from a square which forms the
market-place. The chief public buildings are the parish
church, a Roman Catholic chapel, a district bridewell, and
an infantry barrack. Market-day, Saturday. Pop. (1851)
5145, including 2637 in workhouse.
GORTHO, the modern name of the ancient city of Co¬
rinth, of which word it is a corruption. See Corinth.
GORTYNA or Gortyn, in Ancient Geography, a large
and important city on the southern side of the island of
Crete. It stood on the banks of the small river Lethaeus
at a short distance from the sea, with which it communi¬
cated by means of its two harbours, Metallum and Lebena.
Near the town was the famous fountain of Sauros, inclosed
by fruit-bearing poplars ; not far from which was another
spring, overhung by an evergreen plane-tree which marked
the sceneof the amours of Jupiterand Europa. Gortyna was,
after Cnossus, the largest and most powerful city of Crete.
The two cities combined to subdue the rest of the island;
but when they had gained their object they quarrelled with
each other ; and the history of both towns is from this time
little more than a record of their feuds. Neither plays a
conspicuous part in the history of Greece.
GORUCKPORE, a town of Hindustan, and chief place
of the British district of the same name, lying within the
limits of the lieutenant-governorship of the north-western
provinces. It is situated on the eastern bank of the Raptee
River, which is navigable for boats at all seasons of the
year. A few of the houses are of brick, but the larger por¬
tion, though tiled, have mud walls. On the east side of the
town, and on the highest ground that could be appropriated
for the purpose, is the cantonment of the British troops.
Pop. (by census of 1853) 54,529. The district, of which
this place is the principal town, is bounded on the N. by
G 0 S
the kingdom of Nepaul, on the E. and S.E. by the British Goshen
district of Sarun, on the S. by that of Azimghur ; and on the II
W. by the native state of Oude. It lies between N. Eat. GossiP-
26. 7., 27. 30., E.Long. 82.12., 84. 30., and includes an area of
7340 square miles. The population amounts to 3,087,874 ;
of these, 2,716,775 are Hindus, and 371,099 Mohammedans.
The tract constituting this district was formerly part of the
territory of Oude, and was transferred by the vizier to the
East India Company in 1801 in commutation of subsidy.
The town of Goruckpore is in Eat. 26.42., Long. 83. 23.
GOSHEN, a province or district of Egypt, in which
Jacob and his family settled through the instrumentality of
his son Joseph, and in which they and their descendants
remained for a period of 430 years. That Goshen lay on
the eastern side of the Nile may be justifiably inferred from
the fact that Jacob is not reported to have crossed that
river; nor does it appear that the Israelites did so in their
flight out of Egypt. By comparing Exod. xiii. 17, and
1 Chron. vii. 21, it appears that Goshen bordered on Arabia
as well as on Palestine; and the passage of the Israelites
out of Egypt shows that the land was not far from the
Red Sea. The locality of Goshen was probably in Lower
Egypt, on the east side of the Pelusiac branch of the Nile,
in the district around Herobpolis.
GOSLAR, a walled town of Hanover, district of Hilde-
sheim on the Gose, an affluent of the Ocker, at the N.E.
foot of the Harz, 24 miles S.E. of Hildesheim. It is said to
have been founded by Henry, surnamed the Fowler, in a.d.
922; and was frequently the seat of the German diets and
the residence of the emperor. Previous to 1803 it was an
imperial city, but it then lost its independence and became
subject to Hanover. In 1807 it was annexed to the king¬
dom of Westphalia, and included in the department of Ocker;
but in 1813 it again reverted to Hanover. The town has a
very antique appearance, and contains some interesting
fragments of ancient buildings. The streets are generally
narrow, crooked, and dirty. Goslar is the seat of a mining
board ; and most of the ore extracted from the mines in the
neighbourhood is here purified, and much of it converted
into various utensils. It is also celebrated for its beer, of
which it brews a large quantity. Pop. (1849) 7741.
GOSPEL (Sax. God, and spel, “good news”), equivalent
to the Greek cuayyeAiov. See Bible. For the spurious
gospels, see Apocrypha.
GOSPORT, a fortified seaport and market town of Eng¬
land, county of Hants, on the western side of Portsmouth
harbour, near its mouth, directly opposite and about a mile
from Portsmouth, with which it is connected by a floating
bridge moved by a steam-engine working on two fixed
chains. It forms no part of the borough of Portsmouth,
but is governed by trustees under an old act of parliament.
It is fortified on the land side by a line of bastions extend¬
ing from Weovil to Alverstoke, and having the appearance
of being a segment of the fortifications of Portsmouth.
Within the fortifications is the royal St Clarence victualling
yard, with brewery, cooperage, powder-magazines, biscuit¬
baking establishment, and storehouses for various kinds of
provisions for the royal navy. To the south is the magni¬
ficent Haslar naval hospital, capable of containing 2000 pa¬
tients. Gosport has also an extensive establishment for the
manufacture of anchors and chain cables. It communicates
with London by the South-Western Railway. The coasting
trade is considerable. Pop. (1851) 7414.
GOSSAMER, a fine filmy substance like a cobweb, ob¬
served floating in the air, especially in autumn. It is often
seen in stubble-fields, and upon furze and other low bushes,
and is probably produced by a species of spider.
GOSSIP (Sax. God, and syb, kindred), a term originally
applied to sponsors at baptism on account of their relation¬
ship to the child. It is now only used in a secondary sense
to denote a tattler or busybody.
G 0 T A M A B U D DII A.
719
Gotama GOTAMA BUDDHA. In our article Buddha we
Buddha, have given the opinions that have been most generally cur-
—rent among orientalists on the Buddhistical system; and
we now propose under this biographical notice of Gotama
to give, from other sources of information more recently
opened up, some further details, and a more complete ana¬
lysis of that system, as far as it can be gathered from the
most authoritative or the most popular of its own writers.
No religious teacher, apart from the sages who have had
access to the revelations of Israel, has left more important
traces of an existence in the world than the Hindu Gotama.
It is supposed that at the present moment there are upwards
of 300,000,000 who regard him as the Supreme Intelli¬
gence, “ wiser than the wisest, and higher than the highest,”
though acknowledging at the same time that he was “ of
man conceived, of woman born.” With the single excep¬
tion of the most lofty of the pyramids, there is no structure
upon earth of vaster dimensions than the mounds that have
been raised over his own relics, or those of his disciples;
and the cave temples that have been excavated in his ho¬
nour are equally without a parallel in the labour that has
been bestowed upon their preparation. In the system that
bears his name there is the germ of nearly all the teachings
that are now the most rife among the speculative philoso¬
phers of Europe ; and in the discipline of his adherents there
are resemblances without number to the most striking usages
of the monastic orders of Christendom. Yet this ancient
reformer is hitherto without a niche in our great temple of
the world’s biography; and his existence is regarded as a
myth or mystery, without any warrant for its reality beyond
the vivid imagination of the myriads who place in him their
trust.
It is now most generally admitted that Gotama was born
in the year 623-4 b.c., at Kapila-wastu, on the borders of
Nepaul. The name of his father was Sudhodana, a mo¬
narch of the Sakya race. As other kings are said to have
reigned within a few miles of his metropolis, his dominions
can have been of no great extent, though his race is repre¬
sented as having sprung from that of the sun. His mother,
Maya, died seven days after his birth. When he had at¬
tained his sixteenth year, he was married to the princess
Yasodhara. The inoffensiveness of his disposition made the
relatives of his bride suppose that he was unworthy to re¬
ceive her hand ; but by bending a bow of mighty strength,
and other deeds of prowess, he convinced them, in the pre¬
sence of multitudes, that they had entirely mistaken his
character. Nevertheless, it was rather in obedience to the
command of his parents than from personal inclination that
he entered into the marriage state. Other thoughts were
already brooding in his reflective mind, by which he was
led to "resolve upon renouncing the world and becoming an
ascetic. The fulfilment of this resolution was hastened by
four sights that he witnessed—an aged pilgrim leaning upon
a staff; a loathsome leper full of sores; a dead body fed
upon by worms; and a grave recluse passing modestly
through the crowd without noticing its gaiety or grandeur.
The day on which he fled from the palace was spent in un¬
won ted "revelry, perhaps to deceive the more readily those
who might otherwise have detained him by force. Upon the
same day the princess was delivered of a son, Rahula; but
after taking a furtive glance at his wife and child, he suc¬
ceeded in escaping to the forest on horseback with only one
attendant. When at some distance he dismissed the atten¬
dant, with a charge to his relatives that they were not to
sorrow for him under the supposition that he was lost, as he
was about to become an ascetic. This occurrence took
place when he was twenty-nine years of age. After seven
days he entered the city of Rajagaha as a mendicant, but
the gracefulness of his manner attracted the attention of
the citizens, who informed the king, Bimsara, that some
superior being must have become their visitant. On re¬
ceiving this intelligence the king sought an interview with ^
him, and entreated him, when he became acquainted with ^ u
his rank, to renounce the low mode of life he had chosen,
and return to the splendour of the palace. But Gotama
was unmoved by these solicitations. Having seated himself
upon a rock outside the city, he ate the food given him in
alms, though it was not of the most inviting description.
For the space of six years he practised the most severe aus¬
terities, which reduced him to a state of extreme weakness ;
but as he did not thereby obtain the object of his search,
he commenced a less rigid course of abstinence, until his
strength was restored. In a forest, on the banks of the
Niranjara river, at the spot where the city of Buddha Gaya
was afterwards built, he is said to have sustained a severe
conflict with the powers of darkness ; and after he had gained
the victory by repelling the wiles of the tempter, he is re¬
presented as attaining an intuitive illumination of the most
powerful kind, by which he became a Buddha. The joy of
his triumph was expressed in a well-known stanza, in which
he declared that he should now be free for ever from the
trammels of existence, as he had attained to the extinction
of desire.
About two months after this period, being thirty-five
years of age, he began to proclaim the tenets of his religion,
at a temple near Benares ; and when his converts were sixty
in number, he sent them forth to declare that a supreme
Buddha had appeared in the world. Bimsara, at this time
lord paramount of India, declared himself a convert to the
teachings of the sage. His principal disciples were Seriyut
and Mugalan. The former was convinced of the truthful¬
ness of his doctrines by hearing one of his followers repeat the
stanza that is found engraven in Pali upon many existing mo¬
numents : “ All things proceed from some cause ; this cause
has been declared by Buddha ; all things will cease to exist;
this is that which is declared by the great ascetic.” Soon
afterwards, Gotama delivered another stanza of equal cele¬
brity : “ This is the advice of the Buddhas ; avoid all de¬
merit ; obtain all merit; let the mind be cleansed from all
evil desire.” In process of time, his wife, his royal father,
and his son, acknowledged the validity of his claims to the
Buddhaship ; and in all the regions that he visited he made
numerous converts. The manner in which he taught the
people maybe inferred from the following narrative:—There
was a ploughing festival near Rajagaha, held by a wealthy
Brahman, at which were a thousand oxen profusely orna¬
mented ; five hundred ploughs tipped with gold; five hun¬
dred ploughmen in gay attire, and many thousands of spec¬
tators. Thither the sage repaired, and seated himself in
a conspicuous part of the field. When perceived, he was
upbraided by the Brahman, and reproached with idleness,
for attending festivals and other places, that he might re¬
ceive something to eat instead of working like the rest of
men. “ I plough and sow,” said he, “ and from my
ploughing and sowing I receive grain and enjoy the pro¬
duce ; priest, it would be better if you, in like manner, were
to plough and sow, and then you would have food to eat.”
“ Brahman,” was the reply, “ I do plough and sow, and
from my ploughing and sowing I reap immortal fruit.”
But the Brahman thought thus: “ The ascetic says that
he ploughs and sows, but he has neither plough nor any
other implement; he must have spoken falsely ;” then ad¬
dressing Buddha, he said, “ I see no plough ; no goad; no
oxen ; if you perform the work of the husbandman, where
are the necessary implements'?” In reply to this question,
he was informed that the field of Gotama was the truth ;
the weeds that he plucked up, the cleaving to existence ;
the plough that he used, wisdom; the seed that he sowed,
purity; the work that he performed, obedience to the pre¬
cepts ; the harvest that he reaped, the cessation of the evils
of existence ; and when he had explained these matters at
great length, he exhorted the Brahman to sow in the same
720 G 0 T A M A
Gotama field, that lie might reap its unrivalled fruit. The Brahman
Buddha. was thereby caught in the net of wisdom, and immediately
prepared a repast for Buddha of the most excellent food.
The teacher however refused to partake of it, telling him
that it was not the custom of the Buddhas to receive offer¬
ings after they had been setting forth the excellence of the
truth, or they would be like musicians and dancers, who
make a collection after they have amused the people.
The principal opponents of Gotama were the fire-wor¬
shippers ; but it was an age of religious excitement, and
many sects are presented in the story of his life, all claim¬
ing to have the power to overcome evil desire, and free man
from its presence and consequences. It was not unopposed
that he was allowed to maintain his opinions, and extend his
system. At one time he was accused of incontinence by a
female unbeliever, Chinchi; but the charge resulted only
in the greater confusion of his adversaries. His bitterest
foe was his own brother-in-law, Dewadatta, who made se¬
veral attempts to take his life: once, by the arrow of an
assassin ; at another time by hurling a stone from a machine
constructed for the purpose ; and again, by letting loose
against him an intoxicated elephant. After wandering from
place to place, confounding the sceptics who opposed him,
and everywhere teaching the emptiness and vanity of all
sensuous pursuits, in his old age he was entertained at the
house of a smith, Chunda, who prepared for him a repast of
pork ; but by partaking of this gross food he became dis¬
ordered, and soon afterwards died, at Kusinara, having at¬
tained his eightieth year. His body was burnt with many
honours; after which his relics were collected and divided
among his disciples. All the accounts that are given of him
represent him as being extremely beautiful in person ; grace¬
ful in deportment as became a prince, and gentle in dispo¬
sition as became one who professed to be a divine teacher.
It is said that he never addressed to any one a ruder epi¬
thet than to call him “ vain.”
We must now leave entirely the meagre thread of reality,
almost imperceptible amidst the vast tissue into which it
has been w’oven; in which exaggerations carried out until
they become monstrous, and errors the most destructive to
the best interests of man, are strangely blended with gor¬
geous imaginings, or the dim shadows of great and important
truths. The legends of the far east are too improbable to
be in themselves an object of interest; but the extent to
which the system has been received, the massiness of the
lore that its votaries regard as inspired, the wildness of
some of its speculations, and the near approach to revela¬
tion in some branches of its ethics, entitle it to more regard
than it has yet received from the learned men of our own
country ; and as no system can be properly comprehended
unless taken in its entirety, we shall present, in order that
it may be the more perfectly understood, its romance as
well as its reality. The people of Ceylon, Burmah, Siam,
China, and Tibet, are equally agreed in the extravagance
of the character they ascribe to Gotama; and we may here
remark, that in all the more popular of their legends, as well
as in all the more important of their tenets, a uniformity
may be traced, which proves an identity of origin; and
even those customs that at first sight appear to be the most
anomalous may be reconciled with the records that profess
to introduce us to the doctrines of primitive Buddhism. In
the present article we shall confine ourselves almost ex¬
clusively to the principles upon which nearly all the Budd¬
hist nations are agreed ; leaving the exceptions and discre¬
pancies to be noticed under the head of the people among
whom they take place.
In order to separate Gotama from the numerous other
teachers, all claiming the same powers, who existed in the
same age, his followers have ascribed to him perfect intel¬
ligence. The others sawr truth, but it was partially; they
could only reason imperfectly from the premises that were
BUDDHA.
within their reach. The wisdom of Buddha did not arise Gotama
from any process of reasoning, nor was it imparted unto Buddha,
him from any outward source whatever, either immediately ■
or as an instrumentality. It came to him as the result of
his own efforts and aspirations, carried on through myriads
of ages; and was “ an intuitive underived power, or self¬
generated effulgence.” By the energy of his own mind,
the whole field of truth was presented to his vision ; and
he could see it at once, and with the utmost clearness. The
literal meaning of the word Buddha, according to Professor
Wilson, is “ he by whom truth is known,” which answers
exactly to the idea formed of him by his disciples. There
have ever been Buddhas, and there ever will be; but they
appear after intervals of time inconceivably vast. There is
a period (asankya) so immense, that it requires a unit with
140 cyphers to express it. By Klaproth, a still vaster period
is mentioned, which he says is “ indiciblement indicible,”
and is expressed by a unit followed by 4,456,448 zeros, and
would present, in ordinary type, an array of figures nearly
44,000 feet long. As many of these periods intervene be¬
tween the appearance of one Buddha and that of another,
it is only the cycles of geology that can approach them in
immensity. The history of some of these Buddhas is known;
but for all the intelligence we receive of their acts we are
indebted to Gotama, as he is made to declare, repeatedly,
that all knowledge of these distant ages is derived solely
from his own intuition. There were, therefore, no tradi¬
tions of the previous Buddhas until Gotama made known
their existence. In the present cycle four Buddhas have
appeared, Kakusanda, Konagamana, Kasyapa, and Gotama,
and another is yet to appear, Maitree. Attempts have been
made to ascertain the era in which they existed ; and though,
upon the acknowledged principles of the system, this may
not be possible, further researches may enable us to reduce
these limitless periods to some standard nearer the truth.
It is somewhat remarkable, when these mighty numbers
are looked at, that Gotama should have predicted, as he is
said to have done, the decline of his religion, after the com¬
paratively limited period of 5000 years.
The period at which existence commences is unknown
to all but the Buddhas, so that we cannot tell when Go¬
tama began to be; but we can trace his actions in some of
these remote ages by the aid of his own revelations. The
Buddhas, previous to their last appearance, as the deliverers
of sentient being from the sequence of existence, are called
Bodhisats. The story of the previous births of Gotama is con¬
tained in the Pali Commentary on one section of the dis¬
courses of Buddha, called Jataka Gat ha, or Birth Stanzas.
In this work we have the history of the Bodhisat, who after¬
wards became Gotama Buddha, in 550 different births.
These narratives occupy about 2000 pages of the palm-leaf
on which they are usually written, and are of unequal length.
In some of them we have the fables we have been accus¬
tomed to ascribe to fEsop, with scarcely a single variation
of circumstance. Each story begins with the well known
formula “ in days of yore;” and the foxes and monkeys, whose
wit and cunning amused us in childhood, little as we sus¬
pected it, became afterwards “ the all-wise teacher of the
three worlds.” In all these births he did, or said, or suf¬
fered something that further fitted him for the high office
he was afterwards to assume. The sufferings he voluntarily
endured no one can compute; but we may give one ex¬
ample o'.it of many that are named. Were all the blood
shed from his person, in the instances in which he suffered
it to be poured out for the good of others (as when he threw
himself before a hungry tiger, that he might save its life
by his own death), to be collected together, it would form a
greater mass than all the water of the four oceans. Myriads
of years before his last birth he lamented the misery that
prevailed. He might then have ceased to be, and thus
have escaped finally from the unquiet of existence ; but as
GOTAMA BUDDHA.
721
Gotama he foresaw that by becoming a Buddha he might impart
Buddha, the same privilege to numberless other beings, he volun-
tarily threw himself into the stream of continued existence,
in all the births he afterwards received making some pro¬
gress towards the accomplishment of his great design. It
was from a residence in one of the heavens that he entered
into the womb of Maya, and was born as man.
At the moment of his conception thirty-two wonders were
presented: the sky was covered as by a canopy of flowers ;
the waters of the sea became sweet; and the torments of
the lapsed intelligences had a temporary cessation. The
body of his mother was transparent, so that in the months
of gestation he appeared like an image of gold in a vase of
crystal. The queen one day set out to visit her native city
in a golden litter, but on arriving at the garden of Lum-
bini she alighted, that she might enjoy its prospects and
perfumes. As she held the branch of a tree the other
branches bent around her of their own accord, and whilst
in this seclusion her wondrous boy was born. At once he
asserted his supremacy, and stepping forth he looked round
in all directions that he might search through all worlds;
but as he saw no one greater than himself, in any place, he
exclaimed, as with the voice of a fearless lion, “ I am the
most excellent and the most exalted of beings.” Five
months after his birth there was a ploughing festival, at¬
tended by the king, at which he sat in the air without any
support, and received the homage of his father and his
nurses. But we pass by the accounts that are given of his
marriage, his escape from the palace, his wanderings in the
wilderness, and his contest with Mara and an innumerable
host of demons and sprites; all of which abound with the
most incredible accompaniments. The day on which he
gained the victory over Mara was the most memorable in
his whole career, including his previous births as well as the
present. In the first watch he was able to remember all
the circumstances of all the births he had previously re¬
ceived ; in the second watch he saw the varied miseries to
which sentient beings are exposed in the repetition of ex¬
istence; and in the third watch he acquired the knowledge
that unfolds the causes of the repetition of existence, and
sets forth the means by which the stream of existence can
be arrested for ever.
The last attainment is regarded as the essentiality of the
Buddhaship, and its most exalted privilege. When the
incipient Buddha awakes to a realization of the misery at¬
tendant upon sentient existence, he looks into all worlds to
try if he can discover any state that is entirely free from its
evils. For this purpose he looks to the insect in the sun¬
beam, the worm in the clod of earth, the fish as it glides
through the waters, the fowl as it darts through the air, and
the beast as it browses on the tender grass, or roams through
the forest in terrible majesty; to man in all positions, from
the monarch to the outcast: then, not finding one species
of being with whom there is the home of absolute peace, he
passes in thought to the other systems, the worlds beneath
and the worlds above; but among all the varied intelli¬
gences that inhabit these innumerable worlds he finds no
one that is not subject, either at the present moment or in
some future state, to the three evils of existence, imper-
manency (anitya), sorrow (dukha), and unreality (anatma).
In all beings there is a cleaving to sensuous objects, and so
long as this remains there will be the continuance of exist¬
ence. The agent that carries on the continuance of exist¬
ence, and that, as to any given individual, is the cause of
existence, is karma. This karma is the aggregate of all
the actions ever done by the individual in whatever birth.
Though a mere abstraction, it controls his destiny ; it shapes
out his weal or woe ; it is fate not acting blindly, but under
the guidance of moral influences. The Buddhist carries
out the principle, “ whatsoever a man soweth that shall he
also reap” to its utmost extent, not restricting it to the pre-
VOL. x.
sent life alone, so that man is now as much under the in¬
fluence of acts he did a myriad ages ago, as if they were
done in his infancy or youth, or in the moment just passed
away. On these accounts, as there is sorrow wherever there
is existence, it is man’s great object to free himself from the
sequence of existence; and as this sequence can only be
overcome by the destruction of all cleaving to sensuous ob¬
jects, the wise man seeks the utter annihilation of the pas¬
sions, which may be accomplished by an attention to the
course of ascetic discipline set forth by the Buddhas. The
cessation of existence is called nirwana in Sanscrit; in Pali,
nibbanna or nibbuti. Though expressions are sometimes used
relative to it which would seem to indicate that it is a state,
it cannot mean anything more or less than non-entity. Were
it otherwise, Buddhism would fail to accomplish the very
sequence which it regards as its greatest triumph—its own
peculiar and exclusive heritage, constituting its great claim
upon man’s regard. It was this discovery that gave to Go¬
tama his supremacy as a teacher, and entitled him to re¬
ceive the homage of all intelligences in the three worlds.
The four great truths, as they are called, are thus expressed:
1. Where there is existence there is sorrow; 2. Sorrow
arises from an attachment to existing objects ; 3. There is
no escape from sorrow but by the destruction of this attach¬
ment ; 4. This attachment will be destroyed by an entrance
into the paths that lead to nirwana.”
Accompanied by his disciples, the sage is represented as
going about from place to place to teach men the way to
“ the city of peace,” as nirwana is figuratively called. But
we wonder, as we proceed, how even the most credulous
can be brought to receive the legends of his life as a truth¬
ful narrative. It has ever been with the nations of India
as it is now; they cannot be content with the simple truth,
but must add some accompaniment to make it appear the
more truthful, robbing it of its credibility by the mode in
which they try to place its reality on a firmer basis. The
wildest tale of the nursery is soberness itself when compared
with the fictions of the Hindu religionist. Of this we have
ample evidence in the deeds that are recorded of Buddha.
When he put hi,Toot on the ground there sprang forth a
lotus on which for him to step; he could pass through the
earth or the sky; he could hear all sounds, and tell the
thoughts of all intelligences; at the doing of his more im¬
portant acts, deities innumerable were present, and the rays
proceeding from his person penetrated to all worlds. His
stature is represented as being twelve cubits; but it is said
to be difficult to describe his appearance, and for this a co¬
gent reason is given. He could walk in a space not larger
than a mustard-seed, and in an instant he could scale the
heavens. If there were any substances that might hinder
or obstruct his walking, they moved out of his path of their
own accord, and the ground became level as the head of a
drum ; the air appeared as if sweetened by perfumes; and
if he passed any being that was in pain it ceased in an in¬
stant.
With such advantages as a teacher we wonder not when
we are told that he soon numbered among his converts more
than a hundred nobles and princes; and that a thousand
fire-worshippers were convinced of his superiority to their
own teachers by the displays of his power. A visit to his
native city resulted in the conversion of nearly all his rela¬
tives. In the ninth month of his Buddhaship he visited
Ceylon, which he found to be inhabited exclusively by de¬
mons, and he afterwards paid two other visits to the same
island. As no other place in Southern India is mentioned
as having received a similar honour, we may suppose that
this legend, which is by no means confined to the Singha¬
lese, was invented that he might not appear to be inferior
to Rama, the conqueror of the giants of Lanka in an ear¬
lier age. When the city of Wisala was becoming desolate
from the ravages made by pestilence, famine, and sprites,
722 GOTAMA
Gotama he commanded his attendant to go round the city sprinkling
Buddha. Water from his alms-bowl, by which the city was freed at
once from its deadly plagues. There was an assassin, in a
forest, who had put many hundreds of travellers to death,
but he followed him to his retreat, and succeeded in per¬
suading him to renounce his cruelties and become a re¬
cluse. This led the convert to say, “ The hook of the driver
subdues the elephant and other animals, but Buddha sub¬
dues by kindness.” It was the custom in that age for com¬
panies, both of men and women, to visit different places,
and hold public disputations. But whenever any of them
encountered Buddha they were obliged to confess the su¬
periority of his wisdom in every instance, and they gene¬
rally became his adherents at the conclusion of the contest.
One of the greatest of his encounters was with a demon,
Alawaka, who every day demanded the sacrifice of a human
being from the king of Alow ; but even this monster was
overcome by the simple weapons of gentleness and equani¬
mity. The ruler of one of the celestial worlds, Sekra, having
paid him a visit, was enabled to gain a prolongation of his
present state of existence, extending to many myriads of
years, from the mere circumstance that Buddha, on his
entrance, saluted him with these words, “ May your age be
multiplied.” Subsequently the sage visited Sekra in his own
dominion, and passed from earth to the celestial city at three
steps. Here he remained three months preaching the w'ord
to the deities and their queens. On his departure, Sekra
caused a ladder to descend to the earth, with another on
each side, upon which were choristers and musicians, and
the residents in many worlds assembled to do him honour.
We are informed by Fa Hian, the Chinese traveller, that
the three ladders disappeared under the earth ; but that the
monarch Asoka built a monument over the ladder by which
Buddha descended, which was still in existence in the fourth
century.
We have no contemporary account of Gotama, nor any
writings of his immediate disciples. The sacred books of
the Buddhists are written in Pali, the vernacular language of
Magadha, of which Rajagaha was then the capital. 11 is allied
to the Sanscrit, and is regarded as the language of the ce¬
lestial regions. “ There is a language,” says the gram¬
marian Kachayana, “ which is the root [of all languages] ;
men and Brahmas, at the commencement of the cycle, w ho
never before heard or uttered a human accent, and even
the supreme Buddhas, spoke it; it is Magadhi.” The dis¬
courses of Buddha are said to have been preserved in the
memory of his followers during the space of 450 years, after
which they w'ere reduced to writing in the island of Ceylon.
The volumes in which they are contained are called the
Three Caskets, or Receptacles (Pitakattayan). 1. Winaya,
or Discipline ; 2. Sutra, or Discourses; 3. Abhidharmma,
or Pre-eminent Truths. At a convocation held in the
same year in which Gotama died, the discourses were
orally repeated, and the text accurately defined; and at
two subsequent convocations, held B.c. 443 and 309, they
w'ere again repeated, together with the Atakat’ha or com¬
mentaries ; but as the native authorities, both Singhalese and
Burman, affirm that the commentaries, as we now possess
them, were translated from Singhalese into Pali, by Budha-
gosha, between a.d. 410 and 432, wre may conclude that they
bad not previously been known in their collected form.
Both the text and commentary are regarded as having been
compiled by men who, from their purity, were incapable of
falling into error ; but the sag£s who thus claimed the in¬
tuitive possession of divine knowledge ceased to appear
about 100 years B.c. 1 he sacred books are worshipped
with the same reverence that is paid to the images of
Buddha. The scriptures of the Chinese are contained in 800
large volumes, known under the general name of Gandjour
or Kan-gyur. The best edition, issued at Pekin from the
imperial press, is in four languages—Tibetan, Mongol,
BUDDHA.
Mantchou, and Chinese. An analysis of the contents of this Gotama
great compilation was published by Csoma Korosi in the Buddha.
Asiatic Researches and the Journal of the Bengal Asiatic s"—
Society.
One of the most striking features of the system when
seen in actual working is the monasticism of its priests.
They sometimes live singly ; whilst in some of the temples
of Tartary there are several thousands of residents. The
priesthood does not belong to them by primitive institution ;
but as their time is now principally occupied in receiving
the offerings of the people and presenting them to the idols,
with the recitation of a set form of words, they may be re¬
garded as priests in a modified sense. The rules by which
they are bound are most stringent. They are required, at
their investiture, to take upon themselves ten obligations :
not to take life ; not to take that which has not been given ;
not to have sexual intercourse; not to say that which is
not true; not to use intoxicating drinks ; not to eat solid
food after mid-day; not to attend places of amusement;
not to use garlands, perfumes, or unguents; not to use
seats or couches above the prescribed elevation ; and not
to receive gold or silver. The novice must be at least
eight years of age ; and he cannot receive investiture until he
is twenty. From the time of his entrance upon the novi¬
ciate his head is shaven and he wears the yellow robe. The
form of investiture is extremely simple. A chapter having
been called, the candidate is asked if he is free from certain
diseases that are named; if he is a human being, a male,
and a freeman ; if he is out of debt, and free from the king’s
service; if he has the consent of his parents ; if he has
attained the prescribed age ; and if he is provided with the
eight priestly requisites. These include—1, 2, 3. Three
robes of different descriptions; 4. A girdle for the loins;
5. An alms-bowl; 6. A razor ; 7. A needle ; 8. A piece of
rag for a water-strainer. When the answer is in the affirm¬
ative, his admission is proposed to the assembled priests ;
and if they agree to receive him, the more important of the
rules by which he will have to abide are repeated to him, to
which he makes known his assent. The precepts and pro¬
hibitions contained in the first and second of the five sec¬
tions into which the Winaya is divided, are to be recited
fortnightly in a chapter consisting of not fewer than four
persons. When one class of precepts has been recited, the
inquiry is made three times if all present have observed
them ; and if no answer is given it is supposed that no cne is
in fault; but if any one has broken the precept and does not
confess it, he is regarded as being guilty of a wilful lie, and
as subjecting himself to penance. The exercise of disci¬
pline includes reprimand, forfeiture, labour (such as carrying
sand, and sweeping the sacred places), suspension, and ex¬
clusion. In certain cases that are named, the priest may
ask permission of the chapter to lay aside his robe for a
season ; and if leave be granted, he may live as a laic, in
all respects, and afterwards return to the position of a recluse
without receiving any stain upon his character by this tem¬
porary breaking away from restraint. The present monarch
of Siam, previous to his accession, was a high priest. The
pow’erofconferringinvestiture is confined within certain limits.
It cannot be exercised but by a legally-constituted chapter,
and must have been transmitted, in regular succession, from
chapter to chapter, from the time of primitive Buddhism ; and
no investiture is regarded as valid, if the link required to bind
the postulant of our own day to Buddha be broken. In some
instances the succession has been lost from persecution or
other causes; and in others particular castes have been
wrongfully excluded from the privilege; but in both cases
those who have assumed the yellow robe have regarded
themselves as in the noviciate only, and they have patiently
waited until the power could be received from some ortho¬
dox community without attempting to introduce an unau¬
thorized order or a spurious succession.
G 0 T A M A
Gotama The conduct of the priest who would live according to
Buddha. ^]ie strict rules of his order, is to be free from all suspicion
ot evil. He may not sit upon the same seat as a female,
or ever be with one alone, even to teach her the precepts.
The temples are sometimes rich in lands; but the indivi¬
dual priest is not permitted to have any property beyond
the eight “ requisites.” He is not allowed to eat, in ordi¬
nary circumstances, any food that has not been presented
to him in alms. Every morning he leaves his monastery,
with a bowl slung across his shoulder, and visits a prescribed
round. Every house is to be visited, in regular order, unless
there be moral reasons for the omission, none being passed
by on account of the low position of its inmates. Nothing
is to be done to attract attention ; there must not even
be the lifting of a finger, a raising of the head, a movement
of the jaw, or a hem of the throat. If nothing he given,
after remaining a certain time, he is quietly to pass on¬
ward ; and when his bowl is sufficiently full, he is to re¬
turn home. He is not to eat any solid food before sunrise,
or after the sun has passed the meridian ; but in the lawful
hours the use of animal food is not prohibited. He is not
to carry a burden, dig the ground, cut down trees, or light
a fire. During the months of the rainy season he may re¬
side in a substantial dwelling; and at this period he is to
read and expound the discourses of Buddha to the people ;
but at other times, according to the institute, he is to have
no settled dwelling; like the beast of the forest, in what¬
ever place he may happen to be, he is to lie down to
sleep. One part of his daily service is, to introduce the
people into the presence of the inrage of Buddha, when
they come to worship; and to assist them in repeating the
formulary of protection,—“I take refuge in Buddha, the
Truth, and the Associated Priesthood or in repeating as
many of the precepts as their circumstances will allow
them to observe. The Buddhists are taught that their
sage has become entirely extinct; that he has passed away
like the light of the lamp when the flame is extinguished.
Yet they worship him upon this principle : They believe
that the act is in itself an opus operatum ; that as the seed
germinates when it is put into the earth, without any con¬
sciousness upon the part of the elements relative to the
vivifying influence they exercise, so does merit arise from
the worship of the images of Buddha, though the being they
represent is unconscious of the deed; and this merit is, in
like manner, spontaneously, without the intervention of any
intelligent agent, productive of prosperity and peace. For the
same reason they worship the bo, or Ficus religiose,, the tree
under which the Buddhaship was attained. Equal honours
are paid to the relics of the sage, and to those of his dis¬
ciples, which are usually enshrined under a dagoba or tope.
The Swadagon pagoda, at Rangoon, 338 feet high, is a re¬
ceptacle of this kind; and at Anuradhapura, in Ceylon,
there are the remains of a tope which was originally 405
feet high. The images of Buddha are in several postures
—recumbent, sitting, and standing—and of all sizes, from
an inch to 50 feet.
The exercise of meditation is enjoined upon the priest
who would enjoy the fullest privileges of his order. It is to
be carried on far away from the haunts of men, and will be
most efficient when conducted amidst the offensiveness
of a cemetery. There are various modes, all intended to
free the mind from earthly agitation, and prepare it for an
abstraction the most intense. He is to take a circle, about
the making of which directions the most minute are given,
and to contemplate it, in various ways that are named, until
he attains to an illumination that will enable him to exercise
miraculous power. He may then pass through the air, or
walk on the water, or penetrate the earth ; shake the foun¬
dations of the world, and cause a light to be enkindled
that will enable him to see in any place, as by divine eyes.
By another process, a joy so great may be made to arise,
BUDDHA. 723
that it will overcome the grossness of the body and enable Gotama
the ascetic to rise into the air; and by the recitation of Buddha,
acts of merit done by the individual in this or some former
birth, he may produce any effect he wills to be, however
wonderful its character. By this means a courtezan turned
the stream of the Ganges backward. But it is wisely said,
that out of a hundred thousand persons who practise these
rites, scarcely one attains to the full reception of the power.
At the commencement of the system there were female
recluses, or nuns, who were subject to the same rules, and
appointed to the same offices as the men. But the prac¬
tice was not encouraged by Gotama, who speaks most dis¬
respectfully of the sex. “ That which is named woman,” he
says, “ is sin ;” that is, as the meaning has been interpreted,
she is not vicious, but vice. There are no nuns in Ceylon,
but they are met with in Burmah, Arracan, China, and
Nepaul. They make a vow to remain chaste so long as
they continue in the order, but they may leave it at any
time. Though Buddha has spoken in such rude terms of
woman, in some of the countries where his system is pro¬
fessed she enjoys considerable influence. This may arise,
however, from the facility of divorce, which allows the wife
to leave her husband for reasons so trifling that the bond
of marriage has little power.
It is probable that the ethics of Gotama have come down
to us in the form in which they were originally taught, as
to the more important of the rules; but so many glosses
have been added, and exceptions made, that their purity is
vitiated, and their power weakened. It is difficult to speak
of this part of the system correctly, without great circum¬
locution. The moral observances can neither be called laws,
precepts, nor commands. They are self-imposed restraints,
taken by the postulant for a set purpose, the acquirement
of merit. They have not proceeded from an authoritative
power or supreme judge. The Buddhas have made known
to the universe, that particular courses of action will lead to
certain results, pleasant or painful, as the case may be ; and
that, therefore, the wise man will choose the course that
ensures prosperity, and avoid the practice that leads to
pain. No contrition is required from the transgressor; and
if he expresses sorrow, as he knows nothing of condemna¬
tion or guilt, it will merely be because he has acted con¬
trary to his own interests, and not because he has grieved
any Intelligence whose will he is bound to obey, or insulted
any authoritative Legislator. The practice of the right, and
the avoiding of the wrong, become, under these circum¬
stances, little more than mercenary acts ; and man is robbed
thereby of his dignity as a moral agent. Beyond the offer¬
ing of the flower or the first-fruits, and the giving of alms,
the idea of atonement, or vicarious sacrifice, never enters
into the mind of the Buddhist. In the Discourses of
Gotama there are insulated sentiments of the purest order
of morality, but they mingle with others that are imper¬
fect, confused, or contradictory, and all are without autho¬
rity. A single excerpt from a comparatively modern work,
on the taking of life, will illustrate the nature of the glosses
to which we have alluded. “ There are five things,” it is
said, “necessary to the crime of taking life:—L There
must be the knowledge that there is life. 2. There must be
the actual presence of a living being. 3. There must be
the intention to take life. 4. With this intention, there
must be something done, as the placing of a bow, or the
setting of a snare; and there must be some movement to¬
wards it, as walking or running. 5. The life must be
actually taken.” The laics are aware of the subtle dis¬
tinctions made by their priestly casuists, and use them in
defence of their conduct when accused of having acted
wrong.
On the essentialities of being, the doctrines of Gotama
are imperfect and unsatisfactory; but possess an interest
from their originality. There are five classes of constituents
724 GOTAMA
Gotama that enter into the composition of a sentient being, each of
Buddha, which is divided into a number of elements, defined by the
Buddhist authors with great precision; but the insertion of
their names, amounting to 184, would be useless, without
extended explanations. In this enumeration, which is said
to include every essentiality pertaining to that which we
call man, we can discover nothing that answers to the soul
or self. It was expressly declared by Gotama, that “ su¬
premely happy is the state in which the pride of I am is
subdued.” The aggregate of a number of things, such as
wood, leather, brass, is called a chariot; but apart from
these things, there is no chariot, it is but a name; so also,
the aggregate of a number of things, such as blood, hair,
sensation, is called a man; but apart from these things,
there is no man ; it is but a name. There is, therefore, no
individuality, no ego. When a sentient being dies, all the
elements of his existence are broken up, and pass away;
they exist no more. But though the being dies, his actions
(karma) still live, and possess potentiality. This power
it is that causes the existence of another being, into which
being it enters, with all its virtues and energies, causing a
virtuous and prosperous being to exist, if it be good; but if
bad, a wicked and unfortunate being. This process must
necessarily go on until the attainment of nirwana. The
manner in which it commences, the first causes of being,
no one can learn unless he become a Buddha. The causes
of the continuance of being are thus enumerated, in what is
called the sequence of existence. On account of ignorance,
merit and demerit are produced ; then, in regular succes¬
sion, the first-named educt producing the next constituent,
consciousness; body and mind; the six organs of sense ;
touch, or contact; desire ; sensation ; cleaving to that which
causes sensation ; renewed existence; birth; decay and
death. Inversely: when ignorance ceases, merit and de¬
merit are not produced; and so on, through every link of
the chain of existence. This normal arrangement is com¬
mon to all Buddhists. The Singhalese, Burmese, and
Siamese have it in Pali, of which the above is a literal
translation. Hodgson gives it from the Nepaulese; Csoma
Kdrosi, from the Tibetan; Klaproth, from the Chinese; and
Colebrooke, from the Sanscrit.
The cosmical speculations of Buddhism, though retain¬
ing, in some respects, a character of their own, are more
nearly allied to the theory of the Brahmans than some other
parts of the system. In the centre of the earth is a huge
mountain, Maha Meru, around which are four continents,
surrounded by seven concentric circles of rock, separated
from each other by vast seas. We live in the southern
continent, Jambudvvipa, and cannot reach the others but by
supernatural aids. The earth rests upon a world of waters,
and the waters upon a world of wind. There are twenty-
two superior worlds, divided into dewa and brahma, in the
highest of which “ the inhabitants are not fully conscious,
and yet not altogether unconscious;” and there are eight
infernal worlds. The systems of worlds are infinite in
number, but homogeneous in their character. They are
all subject to destruction, at periods regularly recurring, by
fire, water, or wind. The first inhabitants of the earth
came from a brahma world, and for a time retained their
celestial splendour and purity; but by degrees these ad¬
vantages were lost, and the brahmas degenerated into men.
It is from them that the human race has sprung. All men
are of one origin and one caste; and the only caste recog¬
nised by Buddha was that of the wise and the unwise. No
distinction was made among his disciples on account of their
former position; the prince and the barber were of equal rank.
The Buddhists of Nepaul suppose that there is a Supreme
Creator, whom they call Adi Buddha; but in Ceylon this
word would be interpreted as meaning ancient, or former—
one who existed prior to Gotama, but of the same order
and attributes. In Tartary and Tibet there are living
B U DDE A.
Buddhas, one of whom is to be found in every monastery Gotama
of the first class. The principal Buddha is the Grand Buddha.
Lama of Lassa, a living idol, who is daily worshipped by
the devout. At his death, his spirit is supposed to enter
into some child, who is recognised by certain tokens, and
succeeds to the same office. But in these regions the
monks have departed greatly from the rules of Gotama.
One single sentence spoken by certain novices to the mis¬
sionaries Hue and Gabet will be sufficient to confirm this
statement. “ The prayers are known best,” said they, “ that
one has gotten with the most blows. The lamas who can¬
not recite prayers, or cure maladies, or tell fortunes, or
predict the future, are those who have not been beaten well
by their masters.” Among the Buddhist nations visited
by M. Hue, those who appeared to him to be most attached
to their religion were, first, the Mongols, then came the
Tibetans, in the third place the Singhalese, and lowest in
the scale stood the Chinese, whom he regards as having
fallen into complete scepticism.
The age in which Gotama appeared has been disputed,
there being different eras in use among the nations that
profess his faith. The other records, so far as we can
learn, speak doubtfully upon the subject, or their discre¬
pancies can be accounted for; but in the Pali Commentary
on the sacred books a series of epochs is given, by which
the date of his appearance may be calculated with precision;
and with regard to several of these periods we have col¬
lateral evidence of their general correctness. In the ritual
of the novice, one duty that he is required to attend to
daily is, to reflect on the number of years that have elapsed
since the death of Buddha, as they appear in his lita, or
calendar. The very existence of Gotama has been called
in question by one of the most eminent of living orientalists;
who, however, acknowledges it to be certain that “ a change
in the religious organization of the Brahmanical system did
take place about the time attributed to Sakya’s death.”
From the traditions of the Buddhists, and the monu¬
ments, inscriptions, images, and coins, that have been dis¬
covered in almost every part of India, it is evident that
at one time the religion of Gotama was generally received
among the nations of the Peninsula; but if we may judge
from the prevalence of nat worship in Burmah, of demon
worship in Ceylon, and of the unauthorized usages of other
countries among the Buddhists of the present day, we may
infer that it was never the exclusive religion of the people.
After the sixth century, we can discover few traces of its
existence; but whether it was put down forcibly by the
terrible arm of power, or by the slow progress of events,
we are yet unable to determine. The deciphering of the
ancient alphabets of India by the lamented James Prinsep,
and the explanation thereby of the inscriptions upon monu¬
ments now known to be Buddhist, will enable the future
historian of India to investigate this subject with greater
precision than has hitherto been possible, from the want of
authoritative data. The vexed question of the relative
antiquity of Buddhism and Brahmanism presents no diffi¬
culty to the followers of Gotama. The existence of the
Vedas, and the proud pretensions of the Brahmans, are
frequently referred to in the legends of his life; but we
conclude, from the same premises, that the social position
of the “ twice-born” must have been greatly changed since
that period, and that nearly all the more popular usages of
the present race of Hindus are of more recent origin.
If we except Nepaul, it is probable that there is not now
a single Buddhist in the whole continent of India; but the
system still lives among the lovely groves and flower-clad
mountains of Ceylon ; the voices of its priests mingle with
the murmur of the Irrawaddy, the Meinam, and the Cam¬
bodia ; it droops and dotes among the forlorn masses of
China; it flourishes under the protective exclusiveness of
Japan; and exercises kingly authority amidst the snows
GOT
Gotha, of Tibet and the vast steppes of Tartary. It is the most
rigidly atheistic system ever invented, reducing man to a
temporary organization, and referring all events, as well as
the mightiest creations, to the exercise of a non-intelligent
power. It does not say, in so many words, that there is no
God; but it shuts out the necessity of his existence, by ac¬
counting for all things without the intervention of any
power beyond that which we, in our own human wilfulness,
call nature. But, notwithstanding the witheringness of its
revelations, it must have some sources of attraction, or it
would not have spread so extensively, or retained its hold
upon the nations with so much tenacity. Among these we
may include its disavowal of the Brahmanical opinions upon
the subject of caste ; the admission of men of all classes in*')
the priesthood; the strictness of its monastic discipline;
the moral grandeur of the character ascribed to Gotama;
the presentation of its religious requisitions in aphoristic sen¬
tences that the conscience at once approves and the mind
readily understands, and that can be retained in the memory
without effort; the daily sight of the priests, from their
custom of seeking alms ; the simplicity of the rites of wor¬
ship ; the recurrence of festivals in which there is public
teaching upon subjects full of interest to the thoughtful
mind ; the possession of a record supposed to be inspired,
more popular and practical in its teachings than the Vedas,
read and explained to the people; the great results to be
obtained from acts comparatively trifling; an equal partici¬
pation in all the rewards to be acquired by its votaries;
and the miraculous powers within reach of its more rigid
ascetics. It has been no greater bar to progress than the
other systems of eastern heathendom. Though undeserv¬
ing of the high encomiums that have been paid to it by some
European writers ; by the comparative purity of its moral
code, its abhorrence of all cruelty, even as an act of pen¬
ance, and its constant inculcation of the gentler virtues,
it has thrown a spirit of mildness into the whole of the social
polity, ameliorated the condition of the unprotected classes,
and acted as a restraint upon the passions of the master and
the monarch. It has had a theatre of action without a par¬
allel in extent, as it has exercised an influence during
one-half of the whole period in which man has existed under
his present economy, and throughout nearly one-half of the
varied populations of the world. (In addition to the autho¬
rities enumerated under the head Buddha, see Journal of
the American Oriental Society, Journal of the Bengal
Asiatic Society, and Essays and Translations by Gogerly,
Tumour, Hodgson, Sangermano, Klaproth, Remusat, Lan-
dresse, Burnouf, and Lassen.) (r. S. h.)
GOTHA, a town of Central Germany, on the Leine, an
affluent of the Nesse, and on the Thuringian railway, by
which it is 13 miles W. of Erfurt, and about the same
distance E. of Eisenach. This was the residence of the
dukes of Saxe-Gotha previous to 1825, when the direct line
became extinct, and the duchy passed to the Duke of Saxe-
Coburg. It is now the usual winter residence of the Duke
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Gotha is well and regularly built,
and is surrounded by beautiful pleasure grounds and public
walks, and altogether is one of the finest towns of Germany.
The ducal palace of Friedenstein was founded by Ernest
the Pious in 1643. It is a large and imposing building, oc¬
cupying the summit of a high hill, and surrounded by a ter¬
race, gardens, and pleasure grounds. It contains a valu¬
able library of about 150,000 volumes and 5000 MSS., a
famous collection of coins, with a numismatic library of
6000 volumes, a picture gallery, and collections of antiqui¬
ties, engravings, objects of natural history, &c. Among the
educational institutions are the gymnasium, founded in 1524,
and considered one of the best in Germany, a training school
for teachers, a trade school, midwifery institute, and an ana¬
tomical theatre. South-east of the town is the well known
observatory of Seeberg. The manufactures and trade of
GOT 725
Gotha are considerable, the former comprising cotton and Gotham
woollen goods, porcelain, paper, leather, musical and scien- II
tific instruments, sausages, &c., for the manufacture of Go^hlc
which last article it is celebrated. The Almanack de v'an&ua^ej
Gotha is published here; and the large geographical esta- ”
blishment of Justus Perthes employs several hundred print¬
ers, engravers, map-colourers, &c. Pop. 14,280.
GOTHAM, a town in Nottingshamshire, celebrated for
the Theban rusticity of its inhabitants. Hence the usual
proverb, “ One of the wise men of Gotham.”
GOTH AllD, St. See Alps.
GOTHENBURG (Swedish Gothehorg), a maritime city
of Sweden, capital of a cognominal lan or province, on the
left bank of the Gotha, about 5 miles above its mouth in
the Cattegat. In point of importance Gothenburg ranks
next to Stockholm. It consists of a lower and an upper
town, the former being in a marshy plain, and intersected
by several canals, which give it somewhat of the appearance
of a Dutch town—the latter on the adjacent rocky heights.
The canals are crossed by numerous and frequently hand¬
some bridges, while rows of trees line their banks. The
streets are generally spacious and well paved, and the houses,
which are mostly built of stone or of bricks well stuccoed,
have always a substantial and often an elegant appearance.
Of the walls which formerly surrounded the town only a few
fragments now remain, but the harbour is defended by three
forts. The suburbs are larger than the town itself, and ex¬
tend for a considerable distance along the river. The prin¬
cipal public buildings are the new exchange a large and
splendid edifice, three churches of which the cathedral is
a simple but elegant cruciform edifice surmounted by a
tower, town-hall, bishop’s palace, governor’s residence, ar¬
senal, theatre, &c. It has a gymnasium with a library at¬
tached, a society of arts, 2 free schools, 2 orphan asy¬
lums, an infirmary, and many benevolent institutions. The
manufactures are various and extensive. Among its indus¬
trial products may be mentioned sailcloth, linen, plain and
printed cottons, woollen cloth, tobacco, snuff, leather, paper,
sugar, and porter. Shipbuilding is also extensively carried
on. Vessels do not come close to the town, but lie in the
river at a short distance from the shore, goods being con¬
veyed to and from them by means of lighters that navigate
the canals of the lower town. The depth of water in the
port is 17 feet; and there is no tide, bar, or shallow.
Iron and steel, the former excellent, the latter inferior to
that made in England, form the principal articles of export.
The next great article of export is timber, particularly deals.
The others are tar, pitch, copper, bark, sailcloth, linen, co¬
balt, manganese, bones, linseed, &c. The principal articles
of import are colonial produce, cotton-yarn and twist, salt,
wine, rice, fish, &c. The opening of the Gotha canal has
greatly benefited its commerce by bringing it into com¬
munication with a large portion of the interior of Sweden.
In 1849, 718 vessels entered, and 1462 cleared in the coast¬
ing trade; and 1018 vessels entered, and 1011 left for
foreign ports, exclusive of steamers, of which the number
that entered and cleared out at the port were 88. Gothen¬
burg was built on its present site by Gustavus Adolphus in
1611. Pop. about 30,000.
The lan of Gothenburg is bounded on the N. by Nor¬
way, E. by the lan of Wenersborg, S. by that of Halm-
stad, and W. by the Skager-Rack and Cattegat. The
surface is mountainous and well wooded. Agriculture
has recently made considerable progress, but the quan¬
tity of grain produced is not equal to the wants of the
inhabitants. The streams are very numerous, but gene¬
rally small, the principal being the Gotha, which connects
Lake Wener with the sea. The coast is much indented
by bays and arms of the sea, and is lined by numerous
islands. Area 1884 square miles. Pop. (1850) 187,583.
GOTHIC LANGUAGE. The peoples known in his-
726 GOT
GOT
Gothofred. tory under the names of Mcesogoths, Ostrogoths, and Visi-
goths, were all of the same race, and spoke different but
closely similar idioms of the same language. This lan¬
guage differed very little from the ancient dialects of Ger¬
many ; and during successive ages it spread with the Goths
over all southern Europe, and occupied lor a considerable
time Spain and Italy, where but feeble effects have been
left in the vernaculars of these countries. The case has
been very different, however, in the northern countries of
Europe, where the Goths firmly and permanently esta¬
blished themselves, and have perpetuated their race with
their language. From the Gothic has sprung the Scandina¬
vian, which is found in its greatest purity in Iceland; and,
in more modified forms, in the Danish, Swedish, and Nor¬
wegian. The similarity between the remains of the an¬
cient relics of Gothic and Sanscrit is very striking.
Example of Declension in Sanscrit and Gothic.
SINGULAR.
Sanscrit.
Nom. Sunus, son
Acc. Sunum
Instr. Sunund
Genit. Sunds
Voc, Sund
Gothic.
Nom. Sunus, son
Acc. Sunu
Instr. Sunau
Genit. Sunaus
Voc. Sunau
Nom. Sunavas
Acc. Siinun
Instr. Sunubis
Genit. Sunundm
PLURAL.
Nom. Sunjus
Acc. Sununs
Instr. Sunum
Genit. Sunive
The affinity between the Sanscrit and the Gothic appears
equally striking in conjugation as well as in declension. The
terminations which in the verbs designate the same per¬
sons, are the same in both languages. The Gothic has
even preserved in conjugation the dual which has been lost
in declension, and like the Sanscrit, the Greek and the
Latin, it has a particular form to express the passive,
Example of Conjugation in Sanscrit and Gothic,
SINGULAR.
Sanscrit.
1. Bar ami
2. Barasi
3. Barati
1. Bardias
2. Batatas
3. Baretdm
1. Bardvas
2. Barata
3. Baranti
Gothic.
1. Baira
12. Bairis
3. Bairith
DUAL.
1. Bairds
2. Bairats
PLURAL.
1. Bair am
2. Bairith
3. Bairand
As to the variety of grammatical forms the Gothic holds
a middle place between Sanscrit and Latin; and without
possessing the richness of the former or the conciseness of
the latter, it rivals both in precision and energy of expres¬
sion. See Goths. (a. f. f.)
GOTHOFRED, or Godefroy, Denis or Dionysius,
the most celebrated jurisconsult of his age, was born at
Paris in 1549. After having completed his classical studies
he applied himself to that of law, which he prosecuted at
the universities of Louvain, Cologne, and Heidelberg. On
his return to France, in consequence of his profession of the
Reformed faith, he found himself obliged to retire to Geneva,
where, in 1580, he was nominated to a chair of law. Flenri
IV. appointed him magistrate of Gex in 1589; but this
city having the year after been taken by the Duke of Savoy,
his house was pillaged, and no resource remained for him
but to pass into Germany. He, however, proceeded no
farther than Strasbourg, where he taught the Pandects from
1591 till 1600, when the elector palatine called him to
Heidelberg. But the proceedings of his colleagues forced
him six months afterwards to return to Strasbourg, where he
remained three years more; at the end of which time he
consented to resume his functions at Heidelberg, upon an
assurance which was given him that he should have nothing
to apprehend from the jealousy of the other professors. It
was only then that his countrymen became sensible of the
fault which had been committed in not endeavouring to re¬
tain in France a man of such distinguished merit, and he
was offered the chair which Cujas had just left vacant at
Bourges ; but he declined the offer upon the ground of his
age, and alleged the same excuse in opposition to all the
instances which were made to draw him to Angers, to Va¬
lence, and to other universities of France and Germany. In
1618 he was sent as deputy by the elector palatine to Louis
XIII., who received him well, and solicited him to remain
in Paris ; but Godefroy had become attached to Heidel¬
berg, where he enjoyed all the consideration due to his
talents, and where he desired to end his days. In this ex¬
pectation, however, he was disappointed. The war, which
extended to the palatinate, forced him to return a third time
to Strasbourg, where, oppressed with grief and infirmities,
he expired on the 7th of September 1622, in the seventy-
third year of his age. His friend Bernegger pronounced his
funeral oration, which is printed in the Opuscula of Loisel.
Of all the works of Godefroy, that which does him the great¬
est honour, and ensures him a permanent rank amongst
jurisconsults, is his edition of the Corpus Juris Civilis, the
publication of which forms an epoch in the history of the
science. His text is that which has been adopted for ordi¬
nary reading in the universities and at the bar, and his notes
are much esteemed. The Corpus of Godefroy has passed
through a number of editions, but the most valuable are
those of Paris, Vitre, 1628, in two vols. folio, and Amster¬
dam, Elzevir, 1663, also in two vols. folio. Among the
other works of Godeffoy may be mentioned, Not a; in Ci-
ceronem, Lyons, 1588 and 1591, in 4to ; Antiquce Eis-
torice ex xxvii, auctoribus contextce libri sex, Basil, 1590,
in 8vo; Conjectura:, varice lectiones, et loci communes in
Seneca, printed at the end of the works of Seneca; Auctores
Latince linguce in unum redacti corpus, adjectis notis, Ge¬
neva, 1595 and 1602, in 4to; Maintenue et Defense des
Princes sourer aim et Eglises Chretiennes contre les atten¬
tats et excommunications des Papes de Rome, 1594, in 8vo;
Dissertatio de Nobilitate, Spires, 1611, in 4to ; Statuta
Gallice juxta Francorum, Burgundiorum, Gothorum, et
Anglorum in ea dominantium Consuetudines, Frankfort,
1611, in folio, Gothofred was the author of a very large
number of works besides those here mentioned. A com¬
plete list of them will be found in Senebier’s Histoire Lit-
teraire de Geneve, which also gives a biographical me¬
moir of Gothofred himself and of his son James, who, as a
jurist and general scholar, was hardly, if at all, inferior to his
father. The son’s name will be long remembered by his
edition of the Theodosian Code, which Gibbon pronounced
“ a full and capacious repository of the political state of the
empire during the 4th and 5th centuries.” (j. b—e.)
GOTHS (in Latin Goti, Gothi, Gothones, or Guttones),
a great branch of the Germanic family of nations, who, on
their first appearance in history, are described as occupying
the country about the mouth of the Vistula, north of the
Lygii, They are spoken of under the name of Guttones,
and as inhabiting the coast of the Baltic as early as the time
of Pythgas, the Massilian navigator, who seems to have
been a contemporary of Alexander the Great. After this,
several centuries pass away, during which we hear nothing
of the Goths, until we find them mentioned in the Ger¬
mania of Tacitus, under the name of Gothones, and as still
inhabiting the coast of the Baltic. After the time of Tacitus
they are not mentioned again until the reign of Caracalla,
when Spartianus speaks of them under the name of Gothi,
from which our Goth is formed, and which is evidently
a more correct form of the name, as we know from the Go¬
thic bishop, Ulphilas, who lived in the fourth century of the
Christian era, that the Goths called themselves by the name
Goths.
GOTHS.
Goths, of Gutthiuda. But what is more interesting and important
than all this, is the fact, that under Caracalla we find them
no longer on the Baltic but on the coast of the Black Sea,
about the mouths of the Danube, in a country which many
centuries before had been occupied by the Getae, a Thra¬
cian people. This circumstance has given rise t» much con¬
fusion both with ancient and modern writers, who, identifying
the Goths with the Getae, or at least calling the former by
the name of the latter, led many to the belief that the Goths
were a Thracian or even a Sarmatian tribe. But all we know
of the history and the language of the Goths does not leave a
shadow of a doubt as to their Germanic character ; they had
no connection whatever with the Getae, whether we regard
these latter as Thracians or as Sarmatians. Some again have
identified them with the Gothini, and believed them to be
Celts, because Tacitus describes the Gothini as speaking a
Celtic dialect. But Tacitus is innocent of this confusion,
as he speaks of the Gothini and Gothones in the same
chapter as two distinct tribes, calling the former Celts and
the latter Germans. We must therefore assume that during
the period between Tacitus and Caracalla the Goths had
migrated from the coasts of the Baltic southwards to those
of the Black Sea. Caracalla, during an expedition to the
east, is said to have defeated them several times. For
some time after this they appear to have remained quiet,
but the Emperor Alexander Severus (a.d. 222-235) found
them to be very troublesome neighbours, and endangering
the safety of the province of Dacia, for they were animated
by the same hostile feelings towards the empire as the more
western German tribes on the Upper Danube and the
Rhine. In the reign of the Emperor Philippus (a.d. 244-249)
they not only succeeded in conquering the province of Da¬
cia, but even penetrated into Mcesia, where they laid siege
to the city of Marcianopolis, and compelled it to pay a large
sum of money for their departure. Not long after this
they invaded Mcesia a second time, and although they were
at first (b.c. 250) obliged to retreat before the legions of
Decius, they soon after returned and destroyed the whole
Roman army, and sacked the town of Nicopolis at the foot
of Mount Haemus (Balkan). Without thinking of the
possibility of their return being cut off, the Goths pushed
forward into Macedonia, and advanced as far as the pass of
Thermopylae in Greece ; but here they met a most deter¬
mined resistance, and were forced to return to the north.
Near the town of Abrutum in Mcesia, they met Decius with
a fresh army ; but the emperor was slain and his army an¬
nihilated, a.d. 251. Meanwhile the Goths extended their
dominion on the coasts of the Black Sea, and having made
themselves masters of the Crimea, they formed a formidable
navy consisting of numerous flat boats. With this they
boldly sailed to all parts of the Euxine and took possession
of the towns of Pityus and Trapezus, in the harbour of
which latter city they captured many vessels, with which
they sailed to the sea of Azow, a.d. 258. In the following
year they directed their attacks against the wealthy cities
on the Thracian Bosporus, and conquered Chalcedon, Nico-
media, Nicaea, Prusa, Apamea, and Cius. A third expe¬
dition which they undertook with 500 ships was still more
disastrous to the empire ; they attacked and destroyed Cy-
zicus, crossed the Aegean Sea, and landed at the port of
Athens ; all the country from the south of Peloponnesus as
far as Thessaly and Epirus was fearfully ravaged, and the
whole of the Illyrian peninsula was devastated. At length,
wearied of their long toils and dangers, a portion of them re¬
turned by land through Mcesia to their own country ; the
remainder returned by sea along the coast of Asia Minor,
spreading devastation wherever they appeared. But they
found it impossible to remain inactive for any length of
time, and, in a.d. 268, entered upon a still larger maritime
enterprise, during which, although they made unsuccessful
attacks on Tomi and Marcianopolis, and although they
727
sustained great losses in the Thracian Bosporus and on Goths,
the coasts of Asia Minor, they yet succeeded in devastat-
ing Crete and Cyprus, and produced great distress at Cas-
sandria and Thessalonica, which were besieged by them.
At length, however, the Emperor Claudius, in a.d. 269,
gained a great victory over the Goths near the town of
Naissus, whence he obtained the honourable surname of
Gothicus. Few only returned to their country on the Black
Sea, but under the two following emperors they neverthe¬
less continued to harass the adjacent parts of the empire,
and in a.d. 272 Aurelian thought it proper to give up to
them the large province of Dacia. There now followed a
period of nearly 50 years during which the Goths did not
engage in any fresh undertaking against the empire, except
that in the reign of Tacitus they undertook an unsuccess¬
ful expedition into Colchis and Asia Minor. About the
time when Constantine had overcome all his opponents the
Goths again took the field against the Romans; their king,
Araric, in a.d. 331, crossed the Danube, and although he
gained some advantages in the first engagement, he was
worsted in a second; and, as at the same time the Goths
had to quell an insurrection of their own subjects in the
Crimea, Araric concluded peace with Constantine. This
peace was faithfully kept, and as long as the family of Con¬
stantine occupied the imperial throne the Goths never mo¬
lested the empire, and Hermanric, the successor of Araric,
was never engaged in war against the Romans. It was not
till the reign of Valens that both parties were again involved
in a war, which lasted three years, from a.d.'367 to 369, and
in which the Goths appear to have gained some advantages
over their enemies. At the time when the Huns appeared,
the south-western portion of the Goths, alarmed at the ap¬
proach of the savage hordes, implored the emperor of the
East to allow them to settle in the empire, and place them¬
selves under his protection. The request was granted, and
in a.d. 375 these Goths, commanded by two of their chiefs,
crossed the Danube and entered the empire; the eastern
portion of the Goths, who had made the same request, were
refused admission into the empire. If the emperor had kept
his promise, the western Goths (or, as they are more com¬
monly called, the Visigoths) might have become useful sub¬
jects ; but being provoked by the ill treatment they expe¬
rienced at the hands of their pretended protectors, they took
up arms, defeated the Roman legions, and, having formed
connections with a division of Goths engaged in the service
of the emperor, and with a portion of the eastern Goths or
Ostrogoths, fought a great battle near Adrianople, in which
the Emperor Valens lost his life. The Goths then marched
upon Constantinople, which, however, was well defended;
and then turning westwards, advanced as far as the Julian
Alps. In the reign of Theodosius I. (a.d. 379-395) the
Goths continued their ravaging expeditions both in the
north and south; and although they sustained many a de¬
feat, still they maintained themselves in Thrace as well as
in Dacia, and their strength was repeatedly increased by
the arrival of kindred tribes from the north. The court of
Constantinople perceiving the impossibility of subduing
these formidable barbarians, at last formed the plan of win¬
ning them over, and amalgamating them with the empire.
Whole swarms of Goths now entered the armies of the em¬
pire ; but after the death of Theodosius those who were sta¬
tioned in Thrace, commanded by their bold chief, Alaric,
broke up, and without meeting with any great obstacle, ad¬
vanced through the pass of Thermopylae towards Thebes
and Athens, Corinth, Argos, and Sparta, all of which were
plundered. When the work of destruction was complete
they turned northward towards Epirus, where they re¬
mained. During this same period the Ostrogoths, under
their chief, Gainas, made an attempt to seize Constantinople,
and place their own leader upon the imperial throne, but
they were forced to retreat across the Danube. Notwith-
728 G O
Goths. standing the acts of hostility committed by Alaric in Greece,
y .r- v — J he was invested by the emperor with the dignity of Duke
of Illyricum, in which capacity he made his first invasions of
Italy in the years a.d. 400-404. His example was followed
by Radagaisus, who crossed the Alps with an immense host
of Goths. Alaric even advanced as far as Rome, and pene¬
trated into southern Italy, where his career terminated. The
emperor of the West then purchased peace of the Visigoths
by ceding to them, in b.c. 412, the southern part of Gaul.
They accordingly evacuated Italy, and, after a short period
of rest, Athaulf, the successor of Alaric, led his Goths across
the Pyrenees into Spain; there he was assassinated. His
successor, Wallia, assisted the Romans in their struggles
against the Vandals and Alani in Spain, and was rewarded
by the whole of Aquitania from Tolosa to the ocean being
given up to him. The empire of the Visigoths now gained
consistency on both sides of the Pyrenees during the reigns
of their kings Theodoric I., Thorismund, and Theodoric II.;
and in the second half of the fifth century king Euric raised
it to its highest prosperity. The kings of the Visigoths,
now ruling over Spain and a great portion of Gaul (France),
resided sometimes at Toulouse, sometimes at Arles, and
sometimes at Bordeaux; but, after the death of Euric, the
Visigoths in Gaul were gradually driven across the Pyre¬
nees by another set of German conquerors—the Franks—
who ultimately succeeded in making themselves masters of
the country, and giving it the name which it still bears.
In Spain, however, the Visigoths maintained themselves
for two centuries longer, until, in the end, the Moors over¬
threw their kingdom, and established Mohammedanism in
the south of Spain. The institutions and language of the
Goths in Spain have completely disappeared, and at the
present moment there are scarcely any traces of the do¬
minion of the Goths in Spain.
We have already observed that the Emperor Valens re¬
fused to allow the Ostrogoths to enter the empire in a.d.
375 ; but the terror of the Huns, and the desire to take re¬
venge, soon after tempted the Ostrogoths to take by force of
arms what had been denied to their I'equest. Accordingly
they crossed the Danube in defiance of the Romans, and
many made of them common cause with the ill-treated Visi¬
goths. But when the latter turned southward, the Ostro¬
goths marched into Pannonia. At the time when the Visi¬
goths were establishing their power in Gaul and Spain, about
a.d. 386, a new sw arm of Ostrogoths under a chief, GEdo-
theus, was in commotion in the country about the Lower
Danube, but while attempting to cross the river they were
completely defeated. During the ascendancy of the Huns,
the Ostrogoths, with the exception of some bands follow¬
ing Attila into Gaul, committed no act of hostility against
Rome ; but after the destruction of the power of the Huns,
we find them, commanded by three brothers, Walamir,
Theodemir, and Widimir, in Pannonia, which was ceded to
them by the Romans. The Eastern empire was obliged
several times to purchase peace of the barbarians; and in
one of these transactions Theodoric, a son of Theodemir,
then a boy of seven years old, was given up to the court of
Constantinople as a pledge that the peace should not again
be disturbed. After the death of Walamir, Widimir led
his hosts into Italy, where he maintained himself a long
time; his son, however, on succeeding his father, was in¬
duced by the Emperor Glycerius to quit Italy and join the
Visigoths in the west. Theodemir and his son Theodoric,
who had in the meantime returned from Constantinople,
harassed the Eastern empire by repeated predatory incur¬
sions. after which the country between the Lower Danube
and Mount Balkan—that is, Lower Mcesia—was given up
to them. Theodoric was now the ruler of his nation, and
his capital seems to have been the town of Nova. For a
time things went on tolerably well; but when the western
empire was overturned, and Odoacer had set himself up as
T H S.
the ruler of Italy, Theodoric was induced by Zeno, em- Goths,
peror of Constantinople, to invade Italy and expel the ,
usurper. Accordingly, in a.d. 489, Theodoric led his hosts
from Lower Moesia to the west, and was successful in es¬
tablishing an Ostrogothic kingdom on the ruins of that of
Odoacer in Italy. The power thus formed and recognized
by the court of Constantinople was irresistible, and the
prestige of Theodoric’s name secured his kingdom, as long
as he lived, against all foreign aggression. But the approach
of his death, a.d. 526, was the signal for the dissolution of
his empire. His family was distracted by internal feuds;
and being at the same time attacked from without, the
kingdom, though bravely defended, in the end fell into the
hands of the emperor of the East, and the Ostrogoths
ceased to be an independent kingdom, a.d. 555. The
Longobards and other German tribes, who had assisted in
the destruction of the Ostrogothic kingdom, now esta¬
blished themselves in their turn in the north of Italy, and
founded the Longobardic or Lombardic kingdom.
During the migrations of the Goths from north to south,
and from east to west, some branches of the nation having
during their residence in a country become aware of the ad¬
vantages of a settled mode of life, remained behind, while
their brethren went forth in search of new adventures. The
most celebrated among the former were the Mcesogoths, a
branch of the Visigoths, who remained behind in Mcesia at
the time when the great body of their nation migrated
westward ; but they were by no means quiet neighbours of
the empire ; for under their king, Theodoric (not to be con¬
founded with the Ostrogoth), they extorted money and
honours from the Roman emperor. The Gothic Tetraxitae
were a branch of the Ostrogoths who remained behind about
the Lower Danube, and preserved their national peculiarities
for a long time. Besides these, however, there are several
other tribes, such as the Gepidae, Taifalae, Guthrungi,
Greutungi or Grutungi, and others, which, notwithstand¬
ing their distinctive names, must be regarded as belonging
to the great nation of the Goths. In fact, the nation ap¬
pears to have been divided into a great number of sub¬
divisions with special names, each of which was at first
governed by its own chief. Some of these smaller tribes
forming a closer connection among themselves ultimately
united into larger bodies under one common ruler. This
gave rise to the two great divisions into which we after¬
wards find the nation divided—the western and the east¬
ern Goths, the former occupying the fertile and woody
districts of the west, and the latter the sandy steppes of the
east. The western Goths are called by the ancient writers
Wisigothi, Vuisigothi, Wesegothce, or Wesigothce, and the
eastern A ustrogothi or Ostrogothi. Zosimus and Am-
mianus Marcellinus apparently did not know these names
and divisions of the Gothic people; Jornandes, on the
other hand, goes too far in assuming that the distinction of
Visigoths and Ostrogoths existed even at the time when the
nation still dwelt on the Vistula. The complete separation
of the two branches did not take place until the power of
the Ostrogothic king, Hermanric, was crushed by the
Huns who came from the distant east.
As the Goths were unquestionably Germans, their reli¬
gion and language were in all points of importance the same
as those of the other German tribes. Christianity was gra¬
dually introduced among them even before the time of Con¬
stantine the Great, for, at the council of Nicsea, a.d. 325,
a Gothic bishop of the name of Theophilus was present.
This fact would seem to suggest, that they belonged to the
orthodox or Catholic Christians; but it is quite certain that,
in the reign of the Emperor Valens, Arianism predominated
among them. Attempts, however, to crush Christianity
were still made from time to time by their rulers. Thus,
Athanaric, the chief of the Thervingi, the principal tribe
among the Visigoths, did all he could to exterminate the
GOT
GOT
729
Goths, new religion, and cruelly persecuted those who disobeyed
his commands. But no man did more firmly to establish
Christianity among his countrymen than the Mcesogothic
bishop Ulphilas, about the middle of the fourth century,
who invented a Gothic alphabet, by a combination of those
of the Greeks and Homans, adapting it to the Gothic lan¬
guage. When this was accomplished, he translated the
Scriptures into the Moesogothic, a translation which is still
extant in part, and is the most ancient written specimen of
any of the various German dialects. A somewhat incom¬
plete MS. of this work, which was probably written about
150 years after the time of Ulphilas, and is knowm under
the name of Codex Argentexis, exists in the library at Upsala
in Sweden ; another likewise imperfect MS. is preserved in
the library of Wolfenbiittel, under the name of the Codex
Carolinus. This translation and separate portions of it
have often been printed, and are invaluable to the student
of philology. The best edition is that of Gabelentz and
Lcewe, bearing the title, Ulfiloe Veteris et Novi Testamenti
Vers. Goth. Fragmenta quce supersunt cum Commentario
et Glossario, Altenburg, 1836, 4to. Besides this transla¬
tion of the Bible, there are a few other literary productions,
which show that the connection of the Goths with the
Greeks and Romans was not without a considerable influ¬
ence in inspiring tbe barbarians with a love of literature. It
is owing to this influence that, independently of the radical
identity between tbe classical and Gothic languages, a num¬
ber of Greek and Latin words are found in the work of
Ulphilas. Another Goth who distinguished himself as a
writer, though he composed his work in Greek, was the
priest Jornandes, who, according to some, was Bishop of Ra¬
venna, and wrote a history of the Goths—De Rebus Geticis—
from the earliest times, down to the year a.d. 552. This
work is the most important we have on the history of the
Goths. He regards the nation as having come from Scandi¬
navia, which, he says, was their original home. The fact of*
there having been Goths in the country now called Sweden,
is sufficiently well established, and is evident from several
local names, as Gothland, Gothenburg, and others ; but it is
much more probable to suppose that Goths migrated or sailed
to Scandinavia at the time when they still occupied the country
about tbe Vistula, than that Scandinavia should have been
their original home. The literary character, or rather their
aptititude for literature, is further attested by the fact, that
the Visigoths had written laws as early as the time of Euric,
when no other German tribes can be supposed to have been
even acquainted with the art of writing. It is probably
this superiority of the Goths over all other German tribes,
that has led some modern writers to apply the term Gothic
to all things connected with the ancient Germans; and even
to speak of Saxons and other tribes as members of the Gothic
stock; but such a usage is not warranted by anything we
know about the Goths. In order to give the reader some
idea of the Gothic language in the fourth century of our era,
we shall here quote the Lord's Prayer from Ulphilas’ trans¬
lation, with a literal translation, which cannot fail to show
the relationship of the Gothic to other German dialects :—
Atta unsar thu in himinam weihnai namo thein. Quimai
Father our thou in heaven, hallowed name thine. Come
tlriudinassus theins. Wairthai wilja theins, swe in himina jah ana
kingdom thine. Be done will thine, as in heaven as on
airthai. Hlaif unsarana thana sinteinan give uns
earth. Bread our the perpetual or daily give us
himmadaga. Jah aflet uns thatei skulans sijaima, swaswe jah
to-day. And forgive us what guilty we are, as also
wets afletam thaim skulam unsaraim. Jah ni briggais uns in
we forgive the trespasses ours. And not bring us into
fraistubnjai, ak lausei uns af thamma ubilin, unte theina ist
temptation, hut deliver us of the evil, for thine is
thiudangardi jah maths jah ivultus in aiwins. Amen.
kingdom and might and glory for ever. Amen.
VOL. X.
There are also some documents belonging to the Ostro¬
goths of the time of their dominion in Italy, especially one
which is preserved at Naples, and another at Arezzo ; both
were composed about the end of the fifth, and the begin¬
ning of the sixth century. Among the numerous modern
works which the reader may consult are, Gibbon’s Decline
and Fall of the Roman Empire ; Asehbacb, Geschichte der
Westgothen; Manso, Geschichte der Ostgothen in Italien;
Zeuss, Die Deutschen und die Nachbarstamme. (l. s.)
GOTTENBURG. See Gothenburg.
GOTTINGEN, a town of Hanover, province of Hil-
desheim, and capital of a cognominal principality, is situated
in the fertile valley of the Leine, at the foot of the Hain-
berg, 60 miles south of Hanover. It consists of three parts,
the Altstadt, Neustadt, and Masch, the first being separated
from the two latter by the New Leine, an artificial arm of
the Leine. The ramparts which surround the town have
been planted and converted into agreeable promenades.
The town itself is generally well built, and the streets are
mostly wide and spacious. Neither the trade nor manu¬
factures are important, the town being chiefly dependent on
its famous university. This institution, entitled the “ Geor¬
gia Augusta,” was founded by George II. in 1734. Pre¬
vious to 1831 it was among the first of German universi¬
ties, and from 1822 to 1826 the average annual number of
students was 1481. Since then, in consequence of political
disturbances at Gottingen, in which the professors and stu¬
dents were implicated, the university has fallen into disre¬
pute, and from 1831 to 1837 the average annual number
of students was only 868. The dismissal of some of the
ablest professors in 1837 by the king, for political reasons,
reduced the number still lower, so that in 1845 it was only
633. The number now- averages about 700. The facul¬
ties are theology, law, medicine, and philosophy. The
library contains upwards of 400,000 volumes and 5000
MSS. The museum contains extensive and valuable speci¬
mens in zoology, geology, &c., with models, instruments,
coins, &c. There is also a botanic garden, a chemical la¬
boratory, anatomical theatre, observatory, lying-in-hospital,
two infirmaries for medical and surgical cases. The Spruch
Kollegium is a judicial society, for whose decision questions
are brought from all parts of Germany. Pop. (1849) 10,174.
GOTTLAND, a large island in the Baltic belonging to
Sweden, and lying about 55 miles E. of the nearest Swe¬
dish mainland, between N.Lat. 56.55. and 58., andE. Long.
18. 10. and 19. 10. It is of an irregular form, tapering
from the centre towards the N. and S. extremities. From
N. to S. it is about 80 miles in length, and its greatest
breadth is about 34 miles. Area 1227 square miles. It
presents tbe appearance of a large plateau rising from 80 to
130 feet above the sea, and is traversed by ranges of rocky
heights, which, however, nowhere rise to more than 200
feet above the sea. The coasts are for the most part rocky
and precipitous, but in some parts they slope gradually to
the sea. They are deeply indented by bays forming nume¬
rous excellent harbours, of which those of Kapelhamn on
the N., and Slite on the N.E., are the best. The soil is
fertile, but indifferently cultivated. A great part of it is
wooded, and swamps occur in some places. The climate is
comparatively temperate ; the chief products are wheat,
barley, oats, turnips, potatoes, and hops; and in favourable
situations the walnut, mulberry, and grape, ripen in the open
air. The chief articles of exportation are timber, marble,
sandstone, and lime. Game is abundant; and the rearing
of cattle receives a considerable degree of attention. Gott-
land was taken from the Swedes in 1361 by Vladimir III.,
king of Denmark. By the treaty of 1644 it was restored
to the Swedes, and has since remained in their possession,
with the exception of a short period in 1807, when it was
occupied by the Russians. Its chief town, Wisby, was,
in the middle ages, the seat of an extensive trade. It
Gotten-
burg
Gottland.
730 G O U
Gouda gives name to a laen of Sweden, comprising Gottland and
II several of the adjacent islets, and containing a population
Gout. (1350) 44,572. The town of Wisby contains about 4000
inhabitants.
GOUDA or Tergouw, a town of Holland, province of
South Holland, on the Yssel, at the influx of the Gouw, 11
miles N.E. of Rotterdam. It is generally well built, and
has five churches, one of which, St John’s, is celebrated for
its organ and its splendid painted windows. The town-house
is a spacious and substantial edifice, with a tower and spire.
It has breweries, gin-distilleries, brickworks, and potteries;
but the manufacture for which it is chiefly known is that of
tobacco pipes, which affords employment to nearly one-half
of the population. Gouda is also famous as a cheese mar¬
ket, the well-known Gouda cheese being brought here to
the market and sold. Pop. (1850) 13,791.
GOUDOK, a rustic kind of violin with three strings, used
by the Russian peasantry. Another name for it is Balalayka.
GOURDON, a town of France, department of Lot, and
capital of an arrondissement of the same name, situated on
the declivity of a hill, at the foot of which runs the Bleou,
20 miles N. of Cahors. It has manufactures of linens, wool¬
lens, and hats, and a considerable trade in wine and wal¬
nuts. Pop. (1851) 4990.
GOUROCK, a village of Scotland, county of Renfrew,
on the left bank of the Firth of Clyde, three miles below
Greenock. It is much frequented as a bathing-place in the
summer season. Pop. of parish (1851) 3018.
GOUSLY, an ancient harp with four strings, employed
by the Sclavonians to accompany the voice when singing
their ballads or rhapsodies. Formerly every wealthy Sclave
family had its bard, called a Gouslar ; and the poetry, his¬
torical or religious, which he recited, wras named Gouslo.
GOUT. This very peculiar modification of inflamma¬
tory action has been known since the days of Hippocrates,
and is a disease of common occurrence among the higher
classes of society, especially with those who indulge habi¬
tually in the luxuries of the table, and use little exercise, or
who inherit a predisposition to its attacks. This hereditary
tendency is often very strongly marked ; sometimes indeed
so much so as to prevail against every precaution of diet
and bodily exercise. Gout • is emphatically a disease of
adults, and is for the most part confined to the male sex,
females seldom being attacked ; yet a few rare cases have
occasionally occurred in boyhood, and in one well authen¬
ticated instance even so early as the eleventh year. That
gout is a blood or humoral disease has long been the com¬
mon opinion, and is the origin of its name, gout or gutta,
or morbid matter passed, drop by drop, into the affected part.
An attack of the disease is generally preceded by heart¬
burn and other dyspeptic affections. An acute seizure (and
the first few are nearly uniformly acute) usually begins about
an hour or so after midnight, when suddenly the patient is
awakened by a severe pain in some part of the foot, most
commonly in the great toe, though sometimes in the heel,
instep, ankle, &c. With the commencement of the at¬
tack there is shivering, and very soon the pain becomes of
an extremely acute character, and is attended by great gene¬
ral uneasiness. Commonly about the next midnight, the
pain ceases, often almost in a moment, and the sufferer falls
asleep and is soon in a gentle perspiration. Next morning
when he awakes he finds the part that was affected red and
swollen, and the skin over it tense and shining. The affected
part, however, soon resumes its natural size, and the cuticle
falls off—a process usually attended with much itching.
During the paroxysm the urine is almost invariably found
to be loaded with urea and lithates. After the paroxysm is
over, not only does the patient feel as well as he was before,
but usually much better. “ The fit,” says Cullen, “ leaves
the person in very perfect health, enjoying greater ease and
alacrity in the functions of both body and mind than he had
G 0 U
for a long time before experienced.” After a person has Gout,
suffered from one attack, he may have no return of gout for
some years,but it is very liable to revisit him again and again,
the intervals between each attack becoming briefer and
briefer, but the paroxysm being less painful, although there
is more of stomachic disorder. Joints, too, that have been
frequently affected seldom completely recover their pliancy,
and in many instances are liable to have, what are popularly
termed, chalk-stones (deposits of lithate of soda) formed im¬
mediately beneath the skin. These sometimes give rise to
open sores, and then are very troublesome.
In the great majority of cases gout is an hereditary dis¬
ease. Sir Charles Scudamore collected information regard¬
ing 522 gouty individuals, and found that 332 could trace
the disease to their fathers, mothers, grandfathers, or other
progenitors. Gout seldom makes its appearance until after
the age of 35. Some time after its appearance the affec¬
tion frequently becomes complicated with severe dyspepsia,
including impaired appetite, heartburn, and gastrodynia,
with irregular action of the bowels, hypochondriasis, and
other disorders.
Sometimes during a paroxysm the gout suddenly disap¬
pears from the extremities, and violent pain is felt at the
stomach, with great sinking of the pulse ; or sudden inflam¬
matory action may supervene, generally in the chest. The
former of these affections is called retrocedent, and the latter
misplaced gout.
The pathology of gout is now again generally believed to
be humoral, and the essence of the disease to consist in a
morbific matter or matters, which gradually accumulate in
the system, producing general indisposition, until at length
it is concentrated and expelled at the foot; after which
“ the bodily economy, like the atmosphere after a thunder
storm, is for a while unusully pure and tranquil.” That the
poisonous matter should tend to one particular spot, usually
(he toes, is exactly analogous to what we know regarding
other poisons. Thus, white arsenic tends to the stomach,
cantharides to the bladder, and so in like manner does the
morbid accumulation of lithic acid in the system tend to be
deposited in the joints, particularly in those of the lower ex¬
tremities. During the paroxysm it may be detected, says
Berthollet, in the skin of the affected part, and, as before
mentioned, in the urine, having doubtless been absorbed by
the lymphatics.
As the paroxysm of the gout is the effort of nature to
rid the system of a poison, many physicians have been un¬
willing to interfere with the progress of the disease, save by
the antiphlogistic regimen, and some very slightantiphlogistic
remedies. But it seems to be now quite confirmed by ex¬
perience, that colchicum (meadow saffron) with antacids may
be given during the paroxysm with the result of shortening
it, and without producing any bad effects. If pushed too
far, however, colchicum causes great sickness, purging, and
faintness; and in such cases it is necessary to administer
stimulants and opiates. Also by means of antacids and bit¬
ters administered during the intervals, the tendency to gouty
paroxysms may be mitigated. But it is also quite certain, that
if the latter be done without a change in the mode of life
which produced or excited the gout, various internal dis¬
eases of a very serious nature, chiefly in the head and chest,
are liable to be induced. The rational plan of treating gout,
therefore, consists in relieving the attack, when it is fairly
developed, by means of colchicum and antacids ; and, in the
intervals, to recommend a regimen calculated to diminish
the tendency to it, such as food mainly vegetable, a small
proportion of fermented drink, habitual exercise, and the
general tonic mode of treating disease.
Cases of misplaced and retrocedent gout should be treated
as in pei'sons not gouty, and in the usual way ; but great care
should be taken to w'atch for and be prepared to treat the se¬
vere neuralgic attacks that are liable to supervene, (x. l. k.)
731
Govern¬
ment.
GOVERNMENT.
The members of the human race are not isolated and in-
, dependent individuals, each acting for himself without re¬
ference to his fellows. This is a fact borne out by all his¬
tory and by all experience. Wherever a number of indi¬
viduals have assembled on the face of the earth, it is found
universally, that they have adopted certain regulations for
their mutual guidance, thus proving that the association of
men is not an accidental, but an inherent attribute of hu¬
man nature. But as men, tribes, and nations, are placed
in a variety of circumstances, this diversity of circumstances
affects the arrangements by which societies are regulated.
Among these different circumstances, it is unnecessary to
refer to the disputed question of variety of species ; but it
must be acknowledged that there are most extensive va¬
rieties in the moral, intellectual, and physical conditions of
men. We may therefore be prepared to find a correspond¬
ing variety of systems of society, and of the institutions
regulating them, according as these societies are distin¬
guished by intellectual capacity, acquired knowledge, his¬
toric antecedents, and physical position on our globe.
In considering government therefore as a science which
has rules, we must bear in mind that it involves two ele¬
ments, the variable and the invariable, the abstract or ethi¬
cal, and the economical. There is not only the intellectual
perception of what the form of society ought to be, and of
the principles on which it ought to be constructed; but
there is the consideration of the peculiar circumstances in
which the community is placed. The form of government
that would suit Great Britain could not possibly be esta¬
blished among the Red Indians; yet those Indians might
have their own rules for their own government, and as per¬
fect a system of administration of them as the administra¬
tion of the laws in Britain.
There is scarcely any truth more indubitably established
by history, than that the form of government suitable at one
period of a nation’s history is not suitable, and could not
be realized, at another and subsequent period.
SECTION I. WHAT IS GOVERNMENT ?
When it is admitted that man is by nature a social being,
there can no longer be a question as to whether there ought
or ought not to be rules by which he, in a collective capa¬
city, should be governed. There can therefore be no ques¬
tion as to whether there ought or ought not to be a go¬
vernment, but only a determination of the proper nature of
government, of its ends, objects, and purposes. We must
accept government as a necessity, and inquire, not whether
it should exist, but how and under what conditions it can
exist profitably and beneficially. And, therefore, the first
question is, What is government?
The system of rules regulating a society may be termed
in general laic, and the fact and form of administering the
rules is government. Two countries might have exactly
the same body of law, and yet have essentially different go¬
vernments. On the other hand, two countries might have
exactly the same form of government, and yet have laws
radically dissimilar. We see this exemplified in several mo¬
dern states.
Of the term government there are three distinct signifi¬
cations:—1. Government is, in general, the administration
of rule, law, and direction. 2. Government is the form of
the institutions by which the rules are administered. 3.
Government is the body of administrators who rule.
SECTION II.—THE END OF GOVERNMENT.
Were we to ask from history what is the end of govern¬
ment, we should be compelled to affirm—“ the interests and Govern-
advantages of the governing classes.” Reason replies dif- ment.
ferently, and assures us that there is another and more ap-
propriate end which harmonizes with the higher and better
instincts of our nature. From the days of Locke, or more
properly speaking; from the days of Milton, this has been
termed the “ good of the public,” the “ good of the greatest
number,” the “ good of the whole body of society,” the
“ greatest good of the greatest number,” with other equiva¬
lent expressions, which mean that the welfare of the whole
mass of society is the true end of government. Nothing,
of course, can be better than the greatest good; but there
has been an obscure and indefinite enunciation of the prin¬
ciple which renders more minute examination desirable.
When we inquire into the character of the good that
government ought to produce, we find two essential prin¬
ciples which have been more or less acknowledged in all
societies, and which depend on the very nature of man him¬
self. The first is the administration ot justice ; the second
is the development of social improvement and well-being.
The first is the negative, or restrictive function of govern¬
ment, the second the expansive or positive function; the
first lays upon society rules which deter all subjects or citi¬
zens from injuring their fellows by force or fraud ; the se¬
cond regulates those modes of action by which a much
greater good can be achieved by combination, by distribu¬
tion of labour, distribution of office, united effort and na¬
tional action, than if each were to undertake for himself all
the multifarious duties of life. On this distinction depends
the division of government into its two great departments,
judicature, or the judicial exercise of civil and criminal
justice; and administration, including all fiscal arrange¬
ments, taxation, duties and customs upon home and foreign
produce, municipal and electoral powers,—in fact, the whole
organization of society, where crimes or civil suits are not
involved. But as both of these divisions are presumed to
be under the direction of law; and as laws must be made
either by acknowledged custom, or by positive enactment,
legislation is the department of government which do¬
minates the other two.
But these are not the only ends of government, although
the most important. Wherever there is a government, there
is a geographical limit of space, or a numerical determina¬
tion of persons to which the authority of government ex¬
tends. Government is not merely an abstraction, but a
concrete fact, and every government has its boundaries,
either of geographical demarcation or of personal citizenship
and accountability. The mariner on the high seas, although
for the time located on a spot that is not claimed as the
possession of any government, is yet amenable to the laws
of his country, and is under the rule and sway of a special
particular government which claims him as a subject.
This agglomeration of territory, with the sum-total of its
people, is termed a state, a realm, kingdom, empire, repub¬
lic, or some other term which expresses the unity of the
whole. Where the persons only are united, and the terri¬
tory is indefinite, or altogether undetermined, they form
only a tribe, or it may be a small nation, which, however,
may have a positive unity of its own, although fluctuating
in its territorial residence.
This unity of the state involves another distinct end of
government, namely, its defence against the aggression of
other states. Hence the military establishments of countries.
The third great end of government, therefore, is the de¬
fence of the national territory, and the defence or protec¬
tion of every member of the state or nation. Every one
who owes allegiance to a state is entitled to its protection;
GOVERN M E N T.
hence, where there is a monarchy, the subject is sheltered
by the whole military power of the monarch ; and where
there is a republic, the citizen is sheltered by the whole
power of the republic.
But government has yet another end distinguished from
the foregoing, namely, the distribution of honours. What¬
ever may be said regarding the futility of titular honours, it
is a fact apparent from history, and from the practice of all
civilized people, that honours form a very important in¬
gredient in the composition of human “society. To some
men honours are more desirable than wealth; and if they
were accorded only for distinguished services really per¬
formed, they would be just and reasonable rewards, marking
out not the fallacious vanities which too often have been
combined with an utter w7ant of merit, but marking the na¬
tional esteem and gratitude, which, if fairly earned, ought
also to be publicly acknowledged.
To sum up concisely the ends for which government
may be supposed to exist, we recapitulate as follows. The
ends of government are—
1. The administration of justice, criminal and civil.
2. The development of the social improvement and well¬
being of society.
3. The military defence of the state.
4. The distribution of honours.
Under these four heads every operation of government
may be ranged, with the exception of legislation, which
overrides all the rest. Law is the rule, and the four opera¬
tions are performed under the law and by authority of the
law, so that legislation is the most general function of go¬
vernment. It might be said in still fewer words, that the
end of government was “ to enact good laws and to exe¬
cute them with certainty and despatch,” leaving it to be as¬
certained and determined what laws were or were not good.
But here it is necessary to point out the fact that history
presents only an imperfect fulfilment of the ends of govern¬
ment, yet even in the imperfect fulfilment there is the simi¬
litude of the truth. We must regard government therefore
as an imperfect art which historically grows and improves
like other arts. Growth, development, the gradual perfec¬
tion of systems, the decay of those systems, the recasting
of materials, and the gradual issue of better systems, are
the keys which enable us to read history—the history of
government not less than the history of other arts. If we
neglect this idea of growth we can never arrive at an in¬
telligent understanding of history, nor of the changes which,
as time rolls onwards, seem destined to invade the political
constructions of mankind. Stability, in fact, seems only to
be attainable by providing for perpetual change.
SECTION III. THE ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT.
We have already said that the origin of government is
in the social nature of man. That is the aesthetic origin
which renders government not only possible but necessary.
Under the term origin, however, must also be included two
circumstances of another character—the historical origin as
matter of fact, and the logical origin as matter of political
science. So far as history throws light on the chronologi¬
cal commencement of government, it points in the almost
invariable direction of military leadership. The warrior or
the representative of force and power was the original form
of the governing man. The patriarchal system which ac¬
cords the power of ruling to the father or elder of the family,
and then by extension to the elder branch of a tribe, may
perhaps claim priority ; and this form, among the Arabs and
other cognate tribes, has continued down to the present day.
Nor is the patriarchal element obliterated even in the go¬
vernments of the most civilized nations ; for wherever there
is a dynasty or reigning family, the eldest member of which
assumes the throne, we recognise distinctly the remnant of
the patriarchal system. It is one of the elements which are
still woven into the constitution of European monarchies,
and no doubt it was the earliest form of authority, the chil¬
dren being by nature placed under the authority of the
father. But the patriarchal government, if it be taken to
mean that all are subject to the will of the patriarchal ruler,
can have no principles save the one principle of primogeni¬
ture, and, therefore, cannot be accepted as signifying what
in modern times is meant by government; and if the ruler
were to rule not merely by will, but by laws, customs, and
equity, then he falls to be considered as the ordinary ad¬
ministrator of the law, and his patriarchal character may
be viewed as a mere accident.
On the other hand, the military chief, who maybe taken
as the historic original of the true governor, is selected for
the express purpose of directing the whole body of society ;
and the difference between the patriarchal ruler and the
military ruler lies in the significant fact, that the authority
of the former was based on the relationship of blood,
whereas the latter occupies an office. His was the first
creation of the office of government, irrespective of the na¬
tural relationship of family ; and consequently the military
leader may be considered as the original form, which, as
circumstances change, and as the interests of society be¬
come more and more complex, undergoes change after
change, till at last it may even lose its military character
except in name.
The military leader or man of military ability and prowess
would naturally become the director and ruler of his tribe.
In some cases the hereditary element might be grafted on
the system of military chieftainship; in others the office of
ruler might be merely individual, and the most powerful
general might seize the reins of government. Even in
modern times, and among the most advanced nations, this
military origin is not unknown. Washington the general
was also the first president of the United States ; Napoleon
Bonaparte became emperor of France ; the late king of
Sweden, Bernadotte, was a general; and in the South
American republics, the chief power appears to be consi¬
dered the prize for which all military leaders may contend,
seemingly as a matter of course.
The logical origin of government belongs to a different
category from that of history. It belongs to political ethics,
and should answer the question, What ought to be the
origin, foundation, and basis of the governing power in its
governing authority ?
Here, of course, there is room for diversity of opinion.
The democratic party of the world will point to the sove¬
reign people, and proclaim it “ universal monarch the
autocratic party will point to the advantages of a strong
executive, and will cite examples where democracy has
failed and where despotism lias succeeded—for a time.
Others, like the British, will affirm that very much must
depend on the circumstances of a people, and that no theo¬
retic rule can be laid down which will apply to all cases.
They will affirm that government, being a concrete fact,
must be regulated by the necessities of time, place, cir¬
cumstance, and habitual belief; that circumstances not
only do, but ought to influence all deductions from ab¬
stract reason, and all inferences from historic teaching;
that a republic may, theoretically, be the most correct, and
a despotism (among semi-barbarous people) the most suc¬
cessful ; but yet that there is another way of solving the
difficulty, namely, by compensating advantages according
to the actual conditions of the people who are to be ruled;
that with a very free, enlightened, and well educated people
there may be a tendency towards popular election becoming
year by year more and more expansive, but that an igno¬
rant and half-savage population must submit to the iron rod
because they are unfit for governing themselves, and con¬
sequently must submit to those who will rule them ill.
GOVERN M E N T.
Govern- There are then two poles to the theory of government,
ment. the one which points to democracy and the other to despot-
ism ; and in the midway between the two, there is a neu¬
tral point which equalizes powers and modifies extremes.
The democrat derives the logical right to govern from the
sovereign will of the people, his antagonist from the sove¬
reign necessity of government, and from the ideal perfec¬
tion of a single will. The British system, on the contrary—
and the British system is absolutely unique in the world,
having no counterpart or fellow—derives the right to go¬
vern from several distinct sources, mainly from the people,
but only a small portion of the people ; partly from the no¬
tion of hereditary right, which resides in the nobles; and to
a great extent from the hereditary authority of the crown,
which represents those ends of government that are inde¬
pendent of human will, namely, the ends of justice.
The logical origin of government, therefore, must be
sought neither in the fury of the democrat nor the violence
of the despot. It must be sought in the necessities of man,
with an impartial consideration of circumstances and na¬
tional peculiarities ever present before us. The circum¬
stances of nations do, no doubt, allow a large limit of action
intermediate between despotism and democracy, and ac¬
cording to those circumstances a people may be compelled
to verge towards the one or the other. With a new,
vigorous, expanding population, spreading itself out on new
lands, occupying new territories, fighting its way, rifle in
hand, against rugged nature and hostile Indians, there is
necessarily produced a powerful tendency towards demo¬
cracy. Democracy, in fact, grows of its own accord as the
result of circumstances, and where not overstretched nor
carried to unreasonable extremes, it answers perhaps better
than a more rigid and stringent form of government.
But it requires an intelligent and well-intentioned people
who are in nearly uniform circumstances to conduct it.
On the other hand, with a long settled and stationary
population, accustomed to the ordinary administration of
law, and where more especially each individual, instead
of being called upon to do everything for himself, per¬
forms only a single part of the employments of life, where
there is a division and subdivision of labour, and where
each man desires to attend to his own particular business,
there is quite as powerful a tendency to despotic rule, that
is, to leave the government in the hands of some one or
few whose especial occupation it is to govern and to ad¬
minister justice and law. With good laws a despotic ad¬
ministrator acting with just impartiality may really rule well,
but the danger is, that the possession of power may lead
to its abuse, and therefore checks must be devised to secure
the people from tyranny.
When, therefore, it is asked, “ what is the logical origin
of government, or what ought to be the origin of a govern¬
ment in any given country?” we should hesitate to lay
down any absolute rule ; but rather to regard government
as an organic growth with which circumstances have much
concern, instead of saying “ the will of the people,” as
Milton, Locke, De Foe, and the republicans would say ;
and instead of saying “ the will of the prince,” as Hobbes,
Filmer, the Austrian catechism, the constitution of Den¬
mark, and the despotic governments would say ; we should
rather reject both schemes, and affirm that government
ought to originate “ in the intelligence of the nation,” with¬
out fixing, by any absolute dictum, where that intelligence
is to be found, but leaving it to be determined by circum¬
stances what classes have arrived at such a state of intelli¬
gence and stable good conduct, as to entitle them to be¬
come active members of the body politic, and to exercise
political rights. All such dogmas as “ the will of the peo-
733
pie,” or “ the will of the prince,” are hazardous and unrea- Govern-
sonable propositions, which may have a show of logical com- menfc’
pleteness, but which are not suited to the circumstances of
mankind. A good government is an organic growth, and
it must originate in the intelligence of a nation.
SECTION IV. OF THE KINDS OF GOVERNMENT.
It has been usual to classify the forms of government into
the monarchical, or government by one person ; the aristo¬
cratic, or government by a few privileged individuals ; and
the democratic, or government by all. This classification
is a loose yet convenient mode of expressing certain facts
and ideas; it answers a purpose, and may pass as the con¬
ventional mode of indicating that certain characteristics pre¬
vail more or less in certain political constitutions. But it
would be difficult to point to any nation where there was
really and truly a pure and simple monarchy, aristocracy,
or democracy. Much, for instance, has been said and
written on the advantages or disadvantages of republics, and
the ancient republics have freely been cited as examples ;
overlooking the fact that there never an ancient repub¬
lic, and that the name alone has imposed on those who pre¬
tended to draw arguments from history. All the ancient
republics contained slaves, persons who were excluded from
political rights, and the so-called republics were only in¬
stances where a privileged class of citizens, or very nume¬
rous aristocracy, ruled the state or commonwealth. So also
with monarchy. We can scarcely assign a time or place
where all the members of a state have been subject to the
will of one man. There has always been a council or di¬
van which aided and controlled the monarch. The control
may have been of the rudest kind, as in the Russian go¬
vernment, which has been termed “ an aristocracy varied
by an assassination;” but control has always been present.
The great mass may have been subject to the monarch’s
will, but not the whole mass. The monarch has never
stood alone as the one single dictator whom all others were
willing to obey in all things. There may in Turkey, Rus¬
sia, and other countries, have been a near approach to ab¬
solute domination and absolute submission; but the extreme
point, if ever reached at all, has speedily been followed by
circumstances which prove the existence of a counter¬
balance to the autocratic will. The feudal system was no¬
minally a monarchy, but the barons had intelligible and
acknowledged rights which limited the crown, and these
rights were enforced against the king, as at Runymede,
with the distinct understanding that the royal will was not
and could not be paramount to the interests of all the sub¬
jects. The monarchical Pope of Rome has his college of
cardinals, but the aristocracy of Venice had also their doge,
the republican United Provinces had their stadtholder, the
democratic United States have their president and their
honourable senators, and France, under Louis XIV. {Vetat,
c’est moi), had her laws and her parliaments.1 The logical
division, therefore, into monarchy, aristocracy, and demo¬
cracy, must be accepted as a species of general expression
which indicates extreme forms, like the mathematical point
that has no length, breadth, or thickness, or the line which
is absolutely straight. In the real history of men and na¬
tions we find only approaches to these theoretic forms.
They are mingled together in various proportions—here,
monarchy is the predominant element—there, aristocracy—
elsewhere, democracy. The names may be suitable, but
the fact is found only in the conception of an ideal perfec¬
tion that exists in the human understanding—not in the
actualities of history. In actual fact the three elements,
however disproportioned, will generally be found together;
1 One of the five-franc pieces issued in the time of the first Napoleon affords a curious illustration of this mixture of political ele¬
ments. On the reverse it bears “ Republique Francaise,” and on the obverse “Napoleon Empereur.”
734 GOVERN M ENT.
Govern- and in the form of government, as well as in its theoretic
nient. origin, the object of research must be, not any dogmatic
determination of a perfect form, but a compensation of ad¬
vantages accommodated to the actual circumstances of a
people.
We may therefore ask what each element represents, for
unquestionably there is some reality represented by the
monarch, the aristocracy, and the popular will.
The monarch represents the unity of the nation and the
stability of the government. He is the fountain of all exe¬
cutive power, and in his name justice is executed—he is the
head of all military forces—he alone enters into relations
with foreign countries—he makes peace or war; and he is
the fountain of honour to grant titles and dignities. So
plainly do these functions indicate unity, that where there
is not a monarch there is commonly a single person chosen
to perform them—a president, a stadtholder, a doge, or some
single official who represents a monarch, though passing by
a different name. In foreign relations the essential purpose
of a monarch is to represent the whole nation, and in home
relations to represent the administration of justice. W'e
therefore see how hereditary monarchy may arise by an
easy and natural process. Justice is supposed to be per¬
manent and unvarying; it ought to be administered under
all circumstances. Whatever fluctuations there may be in
other political matters, whatever parties, doctrines, theories,
or schemes, may be uppermost for the time being, the ad¬
ministration of justice is supposed to be a permanent duty,
and, therefore, it is not unreasonable that there should be a
permanent person in whose name justice is administered.
The king is thus said “ never to die:” “ le roi estmort—vive
le roi,” is an expression that contains a profound political
truth, namely, the permanency of the nation, and the per¬
manency of the administration of justice. Where, on the
contrary, a mere military ruler dies there is usually a con¬
test among the survivors, and government is only re-esta¬
blished when one shall have made himself supreme.
This view of the monarch, however, entails the question
of a monarch’s powers. If the monarch be the permanent
representative of justice, the monarch, as a person, must
reign but not govern,—le roi regne, et ne gouverne pas.
Where the monarch attempts to enforce his own will, or to
take a positive activity in the government, he abdicates the
position into which the feelings of men have installed him.
“ The king can do no wrong” is only the sequel to the idea
that the kingly office is occupied not for the sake of the
person but for the sake of the office itself; and the true
meaning is that the office can do no wrong, because it is
not endowed either with a legislative or a dictatorial power.
It is the representative of the execution of the law ; and so
long as the monarch restricts himself to his proper official
capacity he can no more do a legal wrong than the law itself
can do a legal wrong.
If it be considered, then, that the monarch represents the
unity of the nation, an aristocracy may be regarded as re¬
presenting the distribution of its powers and dignities. The
noble also, like the monarch, originated in war leadership.
While the monarch was the supreme head of the whole
military power, the noble was the divisional commander;
and in the feudal system, which made the monarch lord or
suzerain of the whole national territory, the noble was the
lord of a portion, a province, a county, or a minor sub¬
division of the kingdom. It has been stated that one of
the ends of government is “ the defence of the kingdom,”
and under this idea the feudal system portioned out the
kingdom into districts over which a noble was appointed to
preside. At first the office was not hereditary, nor were
the lands the property of the nobles, but nobility gradually
became hereditary, and the right of the noble families to
the soil came to be acknowledged, first by custom, then by
positive grant, and, finally, as in England in the reign of
Charles the Second, the nobles were relieved from military Govern-
service, and retained their lands by the tenure called free ment.
and common soccage. v'-—'
It will thus be seen what aristocracy in its true sense re¬
presents. It represents, first, the territorial soil of the king¬
dom ; second, the divisional exercise of power under the
monarch ; and third, the military distribution of the national
forces. This was the feudal idea of an aristocracy; and
where the state was constructed on a military system, the
lands being held on condition of performing military ser¬
vice, it is evident that aristocracy was the native growth of
circumstances, and fulfilled the requirements of the times.
In entering as an element into the government of a country,
therefore, an aristocracy may fairly be regarded as the re¬
presentative of the fixed property of the soil; and as terri¬
torial wealth will always exercise its influence, whether
ostensibly or implicitly, the aristocratic element is only an
open and avowed acknowledgment of an influence that is
sure to exist, whether it does or does not assume a separate
standing of its own.
Such may appear the reasonable origin and purpose of
an aristocracy ; and even where the titular nobility is re¬
jected, and hereditary dignities are unknown, we see an ap¬
proach to a similar system. We see in the United States
the territorial division into separate states, each of which
has its governor, and each of which has its senator—the
one holding an executive and the other a legislative office.
These offices may be regarded as aristocracy in the birth;
and if the offices were made hereditary—an event, how¬
ever, which none can anticipate—there would be a genuine
foundation of aristocratic nobility, just as Washington would
have become a monarch, had he been appointed perpetual
president, with hereditary succession of the office secured
to his family. An instance of this kind has been furnished
in the recent history of France, where a president elected
for a term of years was transformed into an hereditary em¬
peror by the suffrages of the people.
Where an aristocracy, however, from an element of
government produced by the circumstances and necessities
of society, becomes changed to a governing caste-—where
one family endowed with the title of nobility is supposed to
differ in kind as well as in office from another family per¬
haps of equal wealth and equal worth—and where, instead
of a compensation of advantages, and a due representation
of all the interests of society, the noble families assume the
whole government of the community, and form what is
termed an aristocratic government, the greatest evils have
always been found to prevail, and the state has sunk ine¬
vitably into factions which sooner or later have ended in
the ruin of the commonwealth. Nor is this surprising, for
the determination that a certain number of families shall
enjoy all powers and privileges is the very destruction of the
organic growth of society ; it is an attempt to fix in per¬
petuity what nature has made variable and expansive—an
attempt to make the physical accident of birth take the place
of the true intelligence of the nation. An aristocracy exist¬
ing in a country where there is both a monarch and a popu¬
lar assembly is a very different thing from a government by
nobles alone. The first may give stability to the govern¬
ment, and may prevent sudden fluctuations by the people
when roused into temporary excitement, and rashly urging
their measures with undue and unreasoning vehemence.
The landed or property interest may sometimes balance
the state when other interests would act with less consi¬
deration ; and, as an element of government, it can scarcely
be denied that property should have its weight because
it is immediately implicated in the decisions of the body
politic. But where the nobles rule as nobles born to do¬
minate ; where the doge is a puppet, and the people are
nothing; where caste is made the criterion for office or
power ; where an impassable or scarcely passable wall of
COVER N M E N T. 735
Govern- separation is built up between the privileged and the un-
ment. privileged families ; where the interests ol the order are
preferred to all other considerations ; and where factious
ambition is the chief characteristic of the governing class,
aristocracy presents itself under the form of a hateful and
tyrannical oligarchy which is certainly doomed to self-de¬
struction or decay. Society falls into a condition which
nature cannot tolerate; there are no means for renewing
the strength and vigour of the commonwealth, growth is
arrested, expansion is impossible, the green moss grows up¬
on the edifice of the state, which sinks into a picturesque-
ruin that only indicates the presence of its former glories by
ornaments that have no longer a meaning, and by dignities
that have fallen out of use.
Having thus endeavoured to exhibit the fundamental
elements of society, represented by monarchy and aristo¬
cracy, it remains for us to inquire into the nature and cha¬
racteristics of democracy. The democratic element, like
the monarchical and aristocratic, has its foundation in one of
the ends of government, namely, “ the development of
social improvement and well-being.” Why should the
people attempt to govern themselves instead of allowing the
w’hole power to pass into the hands of the monarch ? is a
question that meets with a ready and specific answer, when
we reflect that the interests of the whole population are in¬
volved in the administration of government. Every man’s
interest being at stake, and every man’s life, liberty, pro¬
perty, and reputation, being implicated in the success or
non-success of the society to which he belongs, he has a
direct motive to assert his own views of the national policy,
and, in a modified sense, a right to influence that policy ac¬
cording to his own will. That the will of the people ought,
in all cases to be supreme, that the popular will ought in all
cases to be obeyed, and that “ voxpopuli is vox dei,” is one
of those gigantic fallacies which gain currency in expression
but never in fact. Nothing can be more fallacious than the
idea that the will of the people ought to be obeyed because
it is their tvill. It may be more probable that the judgment
or decision of a large body is more correct than the judg¬
ment of a single individual or small selection of interested
persons. We do not affirm that it is so, but admit the pos¬
sibility that it may be so. Yet that circumstance could never
establish the principle of democratic supremacy, nor ever
render it right that the will of the people should be assumed
as the last final criterion of political rectitude. The laws of
justice are independent of human will, though not indepen¬
dent of human intelligence, because it is the province of
human intelligence to discover and apply them. Human
will, therefore, cannot be accepted as a universal and infal¬
lible rule of duty, because man being subject to passion may
be blinded to right, and a majority or the whole of an assem¬
bled multitude may commit a crime, even as an individual
may commit a crime. The will of the multitude can no
more change right into wrong, or wrong into right, than
can the will of the monarch or the will of the aristocracy.
It is not the multitude of wills that establishes the propriety
of democratic influence, but the agglomeration of interests
and the agglomeration of intelligences.
But although the will of the multitude must be rejected
as an absolute criterion of right, there is nevertheless avast
department of the public business of society where the
popular dictum comes into reasonable and appropriate ac¬
tion. The many have interests, and instincts, and intelli¬
gence. They bear burdens, pay taxes, and live by the
sweat of their brow. They “know where the shoe
pinches;” and often, by the instinct of their common in¬
terest, they arrive at truer and better conclusions regard¬
ing the economical influence of the laws, than others gifted
with greater powers ol speculation, yet who are not placed
under the instructive agency of direct pressure. Pressure
is the great instructor of the people. Many bad laws hav¬
ing been enacted in almost all countries, deeply injurious Govem-
to the welfare of the people, and greatly detrimental to ment.
their interests, the operation of the popular will has been
called into exercise to amend those laws, and to ameliorate
the circumstances of social existence ; and thus the demo¬
cratic influence, directly or indirectly, has operated in the
most beneficial of all directions, namely, towards the puri¬
fication of the permanent laws that are habitually ad¬
ministered among civilized men. The code, or statute-
book, whether in France, Britain, America, or Germany
—meaning thereby the body of positive law actually en¬
forced in the present day—owes its justice and impar¬
tiality in a very high degree to the democratic spirit gene¬
rated in England during the time of the parliamentary
struggles ; carried out at a later period in the laws and
constitutions of the United States ; reproduced in the tur¬
moil of the great French Revolution, and embodied in the
spirit of French law even after the insurrectionary portion
of the revolution had ceased, and nowr habitually acknow¬
ledged as a worthy and genuine contribution to the princi¬
ples of law and government. Without that democratic
element infused into the spirit of modern legislation, liberty
would have been far less extensive and far less secure ;—
not that we are nearer to what is termed a democracy, but
that numberless bad laws, customs, institutions, privileges,
class exemptions, or class injustices, have been swept away,
probably for ever; and that the body of modern law has
been purified to an extent that can only be appreciated
when we turn to the pages of past history, and inquire into
the condition of society in England before the accession
of William, and on the Continent before the French Revolu¬
tion. This undeniable fact points out what may be the
good influence of the democratic element even though we
are left as far as ever from the establishment of a democracy.
It works, when it works for good, as a principle infiltrating
through the institutions of society, and amalgamating with
the other principles—not overthrowing everything that stands
in the way of the popular will, but gradually removing those
things that stand in the way of the popular good. The true
aim of democracy is not to war against thrones, but to war
against unjust and injurious laws, and to obtain the enact¬
ment of good laws whose administration shall be secured by
a powerful sceptre. Democracy in its best sense, in fact in
its only good sense, means impartiality; and the great aim
of modern society should be to infuse impartiality into the
laws, and to have the laws executed by a strong government.
In thus viewing democracy, it need scarcely be added that
we cannot regard it as solving the difficulties of govern¬
ment. As a principle or element capable of being wrought
into the framework of society, democracy has a true and
vital existence, which cannot be obliterated among free¬
men. But as a form of government in which all things and
all measures come ultimately to depend on the popular will,
it is a mere violent extreme, which may, like the highest
despotism, exist for a period in extreme circumstances, but
which time must modify as society grows into more and
more complex conditions.
SECTION V. OP CONSTITUTIONAL AND REPRESENTATIVE
GOVERNMENT.
Admitting, then, that there are three essential ideas, or
principles, involved in the fact of good government—first,
the unity of the state and administration of justice ; second,
the fixed property of the realm ; and, third, the rights and
interests of the people,—it remains to be asked whether a
system can be found that shall combine these in such due
proportion that the welfare of all shall work together coin-
cidently, so that a nation possessing a certain territory
shall be organized in such a manner that it shall no
longer be subject to the sudden and disastrous fluctua-
736 GOVE R
Govern- tions of political revolution. Let it be granted that or-
ganized society is a growth—that it begins in simple forms
and ends in more complex forms—that, like a tree, it has
its roots, its stem, and its branches—that time, experience,
amendment, and continual improvement, are necessary to
bring it to perfection ;—let this be granted, and we see at
once that the simple forms of social organization are ele¬
mentary, and, in one sense, barbarous. A monarchy can
be manufactured at once by a strong-minded and strong¬
handed military chief, who assumes the supreme rule: a
democracy can spring into existence wherever a multitude
of human beings assemble : an aristocracy can be produced
where the more knowing and the more wealthy agree to rule
the multitude. Such systems of government are not or¬
ganizations ; and however long they may be perpetuated,
they are only rude and elementary ; because, let society be
reduced into anarchy, and one of these forms can be repro¬
duced at any given moment. This is not growth nor con¬
struction, but the mere spontaneous commencement of
what ought to lead to construction. No length of time can
make such forms other than elementary—no universality of
practice, other than the mere beginnings of the complex
machinery of civilization. A perfect government would be
one that would produce the free, enlightened, and well-
behaved citizen, who, conscious of his own duty and dig¬
nity, should walk with perfect freedom in obedience to per¬
fect law. Such, indeed, is the great ultimate end of govern¬
ment,—not merely to 'punish crime, but to prevent it alto¬
gether; to lead the whole body of society to the intelligent
conclusion that crimes and evil deeds are the worst possible
investments ; that good conduct shall be attended with per¬
fect liberty, but that evil conduct shall be instantly followed
by swift and certain retribution. It is true that man being
endowed with passions and impulses cannot be manufac¬
tured like raw material; but all the external motives capable
of being presented in one form rather than another should
be so arranged as to be inducements to good and not evil ;
that is, that the machinery of government shall be as perfect
as possible, whatever may be the nature of the material that
is subjected to its operation.
Complexity is in reality no objection to a government,
provided the ultimate operations are simple. The more
complex the machine, the more perfectly it ought to do its
work, and with the least cost and trouble to the proprietor
—that is, the nation.
How then can the ends of government be efficiently
carried out so as to preserve the rights and promote the in¬
terests of all parties ?
The answer to this question must, we apprehend, be one
derived from practice. Whatever conclusions may be de¬
rived from theory, or whatever logical deductions may be
derived from the intuitional principles of the reason, it is
plainly evident that the best form of government cannot
be derived from abstract considerations alone, because there
are, in the concrete nature of the individuals of the human
race, certain circumstances and tendencies that can never
be sufficiently accounted for in abstract reasonings. Politics
may be a science, and may be studied in its universal
doctrine of ethics ; but government is an art, and as an art,
must depend on experience. Trial, failure, trial again, and
ultimate success, must precede the analysis which shows us
the principles of government. Those principles are not d
priori but inductive. They are drawn by careful study
from the actual facts which history presents ; and induction
has this immense advantage over speculation, that the cir¬
cumstances and peculiarities of men, which no sagacity could
bring into calculation, are seen at work in the actual world
exhibiting both the quality and the quantity of their real
influence.
Let us, then, consider the three facts,—
1. The unity of the nation.
N M E N T.
2. The fixed territorial property of the nation. Govern-
3. The rights and interests of the people. ment.
The first is represented by a monarch who reigns but v-’**''
does not govern. The second is represented by an assembly
of the great landlords. The third is represented by an
assembly of notables chosen by the people.
No a priori scheme would ever have produced a com¬
bination of this kind, and arguments of the most conclusive
character have been advanced to prove that it could never
work. But it has worked and does work, not perfectly
perhaps, but with such a manifest superiority over the other
systems of Europe that no European nation can boast of
the same security and liberty that have been developed
under this complex system. In no other country has the
utmost freedom been combined with the same regular ad¬
ministration of law; and this fact entitles the British, or
limited constitutional system, to particular attention. It
is not perfect, and never • has been perfect, but it has
shown such a real adaptation to the circumstances of man,
that, under it, a small island kingdom of little geographical
importance, has attained a strength and vigour that have
not only carried the British name but the British powder
and influence into all quarters of the globe. This assertion
cannot be construed into a boastful laudation of Britain ;
for it is a mere historical and political fact that Britain has
gigantic colonies, and the territory of India subject to her
crown; that her colonies exceed in wealth and importance
those of any other nation, and even those of all other nations
put together. To assert this fact is not to boast, but to
point out one of the most remarkable phenomena that ever
appeared in the world of politics—one that ought to convey
instruction to all despotic governments, and that ought to
inspire all nations with a love of sound and wholesome liberty,
not run riot, but duly tempered and regulated by wise and
reasonable institutions. The progress of Great Britain,
since the establishment of her constitutional government,
is a marvellous fact that has excited the astonishment and
perhaps occasionally the envy of other countries. It depends
upon two circumstances, on liberty and security. Britain
was the first country that discovered the mode of combin¬
ing the utmost amount of reasonable liberty with the
utmost amount of legal security; and to this she owes her
progress. It is, therefore, not merely a matter of opinion
that the British constitutional government has worked
well, but a great and instructive fact worthy of the best at¬
tention of all political students, and indeed of all nations
that desire to improve their condition.
Let us then endeavour very briefly to extract the essen¬
tial characteristics of the British constitutional government.
In the first place, the hereditary monarch reigns, and is
the first magistrate of the kingdom, in whose name all jus¬
tice is administered. The monarch is also the fountain of
honour, and alone confers titular dignities. All naval and
military commissions are held from the monarch, and the
monarch alone enters into relation with foreign states.
1 he crown, it is true, has an official veto on lawrs passed
by the Lords and Commons; but this prerogative, where all
parties are really bent on full and fair discussion—and the
laws are the result of judgment, not of wall—may be con¬
sidered formal rather than practical. The great fact, how¬
ever, is, that the monarch must govern according to law.
1 his provision, introduced at the accession of William III.,
is the true hinge of the British monarchy, and it is the safe¬
guard not only of the people, but of the monarchy itself,
because it prevents those contests between crown and
people which prevail elsewhere. Instead of a revolution,
which perils or changes the monarch, the British system
changes the advisers of the croivn—that is, changes the
ministry—and the monarch becomes practically as new as
if a new personage had been promoted to the kingly office.
This excellent provision, which keeps the monarch irre-
GOVERN M ENT.
Govern- sponsible, and devolves the responsibility on tbe advisers of
ment. the crown, combines constant opportunity for change with
constant stability. The queen’s ministry may be removed
as often as occasion requires, but the queen’s government
never ceases. The parties, or factions, of the kingdom, in¬
stead of entering into contests with the crown as in former
ages or in other countries, circulate round the crown as
round a centre; and that party which tor the time being
can occupy the greatest portion of the circumference
claims the sanction of the crown to its measures, the
crown remaining always at the point of stability, and as re¬
gards the nation, of impartiality.
The despot, however, affirms that the monarch ought to
govern, and the republican affirms that there ought to be no
hereditary monarch. Both propositions are true in certain
extreme circumstances, hut only in the early growth of a
constitution. When once a nation has settled down into
form, and has recognized its laws, there is every disadvan¬
tage in allowing the monarch to become a partizan—which
he must become if he assume one side or other of a national
question, agitated perhaps with the rancour and vehemence
which proverbially attach to questions of politics. In a
country where many serious struggles have at last instituted
a regular system of law which ought to be carried out and
enforced under all circumstances of party, there is an im¬
mediate and evident advantage in having the highest official
removed from taking a part in what are really the minor
questions of a nation’s existence.
But the republican says that there ought to be no here¬
ditary monarch ; yet it must be confessed that it would re¬
quire a larger amount of experience than the world has hi¬
therto accumulated to prove the advantage of abolishing
all monarchies, or even of adopting an elective monarchy.
To subject a nation to the perpetual play of faction, and to
cast the first office of the state into the arena of political
strife, to be contended for by the great or ambitious fami¬
lies, can be attended with a very small amount of good when
the stability of the office and not the qualities of the person
are the great requisites. Justice is not better administered
in the name of a president than in the name of a king ; and
the very circumstances which have been adduced to prove
the evils of monarchy are those in which the monarch has
departed from the duties of his office and has become a po¬
litician, with personal opinions and predilections. Nor can
the example of the United States be fairly cited in tins case,
for the states contain several millions of people who are
deprived of all political rights, and the slave states are no
more republics than Great Britain is a despotic monarchy.
They are virtual aristocracies, and aristocracies of the
worst kind, the aristocracy of a dominant race reducing
another race to slavery. To call such a system a republic
is to make a mockery of our mother tongue. The only in¬
stance of a true and genuine republic, where all men were
presumed equal, and where universal suffrage was reduced
to real practice by a great nation, is to be found in France
in 1849 ; but the existence of that form of organization was
too short to prove anything either on the one side or the
other, except the instructive fact that anarchy is historically
followed by a strict rule, which introduces the element that
had been omitted in the republican calculation.
Next to the throne comes the House or Assembly of
Peers, composed of the lords spiritual and temporal. When
the church was a great landed proprietor, possessing from a
third to two-fifths of the soil of the kingdom, and when the
bishops were the nobles of the church and of the church
lands, there was a feudal reason for admitting ecclesiastics
into the councils of the state. But since the Church of
England has been undergoing a modification, which may
at.some future time divest it of all direct proprietorship in
the soil, the reason for the presence of bishops in the House
of Peers becomes more and more attenuated.
VOL. x.
737
The temporal peers may be supposed to represent the Govern-
territorial soil and the dignities of the kingdom. A here- ment-
ditary nobility, possessing the right of legislation in con- v'"'*-''
junction with the crown and the commons, is based on the
idea of hereditary possession of the soil. In the feudal sys¬
tem, where the noble was, strictly speaking, a constituent
portion of the military organization of the kingdom, the office
of nobility is clearly intelligible. Nobility was as much an
office as monarchy itself. The noble was bound to appear
in the field (bishops not unusually handled the sword as
well as the crozier) with so many knights, and each knight
with so many followers or men-at-arms. The noble in fact
was the divisional military commander; he was bound to
serve, and for his service he received the use of the lands
which belonged to the king, or rather to the nation, these
being held by the crown for the purpose of the national
defence. The office of nobility was then a distinct portion
of the national organization. Since the introduction of a
standing army, however, the feudal service has lapsed and
ceased, and the nobles now form a separate assembly, appa¬
rently on account of their titular dignities alone. If the
crown confer a peerage on an individual, he immediately
takes his place as a legislator, whatever may have been the
motive for conferring the dignity. The possession of the
title gives the right to a seat in the chamber of the aristo¬
cracy; but so essential is wealth, that where the crown con¬
fers a peerage on an individual not endowed with broad
acres or a large income, a provision is made out of the na¬
tional finds, either in permanency or for a certain number
of lives. This fact proves that nobility is mutually consi¬
dered as a national office, and not merely a personal and
inherent dignity. The doctrine of caste still remains to a
small extent, but it must be remembered that British so¬
ciety has grown out of a strictly feudal system, which was
essentially a system of caste, and the small remnants of the
doctrine now extant are probably not more than coincide
with the national feelings; for there can be no doubt that
Britain is actually proud of her aristocracy ; and not alto¬
gether without reason, as many a hard-fought field and gal¬
lant feat of arms can testify. With the exception of the
Russian aristocracy, which has not yet begun to decline,
the British aristocracy is the only one in Europe that has
preserved the high mental and physical qualities necessary
for the maintenance of its position. It can still stand be¬
fore the world without shame, and before the nation without
fear ; and this it owes to the circumstance that the doctrine
of caste has been practically abolished, and that the institu¬
tion of nobility has been renovated from time to time by
the introduction of the more successful and distinguished
commoners.
But the office of the nobles is not confined to legislation
alone. They form, when assembled, the ultimate judicial
court of the kingdom. With them lies all final appeal in
the administration of civil law; and as judges their very
position is a sufficient safeguard against the intentional abuse
of the judicial office. In ordinary cases they leave the deci¬
sion to certain professional members termed law lords—
men of distinguished acquirement who have attained a
peerage ; but the court is comprised of the whole of the
peers, and on occasion the whole assembly may record its
judgment.
Having thus considered the two hereditary branches of
the legislature, we turn to the third branch—the House of
Commons—constructed on quite a different plan, and re¬
presenting a totally distinct series of principles. 1 he
British House of Commons may, without exaggeration, be
termed the most important popular assembly that has ever
been brought together. A larger amount of money is annu¬
ally subject to its immediate control than ever was placed at
the disposal of any other assembly, a population is aftected
by its decisions greater than any other assembly could ever
GOVERNMENT.
738
Govern- directly reach by legislation, and a more extensive territory
nient. owns jj-g legislative sway. In the direction of the affairs of
the world, and in all quarters of the globe, the British
House of Commons wields a more massive power and in¬
fluence than ever fell to the lot of any similar assembly ;
and although it cannot in any particular interfere as a
legislative assembly with the executive government of the
empire, the principle seems to be established beyond ques¬
tion that no executive government can continue in office
in Britain, unless it have a majority of the representatives
of the people in its favour. The Commons also, having
the exclusive command over the national purse, have the
constitutional pow er of suspending the payment of the army,
navy, and all government officials—in fact, of arresting the
course of administrative government altogether. The real
power of the Commons, therefore, has no assignable limit,
and consequently all great questions of policy are virtually
decided in the House of Representatives. What then is
the House of Commons, and how do its members come to
exercise their powers ?
The House of Commons, as the representative of the
people of Great Britain, is distinguished from the monarch
and the House of Peers by the fact that its members are
chosen by the votes or suffrages of the nation. The assem¬
bly is not democratic, but is supposed to represent the more
intelligent portion of the population. How far the suffrage
ought to be extended, that is, what number out of the whole
population ought to exercise the right of election, is a matter
of expediency which depends not on any abstract idea that
all men are equal, but on the real progress of the people in
those qualities which enable them to exercise the right for
the benefit of themselves and their fellow-countrymen. De
Lolme, in his Constitution of England, draws this distinc¬
tion between freedom, which is every man’s right, and the
franchise, which is a political function. He says, “ What is
liberty ? Liberty so far as it is possible for it to exist in a
society of beings whose interests are almost perpetually op¬
posed to each other, consists in this,—that, every man, while
he respects the persons of others, and allows them quietly
to enjoy the produce of their industry, is himself secured
in the enjovrnent of the produce of his own industry, and
the safety of his person. But to contribute by one’s suf¬
frage to procure these advantages to the community—to
have a share in establishing that order of things by means
of which an individual, lost as it were in the crowd, is effec¬
tually protected—to lay down the rules for those who, being
invested with power, are charged with the defence of indi¬
viduals, and to provide that they should never transgress
them—these are functions, are acts of government, but not
constituent parts of liberty.” (P. 245.)
Here, as in all other departments of government, there
must be a compensation of advantages, a contest with the
democracy on the one hand, and with the aristocracy of
land or wealth on the other. The great advantage of a wide
constituency is, that it diminishes or prevents that undue
influence over the popular elections which the aristocracy
are certain to exercise over tenants, dependents, and those
who hope to propitiate favour by the sacrifice of a vote
which thus comes to represent not self-government but
self-interest. I he great disadvantage of a too w idely-ex¬
tended constituency is that electors are tempted to follow
the demagogue, and to do his bidding in moments of ex¬
citement when there is some common object before them.
Between these extremes there is a point which must be
estimated by a rational consideration of the circumstances of
the country; but as this point is unquestionably moveable,
there ought to be some provision for the rearrangement of
the national constituency, and for the revision of the elec¬
toral scheme so as to make it suitable to the circumstances
of the time being.
The object of the Reform Act of ] 832 was to place the
franchise in the hands of the middle classes. It gave the Govern-
preponderance, not to the populace or the working-men, ment.
but to persons in a rank of life below the aristocracy and 'v—
gentry, but above that of the labouring poor. It embraced
a large proportion of the intelligent, well-conducted, and, at
least, moderately cultivated, and thus infused into the govern¬
ment an element of progressive improvement and stability.
In any new reform bill it is of essential importance that
what has been stated as the end of government should be
steadily kept in view—“ the greatest good of the greatest
number.” No man, no class of men, have a right to exer¬
cise the franchise unless it can be shown that by so doing
they conduce to this end. Our electoral system is but an
instrument for working a great good; whoever adds or with¬
draws from the machinery so as to impair its efficiency in¬
flicts an injury on the community. If it can be satisfac¬
torily proved that any part of it prevents the proper work¬
ing of the machine, it should be removed; if it can be proved
that any addition would increase its efficiency, let it be added.
There are those who base their arguments on abstract right,
in whose estimation all men are entitled to a voice in the
representation. If their theory were carried into practice,
then all the other classes would be swamped by the over¬
whelming numbers of the operative classes, and the govern¬
ment would be handed over to the more excitable, more
ignorant, and the more corruptible part of the community.
The history of the past and the history of the present alike
testify to the calamitous results of this course. An exten¬
sion of the suffrage may not only be just but desirable and
necessary, but that extension should be beneficial and safe.
In the first place, the franchise should not be conceded on
any ground that involves the principle of right, or on the
notion that the mere lowering of the qualification is an ex¬
tension of liberal government. Next, if we are asked, how
then can the franchise be safely and beneficially extended,
we answer in the words of an able article in the Edinburgh
Eevieio (No. 196):—“ Our reply to this, if it is to be satis¬
factory, must be not evasive, but direct. That reply is
briefly an appeal to the fundamental idea lying at the basis
of our constitution, and at the very core of the national
character, which is not that of democratic equality, but of
distinct and privileged but open orders. We ground our
polity upon, and owe our safety to, two great principles—
retaining the powers of the state in the hands of the less
numerous, but more select, more cultivated, and more com¬
petent classes, and, making ingress into these classes acces¬
sible to all. The union of these two principles is safety;
their disjunction would be injustice and ruin. The old re¬
gime in France fell by denying the second; the new re¬
gime has never been able to maintain itself, from having
negatived the first. Let it be our fixed resolution to avoid
with equal care either error.”
Theoretically, the crown and the peers ought to have no
power to influence the election of popular representatives ;
but practically, it must always be expected that official au¬
thority and territorial wealth will de facto have a social
power which, though not belonging to the office of the ad¬
ministration or of the peerage, operates on the conditions of
human nature.
If, then, we ask what are the direct and indubitable ad¬
vantages of a government composed of king, lords, and
commons, with a king who cannot initiate legislation, with
a responsible ministry, with a house of representatives that
cannot interfere in the executive administration of the na¬
tional affairs, and yet that has the exclusive power of the
purse, the answer is precise and definite. Such a govern¬
ment possesses stability on the one hand, the power of
change and of adaptation to circumstances on the other;
and also, it must be observed, that such a government can
find a place for men of the most extreme views. The most
G O W
Gower, antiquated conservator of old customs appears not ungrace-
fully in an assembly that has feudal traditions, and when
(as he must do on serious occasions) he stands almost alone,
he represents the antiquarian spirit of government. The
most extreme democrat need not be denied a place in an
assembly where all the social influences are in favour of a
reasonable preservation of order. He represents the oppo¬
site pole of political theory, and with much talk is in reality
only the solitary speculator, who, perhaps, may point out a
new course, but cannot move society in that direction until
the whole field has been minutely surveyed and explored,
and its advantages tested by experience. Under a consti¬
tutional government, therefore, there is really no serious
danger in the presence of the most violent extremes. The
extremes only point out the utmost limits of discussion,
they are the outposts of the army, the sentries and pickets,
who are removed from the main body to give warning of
danger. But between these must be found the common
sense of the nation, embodied not in this or that erratic in¬
dividual, but in the agglomeration of interests, that neither
desire to adhere to useless forms nor to rush into untried
regions of probable disaster. Such are the advantages of a
limited and constitutional monarchy; and such advantages,
combining, as they do, stability with the power of change,
have afforded the most successful example of government
that has ever appeared in Europe, if we take into considera¬
tion the liberties of the people combined with the impartial
administration of law. The radical virtue of a constitutional
government is, that it affords a power of fluctuation, and can
adapt itself in its ordinary course to the varying circum¬
stances of the governed people, w ithout revolutions, insur¬
rectionary bloodshed, or civil war.
But in a constitutional government like that of Britain,
it must not be supposed that the whole idea of government
is summed up and exhausted when we have mentioned
king, lords, and commons. These, it is true, constitute the
political government, they frame the laws, and in their name
the nation is supposed to act. But before the laws can be
brought into contact with the individual, and carried into
real operation, there is another institution of not less im¬
portance to the community, namely, {he jury. It may be
supposed that the jury does not form a constituent portion
of the government of a country, but if we suppose the go¬
verning body to be all those on whom the life, liberty, and
property of the population depend, we must necessarily in¬
clude the jury, because the jury stands between the crown
and the people; and no man can be punished, except with
the minor inflictions of the law, unless a jury of his equals
shall decide that he is legally wmrthy of punishment.
But even the king, the lords, the commons, and the jury,
do not constitute the whole of constitutional government.
G 0 W 739
To these must be added as another guarantee for the well Gower,
ordering of the national affairs, local self-government, which
is found in the municipal institutions of the towns, and in
the local arrangementsTor the management of county busi¬
ness. Municipal government is in fact the real basis of
popular liberty; and no circumstance is so well calculated
to maintain the self-governing spirit of a people as the con¬
stant and habitual practice of managing their own local af¬
fairs through persons of their own selection. The process
may be troublesome, and, perhaps, even cumbrous, but it
keeps alive a vigorous and wholesome spirit of social inde¬
pendence, which makes a manly nation that cannot be op¬
pressed. Local self-government is the very root of liberty,
out of which the excellences of the higher government grow
naturally, because in local self-government there is the con¬
stant preparation for the exercise of political functions, and
it may be said that the citizen finds his political education
in the school of the municipality, while many of the repre¬
sentatives of the people in the House of Commons have
become skilled in the transaction of public business by pass¬
ing through municipal offices, and conducting the affairs of
a town or county.
These five institutions, the crown, the upper or aristo¬
cratic house of legislators, the lower or commons’ house
of representatives, the jury, and the municipalities, are the
organs of constitutional government. Despotism is tyranny,
and democracy is anarchy and confusion. But constitu¬
tional government is the organization of society for the ad¬
ministration of law and the security of freedom. Society
is no longer in a state of slavery ruled by a despot, nor in
a state of dissolution, without rule or order. It is in a state
of organization, and, properly speaking, it ought to be or¬
ganized from the meanest individual up to the monarch.
We might thus say that the idea of a perfect government
could be reduced to very simple terms, and that the insti¬
tutions of a country should strictly correspond with its local
divisions, those divisions being made on a principle of con¬
venient adaptation to the local circumstances of the popu¬
lation. It might be said that the parish should govern the
parish in all matters that are purely parochial; that the union,
district, or division, should govern itself in all matters that
belong to it; that the county should govern the county, the
province the province, and the kingdom the kingdom; that
the imperial government should regulate only imperial af¬
fairs, the provincial government only provincial affairs, the
county only county affairs, the parish parish affairs, and the
town town affairs. Such a system would afford a practical
realization of self-government, organized from the top to
the bottom of society; and the more nearly it is approached
the more nearly do all parties in the nation understand their
political right, and perform their political duties, (p. e. d.)
GOWER, John, one of the best of the English minor
poets, was born probably in or about the year 1320; but
the date is not exactly known. The place of his birth is
equally uncertain. Weever makes him a native of Kent;
in Caxton’s edition of the Confessio Amantis he is men¬
tioned as a Welshman. Popular tradition, however, has
always pointed to Stitenham in Yorkshire as the place of
the poet’s birth; and the Rev. H. J. Todd, in his Illustra¬
tions of the Lives and Writings of Gower and Chaucer,
publishes a deed from the charter-chest of the Duke of
Sutherland (the present head of the family of which the
poet was a scion), in which the signature of “ Johannes
Gower ” stands first among those of the subscribing wit¬
nesses. On the back of this document is a note to the
effect that the Gower is “ Sir John Gower, the poet.”
The handwriting of the note is believed to be about a cen¬
tury posterior to that of the deed itself.
Possessing considerable means, Gower studied law, at
that time a very expensive accomplishment, at the Inns of
Court, and there contracted a friendship with Chaucer and
Hoccleve. It is even said, though it has never been proved,
that he attained the dignity of Chief Justice of the Common
Pleas. It is known with certainty that he attached himself
to Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, just as
Chaucer had done to John of Gaunt. Like Chaucer also,
he seems to have taken especial pleasure in railing at the
weeknesses and vices of the churchmen of those times. It
has been common among the recent biographers of Chaucer
to maintain that a coolness sprung up between him and
Gower in their old age. No direct proof of this has yet
been brought forward. Tyrwhit suspects it from some ex¬
pressions of Chaucer (which, however, might easily be ex¬
plained away), and is confirmed in his suspicion by finding
that Gower, in the second edition of his poems, omits some
740 G 0 W
Gower, eulogistic verses upon Chaucer, which had appeared in the
V*-'' first edition. Their friendship, however, w^as certainly still
unbroken in the year 1393, for near the close of the Confessio
Amantis, finished in that year, Gower puts the following
compliment to Chaucer into the mouth of Venus :—
il And greet weel Chaucer when ye meet,
As my disciple and my poet;
For in the floures of his youth,
In sundry wise, as he well couth,
Of ditties and of songes glade,
The which he for my sake made.
The land fulfilled is over all; &c.”
The second edition of Gower’s poems was published only
a vear before Chaucer’s death ; and if their author intended
a slight upon his old friend, it is most probable that that
friend died without knowing it. The attachment between
them, so long as it lasted, seems to have been very sincere
on both sides; for Gower, in the above quoted lines, was
merely requiting a compliment that had been paid him some
years before by his brother-poet, who, in dedicating to him
his Troilus and Cressida, addressed him as “ O moral Gower.”
This epithet, though not remarkably happy, has stuck to
Gower, just as that of “judicious ” is always associated with
the name of Hooker. Of Gower’s personal history little
more is known, except that in his old age he became blind,
and at his death, in 1402, was buried in the church of St
Mary Overie, or, as it is now called, St Saviours, in South¬
wark, wTere his monument is still to be seen. The beau¬
tiful church in which he lies wras rebuilt in great part at his
expense, and proves among other things that Gower must
have been exempt from one of the usual misfortunes of
poets—poverty.
Gower’s poetical works are three in number—the Specu¬
lum Meditantis, a treatise on the duties of married life,
written in French verse, and divided into ten books; Vox
Clamantis, a narrative in Latin elegiacs, of the insurrection
of the Commons in the reign of Richard II.; and the Con¬
fessio Amantis, of which a specimen has already been given.
The first of these works is believed to have perished ; ma¬
nuscript copies of the second exist in the Cottonian and
Bodleian libraries ; the third had gone through four editions
before the year 1560. The Confessio Amantis, ox Lover’s
Confession, is a huge miscellaneous collection of physical,
metaphysical, and moral reflections, and of stories culled
from the common repertories of the middle age.
A kind of unity is given to these apparently incongruous
materials by the form of the poem, which is a dialogue be¬
tween a lover and his confessor, who is a priest of Venus,
and is called Genius. In the moral part of his theme,
Gower is confessedly wise, impressive, and sometimes al¬
most sublime. But as Ellis, in his Specimens of the Early
English Poets, observes, “ His narrative is often quite pe¬
trifying ; and when we read in his works the tales with which
we have been familiarized in the poems of Ovid, we feel a
mixture of surprise and despair at the perverse industry
employed in removing every detail on which the imagina¬
tion had been accustomed to fasten. The author of the
Metamorphoses was a poet, and at least sufficiently fond of
ornament. Gower considers him as a mere annalist, scru¬
pulously preserves his facts, relates them with great per¬
spicuity, and is fully satisfied when he has extracted from
them as much morality as they can reasonably be expected
to furnish.” Though Gower’s descriptions are often ex¬
tremely agreeable, and his diction easy and smooth, the
general tediousness of the narrative, and the prosaic feeble¬
ness of the conceptions, will prevent the Lover's Confession
from ever rivalling or even approximating in popularity the
works of the author of the Canterbury Tales. (Todd’s
Illustrations of the Lives and Writings of Gower and
Chaucer ; Ellis’s Specimens of the Early English. Poets ;
Craik’s Hist. Lit.; Spalding’s Hist. Eng. Lit. ; Warton’s
G O Z
Hist. Ena. Poetry ; Godwin’s Life of Chaucer; Gower’s Gower
Works, &c, &c.) p II .
GOWER or Gwyr, a peninsula of South Wales, pro- % 'j0zzl-
jecting into the Bristol Channel, and forming the most
western portion of Glamorganshire. It is 15 miles in length
from N.E. to S.W., and has an average breadth of 5 miles.
A colony of Flemings settled here in the time of Henry I.,
and their descendants still retain much of their national
characteristics, and rarely intermarry with the Welsh.
GOYANNA, a town of Brazil, province of Pernam¬
buco, on the right bank of the Goyanna river, 15 miles
from the sea, and 40 miles N.W. of Pernambuco. It is the
seat of civil and criminal courts, has several factories, and
an active trade. Pop. about 6000.
GOYAZ (formerly Villa Boa), a town of Brazil, ca¬
pital of a cognominal province, and situated on the Ver-
melho, an affluent of the Araguay, 680 miles N.W. of Rio
de Janeiro, being almost in the very centre of the empire.
It contains the governor’s palace, seven churches, and some
other public buildings. Pop. about 7000. The province
of Goyaz has an estimated area of 320,000 square miles,
and a population of 100,000.
GOYT, a romantic river on the borders of Cheshire,
Derbyshire, and Staffordshire, about four miles S.W. of
Buxton. From its source to the junction with Etherow it
forms a boundary between Cheshire and Derbyshire. At
Newmills it receives the brook Kinder, from the west side
of Kinderscout, and flows through a romantic dale. Below
this village and dale the Goyt passes through some beauti¬
ful meadows bounded by hills and woods, after which it
enters a narrow vale replete with beautiful scenery. After
its passage through Marple Bridge, the scenery becomes
strikingly beautiful, the river impetuous and broad, and its
banks are lofty and precipitous. Its junction with the Ethe¬
row is further down, where the scenery becomes still more
imposing and picturesque ; and hence the river flows west¬
ward a few miles through part of Cheshire, passing Marple
Flail and Woodbank, to Stockport, where it unites with the
Tame, and thus forms the Mersey.
GOZO, an island in the Mediterranean. See Malta..
GOZZI, the name of two brothers, natives of Venice,
who, each in his own sphere, attained considerable distinction
in Italian literature. Gasparo, the elder, and, as he is often
called, the “ Addison ” of Italy, was born in 1715. He in¬
herited a large fortune, which, as he was careless and in¬
different in money matters, soon melted away, and he was
compelled to write for a livelihood. Such means as he had
been able to save from the wreck of his fortunes were
swamped by an unsuccessful speculation of his wife (a wo¬
man of considerable literary powers and accomplishments),
who undertook the management of the theatre of San An¬
gelo at Venice, and failed utterly. Till the age of sixty
Gozzi supported himself by his pen. His most valuable
contributions to literature are his Osservatore Veneto, on
the model of the English Spectator, distinguished by a high
moral spirit, a fine play of fancy, and a pleasant glancing
satire, couched in the choicest diction ; his Lettere Eamig-
liari, a delightful collection of short racy pieces in prose
and verse on every subject, and generally pointing some
useful moral; and his Opere in versi e in prosa, consisting
chiefly of dramatic pieces, translated for the most part from
the French, and displaying, like all Gczzi’s works, great
elegance of style. Not the least valuable of his works is
his defence of Dante (whom he enthusiastically admired),
against the attack of Bettinelli. Much of the work which
passed through his hands in the course of his long literary
career was merely done to meet the exigencies of the hour.
Such were his translations of Fleury’s Ecclesiastical His¬
tory, Marmontel’s Tales, Pope’s Essay on Criticism, &c.
He is also said to have written the greater part of Fosca-
rini’s History of Venetian Literature, the so-called author
G U A G R A 741
Grabo having only contributed the plan and an unfinished sketch
II of the work. Gozzi’s fife closed in peace and happiness. On
Grabow. tjie suppressi0n 0f t]le Order of Jesus in 1774 he was com-
missioned to organize a new school system for the north of
Italy. He executed his commission with such ability that
he was appointed to do the same good office to the univer¬
sity of Padua. In this city he died in 1786, in the se¬
venty-third year of his age.
Carlo Gozzi, his younger brother, was born in 1722.
He was a man of greater vigour of mind and general force
of character than his brother Gaspard. Before his sixteenth
year he had written four poems of great length, besides a
vast number of smaller pieces. His literary career, how¬
ever, like that of his brother, though always congenial
enough, became at length, through that brother’s misman¬
agement of the common inheritance, a necessity. In 1761
he produced his comedy of The Three Oranges, which had
an immense run from its successful revival of the masks and
impromptu dialogues so long popular in Italy, but which
Goldoni had recently banished from the stage. (See Gol¬
doni.) He followed up his success with a series of similar
pieces, and was able to make head for a time against Gol¬
doni. Like Goldoni, Gozzi enjoys the somewhat strange
privilege of being a greater favourite abroad than at home.
Native critics, indeed, deny him altogether the praises libe¬
rally bestowed on him by Ginguene, Madame de Stael, and
other French writers. His Useless Memoirs of his oivn Life
were discontinued in 1798 ; at least no part of them was
published after that date. Gozzi died in 1806 at the ad¬
vanced age of eighty-four. (See Ginguene’s articles on the
Gozzi in the Biog. Univ., where a complete fist of the
works of the two brothers will also be found.)
GRABE, John Ernest, a learned theologian, was born
at Konigsberg in 1666. The perusal of the works of the
fathers having inspired him with doubts as to some points
of his creed, he explained them in a memoir addressed to
the consistory of Sambia. The elector of Brandenburg or¬
dered three theologians to examine the memoir of Grabe,
who afterwards proceeded to Berlin to confer wuth Spener,
one of his adversaries. Upon some of the points in dispute
they came to agree ; but Grabe persisting in maintaining
the necessity of the apostolical succession in the ministry,
Spener, having despaired of overcoming his conviction of
this doctrine, counselled him to proceed to England, where
he would find it established. Grabe followed this advice,
and, having reached London, got himself ordained priest
according to the English ritual; but he always preserved
his private opinions touching the eucharist and consecration.
Nevertheless, the regularity of his conduct, and his useful
labours, recommended him to notice; he obtained some
benefices ; and Queen Anne granted him a pension, which
he enjoyed till his death, which took place at London on
the 13th of September 1711, in the forty-fifth year of his
age.
His works, which have obtained him the reputation of a learned
and laborious man, hut indifferent critic, are—Specilegium SS.
Fatrum et Hosreticorum soeculi post Christi natum primi, secundi,
tertii, Oxford, 1698 and 1699, in 8vo; S. Irencei episcopi Lugdu-
nensis adversus hcereses libri quinque, Oxford, 1702, in folio; Vetus
Testamentum juxta Septuaginta Interpretes, Oxford, 1707,1719,1720,
and 1729, in folio : Liturgia Grceea, Hague, 1715, in 8vo ; Be forma
consecrationis Eucharistice, hoc est, Befensio Ecclesice Graecce contra
Romanam, London, 1721, in 8vo ; Editions of the First Apology of
St Justin Martyr, of the works of George Bull, and of the treatise
of Daubuz pro Testimonio Flavii Josephus de Jesu Christo ; Boubts
presented to the Consistory of Sambia, in German, two writings in
English against Whiston, and some polemical pieces of little im¬
portance. U- B E0
GRABOW, a town of Germany, Mecklenburg-Schwerin,
on the Elde, 24 miles S.S.E. of Schwerin. It is a station
on the Hamburg and Berlin railway, and has a handsome
church, manufactures of woollen cloth and tobacco, and
a considerable trade in butter. Pop. 5300.
GRACCHUS, Tiberius and Caius, celebrated Ro- Gracchus
man tribunes and popular leaders, were the sons of the II
famous Cornelia, and thus grandsons of the elder Scipio tion^"
Africanus. Tiberius, the elder and greater of the two, was ,
born about 163 b.c., and was killed in 133 b.c. ; Cains was
born in 154 b.c., and was killed in 121. The personal his¬
tory of both these men is only important in so far as it is
connected with the general history of Rome. See Roman
History.
GRACE, Days of, in commercial law, certain days al¬
lowed to be added to the time after which a bill falls due.
See Exchange, vol. ix., p. 428.
GRACES (in Latin Gratice, in Greek Xaptres), the
goddesses of grace, are described in ancient mythology as
three sisters of surpassing beauty, the attendants of Venus.
Their names were Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia. Va¬
rious accounts of their parentage are given. By some they
are made the daughters of Jupiter and Eurynome, by others
of Apollo and AUgle, by others of Bacchus and Venus or
Coronis. The Spartans, however, had only two Graces,
Kleta and Phaenne, whose temple was still extant in the
days of Pausanias. The Athenians, also, had only two,
Auxo and Hegemone, whom they seem to have worshipped
from a very early period. Originally there seems to have
been only one Grace, in whom the pure idea of beauty was
typified. By and bye, when the principles of aesthetics came
to be more deeply investigated by the Greeks, their num¬
ber was increased to three, to each of whom a special func¬
tion was assigned. Thus Aglaia symbolized generally the
beauty and splendour of the forms of nature, Euphrosyne
mirth and happiness, and Thalia social festivity. Hence
they were invoked to preside at marriages, births, and fes¬
tivals of every kind. On these last-named occasions they
were believed to interpose in preventing the evil conse¬
quences apt to result from excessive indulgence in wine.
The worship of the graces is said to have originated in
Bceotia; and they are always represented as innocentmaidens
in the full bloom of youth and beauty, carrying either lyres,
or myrtle branches, or roses. In early statues and carvings
they are always found dressed ; but in later times it became
the fashion to represent them naked. As might have been
expected, they form a favourite subject with modern as
well as ancient sculptors and painters. Raphael and Canova
have both reproduced the idea; and the marble of the one
is as widely known as the painting of the other.
GRACIOSA, one of the Azores. See Azores. Also
one of the Canary Islands. See Canary Islands.
GRADISKA or Berbir, a strongly-fortified town of
European Turkey, province of Bosnia, on the right bank
of the Save, 28 miles N. by E. of Banyaluka. Immedi¬
ately opposite to it stands the Austrian fortress of Alt-
Gradiska.
GRADUATION,among mathematical instrument-mak¬
ers, is the process of dividing the arcs of quadrants, theo¬
dolites, circular instruments, measures, &c., into degrees,
fractions of a degree, &c. Accuracy in this operation
is of the utmost importance in practical astronomy and
surveying, and no small amount of practical skill is requi¬
site to insure its successful execution. There are two
methods employed in the dividing of instruments—the ordi¬
nary one consisting in making a copy of a system of divi¬
sions already existing ; the other and more delicate process
is that of original dividing. Straight scales and rules,
such as are used in drawing, are divided by placing the
particular instrument and the original pattern side by side,
then passing a straight edge (with a shoulder fixed at right
angles to serve as a guide) along the original, and pausing
at each division, when a corresponding fine is made on the
copy by the dividing knife. Segments of circles may be
graduated by making the straight edge revolve on the
centre of a divided circle, and marking off the divisions as
742 G R A
Gradua- in the straight scale. This method, which in skilful hands
tion. admits of considerable accuracy, was applied to the dvision
GrJvius theodolites and common circular instruments until super-
v ia3vlU3,/ seded by Ramsden’s Dividing Engine. For the invention
“ of this ingenious machine the author received from the
Board of Longitude a premium of L.300, and L.315 for the
machine itself, which he was permitted during pleasure to
retain in his own possession, on condition of his dividing
sextants and octants for other instrument-makers at fixed
rates. A description of Ramsden’s dividing engine would
require a diagram to render it perfectly intelligible; but
perhaps some general idea of its mode of action may be
formed from the following brief explanation :—A horizontal
circle, four feet in diameter, turns upon a vertical axis, and
is moved by an endless screw, one revolution of which
carries forward the circle ten minutes, or one sixth of a
degree ; the screw is moved forward by depressing a treadle,
at each descent of which the screw, by a series of ingeni¬
ous mechanical appliances, may be turned through any
portion of its revolution ; and when the pressure is re¬
moved, the position of the several parts is restored without
communicating any return motion to the screw. The
circle to be graduated is fixed upon the dividing-plate of
the machine, and concentric with it, and the lines are cut
after each depression of the treadle.
Some idea of the extreme delicacy required for original
dividing may be derived from the fact that Ramsden, in
laying down the original divisions on his dividing engine,
divided his circle first into five parts, and each of these
into three; these parts were then bisected four times, but
being apprehensive lest some error might arise from quin-
quisection and trisection, in order to test the accuracy of
the divisions he described another circle TVth inch within
the former by continual bisections, when the two sets of
divisions were found to exhibit no sensible difference. It
was by means of this machine that Ramsden graduated his
great theodolite, constructed under the inspection of Gene¬
ral Roy for the trigonometrical survey of Great Britain. A
description of this fine theodolite, with illustrative plates,
may be found in the Philosophical Transactions, Lond.,
vol. Ixxx.
Ramsden’s dividing machine is the prototype after which
various similar ones (with some alterations and improve¬
ments) have been constructed by Troughton, Adie of
Edinburgh, and various other artists. The dividing ma¬
chines of Reichenbach, Gambey, and other continental
inventors, differ somewhat from those above mentioned.
Ihe German method of division, wduch admits of the
greatest accuracy under skilful management, is performed
by copying from a large circle originally divided with
extreme precision. Upon this the copy is fixed concen¬
trically ; and by the aid of the micrometer-microscope fixed
independently over the divided circle, the degrees and their
fractional parts are cut in the copy.
Ample details of the different methods employed for
graduation are to be found in various published works
which treat of this particular subject, such as those of Bird,
Ramsden, froughton, de Chaulnes, &c., &c.
Graduation, in the arts, the process of accelerating
evaporation by exposing a large surface of the liquid ope¬
rated on to a current of air.
GR/ECTA MAGNA (f/ peyaX-q 'EAAds), in Ancient Geo¬
graphy, a collective name for the numerous Greek colo¬
nies which at an early age were established along the
southern, south-eastern, and south-western shores of Italy.
The term, however, is never used in a territorial sense to
signify the southern half of the Italian peninsula, but is
restricted entirely to the Greek cities on coasts.
GRiEVIUS, the Latinized form of GRjEFE, John,
George, one of the most learned and laborious writers of
his time, was born at Naumburg, in Saxony, Jan. 29, 1632.
G R A
He began his studies in the gymnasium of Pforta, and Gran-ias.
completed them at the university of Leipzig, under Rivinus
and Strauch. Greevius was led to the study of letters by
his natural inclination, and every day he became more and
more devoted to this pursuit. But his father wished that
he should study the law ; Strauch seconded this view, and
Graevius obeyed, though with repugnance. He had the
curiosity to visit Holland, while Salmasius, Heinsius, and
Frederic Gronovius, were in the zenith of their reputation.
The conversation of Gronovius revealed to him the painful
truth that his studies had been almost entirely unavailing,
that he had been taught according to the principles of a bad
school, and that he had no time to lose if he desired to cor¬
rect the vices of its method of instruction. He entreated
Gronovius to become thenceforth his guide; nor could he
have chosen one more able ; so, having abandoned juris¬
prudence, he passed two years at Deventer, attending assi¬
duously the lessons of his new master. He then proceeded
to Amsterdam to hear Alexander Moms and David Blondel,
whose counsels decided him to quit Lutheranism for the
sect of Calvin. Peter Burmann, his panegyrist, anxious
that this change of religion should not be misrepresented,
declares that the new convert listened only to the voice of
conscience. Graevius, whose reputation had now begun
to be extended, was, in 1656, called to the university of
Duisburg; and he had been there two years, surpassing
all the hopes which had been conceived of his talents, when
Gronovius, who had entered the university of Leyden, soli¬
cited the magistrates of Deventer to appoint Graevius his
successor. They agreed to this application, and Graevius,
notwithstanding the efforts of the elector of Brandenburg,
who, in order to retain him, offered an augmentation of fees,
quitted a university for a simple gymnasium, influenced
probably by the desire of living under a free government.
After a stay of three years at Deventer, he yielded to the
solicitations of the university of Utrecht, which offered him
the chair of history, then vacant by the death of ASmilius.
This satisfied all his ambition, and, content with his situa¬
tion, he declined the invitations of the magistrates of Am¬
sterdam and Leyden, who twice attempted, by brilliant
offers, to attach him to the schools in those cities. The
elector-palatine, who wished to draw him to Heidelberg,
was also refused; the king of Prussia was not more for¬
tunate ; and the republic of Venice, which offered him a
chair in the university of Padua, had as little success, al¬
though, in the hope of inducing him to accept, it had pro¬
mised him, besides considerable appointments, full liberty
on the score of religion, and complete protection against the
inquisitors. But none of these offers could overcome his
resolution. The eager desire of foreigners to obtain his
services was justified by the great reputation which he had
attained as professor. Pupils crowded to his lectures, not
only from all Holland, but from all Europe. In Germany,
particularly, almost all the great lords sent their sons to be
educated by him; and he reckoned amongst his auditors
sons of princes, and even of kings ; for William III., who
made him his historiographer, had confided to his care the
young Prince of Nassau. Paquot, and before him G. Bur¬
mann, in the Trajectum Eruditum, have given a complete
list of his works. He died suddenly Jan. 11, 1703.
The following are his principal works—An edition of the Letters
of Casaubon, Brunswick, 1655 ; The Solecist of Lucian, Amster¬
dam, 1668, in 8vo, with notes rich in grammatical erudition ; He¬
siod, with a collection of excellent observations under the title of
Lectiones Hesiodece ; Justin, 1669, cum Notts Variorum ; Catullus,
Tibullus, and Propertius, Utrecht, 1680, cum Notts Variorum ; Sue¬
tonius, 1672; Florus, 1680; The Commentaries of Caesar; The
miscellaneous Letters of Cicero, his Letters to Atticus, his Treatise
of Offices, and his Discourses, cum Notis Variorum. But his master¬
piece is his Thesaurus Antiquitatum Romanarum, in 12 vols. folio,
a work of incredible labour and research, to which he afterwards
added Thesaurus Antiq. et Hist. Italics, printed the year after his
G R A
Grafting death, 1704, in 3 vols. folio, and continued by his successor Peter
|| Burmann. Besides all these works, which are more than sufficient
Graham, to hav e exhausted the industry of ten ordinary men, Grasvius edited
the Philological Lexicon of Martin us, the treatise of Junius De Pic¬
tures Veterum, the Greek and Latin Poetry of Huet, and several
works of Meursius ; and, in concert with Peter Burmann and Hol-
then, he had commenced a reimpression of the Inscriptions of
Gn uter. Fabricius has published a collection of his Prefaces and
Letters, and Burmann a collection of his Discourses.
GRAFTING, in Horticulture. See Botaxy, vol. v.,
P* 167—8 ; and Horticgltuke, § Fruit-Garden.
GRAHAM, George, a distinguished mechanician and
clockmaker, was born in 1675 at Horsgills, in the parish of
Kirklinton, and county of Cumberland. His inventions in
science are numerous and valuable. He invented and
constructed with his own hands the sector with which
Bradley discovered two new movements in the so-called
fixed stars. He also executed the superb mural arch in
the observatory of Greenwich, on the pattern of which the
best instruments of this kind are still made. The French
Academy selected him to make the necessary instruments
for their expedition to the north, undertaken for the pur¬
pose of determining the figure of the earth. Some of
Graham s horological inventions are no less remarkable
than those already alluded to. It is to him that we owe the
mercurial compensation pendulum, the dead escapement
for clocks, and the horizontal or cylinder escapement for
watches, which are all detailed under Clock and Watch
Work. Graham was a Quaker, and a man of almost pro¬
verbial probity and veracity. His published works are
limited to his contributions to the Royal Society, of which
he was a member. He died in 1751, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey.
Graham, James, the celebrated Marquis of Montrose,
born 1612, beheaded at Edinburgh, May 21, 1650. His
history will be found under Scotland. His character is
familiar to all through Sir W. Scott’s Legend of Montrose.
Graham, John, Viscount of Dundee, better known as
Claverhouse, from the name of his estate, born about 1650,
killed at Killiecrankie in 1689. The details of his life are
given in the article Scotland. The recent attempts of
party writers to whitewash the character of Claverhouse
have been all signal failures. It would be hardly fair to
except from that catalogue even Sir W. Scott, whose poli¬
tical sympathies lay altogether in favour of those views
for which Graham fought and finally died. The sketch
of Claverhouse in Old Mortality is in the highest degree
vigorous and graphic, but a very different and far truer
estimate of the arch-persecutor is that in the episode en¬
titled “ Wandering Willie’s Tale,” in the story of Red-
gauntlet by the same author.
Graham, Thomas, Lord Lynedoch, the hero of Barossa,
was a cadet of a very ancient and honourable Scottish
family. I he date and place of his birth are alike unknown
with certaintjr, as no register of the event is known to
exist. He was born, however, either in 1750, or (as is
more likely) in 1748. The place of his birth was either
the family estate of Balgowan, or his father’s property of
Blairgowrie, near the town of that name, both in the county
of Perth. On his father’s side he claimed kindred with
the dukes of Montrose ; his mother was a daughter of the
first Earl of Hopetoun. He was the third son, but as both
his brothers died young he inherited the family estates.
His education was carried on at home, and his tutor was
the celebrated James Macpherson, whose name is identi¬
fied with the poems of Ossian. On reaching manhood,
young Graham did very much as was and is the custom of
his class—he travelled a good deal on the Continent;
farmed a little ; distinguished himself as a most daring
rider and sportsman, and dipped a good deal into general,
but more especially classical literature, for which he had a
decided taste. In this way he spent his life till the year
G R A 743
1 < 92, when he had the misfortune, while travelling on the Grahame.
Continent, to lose his wife (the second daughter of Charles, ^
ninth Earl of Cathcart), to whom he was most devotedly
attached. This loss preyed deeply and long upon his
mind ; and the means that he took to drown the memory of
his affliction imparted a romantic interest to the whole
tenor of his future life. He entered the army as a volun¬
teer; in 1793 took part in the campaign of the south of
France, and distinguished himself by the devoted gallantry
with which he always marched at the head of his column
into the thickest of the fight. On returning home he was
made colonel of the 90th regiment, of which the first
battalion had been raised by himself. In 1795 he was sta¬
tioned at Gibraltar, but becoming tired of the dull mono¬
tony of garrison routine, he left it, and attached himself to
the Austrian headquarters as British commissioner. In
this capacity he assisted Wurmser in the defence of
Mantua, when it was blockaded by the French under
General Bonaparte.
On returning home he was again employed on foreign
service, and attracted especial notice at the reduction of
Minorca and the subsequent blockade and capture of Malta.
In 1808 he accompanied Sir John Moore to Spain, and
took part in the campaign that ended in the disastrous
retreat to Corunna. In the hardships, almost unparalleled,
then undergone by the British soldiers, Graham (to quote
the words of Sheridan) was in the hour of peril their best
adviser, in the hour of disaster their surest consolation. In
1811 he fought and won the memorable battle of Barossa,
notable among other reasons as the first fight in which the
English captured a French eagle. Hastening to join Wel¬
lington, he arrived in time to be present at the siege
of Ciudad Rodrigo. At Vitoria he led the English left
wing, and after taking St Sebastian, crossed the Bidassoa,
and was the first to take seisin of the soil of France with
British troops. He received the thanks of parliament for
his numerous services, and in 1814 was made a baron of
the empire with the title of Lord Lynedoch. In 1826 he
was appointed governor of Dumbarton Castle, and before
his death had received as many orders and decorations as
any general in the British service, Wellington alone ex¬
cepted. Sir Walter Scott pays him a touching tribute at
the close of the Vision of Don Roderick :—
£t Nor be his praise o’erpast, who strove to hide
Beneath the warrior’s vest affection’s wound,
Whose wish heaven for his country’s weal denied;
Danger and fate he sought, but glory found.
From clime to clime, where’er was trumpet’s sound
The wanderer went; yet, Caledonia, still
Thine was his thought in march and tented ground ;
He dreamed ’mid Alpine cliffs of Athole’s hill,
And heard in Ebro’s roar his Lynedoch’s lovely rill.”
“ Never,” said Sheridan, “ was there seated a loftier spirit
in a braver heart.” Lord Lynedoch died at London, Dec.
18, 1843, in the 94th (or if we assign his birth to 1748, in
the 96th) year of his age. He died without issue, and his
title is consequently extinct.
GRAHAME, James, author of The Sabbath and other
poems, was a native of Glasgow, where he was born April
22, 1765. His father was a successful and prosperous
legal practitioner, and, by a very common error, he con¬
ceived that no other profession could be so suitable or so
advantageous for his son. James, dutiful, and shrinking
from opposition, as he did all through life, obeyed the
parental wish and studied law, first to qualify himself for
the business of writer to the signet, and subsequently for
the Scottish bar. His inclinations, however, were all for re¬
tirement and literature ; and finally, when he had reached
the mature age of forty-four, he took orders in the English
Church, and was contented with an humble curacy in the
north of England. He did not long enjoy an office which
he adorned by his pious and eloquent ministrations. Ill
744 G 14 A
Grammar, health compelled him to try the renovating effects of his
^ native air and landscape ever dear to his imagination, but
he died shortly after his return, September 14, 1811. The
works of Grahame consist of a dramatic poem, Mari) Queen
of Scots, The Sabbath, British Georgies, The Birds of
Scotland, and several smaller poems. His principal work
is The Sabbath—a sacred and descriptive poem in blank
verse, characterized by a fine vein of tender and devotional
feeling, and by the happy delineation of Scottish scenery.
He is the Cowper of Scotland, but wanting Cowper’s
mastery of versification and easy idiomatic vigour of style.
The blank verse of Grahame is often hard and constrained,
though at times it swells out into periods of striking
imagery and prophet-like earnestness. His description of
the solemn stillness and unbroken calm of “ the hallowed
day” in the rural districts of Scotland, and of the Scottish
Sabbath preachings among the hills in times of persecution,
when
“ The scattered few would meet in some deep dell
By rocks o’er-canopied,”
are finished pictures that will never fade from our poetry.
In his Georgies he tried the wider field of rural occupations
and manners, and produced some pleasing daguerreotypes of
nature—for he was a careful as well as loving student—but
he descends into minute and undignified detail. Cowper
ventured upon the subject of manure, and his failure as to
the “ stercoraceous heap” should have warned Grahame
from the “ compost pile.” Such rules of husbandry are
unfitted for poetry—or at least it was given to Virgil only
to render them pleasing in verse. He, indeed, as Dryden
happily says, “ delivers the meanest of his precepts with a
kind of grandeur : he breaks the clods and tosses the dung
about with an air of gracefulness.” No other poet, how-
G R A
ever, has succeeded in the perilous employment. In the Graham’s
notes to Grahame’s poems the author expresses manly and Town
enlightened views on the subject of slavery, on popular ^ Jmar
education, the criminal law, and other public questions. ^ ramma^.
He was emphatically a friend of humanity—a philanthro-
pist as well as a poet. (r. c—s.)
GRAHAM’S TOWN. See Good Hope, Cape of.
GRAINGER, James, author of an Ode on Solitude,
and other poems, and the translator of Tibullus, was born
about the year 1721 of “ a gentleman’s family in Cumber¬
land” (his own statement) ; but Dunse in Berwickshire is
said to have been the place of his birth. In 1759 he ac¬
companied a rich West India proprietor to St Christopher’s,
where he resided about five years. He there wrote a poem
on the “Sugar Cane,” in which he dignified the poor negroes
with the name of sivains. He died in London in 1766.
Johnson considered the opening lines of his Ode a “noble”
passage, and many parts of the poem are highly picturesque.
Grainger was a learned and worthy man, much esteemed by
the Johnson circle of wits.
GRAIN, the name of the smallest weight in common
use. It is the 24th part of a pennyweight troy, and the
20th part of the scruple in apothecaries’ weight.
GRAINS OF PARADISE, hot, acrid, aromatic seeds,
produced on the coast of Guinea, and supposed to be de¬
rived from two distinct species of plants, viz., the Amomum
Grana-paradisi of Linnaeus, and the A. Meleguetta ot
Roscoe; perhaps also from others. They are of a glossy
dark brown colour, are longer and rounder than the seeds
of the true cardamom, and have a slight flavour of camphor.
These seeds are much esteemed as a spice among the
Africans, but are chiefly employed to give a fictitious
strength to beer and spirits. (Archer’s Economic Botany)
G E A M M A K.
Grammar is the art of speaking or writing any lan¬
guage with correctness and propriety ; and the purpose of
language is to communicate thought.
Grammar, considered as an art, necessarily supposes the
previous existence of language; and as its design is to
teach any language to those who are ignorant of it, it must
be adapted to the genius of that particular language ot
which it treats. A just method of grammar, therefore,
without attempting any alterations in a language already
introduced, furnishes certain observations called rules, to
which the methods of speaking used in that language may
be reduced ; and this collection of rules is called the gram¬
mar of that particular language. For the greater distinct¬
ness with regard to these rules, grammarians have usually
divided this subject into four distinct heads : Orthography,
or the art of combining letters into syllables, and syllables
into words ; Etymology, or the art of deducing one word
UNIVERSAL
The origin of language is a subject which has employed
much learned investigation, and about which there is still
a diversity of opinion. The design of speech is to com¬
municate to others the thoughts and perceptions of the
mind of the speaker ; but it is obvious, that between an in¬
ternal idea and any external sound there is no natural re¬
lation ; that the word fire, for instance, might have deno¬
minated the substance which we call ice, and that the word
ice might have signified fire. Some of the most acute feel¬
ings of man, as well as of every other animal, are indeed
expressed by simple inarticulate sounds, which, as they
from another, and the various modifications by which the
sense of any one word can be diversified consistently with
its original meaning or its relation to the theme whence it
is derived ; Syntax, or what relates to the construction or
due disposition of the words of a language into sentences
or phrases ; and Prosody, or that which treats of the quan¬
tities and accents of syllables, and the art of making verses.
But grammar, considered as a science, views language
only as significant of thought. Neglecting particular and
arbitrary modifications introduced tor the sake of beauty
or otherwise, it examines the analogy and relation between
words and ideas ; distinguishes between those particulars
which are essential to language and those which are only
accidental; and thus furnishes a certain standard, by which
different languages may be compared, and their several ex¬
cellencies or defects pointed out. This is what is called
Philosophical or
GRAMMAR.
tend to the preservation of the individual, or the continu¬
ance of the species, and invariably indicate either pain or
pleasure, are universally understood; but these inarticu¬
late and significant sounds are very few in number ; and if
they can with any propriety be said to constitute a natu¬
ral and universal language, it is a language of which man as
a mere sensitive being partakes in common with the other
animals.
Man is endowed not only with sensation, but also with
the faculty of reasoning; and simple inarticulate sounds
are insufficient for expressing all the various modifications
<; R A M M A R.
745
Grammar, of thought, for communicating to others a chain of argu-
mentation, or even for distinguishing between the different
sensations either of pain or of pleasure ; a man scorched
with fire or unexpectedly plunged amongst ice, might utter
the cry naturally indicative of sudden and violent pain;
the cry would be the same, or nearly the same, but the
sensations of cold and heat are widely different. Articula¬
tion, by which those simple sounds are modified, and a par¬
ticular meaning fixed to each modification, is therefore ab¬
solutely necessary to such a being as man, and forms the
language which distinguishes him from all other animals,
and enables him to communicate with facility all that di¬
versity of ideas with which his mind is stored, to make
known his particular wants, and to distinguish with accu¬
racy all his various sensations. Those sounds thus modi¬
fied are called ivords; and as words have confessedly no
natural relation to the ideas and perceptions of which they
are significant, the use of them must either have been the
result of human sagacity, or have been suggested to the
first man by the author of nature.
Whether language be of divine or human origin, is a
question upon which, though it might perhaps be soon re¬
solved, it is not necessary to enter here. Upon either sup¬
position, the first language, compared with those which
succeeded it, or even with itself as afterwards enlarged,
must have been extremely narrow and rude. If it was of
human contrivance, this will be readily granted ; for what
art was ever invented and brought to a state of perfection
by illiterate savages ? If it was taught by God, which is
at least the more probable supposition, we cannot imagine
that it would be more comprehensive than the ideas of
those for whose immediate use it was intended ; that the
first men should have been taught to express pains or plea¬
sures which they never felt, or to utter sounds that should
afterwards be significant of ideas which at the time of ut¬
terance had not occurred to the mind of the speaker. Man
once taught the elements of language would be able of him¬
self to improve and enlarge it as his future occasions re¬
quired.
As all language is composed of significant words vari¬
ously combined, a knowledge of them is necessary previous
to our acquiring an adequate idea of language as con¬
structed into sentences and phrases. But as it is by words
that we express the various ideas which occur to the mind,
it is necessary to examine how ideas themselves are sug¬
gested, before we can ascertain the various classes into
which words may be distributed. It is the province of
logic to trace our ideas from their origin, as well as to
unfold the process of reasoning; but it is necessary at
present to observe, that our earliest ideas are all ideas of
sensation, excited by the impressions that are made upon
our organs of sense by the various objects with which we
are surrounded. Let us therefore suppose a reasonable
being, devoid of every possible prepossession, placed upon
this globe ; and it is obvious that his attention would in
the first place be directed to the various objects which he
saw existing around him. These he would naturally en¬
deavour to distinguish from one another; and if he were
either learning or inventing a language, his first effort would
be to give them names, by means of which the ideas of
them might be recalled when the objects themselves should
be absent. This is one copious source of words, and forms
a natural class which must be common to every language,
and which is distinguished by the name of nouns ; and as Grammar..
these nouns are the names of the several substances which
exist, they have likewise been called substantives.
It would likewise be early discovered that every one of
these substances was endowed with certain qualities or at¬
tributes, to express which another class of words would be
requisite, since it is only by their qualities that substances
themselves can attract our attention. Thus, to be weighty,
is a quality of matter; to think, is an attribute of man.
Therefore in every language words have been invented to
express the known qualities or attributes of the several
objects which exist. These may all be comprehended un¬
der the general denomination of attributives.
Nouns and attributives must comprehend all that is es¬
sential to language j1 for every thing which exists, or of
which we can form an idea, must be either a substance or
the attribute of some substance ; and therefore the two
classes which we denominate substances and attributes must
comprehend all the words that are necessary to communi¬
cate to the hearer the ideas which are present to the mind
of the speaker. If any other words occur, they can only
have been invented for the sake of dispatch, or introduced
for the purposes of ease and ornament, to avoid tedious
circumlocutions or disagreeable tautologies. There are
indeed grammarians of great name, who have considered
as essential to language an order of words, of which the
use is to connect the nouns and attributes, and which are
said to have no signification of themselves, but to become
significant by relation. Hence all words which can possi¬
bly be invented are by these men divided into two general
classes ; those which are significant of themselves, and those
which are not. Words significant of themselves are either
expressive of the names of substances, and therefore called
substantives; or of attributes, and therefore called attribu¬
tives. Words which are not significant of themselves must
acquire a meaning either as defining or connecting others,
and are therefore arranged under the two classes of defini¬
tives and connectives.
That in any language there can be words which of them¬
selves have no signification, is a supposition which a man
free from prejudice will not readily admit. For to what pur¬
pose, we ask, should they have been invented ? As they are
significant of no ideas, they cannot facilitate the communi¬
cation of thought, and must therefore be only an incum¬
brance to the language in which they are found. But in
answer to this it has been said, that these words, though
devoid of signification themselves, acquire a sort of mean¬
ing when joined with others, and that they are as necessary
to the structure of a sentence as mortar is to the structure
of an edifice ; for as stones cannot be arranged into a re¬
gular building without a cement to bind and connect them,
so the original words significant of substances and attri¬
butes cannot be made to express all the variety of our ideas
without being defined and connected by those words which
of themselves signify nothing. It is wonderful that he who
first suggested this simile did not perceive that it tends to
overthrow the doctrine which it is meant to illustrate. For
surely the cement is as much the matter of the building as
the stones themselves are ; it is equally solid and equally
extended. By being united with the stones, it neither ac¬
quires nor loses any one of the qualities essential to mat¬
ter ; it neither communicates its own softness nor acquires
their hardness. By this mode of reasoning, therefore, it
1 This is the doctrine of many writers on the theory of language; yet it is not easy to conceive mankind so far advanced in the
art of abstraction as to view attribute.? by themselves independently of particular substances, and to give one general name to each attri¬
bute wheresoever it may be found, without having at the same time words expressive of affirmation. We never talk ot any attri¬
bute, a colour for instance, without affirming something concerning it; as, either that it is bright or faint, or that it is the colour of
some substance. It will be seen afterwards, that to denote affirmation is the proper office of what is called the substantive verb;
as, “ Milk is white.” That verb therefore appears to be as necessary to the communication of thought as any species of words what¬
soever ; and if we must range words under a few general classes, we should be inclined to say that nouns, attributes, and affirma¬
tives, comprehend all that is really essential to language.
VOL. X. 5 B
746 G R A M M A R.
Grammar, would appear that the words called definitives and connec-
tives, so far from having of themselves no signification, are
equally essential to language, and equally significant with
those which are denominated substantives and attributives;
and upon investigation it will be found that this is the
truth. For whatever is meant by the definition or connec¬
tion of the words which all men confess to be significant,
that meaning must be the sense of the words of which the
purpose is to define and connect; and as there can be no
meaning where there are no ideas, every one of these defi¬
nitives and connectives must be significant of some idea,
although it may not always be easy or even possible to ex¬
press that idea by another word.
These different modes of dividing the parts of speech
we have just mentioned because they have been largely
treated of by grammarians of high fame. But it does not
appear to us that any man can feel himself much the wiser
for having learned that all words are either substantives or
attributives, definitives or connectives. The division of
words into those which are significant of themselves, and
those which are significant by relation, is absolute nonsense,
and has been productive of much error and much mystery
in some of the most celebrated treatises on grammar. It
is indeed probable that any attempt to establish a different
classification of the parts of speech from that which is com¬
monly received, will be found of little utility either in prac¬
tice or in speculation. As far as the former is concerned,
the vulgar division seems sufficiently commodious; for
every man who knows any thing, knows when he uses a
noun and when a verb. With respect to the latter, not to
mention that all the grammarians from Aristotle to Horne
Tooke have differed on the subject, it should seem to be
of more importance, after having ascertained with preci¬
sion the nature of each species of words, to determine in
what circumstances they differ than in what they agree.
In most languages, probably in all cultivated languages,
grammarians distinguish the following parts of speech, viz.
noun, pronoun, verb, participle, adverb, preposition, con¬
junction. The Latin and English grammarians admit the in¬
terjection among the parts of speech, although it is confess¬
edly not necessary to the construction of the sentence, being
only thrown in to express the affection of the speaker; and in
the Greek and English tongues there is the article prefix¬
ed to nouns when they signify the common names of things,
to point them out, and to show how far their signification
extends. In the method of arrangement commonly fol¬
lowed in grammars, adjectives are classed with substantives,
and both are denominated nouns. But it is certain that, when
examined philosophically, an essential difference is discover¬
ed between the substantive and the adjective; and therefore
some philologists of eminence, when treating of this subject,
have given the following classification of words, which we
shall adopt: The article, noun, pronoun, verb, parti¬
ciple, ADJECTIVE, ADVERB, PREPOSITION, CONJUNCTION,
interjection. All these words are to be found in the Eng¬
lish language, and therefore we shall examine each class,
endeavour to ascertain its precise import, and show in what
respects it differs from every other class. It is impossible
to investigate the principles of grammar without confining
the investigation in a great measure to some particular
language from which the illustrations must be produced ;
and that we should prefer the English language for this
purpose can excite no wonder, as it is a preference which
is due to every tongue from those by whom it is spoken.
I he principles, however, which we shall here expound and
elucidate, being in substance the same with those so clear¬
ly and ingeniously established by Dr John Hunter of St
Andrews, in his oral prelections on philology, will be found
to apply universally; and our inquiry, though principally
illustrated from the English language, will be an inquiry
into Philosophical and Universal Grammar.
I. Of the Noun or Substantive.
Nouns are all those words by which objects or substances
are denominated, and which distinguish them from one an¬
other, without marking either quantity, quality, action, or
relation. The substantive or noun is the name of the thing
spoken of, and in Greek and Latin is called name ; for it is
mga in the one, and nomen in the other; and if in English we
had called it the name rather than the noun, the appellation
would perhaps have been more proper, as this last word,
being used only in grammar, is more liable to be misun¬
derstood than the other, which is in constant and familiar
use. That nouns or the names of things must make a part
of every language, and that they must have been the words
first suggested to the human mind, will not be disputed.
Men could not speak of themselves, or of any thing else,
without having names for themselves and the various ob¬
jects with which they are surrounded. Now, as all the ob¬
jects which exist must be either in the same state in which
they were produced by nature, or changed from their ori¬
ginal state by art, or abstracted from substances by the
powers of imagination, and conceived by the mind as hav¬
ing at least the capacity of being characterised by qualities ;
this naturally suggests a division of nouns into natural, as
man, vegetable, tree ; artificial, as house, ship, watch ; and
abstract, as whiteness, motion, temperance.
But the diversity of objects is so great, that had each in¬
dividual a distinct and proper name, it would be impossible
for the most tenacious memory, during the course of the
longest life, to retain even the nouns of the narrowest lan¬
guage. It has therefore been found expedient, when a
number of things resemble each other in some important
particulars, to arrange them all under one species ; to which
is given a name that belongs equally to the whole species,
and to each individual comprehended under it. Thus the
word man denotes a species of animals, and is equally ap¬
plicable to every human being; the word horse denotes
another species of animals, and is equally applicable to
every individual of that species of quadrupeds ; but it can¬
not be applied to the species of men, or to any individual
comprehended under that species. We find, however, that
there are some qualities in which several species resemble
each other; and therefore we refer them to a higher order
called a genus, to which we give a name that is equally ap¬
plicable to every species and every individual comprehend¬
ed under it. Thus, men and horses and all living things on
earth resemble each other in this respect, that they have
life. We refer them therefore to the genus called animal;
and this word belongs to every species of animals, and to each
individual animal. The same classification is made both of
artificial and abstract substances; of each of which there
are genera, species, and individuals. Thus, in natural sub¬
stances, animal, vegetable, and fossil, denote genera ; man,
horse, tree, metal, species; and Alexander, Bucephalus, oak,
gold, individuals. In artificial substances, again, edifice is a
genus ; house, church, tower, are species ; and the Vatican,
St Paul’s, and the Tower of London, are individuals. Last¬
ly, in abstract substances, motion and virtue are genera ;
flight and temperance are species ; the flight of Mahom-
med, and temperance in wine, are individuals. By arrang¬
ing substances in this manner, and giving a name to each
genus and species, the nouns necessary to any language
are comparatively few and easily acquired; and when we
meet with an object unknown to us, we have only to exa¬
mine it with attention, and, comparing it with other ob¬
jects, to refer it to the genus or species which it most near¬
ly resembles. By this contrivance we supply the want of
a proper name for the individual; and, as far as the resem¬
blance is complete between it and the species to which it
is referred, and of which we have given it the name, we
may converse and reason about it without danger of error }
G R A M M A R, 747
Nouns, whereas had each individual in nature a distinct and pro-
per name, words would be innumerable and incomprehen¬
sible ; and to employ our labours in language would be as
idle as that study of numberless written symbols which has
been attributed to the Chinese.
Although nouns are thus adapted to express, not the in¬
dividuals, but the genera or species into which substances
are classed ; yet, in speaking of these substances, whether
natural, artificial, or abstract, all men must have occasion
to mention sometimes one of a kind, and sometimes more
than one. In every language, therefore, nouns must ad¬
mit of some variation in their form, to denote unity and
plurality; and this variation is called number. Thus in
the English language, when we speak of a single place of
habitation, we call it a house ; but if of more, we call them
houses. In the first of these cases the noun is said to be
in the singular, in the last case it is in the plural number.
Greek nouns have also a dual number to express two in¬
dividuals, as have likewise some Hebrew nouns ; but this
variation is evidently not essential to language ; and it is
perhaps doubtful whether it ought to be considered as an
elegance or as a deformity.
But although number be a natural accident of nouns, it
can only be considered as essential to those which denote
genera or species. Thus we may have occasion to speak
of one animal or of many animals, of one man or of many
men ; and therefore the nouns animal and man must be
capable of expressing plurality as well as unity. But this
is not the case with respect to the proper names of indivi¬
duals ; for we can only say Xenophon, Aristotle, Plato, in
the singular ; as, were any one of these names to assume
a plural form, it would cease to be the proper name of an
individual, and become the common name of a species. Of
this, indeed, we have some examples in every language.
When a proper name is considered as a general appellative
Tinder which many others are arranged, it is then no longer
the name of an individual, but of a species, and as such
admits of a plural; as the Ccesars, the Howards, the Pel¬
hams, the Montagues; but Socrates can never become plural,
as long as we know of no more than one man of that name.
The reason of all this will be obvious, if we consider that
every genus may be found whole and entire in each of its
species ; for man, horse, and dog, are each of them an en¬
tire and complete animal; and every species may be found
whole and entire in each of its individuals, Socrates, Plato,
and Xenophon, being each of them completely and entire¬
ly a man. Hence it is, that every genus, though one, is
multiplied into many; and every species, though one, is
also multiplied into many, by reference to those beings
which are their subordinates; but as no individual has
any such subordinates, it can never in strictness be con¬
sidered as many ; and so, as well in nature as in name, is
truly an individual which cannot admit of number.
Besides number, another characteristic, visible in sub¬
stances, is that of sex. Every substance is either male or
female, or both male and female, or neither the one nor
the other. So that with respect to sexes and their nega¬
tion, all substances conceivable are comprehended under
this fourfold consideration, which language would be very
imperfect if it could not express. Now the existence of
hermaphrodites being rare, if not doubtful, and language
being framed to answer the ordinary occasions of life, no
provision is made, in any of the tongues with which we
are acquainted, for expressing, otherwise than by a name
made on purpose, or by a periphrasis, duplicity of sex.
With regard to this great natural characteristic, gramma¬
rians have made only a threefold distinction of nouns:
those which denote males are said to be of the masculine Nouns.
gender; those which denote females, of the feminine ; and
those which denote substances that admit not of sex, are
said to be neuter, or of neither gender. All animals have
sex, and therefore the names of all animals should have
gender. But the sex of all is not equally obvious, nor
equally worthy of attention. In those species which are
most common, or of which the male and female are, by
their size, form, colour, or other outward circumstances,
eminently distinguished, the male is sometimes called by
one name, which is masculine, and the female by a differ¬
ent name, which is feminine. Thus in English we say,
husband, wife ; king, queen ; father, mother ; son, daughter,
and so on. In others of similar distinction, the name of
the male is applied to the female only by prefixing a syl¬
lable or by altering the termination ; as man, woman ; lion,
lioness; emperor, empress, anciently emperess ; master,
mistress, anciently masteress; and so in other similar in¬
stances. When the sex of any animal is not obvious, or
not material to be known, the same name, in some lan¬
guages, is applied, without variation, to all the species, and
that name is said to be of the common gender. Thus in
Latin bos albus is a white ox, and bos alba a white cow.
Diminutive insects, though they are doubtless male and fe¬
male, seem to be considered in the English language as if
they were really sexless things. No man, speaking of a
worm, would say he creeps, but it creeps upon the ground.
But although the origin of genders is thus clear and obvi¬
ous, yet the English is the only language with which we
are acquainted that deviates not, except in a very few in¬
stances, from the order of nature. Greek and Latin, and
many of the modern tongues, have nouns, some masculine,
some feminine, which denote substances where sex never
had existence. Nay, some languages are so particularly de¬
fective in this respect, as to class every object, inanimate as
well as animate, under either the masculine or the feminine
gender, as they have no neuter gender for those which are
of neither sex. This is the case with the Hebrew, French,
Italian, and Spanish. But the English, strictly following
the order of nature, puts every noun which denotes a male
animal, and no other, in the masculine gender ; every name
of a female animal, in the feminine; and every animal
whose sex is not obvious, or known, as well as every inani¬
mate object whatsoever, in the neuter gender. And this
gives our language an advantage above most others in the
poetical and rhetorical style; for when nouns naturally
neuter are converted into masculine and feminine, the per¬
sonification is more distinctly and more forcibly marked.
Some very learned and ingenious men have endeavom'ed,
by what they call a more subtile kind of reasoning, to dis¬
cern even in things without a sex a distant analogy to that
natural distinction, and to account for the names of inanimate
substances being, in Greek and Latin, masculine and fe¬
minine. But such speculations are wholly fanciful, and
the principles upon which they proceed are overturned by
an appeal to facts. Many of the substances that, in one
language, have masculine names, have in others names
that are feminine ; which could not be the case were this
matter regulated by reason or nature. Indeed, for this, as
well as many other anomalies in language, no other reason
can be assigned than that custom,
Quem penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma, loquendi.
It has been already observed that most nouns are the
names, not of individuals, but of whole classes of objects
termed genera and species.1 In classing a number of
individuals under one species, we contemplate only those
1 It is almost unnecessary to observe, that the words genus and species, and the phrases higher genus and lower species, are taken
here in the logical sense ; and not as the words genus, species, order, class, are often employed by naturalists.
748 GRAMMAR.
Nouns, qualities which appear to be important, and in which the
several individuals are found to agree, abstracting the mind
from the consideration of all those which appear to be less
essential, and which in one individual may be such as have
nothing exactly similar in any other individual upon earth.
Thus, in classing the individuals which are comprehended
under the species denominated horse, we pay no regard to
their colour or their size ; because experience teaches us
that no particular colour or size is essential to that indivi¬
dual living creature, and that there are not perhaps upon
earth two horses whose colour and size are exactly alike.
But the qualities which in this process we take into view,
are the general shape, the symmetry, and proportion of the
parts ; and in short, every thing which appears evidently
essential to the life of the individual and the propagation
of the race. All these qualities are strikingly similar in all
the individuals which we call horses, and as strikingly dis¬
similar from the corresponding qualities of every other in¬
dividual animal. The colour of a horse is often the same
with that of an ox ; but the shape of the one animal, the
symmetry and proportion of his parts, are totally different
from those of the other ; nor could any man be led to class
the two individuals under the same species. It is by a similar
process that we ascend from one species to another, and
through all the species to the highest genus. In each spe¬
cies or genus in the ascending series fewer particular qua¬
lities are attended to than were considered as essential to
the genus or species immediately below it; and our con¬
ceptions become more and more general as the particular
qualities which are the objects of them become fewer in
number. The use of a general term, therefore, can recal
to the mind only the common qualities of the class, the
genus, or species, which it represents. But we have fre¬
quent occasion to speak of individual objects. In doing
this, we annex to the general term, certain woi’ds signifi¬
cant of particular qualities, which discriminate the object
of which we speak from every other individual of the class
to which it belongs, and of which the general term is the
common name. For instance, in advertising a thief, we are
obliged to mention his height, complexion, gait, and what¬
ever may serve to distinguish him from all other men.
The process of the mind in rendering its conceptions
particular, is indeed exactly the reverse of that by which
it generalizes them. For, as in the process of generaliza¬
tion, it abstracts from the ideas of any number of species
certain qualities in which they differ from each other, and
of the remaining qualities in which they agree constitutes
the first genus in the ascending series ; so, when it wishes
to make its conceptions more particular, it annexes to the
idea of any genus those qualities or circumstances which
were before abstracted from it; and the genus, with this
annexation, constitutes the first species in the descending
series. In like manner, when it wishes to descend from
any species to an individual, it has only to annex to the
idea of the species those particular qualities which discri¬
minate the individual intended from the other individuals
of the same kind.
rIhis particularizing operation of the mind points out
the manner of applying the general terms of language for
the purpose of expressing particular ideas. For, as the
mind, to limit a general idea, connects that idea with the
idea of some particular circumstance, so language, as we
have already observed, in order to limit a general term,
connects that term with the word denoting the particular
circumstance. Thus, in order to particularize the idea of
horse, the mind connects that general idea with the cir¬
cumstance, suppose, of whiteness ; and in order to parti- Nouns,
cularize the word horse, language connects that word with
the term white ; and so in other instances. Annexation,
therefore, or the connecting of general words or terms in
language, fits it for expressing particular conceptions ;
and this must hold good alike in all languages. But the
methods of denoting this annexation are various in vari¬
ous tongues. In English and most modern languages we
commonly use for this purpose little words, which we
have chosen to sty\e particles; and in the Greek and La¬
tin languages, the cases of nouns answer the same end.
Cases, therefore, though they are accidents of nouns
not absolute^ necessary, have been often considered as
such ; and they are certainly worthy of our examination,
since there is perhaps no language in which some cases
are not to be found, as indeed without them or their va¬
rious powers no language could readily answer the pur¬
poses for which it was formed.
All the oblique cases of nouns, if we except the voca¬
tive, are merely marks of annexation ; but as the connec¬
tions or relations subsisting among objects are very vari¬
ous, some cases denote one kind of relation, and some an¬
other. We shall endeavour to investigate the connection
which each case denotes, beginning with the genitive.
This is the most general of all the cases, and gives no¬
tice that some connection indeed subsists between two
objects, but does not point out the particular kind of con¬
nection. That we must infer, not from our nature or ter¬
mination of the genitive itself, but from our previous
knowledge of the objects connected. That the genitive
denotes merely relation in general, might be proved by
adducing innumerable examples, in which the relations
expressed by this case are different; but we shall content
ourselves with one observation, from which the truth of
our opinion will appear beyond dispute. If an expression
be used in which are connected by the genitive case, two
words significant of objects between which a twofold re¬
lation may subsist, it will be found impossible, from the
expression, to determine which of these two relations is
the true one, which must be gathered wholly from the
context. Thus, for example, from the phrase injuria re-
gis, no man can know whether the injury mentioned be
an injury suffered or an injury inflicted by the king; but
if the genitive case notified any particular relation, no such
ambiguity could exist. This case therefore gives notice,
that two objects are somehow connected,1 but it marks
not the particular sort of connection. Hence it may be
translated by our particle of, which will be seen afterwards
to be of a signification equally general.
The dative and accusative cases appear to have nearly
the same meaning ; each of them denoting apposition, or the
junction of one object with another. Thus, when any one
says, Comparo Virgilium Homero, Homer and Virgil are
conceived to be placed beside one another, in order to
their being compared; and this sort of connection is de¬
noted by the dative case. In like manner, when it is said
latus humeros, breadth is conceived as joined to or connect¬
ed in apposition with shoulders ; and the expression may
be translated “ broad at the shoulders.”
This apposition of two objects may happen either with¬
out previous motion, or in consequence of it. In the fore¬
going instances no motion is presupposed ; but if one say,
Misit aliquos suhsidio eorum, the apposition is there in con¬
sequence of motion. In like manner, when it is said Pro-
fectus est Romam, his apposition with Rome is conceived
as the effect of his motion thither. From this idea of the
1 The Greek grammarians seem to have been aware of the nature of this case when they called it ■mums yivixv, or the general case;
a name of which the Latin grammarians evidently mistook the meaning when they translated it casus genitivus, or the generative case,
w hich is a name t; tally foreign to its nature.
G R A M M A R.
Nouns, accusative, the reason is obvious why the object after the
active verb is often put in that case ; it is because the ac¬
tion is supposed to proceed from the agent to the patient.
But the same thing happens with respect to the dative
case, and for the same reason. Thus, Antonins Icesit Ci-
ceronem, and Antonins nocuit Ciceroni, are expressions of
the same import; in each the action of hurting is conceiv¬
ed as proceeding from Antony to Cicero; and this is fine¬
ly illustrated by the passive form of such expressions, where
the procedure above mentioned is expressly marked by the
preposition ab, as Cicero nocetur, Cicero Iceditur ab Anto¬
nio. It is therefore not true that the accusative is that
case, at least the only case, which to an efficient nomina¬
tive and a verb of action subjoins either the effect or the
passive subject; nor is the dative the only case which is
formed to express relations tending to itself. The only
thing essential to these two cases is to denote the apposi¬
tion or junction of one object with another; and this they
do nearly, if not altogether, in the same manner, although
from the custom of language they may not be indifferently
subjoined to the same verb.
The Greek language has no ablative case; but in the
Latin, where it is used, it denotes concomitancy, or that
one thing accompanies another. From this concomitancy
we sometimes draw an inference, and sometimes not. For
example, when it is said, Templum clamore pelebant, cla¬
mour is represented as concomitant of their going to the
temple ; but here no inference is drawn. From the phrase
palleo metu, although nothing more is expressed than that
paleness is a concomitant of the fear, yet we instantly in¬
fer that it is also the effect of the fear. In most instances
where the ablative is used, an inference is drawn, of which
the foundation is some natural connection observed to
subsist between the objects thus connected in language.
When this inference is not meant to be drawn, the prepo¬
sition is commonly added; as, interfectus est cum gladio, he
was slain with a sword about him ; interfectus est gladio, he
was slain with a sword as the instrument of his death.
The remaining cases, which have not been noticed, are
the nominative and the vocative. These are in most in¬
stances alike in termination, which makes it probable that
they were originally one and the same case. The founda¬
tion of this conjecture will appear from considering the use
to which each of these cases is applied. The nominative
is employed to call up the idea of any object in the mind
of the hearer. But when a man hears his own name men¬
tioned, his attention is instantly roused, and he is naturally
led to listen to vrhat is to be said. Hence, when one man
meant particularly to solicit the attention of another, he
would naturally pronounce that other person’s name ; and
thus the nominative case would pass into a vocative, of
which the use is always to solicit attention.1
The Greek and Latin among the ancient, and the Ger¬
man among the modern languages, express different con¬
nections or relations of one thing with another by cases.
In English this is done for the most part by prepositions ;
but the English being derived from the same origin as the
German, that is, from the Teutonic, has at least one varia¬
tion of the substantive to answer the same purpose. For
instance, the relation of possession, or belonging, is often
expressed by a different ending of the substantive, which
may be well called a case. This case answers nearly to
the genitive case in Latin ; but as that is not a denomina¬
tion significant of the nature of the case in any language,
749
it may perhaps in English be more properly called the pos- Articles,
sessive case. Thus, God's grace, anciently Godis grace, is
the grace belonging to or in the possession of God ; and
may be likewise expressed by means of the preposition, as,
the grace of God.
Although the word Godis is as evidently an inflexion of
the noun God as the word Dei is an inflexion of Deus,
there are grammarians who have denied that in English
there is any true inflexion of the original noun, and who
have said that the noun with the addition of that syllable
which we consider as the sign of a case, ceases to be a
noun, and becomes a definitive ; a word which with them
is devoid of signification. Thus, in the expression Alex¬
ander s house, the word Alexander’s stands not as a noun,
but as an article or definitive, serving to ascertain or point
out the individuality of the house. But this is a palpable
mistake. The word Alexander s serves not to point out
the individuality of the house, but to show to whom the
house belongs; and is therefore beyond dispute not an ar¬
ticle, but a noun in the possessive case. Again, when we
say St Peter s at Rome and St Paul's at London, the words
St Peter's and St Paul's are neither articles, nor, as has
been absurdly imagined, the proper names of edifices, like
the Rotunda or the Circus, but they are, in the possessive
case, the names of the two apostles to whom the churches
were dedicated, and to whom they are supposed to belong.
But that this, which we have called the possessive case,
is really not so, must be evident, it is said, because there are
certain circumstances in which it cannot be substituted for
the noun with the preposition prefixed. Thus, though a man
may say, I speak of Alexander, I write of Caesar, I think
of Pompey, he cannot say, I speak Alexander’s, I write
Caesar’s, or I think Pompey’s. This is indeed true, but it
is nothing to the purpose. For though I may say Loquor
be Alexandra, Scribo be Ccesare, Cogito be Pompeio, I
cannot say, Loquor Alexandri, Scribo Ccesaris, or Cogito
Pompeii; and therefore all that can be inferred from this
argument is, that as the Latin genitive is not always of the
same import with the preposition de, so the English pos¬
sessive is not always of the same import with the pre¬
position of. Upon the whole, then, we may conclude that
English nouns admit of one inflexion; and that though
cases are not so essential to nouns as gender and number,
no language can be wholly without them or their various
powers.
II. Of Articles or Definitives.
The intention of language is to communicate thought,
or to express those ideas which are suggested to us by our
senses external and internal. The ideas first suggested to
us are those of pain and pleasure, and of the objects with
which we are surrounded; and therefore the words first
learned must be nouns, or the names of objects natural, ar¬
tificial, and abstract. Every object about which the human
mind can be conversant is strictly and properly speaking
particular ; for all things in nature differ from one another in
numberless respects, which, not to mention the idea of se¬
parate existence, so circumstance and individualize them,
that no one thing can be said to be another. Now the use
of language being to express our ideas or conceptions of
these objects, it might naturally be expected that every
object should be distinguished by a proper name. This
wmuld indeed be agreeable to the truth of things, but we
have already seen that it is altogether impracticable. Ob-
1 The chief objection to this conjecture, that the nominative and vocative were originally the same case, is taken from the Latin
tongue, in which the nouns of the second declension ending in us terminate their vocative in e. But this is easily accounted for.
The ^ in such words was often dropped, as appears from the scanning of old Latin poetry ; when this was done, the u being short,
would naturally in pronunciation pass into e, a like short vowel; and thus, in the vocative case, e would in time be written instead
of u. %
750
G R A M M A R
Articles, jects have therefore been classed into genera and species ;
and names given, not to each individual, but to each genus
and species. By this contrivance of language, we are en¬
abled to ascertain in some measure any individual that may
occur, and of which we know not the proper name, only
by referring it to the genus or species to which it belongs,
and calling it by the general or specific name ; but as there
is frequent occasion to distinguish individuals of the same
species from one another, it became necessary to fall upon
some expedient to mark this distinction. In many languages
general and specific terms are modified and restricted by
three orders of words ; the article, the adjective, and the
oblique cases of nouns. The cases of nouns we have alrea¬
dy considered; the adjective will employ our attention af¬
terwards ; at present our observations are confined to the
article, a word so very necessary, that without it, or at least
some equivalent invention, men could not employ nouns to
any of the purposes of life, or indeed communicate their
thoughts at all. As the business of articles is to enable us,
upon occasion, to employ general terms to denote particu¬
lar objects, they must be considered in combination with
the general terms as merely substitutes for proper names.
They have, however, been commonly called definitives;
because they serve to define and ascertain any particular
object so as to distinguish it from the other objects of the
general class to which it belongs, and, of course, to denote
its individuality. Of words framed for this purpose, whe¬
ther they have by grammarians been termed articles or not,
we know of no language that is wholly destitute. The na¬
ture of them may be explained as follows.
An object occurs with which, as an individual, we are
totally unacquainted ; it has a head and limbs, and appears
to possess the powers of self-motion and sensation ; we
therefore refer it to its proper species, and call it a dog, a
horse, a lion, or the like. If it belongs to none of the spe¬
cies with which we are acquainted, it cannot be called by
any of their names ; we then refer it to the genus, and call
it an animal.
But this is not enough. The object at which we are look¬
ing, and which we want to distinguish, is not a species or
a genus, but an individual. Of what kind ? Known or
unknown ? Seen now for the first time, or seen before
and now remembered ? This is one of the instances in
which we shall discover the use of the two articles a and
the; for, in the case supposed, the article a respects our
primary perception, and denotes an individual as unknown ;
whereas the respects our secondary perception, and de¬
notes individuals as known. To explain this by an exam¬
ple : I see an object pass by which I never saw till now:
What do I say ? There goes a beggar with a long beard.
The man departs and returns a week after: What do I
then say ? There goes ike beggar with the long beard.
Here the article only is changed ; the rest remains unalter¬
ed. Yet mark the force of this apparently minute change.
The individual once vague is now recognised as something
known ; and that merely by the efficacy of this latter arti¬
cle, which tacitly insinuates a kind of previous acquain¬
tance, by referring a present perception to a like percep¬
tion already past.
_ This is the explanation of the articles a and the as
given by the learned Mr Harris, and thus far what he says
on the subject is certainly just; but it is not true that the
article the always insinuates a previous acquaintance, or
refers a present perception to a like perception already past.
I am in a room crow'ded with company, of which the great¬
er part is to me totally unknown; I feel it difficult to
breathe from the grossness of the enclosed atmosphere;
and, looking towards the window, I see in it a person wffiom
I never saw before. I instantly send my compliments to
the gentleman in the window, and request that, if it be not
inconvenient, he will have the goodness to let a little
fresh air into the room. Of this gentleman I have no pre- Articles,
vious acquaintance ; my present perception of him is mv
primary perception, and yet it would have been extremely
improper to send my compliments to a gentleman in the
window. Again, there would be no impropriety in saying,
“ A man whom I saw yesterday exhibiting a show to the
rabble was this morning committed to jail charged with the
crime of housebreaking.” Notwithstanding the authority,
therefore, of Mr Harris, and his master Apollonius, w e may
venture to affirm, that it is not essential to the article a
to respect a primary perception, or to the article the to
indicate a pre-established acquaintance. Such may indeed
be the manner in which these words are most frequently
used; but we see that there are instances in which they
may be used differently. What, then, it may be asked, is
the import of each article, and in what respects do they
differ ?
We answer, that the articles a and the are both of
them definitives, as, by being prefixed to the names of ge¬
nera and species, they so circumscribe the latitude of those
names as to make them for the most part denote indivi¬
duals. A noun or substantive, without any article to li¬
mit it, is taken in its widest sense. Thus the word man
means all mankind;
The proper study of mankind is man ;
where mankind and man may change places without mak¬
ing any alteration in the sense. But let either of the ar¬
ticles of which we are treating be prefixed to the word
man, and that word is immediately reduced from the
name of a whole genus to denote only a single individual;
and instead of the noble truth which this line asserts, the
poet will be made to say, that the proper study of man¬
kind is not the common nature which is diffused through
the whole human race, but the manners and caprices of
one individual. Thus far therefore the twro articles agree;
but they differ in this, that though they both limit the
specific name to some individual, the article A leaves the
individual itself unascertained ; wdiereas the article the
ascertains the individual also, and can be prefixed to the
specific name only when an individual is intended of
w-hich something may be predicated that distinguishes it
from the other individuals of the species. Thus, if I say,
a man is fit for treasons, my assertion may appear strange
and vague ; the sentence, however, is complete, and wants
nothing to make it intelligible; but if I say, the man is
fit for treasons, I speak nonsense; for as the article the
shows that I mean some particular man, it will be impos¬
sible to discover my meaning till I complete the sentence,
and predicate something of the individual intended to dis¬
tinguish him from other individuals.
The man that hath not music in himself....
Is fit for treasons.
A man, therefore, means some one or other of the human
race indefinitely; the man means, definitely, that particu¬
lar man who is spoken of. The former is called the inde¬
finite, the latter the definite, article.
I he two articles differ likewise in this respect, that as
the article a serves only to separate one individual object
from the general class to which it belongs, it cannot be
applied to plurals. It has indeed the same signification
nearly with the numerical word one ; and in French and
Italian the same word that denotes unity is also the ar¬
ticle of which we now treat. But the essence of the ar¬
ticle the being to define objects, by pointing them out as
those of which something is affirmed or denied which is
not affirmed or denied of the other objects of the same
class, it is equally applicable to both numbers; for things
may be predicated of one set of men, as well as of a single
man, which cannot be predicated of other men. The use
G II A M M A R .
751
Articles, and import of each article will appear from the following
example : “ Man was made for society, and ought to ex¬
tend his good will to all men ; but a man will naturally
entertain a more particular regard for the men with whom
he has the most frequent intercourse, and enter into a
still closer union with the man whose temper and disposi¬
tion suit best with his own.”
We have said that the article a cannot be applied to
plurals, because it denotes unity. But to this rule there
is apparently a remarkable exception in the use of the
adjectives few and many (the latter chiefly with the word
great before it), which, though joined with plural substan¬
tives, yet admit of the singular article A: as, a few men,
a great many men. The reason of this is manifest from
the effect which the article has in these phrases. It means
a small or a great number collectively taken, to which it
gives the idea of a whole, that is, of unity. Thus likewise
a hundred, a thousand, is one whole number, an aggregate
of many collectively taken, and therefore still retains the
article a, though joined as an adjective to a plural sub¬
stantive ; as, a hundred years. The exception therefore
is only apparent; and we may affirm that the article a
universally denotes unity.
The indefinite article is much less useful than the other;
and therefore the Greek and Hebrew languages have it
not, though they have both a definite article. In lan¬
guages of which the nouns, adjectives, and verbs, have
inflexion, no mistake can arise from the want of the inde¬
finite article ; because it can always be known by the ter¬
minations of the noun and the verb, and by the circum¬
stances predicated of the noun, whether a whole species
or one individual be intended. But this is not the case in
English. In that language, the adjectives having no va¬
riation with respect to gender or number, and the tenses
of the verbs being for the most part the same in both
numbers, it might be often doubtful, had we not the in¬
definite article, whether the specific name was intended
to express the whole species or only one individual. Thus,
if we say in English, man was horn sent from God, we
must be understood to mean that the birth of every man
is from God, because to the specific term the indefinite
article is not prefixed. Yet the words, Eyivslo di^w-Toj
a^dra.Xtji.svog waga ©sou, convey no such meaning to any
person acquainted with the Greek language; as the word
avibuirog, without any article, is restricted to an individual
by its concord with the verb and the participle ; and the
sense of the passage is, a man was born, or existed, sent
from God. But though the Greeks have no article cor¬
responding to the article a, yet nothing can be more
nearly related than their 'O to our the ; 'O ^atuXsug, the
king, TO bugov, the gift. In one respect, indeed, the
Greek and English articles differ. The former is varied
according to the gender and number of the noun with
which it is associated, being o, masculine, i;, feminine, ro,
neuter, and o/, a), ra, in the plural number; whereas the
English article suffers no change, being invariably the
before nouns of every gender and in both numbers. There
are, however, some modern languages which, in imitation
of the Greek, admit of a variation of their article which
relates to gender ; but this cannot be considered as essen¬
tial to this species of words, and it may be questioned
whether it be an improvement to the language. In
tongues of which the nouns have no inflexion, it can only
serve to perplex and confuse, as it always presents a par¬
ticular idea of sex where in many cases it is not ne¬
cessary.
The articles already mentioned are allowed to be strict¬
ly and properly such by every grammarian; but there are
some words, such as this, that, any, some, all, other, &c.
which are generally said to be sometimes articles and
sometimes pronouns, according to the different modes of
using them. That words should change their nature in this Articles,
manner, so as to belong sometimes to one part of speech
and sometimes to another, must appear very extraordi¬
nary ; and if it were a fact, language would be a thing
so equivocal, that all inquiries into its nature, upon prin¬
ciples of science and reason, would be vain. But we
cannot perceive any such fluctuation in any word what¬
ever ; though we know it to be a general charge brought
against words of almost every denomination, of which we
have already seen one instance in the possessive case of
nouns, and shall now see another in those words which
are commonly called pronominal articles.
If it be true, as we acknowledge it to be, that the ge¬
nuine pronoun always stands by itself, assuming the power
of a noun, and supplying its place, then is it certain that
the words this, that, any, some, &c. can never be pronouns.
We are indeed told, that when we say this is virtue, give
me that, the words this and that are pronouns; but that
when we say, this habit is virtue, that man defrauded me,
then are they articles or definitives. This, however, is
evidently a mistake occasioned by overlooking those ab¬
breviations in construction which are frequent in every
language, and which, on account of that very frequency,
have perhaps escaped the attention of grammarians whose
sagacity has been successfully employed on matters less
obvious. When we say this is virtue, it is evident that we
communicate no intelligence till we add a substantive to
the word this, and declare what is virtue. The word this
can therefore in no instance assume the power of a noun,
since the noun to which it relates, though for the sake of
dispatch it may be omitted in writing or conversation,
must always be supplied by the mind of the reader or
hearer, to make the sentence intelligible, or this itself of
any importance. “ When we have viewed speech analysed,
we may then consider it as compounded. And here, in
the first place, we may contemplate that synthesis which
by combining simple terms produces a truth; then by
combining two truths produces a third ; and thus others
and others in continued demonstration, till we are led, as
by a road, to the regions of science. Now this is that su¬
perior and most excellent synthesis which alone applies
itself to our intellect or reason, and which to conduct ac¬
cording to rule constitutes the art of logic. After this we
may turn to those inferior compositions which are pro¬
ductive of the pathetic,”&c. Here, if any where, the word
this may be thought to stand by itself, and to assume the
power of a noun ; but let any man complete the construc¬
tion of each sentence, and he will perceive that this is no
more than a definite article. Thus “We may contemplate
that synthesis which by combining simple terms produces
a truth ; then by combining two truths produces a third
truth ; and thus other truths and other truths in continu¬
ed demonstration, till we are led, as by a road, into the
regions of science. Now this combination of truths is that
superior and most excellent synthesis which alone applies
itself to our intellect or reason, and which to conduct ac¬
cording to rule constitutes the art of logic. After we
have contemplated this art, we may turn,” &c.
The word that is generally considered as still more
equivocal than this ; for it is said to be sometimes an ar¬
ticle, sometimes a pronoun, and sometimes a conjunction.
In the following extract it appears in all these capacities;
and yet, upon resolving the passage into parts, and com¬
pleting the construction, it will be fouud to be invariably
a definite article. “ It is necessary to that perfection, of
which our present state is capable, that the mind and
body should both be kept in action ; that neither the fa¬
culties of the one nor of the other be suffered to grow lax
or torpid for want of use; but neither should health be
purchased by voluntary submission to ignorance, nor
should knowledge be cultivated at the expense of health j
GRAM M A R.
752
Articles, for that must enable it either to give pleasure to its pos-
sessor, or assistance to others.” If this long sentence he
resolved into its constituent parts, and the words be sup¬
plied which complete the construction, we shall see the
import of the word that to be precisely the same in each
clause. “ The mind and body should both be kept in ac¬
tion ; that action is necessary to that perfection of which
our present state is capable; neither the faculties of the
one nor of the other should be suffered to grow lax or
torpid for want of use ; the degree of action proper to
prevent that laxness is necessary; but neither should
health be purchased by voluntary submission to ignorance,
nor should knowledge be cultivated at the expense of
health ; for that health must enable it either to give plea¬
sure to its possessor, or assistance to others.” Again:
He that’s unskilful will not toss a ball.
A man unskilful (he is that) will not toss a ball. Here
the word that, though substituted for what is called the
relative pronoun, still preserves unchanged its definitive
import; and in every instance, except where it may be
used very improperly, it will be found to be neither more
nor less than a definitive article.
It appears, then, that if the essence of an article be to
define and ascertain, the words this and that, as well as
any, some, all, &c. which are commonly called pronominal
articles, are much more properly articles than any thing
else, and as such should be considered in universal gram¬
mar. Thus, when we say, this picture I approve, but that
I dislike, what do we perform by the help of the words
this and that, but bring down the common appellative to
denote two individuals, the one as the more near, the
other as the more distant ? So when we say, some men
are virtuous, but all men are mortal; what is the natu¬
ral effect'of this all and some, but to define that univer¬
sality and that particularity which would remain indefinite
were we to take them away? The same thing is evident
in such sentences as, “ some substances have sensation,
others want it; choose any way of acting, and some men
will find fault,” &c. For here some, other, and any serve all
of them to define different parts of a given whole ; some, to
denote any indeterminate part; any, to denote any inde¬
finite mode of action, no matter what; and other, to de¬
note the remaining part, when a part has been assumed
already.
We have said that the article is a part of speech so very
necessary, that without it, or some equivalent invention,1
mankind could not communicate their thoughts; and that
of words falling under this description we know of no lan¬
guage which is wholly destitute. We are aware that these
positions may be controverted; and that the Latin may
be instanced as a language which, without articles, is not
only capable of communicating the ordinary thoughts of
the speaker to the mind of the hearer, but which, in the
hands of Cicero, Virgil, and Lucretius, was made to serve
all the purposes of the most profound philosopher, the
most impassioned orator, and the most sublime poet.
That the Latin has been made to serve all these purposes
cannot be denied, although Lucretius and Cicero both
complain, that on the subject of philosophy, where the
use of articles is most conspicuous, it is a deficient lan¬
guage. But should we grant what cannot be demand¬
ed, that these two great men were unacquainted with the
powers of their native tongue, our positions would still
remain unshaken; for we deny that the Latin is wholly
without articles. It has indeed no word of precisely the
same import with our the or the Greek 6 ; but the place of
the indefinite article a might be always supplied, if ne¬
cessary, with the numerical word unus. It may be so
even in English ; for we believe there is not a single in¬
stance where the words one man, one horse, one virtue,
might not be substituted for the words a man, a horse, a
virtue, without in the slightest degree altering the sense
of the passage where such words occur. This substitution,
however, can be but seldom or never necessary in the
Latin tongue, of which the precision is much greater than
that of the English would be without articles, because
the oblique cases of the Latin nouns, and the inflexion of
its verbs, will almost always enable the reader to deter¬
mine whether an appellative represents a whole species
or a single individual. The want of the definite article
the seems to be a greater defect; yet there are few in¬
stances in which its place might not be supplied by this
or by that without obscuring the sense; and the Latin
tongue is by no means deficient of articles corresponding
to these two. Let us substitute the words one and that
for a and the in some of the foregoing examples, and we
shall find, though the sound may be uncouth, the sense
will remain. Thus,
That man who hath not music in himself....
Is fit for treasons,
conveys to the mind of the reader the very same senti¬
ment which the poet expresses by the words the man that
hath not music, &c. Again, Man was made for society,
and ought to extend his good will to all men-, but owe
man will naturally entertain a more particular regard for
those men with whom he has the most frequent intercourse,
and enter into a closer union with that man whose temper
and disposition suit best with his own. Now the words
hie and Me being exactly of the same import with the
words this and that, it follows, that wherever the place of
the article the may in English be supplied by this or by
that, it may in Latin be supplied by hie or by Me-. This
is the case with respect to Nathan’s reproof of David,
where the definite article is indeed most emphatical. The
original words might have been translated into English,
“ thou art that man,” as well as “ thou art the man;” and
in Latin they may with the utmost propriety be rendered,
“ Tu es Me homo.” Indeed the words hie and Me, and
we might instance many more, though they are common¬
ly called pronouns, are in truth nothing but definite ar¬
ticles. Hie is evidently «xs; and Me is most probably de¬
rived from the Hebrew word al, in the plural ale, which
may be translated indifferently, either the or that. But,
what proves beyond dispute that these words are not pro¬
nouns, but articles, is, that in no single instance will they
be found to stand by themselves and assume the power
of nouns. For the sake of dispatch, or to avoid disagree¬
able repetitions, the noun may indeed be often omitted ;
but it is always supplied by the reader or hearer, when
hie and Me appear in their proper place, and are seen to be
invariably definitive articles. We shall give an example
of the use of each word, and dismiss the subject.
In the first oration against Catiline, Cicero begins with
addressing himself in a very impassioned style to the trai¬
tor, who was present in the senate-house. He then ex¬
claims pathetically against the manners of the age, and
proceeds in these words: Senatus hcec intelligit, consul
videt, Hie tamen vivit. Vivit ? immo vero etiam in senatum
venit; fit publici consilii particeps. In this passage hie can¬
not be a pronoun ; for from the beginning of the oration
there occurs not a single noun of which it can possibly
supply the place. When the orator uttered it, he was
probably pointing with his finger at Catiline, and every
1 As in the Persian and other eastern languages, in which the place of our indefinite article is supplied by a termination to those
nouns which are meant to be particularized.
Articles.
  '
GRAMMAR.
753
Articles, one of his audience would supply the noun in his own
mind, as we do when we translate it, “ yet this traitor
lives.” When Virgil says,
Jlle ego, qui quondam gracili modulatus avena
Carmen,
it is obvious that he means, I am that man, or that poet,
who sung, &c.; and though we may translate the words
“ I am he who tuned his song,” yet when we construe the
passage we are under the necessity of supplying either
vates or vir, which shows that Me is nothing more than a
definite article signifying that or the. It appears, then,
that the Latin tongue is not wholly destitute of articles,
as few cases can occur where the Greek d and our the may
not be supplied by the words hie and Me, which have in
our opinion been very improperly termed pronouns. If
there be any such cases, we can only confess that the
Latin language is defective; whereas, had it no articles,
it is not easy to conceive how it could answer, to a culti¬
vated people, the ordinary purposes of speech.
The articles this and that, unlike a and the, are varied
according as the noun, with which they are associated, is
in the singular or in the plural number. Thus we say,
this and that man in the singular, and these and those men
in the plural. The Latin articles hie and Me, for such we
will call them, are varied, like the Greek d, not only with
the number, but also with the gender of their nouns. In
languages where the structure of a sentence may be so
changed from the order of nature, as it commonly is in
Greek and Latin, and where the reader is guided, not by
the position, but by the terminations of the words, to those
which are in concord and those which are not, these va¬
riations of the articles have their use ; but in English they
are of no importance. Were it not that the custom of the
language, the norma loquendi as Horace calls it, has de¬
termined otherwise, there would be no more impropriety
in saying this or that men, than in saying some men or the
men.
As articles are by their nature definitives, it follows of
course that they cannot be united with such words as are
in their own nature as definite as they may be, nor with
such words as, being undefinable, cannot properly be made
otherwise; but only with those words which, though in¬
definite, are yet capable through the article of becoming
definite. Hence the reason why it is absurd to say, the I
or the thou, because nothing, as will be seen afterwards,
can make these pronouns more definite than they are of
themselves; and the same may be said of proper names.
Neither can we say, the both, because the word both is
in its own nature perfectly defined. Thus if it be said,
“ I have read both poets,” this plainly indicates a definite
pair, of whom some mention has been made already. On
the contrary, if it be said, “ I have read two poets,” this
may mean any pair out of all that ever existed. And
hence the numeral, being in this sense indefinite, as in¬
deed are all others as well as itself, is forced to assume
the article whenever it would become definite. Hence also
it is that as two, when taken alone, has reference to some
primary and indefinite perception, whilst the article the has
reference to some perception secondary and definite, it is
bad language to say two the men, as this would be blending
of incompatibles, that is, it would be representing two men
as defined and undefined at the same time. On the con¬
trary, to say, both the men, is good language; because the
substantive cannot possibly be less apt, by being defined,
to coalesce with a numeral adjective which is defined as
well as itself. So likewise it is correct to say, the two
men, these two men, or those two men-, because here the
article, being placed at the beginning, extends its power
as well through the numeral adjective as the substantive,
and tends equally to define them both.
As some of the above words admit of no article because
they are by nature as definite as may be, so there are
others which admit it not because they are not to be defined
at all. Of this sort are all interrogatives. If we question
about substances, we cannot say, the who is this, but who
is this ? And the same both as to qualities and quanti¬
ties ; for we say, without an article, what sort of, how
many, how great ? The reason is, the article the respects
beings of which we can predicate something; but interro¬
gatives respect beings about which we are ignorant, and
of which we can therefore predicate nothing; for as to
what we know, interrogation is superfluous. In a word,
the natural associates of articles are all those common ap¬
pellatives which denote the several genera and species of
beings: and it may be questioned whether in strictness
of speech they are ever associated with any other words.
We have said that proper names admit not of the arti¬
cle, being in their own nature definite. This is true,
whilst each name is confined to one individual; but as
different persons often go by the same name, it is neces¬
sary to distinguish these from one another, to prevent the
ambiguity which this identity of name would otherwise
occasion. For this purpose we are obliged to have re¬
course to adjectives or epithets. For example, there were
two Grecian chiefs who bore the name of Ajax; and it
was not without reason that Mnestheus used epithets
when his intention was to distinguish the one from the
other. “ If both Ajaxes cannot be spared,” said he, “ at
least let mighty Telamonian Ajax come.” But as epithets
are diffused through various subjects, in as much as the
same adjective may be referred to many substantives, it
has been said to be necessary, in order to render both parts
of speech equally definite, that the adjective itself assume
an article before it, which may indicate a reference to
some single person only. It is thus we say, Trypho the
Grammarian, Apollodorus the Cyrenian, &c. This is the
doctrine of Mr Harris, from which, with the highest re¬
spect for the learning of the author, we feel ourselves
obliged to dissent. In the examples given, the article
the is certainly not associated with the words Gramma¬
rian and Cyrenian, in the same manner in which it is as¬
sociated with the word man in the sentence, “ The man
that hath not music in himself.” When we say Apollo¬
dorus the Cyrenian, we may, without folly or imperti¬
nence, be asked, the Cyrenian what? And the moment
this question is answered, it wdll be seen that the article
defines, not an adjective, but a substantive. If the answer
be, the Cyrenian philosopher, the article the is associated
with the word philosopher, and the phrase Apollodorus
the Cyrenian is an abbreviation of Apollodorus the phi¬
losopher of Cyrene. In like manner, Trypho the gramma¬
rian, is Trypho the grammarian writer, or Trypho the wri¬
ter of grammar. Such abbreviations are very common.
We say familiarly the Speaker, and are understood to mean
a high officer in the British parliament; yet as speaker is
a name common to many men, we may without impropriety
be asked, what speaker we mean; and if so, we must reply,
the Speaker of the House of Commons. But that which is
eminent is supposed to be generally known; and there¬
fore, in common language, the speaker is deemed a suffi¬
cient designation of him who presides over the lower house
of parliament. Hence, by an easy transition, the definite
article, from denoting reference, comes to denote emi¬
nence also ; that is to say, from implying an ordinary pre¬
acquaintance, to presume a kind of general and universal
notoriety. Thus a king is any king, but the king is that
person whom we acknowledge as our sovereign, the king
of Great Britain. In Greek, too, as in English, the arti¬
cle is often a mark of eminence; for the Poet meant Homer,
and the Stagirite meant Aristotle ; not but that there were
many poets besides Homer, and many Stagirites besides
Aristotle, but none equally illustrious.
5 c
Articles.
VOL. X.
754 GRAMMAR.
Pronouns. Before we dismiss the Article, we shall produce one ex-
ample to show the utility of this species of words ; which,
although they may seem to be of small importance, yet,
when properly applied, serve to make a few general terms
sufficient for expressing with accuracy all the various ob¬
jects about which mankind can have occasion to converse.
Let man be the general term, which I have occasion to
employ for the purpose of denoting some particular. Let
it be required to express this particular as unknown, I
say a man; known, I say the man ; definite, a certain man ;
indefinite, any man ; present and near, this man ; present
and at some distance, that man; like to some other, such
a man; different from some other, another man; an inde¬
finite multitude, many men ; a definite multitude, a thou¬
sand men; the ones of a multitude taken throughout,
every man; the same ones taken with distinction, each
man; taken in order, Jirst man, second man, &c.; the
whole multitude of particulars taken collectively, all men ;
the negation of that multitude, no man ; a number of par¬
ticulars present and near, these men ; at some distance, or
opposed to others, those men ; a number of individuals se¬
parated from another number, other men; a small indefi¬
nite number, few men ; a proportionally greater number,
more men; a smaller number, fewer men. And so we
might proceed on almost to infinitude. But not to dwell
longer upon this subject, we shall only remark, that mi¬
nute changes in principles lead to mighty changes in ef¬
fects ; so that principles are well entitled to regard, how¬
ever trivial they may appear.
III.— Of Pronouns, or Substantives of the second order.
To men who are neither intoxicated with their own
abilities, nor ambitious of the honour of building new sys¬
tems, little pleasure can accrue from differing upon points
of science from writers of great and deserved reputation.
In such circumstances a man of modesty, although he
will not upon the authority of a celebrated name adopt
an opinion of which he perceives not the truth, must al¬
ways advance his own notions with some degree of diffi¬
dence, as being conscious that the truth which he cannot
perceive, may be visible to a keener and more perspica¬
cious eye. In these circumstances we feel ourselves with
regard to some of the most celebrated writers on gram¬
mar, from whom, concerning one or two points, compara¬
tively indeed of but little importance, we have already
been compelled reluctantly to differ. In treating of pro¬
nouns we are likely to deviate still farther from the beat¬
en track; but that we may not be accused of acting the
part of dogmatists in literature, and of claiming from others
that implicit confidence which we refuse to give, we shall
state with fairness the commonly received opinions, point
out in what respects we think them erroneous, assign our
reasons for calling them in question, and leave our readers
to judge for themselves. The most celebrated writer in
English who has treated of pronouns, and whom, since
the publication of his Hermes, most other writers have im¬
plicitly followed, is Mr Harris, who, after a short intro¬
duction, proceeds thus:—
“ All conversation passes between individuals, who will
often happen to be till that instant unacquainted with
each other. What, then, is to be done ? How shall the
speaker address the other, when he knows not his name?
or how explain himself by his own name, of which the
other is wholly ignorant? Nouns, as they have been de¬
scribed, cannot answer this purpose. The first expedient
upon this occasion seems to have been pointing, or indi¬
cating by the finger or hand; some traces of which are
still to be observed, as a part of that action which natu¬
rally attends our speaking. But the authors of language
were not content with this. They invented a race of
words to supply this pointing; which words, as they al- Pronouns,
ways stood for substantives or nouns, were characterized
by the name of pronouns. These also they distinguished
into three several sorts, calling them pronouns of the first,
the second, and the third person, with a view to certain
distinctions, which may be explained as follows:—
“ Suppose the parties conversing to be wholly unac¬
quainted, neither name nor countenance on either side
known, and the subject of the conversation to be the
speaker himself. Here, to supply the place of pointing
by a word of equal power, the inventors of language fur¬
nished the speaker with the pronoun I; / write, /say, I
desire, &c.; and as the speaker is always principal with
respect to his own discourse, this they called, for that rea¬
son, the pronoun of the first person.
“ Again, suppose the subject of the conversation to be
the party addressed. Here, for similar reasons, they in¬
vented the pronoun thou ; thou writest, thou walkest, &c.
And as the party addressed is next in dignity to the
speaker, or at least comes next with reference to the dis¬
course, this pronoun they therefore called the pronoun of
the second person.
“ Lastly, suppose the subject of conversation neither
the speaker nor the party addressed, but some third ob¬
ject different from both. Here they provided another
pronoun, he, she, or it; which, in distinction to the two
former, was called the pronoun of the third person. And
thus it was that pronouns came to be distinguished by
their respective persons'.’
The description of the different persons here given is
taken, we are told, from Priscian, who took it from Apol¬
lonius. But whatever be the deference due to these an¬
cient masters, their learned pupil, though guided by them,
seems not to have hit upon the true and distinguishing
characteristic of the personal pronouns. He supposes,
that when the names of two persons conversing together
are known to each other, they may, by the use of these
names, express all that the personal pronouns express;
but this is certainly not true. To us, at least, there ap¬
pears to be a very material difference between saying
“ George did this,” and “ I did thisnor do we think
that the power of the pronoun would be completely sup¬
plied by the name, even with the additional aid of indica¬
tion by the hand. So, when one man says to another
with whom he is conversing, “ James did so and soit
is surely not equivalent to his saying “ You did so and so.”
If such were the case, one might pertinently ask, when
both persons are known to each other, Why do they use
the personal pronouns ? Mr Harris tells us, that “ when
the subject of conversation is the speaker himself, he uses
I; and when it is the party addressed, he uses thou”
But, in fact, the nature of the personal pronouns has no
sort of connection with the subject of conversation, whe¬
ther that conversation relate to the speaker, the party ad¬
dressed, or a Greek book. In this sentence, “ I say that
the three angles of every triangle are equal to two right
angles,” the speaker is surely not the subject of the dis¬
course ; nor is the party addressed, but the truth of his
assertion, the subject of discourse in the following sen
tence : “ You say, that Horne Tooke’s Diversions of Pur-
ley is the most masterly treatise on grammar, as far as it
goes, that you have ever seen.” Mr Harris uses the
phrase “ becoming the subject of conversation,” in no
other sense than that when the speaker has occasion to
mention himself, he uses I; when the party addressed, thou ;
and when some other person or thing, he, she, or it. But we
know that he may use other words by no means equiva¬
lent to the two first of these pronouns, which will suffi¬
ciently mark himself, and the party addressed; and that
he may use indifferently, and without the smallest injury
to the sense, either the third pronoun, or the word for
GRAMMA R.
Pronouns, which it is merely a substitute. A man who sustains va-
rious characters may design himself by any one of them.
Thus Mr Pitt might have spoken of himself as the first
lord of the treasury, chancellor of the exchequer, or mem¬
ber for the university of Cambridge; and in each case he
would have been what Mr Harris calls the subject of con¬
versation ; yet every one feels that none of these designa¬
tions would have been equivalent to I. What, then, is the
force of the personal pronouns ?
It appears to be simply this: The first denotes the
speaker, as characterised by the 'present act of speaking, in
contradistinction to every other character which he may
bear. The second denotes the party addressed, as cha¬
racterised by the present circumstance of being addressed, in
contradistinction to every other character. And what is
called the pronoun of the third person is merely a nega¬
tion of the other two, as the neuter gender is a negation of
the masculine and feminine. If this account of the per¬
sonal pronouns be true, and we flatter ourselves that its
truth will be obvious to every body, there is but one way
of expressing by other words the force of the pronouns
of the first and second person. Thus, “ The person who
now speaks to you did so and so,” is equivalent to “ /did
so and so and “ The person to whom I now address my¬
self did so and so,” is equivalent to “ You did so and so.”
Hence we see why it is improper to say the I or the
thou ; for each of these pronouns has of itself the force of
a noun with the definite article prefixed, and denotes a
person of whom something is predicted, which distin¬
guishes him from all other persons. / is the person who
now speaks, thou is the person who is now addressed by
the speaker. Hence too we see the reason why the pro¬
noun I is said to be of the first, and the pronoun thou of
the second person. These pronouns can have place only
in conversation, or when a man, in the character of a
public speaker, addresses himself to an audience; but it
is obvious that there must be a speaker before there can
be a hearer; and therefore, that the pronouns may follow
the order of nature, I, which denotes the person of the
speaker, must take place of thou, which denotes the per¬
son of the hearer. Now the speaker and the hearer being
the only persons engaged in conversation or declamation,
I is with great propriety called the pronoun of the first,
and thou the pronoun of the second person. We have
said, that with respect to pronouns, the third person, as
it is called, is merely a negative of the other two. This is
evident from the slightest attention to the import of those
words which are called pronouns of the third person. He,
she, or it, denotes not the person either of the speaker or
of the hearer; and, as we have just observed, no other
person can have a share in conversation or declamation.
An absent person or an absent thing may be the subject
of conversation, but cannot be the speaker or the person
addressed. He, she, and it, however, as they stand by
themselves, and assume the power of nouns, are very pro¬
perly denominated pronouns; but they are not personal
pronouns in any other sense than as the negation of sex
is the neuter gender.
We have already seen that nouns admit of number;
pronouns, which are their substitutes, likewise admit of
number. There may be many speakers at once of the
same sentiment, as well as one, who, including himself,
speaks the sentiment of many, speech may likewise be
addressed to many at a time, as well as to one-, and the
subject of the discourse may likewise be many. The pro¬
noun, therefore, of every one of the persons must admit of
755
number to express this singularity or plurality. lienee Pronouns,
the pronoun of the first person I, has the plural we-, that
of the second person thou, has the plural ye or you; and
that of the third person he, she, or it, has the plural they,
which is equally applied to all the three genders.
The Greeks and Romans, when addressing one person,
used the pronoun in the singular number thou; whereas
in the polite, and even in the familiar style, we, and many
other modern nations, use the plural you. Although in
this case we apply you to a single person, yet the verb
must agree with it in the plural number; it must neces¬
sarily be, you have, not you hast. You was, the second
person plural of the pronoun placed in agreement with the
first or third person singular of the verb, is an enormous,
though common solecism, which ought to be carefully
avoided. In very solemn style, as when we address the
Supreme Being, we use thou, perhaps to indicate that he
is God alone, and that there is none like unto him ; and
we sometimes use the same form of the pronoun in con¬
temptuous or very familiar language, to intimate that the
person to whom we speak is the meanest of human beings,
or the dearest and most familiar of our friends. A king,
exerting his authority on a solemn occasion, adopts the
plural of the first person, “ we strictly command and
charge;” meaning, that he acts by the advice of counsel¬
lors, or rather as the representative of a whole people.
But in all cases in which the use of the pronoun deviates
from the nature of things, the verb in concord deviates
with it; for, as will be seen afterwards, these two words
universally agree in number and person.
But though all these pronouns have number, neither in
Greek, Latin, or any modern language, do those of the
first and second person carry the distinctions of sex. The
reason is obvious,1 namely, that sex, and all other proper¬
ties and attributes whatever, except those mentioned
above as descriptive of the nature of these pronouns, are
foreign from the intention of the speaker, who, when he
uses the pronoun I, means the person who now speaks, no
matter whether man or woman; and when the pronoun
thou, the person, no matter whether man or woman, to
whom he now addresses himself, and nothing more. But
the pronoun of the third person denoting neither the
speaker nor the hearer, but the subject of the discourse,
and being merely the substitute of a noun which may be
either masculine, feminine, or neuter, must of necessity
agree with the noun which it represents, and admit of a
triple distinction significant of gender. In English, which
allows its adjectives no genders, this pronoun is he in the
masculine, she in the feminine, and it in the neuter; the
utility of which distinction may be better found in sup¬
posing it away. Suppose, for example, that we should in
history read these words, He caused him to destroy him,
and were informed that the pronoun, which is here thrice
repeated, stood each time for something different; that is
to say, for a man, for a woman, and for a city, whose
names were Alexander, Thais, and Persepolis. Taking
the pronoun in this manner, divested of its gender, how
would it appear which was destroyed, which the destroyer,
and which the cause that moved to the destruction ? But
there is no ambiguity, when we hear the genders distin¬
guished : when we are told with the proper distinctions,
that she caused him to destroy it, we know with certainty
that the prompter was the woman; that her instrument
was the hero; and that the subject of their cruelty was
the unfortunate city. From this example we would be
surprised how the Italians, French, and Spaniards could
1 The reason assigned by Mr Harris and his followers is, that “ the speaker and hearer being generally present to each other, it
would have been superfluous to have marked a distinction by art, which from nature and even dress was commonly apparent on both
sides.” This is perhaps the best reason which their description of the personal pronouns admits, but it is not satisfactory; for the
speaker and hearer may meet in the dark, when different dresses cannot be distinguished.
GRAMMAR.
756
Pronouns, express themselves with precision or elegance with no
more than two variations of this pronoun.
Although in every language with which we are ac¬
quainted, there is but one pronoun for each of the first
and second persons; and although it is obvious, from the
nature and import of those words, that no more can be
necessary; yet the mere English reader may perhaps be
puzzled with finding three distinct words applied to each ;
/, mine, and me, for the first person; thou, thine, and thee,
for the second. The learned reader will see at once that
the words mine and me, thine and thee, are equivalent to
the genitive and accusative cases of the Latin pronouns
of the first and second persons. That mine is a pronoun
in the possessive case is obvious; for if I were asked
“ whose book is that before me?” I should reply, “ It is
mine,''1 meaning that it belongs to me. That the word
me is the same pronoun in the case which the Latin gram¬
marians call the accusative, is evident from the import of
that word in the sentence he admires me, where the ad¬
miration is supposed to proceed from the person spoken
of to the person who speaks. It appears, therefore, that
though English nouns have only two cases, the nomina¬
tive and possessive, the pronouns of that language have
three, as, I, mine, me; thou, thine, thee; he, his, him, &c.;
and that these are cases, can be questioned by no man
who admits that mei, mihi, me, are cases of the Latin pro¬
noun ego. Both pronouns, the Latin and the English, are
irregularly inflected ; and perhaps those words which are
called the oblique cases of each may have originally been
derived from nominatives different from ego and I; but
these nominatives are now lost, and mei and mme have,
beyond all dispute, the effect of the genitives of the La¬
tin and English pronouns of the first person. These va¬
riations, however, cannot be looked upon as an essential
part of language, but only as a particular refinement, in¬
vented to prevent the disagreeable repetition of the pro¬
noun, which must frequently have happened without such
a contrivance. This seems to have been the only reason
why pronouns have been endowed with a greater variety
of cases than nouns. Nouns are in themselves greatly
diversified. Every genus and every species of objects has
a distinct name, and therefore the sameness of sound does
not so often occur among them as it would among the
pronouns, without cases, where the same I, thou, he, she,
or it, answers for every object which occurs in nature;
but by this diversity in the form of the words, the caco-
phonia, which would be otherwise disgusting, is in a great
measure avoided. It is, probably, for the same reason
that the plural of each of these pronouns is so very differ¬
ent from the singular. Thus from I, mine, me, in the
singular, is formed, in the plural, we, ours, us-, from thou,
thine, and thee, ye ox you, yours, you-, and from he, she, it,
his, hers, its, him, her, it, in the singular, they, theirs, them,
in the plural. In all of which there is not the least re¬
semblance between the singular and plural of anj' one
word; and except in he, his, him; it, its; they, theirs,
them-, there is not any similarity between the different
cases of the same word in the same number.
From the account here given of the personal pronouns,
it appears that the first or second will, either of them, co¬
alesce with the third, but not with each other. For ex¬
ample, it is good sense, as well as good grammar, to say in Pronouns,
any language, I am he, thou art he, we were they, you were
they; but we cannot say, I am thou, nor thou art I, nor we
are you, &c. The reason is, there is no absurdity for the
speaker to be also the subject of the discourse, as when it
is said, I am he ; or for the person addressed, as when we
say, thou art he. But for the same person, in the same
circumstances, to be at once the speaker and the party ad¬
dressed, is impossible ; for which reason the coalescence
of the pronouns of the first and second persons is likewise
impossible.
I, thou, he, she, and it, are all that are usually called per¬
sonal pronouns. There is another class of words, which
are called sometimes pronominal adjectives, sometimes ad¬
jective pronouns, sometimes possessive pronouns; and by
one writer of grammar they have been most absurdly termed
pronominal articles. It is not worth while to dispute about
a name; but the words in question are my, thy, her, our,
your, their. These words are evidently in the form of ad¬
jectives ; for, like other English adjectives, they have no
variation to indicate either gender, number, or case; and
yet they are put in concord with nouns of every gen¬
der and both numbers, as, my wife, my son, my book ; her
husband, her sons, her daughters, Sec. But though in the
form of adjectives, they have the power of personal pro¬
nouns in the possessive case: my book is the book of me,
or the book of him who now speaks; our house is the house
of us, or the house occupied by the persons who now speak ;
her husband, is the husband of a woman who can be known
only from something preceding in the discourse ; and their
property is the property of them, of any persons, whether
men or women, or both, who have been previously men¬
tioned. Words which have the form of adjectives, with
the power of pronouns, may, without impropriety, be called
pronominal adjectives; and such is the name by which we
shall henceforth distinguish them. To these pronominal
adjectives, as well as to the personal pronouns, are subjoin¬
ed the words own and self, and in the plural selves ; in
which case they are emphatieal, and imply a silent contra¬
riety or opposition. Thus, I live in my own house ; that
is, not in a hired house. This I did with my own hand;
that is, not by proxy. This was done by myself; that is,
not by another. The word self subjoined to a personal
pronoun forms also the reciprocal pronoun ; as, we hurt our¬
selves by vain rage ; he blamed himself for his misfortune.
Himself, itself, themselves, are supposed by Wallis to be put,
by corruption, for his self its self, their selves; so that self
is always a substantive or noun, and not a pronoun. This
seems to be a just observation; for we say, the 7nan came
himself, they went themselves; where the words himself and
themselves cannot be accusatives, but nominatives, and were
anciently written his self, their selves.
There are other words which are usually ranked under
the class of pronouns ; as who, which, what. These, when
employed in asking questions, are called interrogative pro¬
nouns ; though a name more characteristic might surely
be found for them. Their import, however, will be more
easily ascertained after we have considered another species
of pronouns, which have been denominated relatives, and
with which they are intimately connected.
The pronouns already mentioned may be called prepo-
* If we mistake not, Dr Johnson has somewhere affected to ridicule Bishop Lowth for considering the word mine as the possessive
case of the pronoun of the first person. According to the doctor, mine is the same word with the pronominal adjective my; and was
anciently used before a vowel, as my was before a' consonant. This is not said with the lexicographer’s usual precision. That mine
was anciently used before a vowel is certain ; but it does not therefore follow that it is the same word with my. If it were, we might
on every occasion substitute either of these for the other, without offending against grammar, however we might injure the sound;
but we apprehend that this is not the case. “ That book is mine," is good English; but “ that book is my" would be a gross sole¬
cism. The reason is, that mine is a genuine pronoun, and stands by itself with the power of a noun ; but 7ny, being an adjective,
cannot stand by itself.
GRAM
Pronouns, sitive, as may indeed all substantives, because they are ca-
'“•■"V'*”'' pable of introducing or leading a sentence: but there is
another pronoun which has a character peculiar to itself,
and which, as it is never employed but to connect senten¬
ces, and must therefore have always a reference to some¬
thing preceding, is called the subjunctive or relative pro¬
noun. This pronoun is in Greek, og, ?7, 6 ; in Latin, qui,
qua, quod; and in English, who, which, what.
In order to determine with precision the nature and im¬
port of the relative 'pronoun, it will be necessary to ascer¬
tain the powers which it contains, or the parts of speech
into which it is capable of being resolved. Now, it is ob¬
vious that there is not a single noun, or prepositive pro¬
noun, which the relative is not capable of representing;
for we say, I who saw him yesterday cannot he mistaken ;
you who did not see him may have been misinformed;
they who neither saw nor heard can know nothing of the
matter; the things which he exhibited were wonderful.
From these examples, it is apparent, in the first place, that
the relative contains in itself the force of any other pro¬
noun ; but it contains something more.
If from any sentence in which there is a relative, that
relative be taken away, and the prepositive pronoun which
it represents be substituted in its stead, the sentence will
lose its bond of union, and stand quite loose and uncon¬
nected. Thus, if instead of saying the man is wise who
speaks little, we should say the man is wise he speaks little,
the sentence would be resolved into two ; and what is af¬
firmed of the man’s wisdom, would have no connection
with the circumstance of his speaking little. Hence it is
evident, in the second place, that the relative contains the
force of a connective as well as of the prepositive pronoun.
What kind of connection it denotes is next to be ascer¬
tained.
It may be laid down as a general principle, that, by
means of a relative pronoun, a clause of a sentence, in
which there is a verb, is converted into the nature of an
adjective, and made to denote some attribute of a sub¬
stance, or some property or circumstance belonging to the
antecedent noun. Thus, when it is said, homo qui pru-
dentia preeditus est, the relative clause, qui prudentia pree-
ditus est, expresses nothing more than the quality of pru¬
dence in concrete with the subject homo, which might have
been equally well expressed by the adjective prudens. In
like manner, when we say, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur,
the relative fact expresses the property of speaking little
as belonging to the man, and as being that quality which
MAR. 757
constitutes, or from which we infer, his wisdom; but if Pronouns,
there were such a word as paudloquens, that quality might
very properly be expressed by it, and the phrase vir sapit
pauciloquens would express the same assertion with vir
sapit qui pauca loquitur.
Now if a relative clause expresses that which might be
expressed by an adjective, the presumption is, that it may
be resolved into the same constituent parts. But every
adjective contains the powers of an abstract substantive,
together with an expression of connection; and may be
resolved into the genitive case of that substantive, or into
the nominative with the particle of prefixed, which, in
English, corresponds to the termination of the genitive in
the ancient languages. That the member of a sentence
in which there is a relative, may, in every instance, be
analysed in the same manner, will be apparent from the
following examples. Vir qui sapit, vir sapiens, and vir
sapientice, “ a man who is wise, a wise man, and a man of
wisdom,” are certainly phrases of the same import. Again,
homo, cui ingratus est animus, malus Jit amicus, may be
translated into Greek, ccvd^uffoi ayugnsnug jeaxo; ymrai (pChog ;
and into English, “ the man of ingratitude is a bad friend.”
Thus then it appears, that the relative pronoun contains
in itself the force of the prepositive pronoun, together with
that connection implied in English by the preposition of
and in the ancient languages by the genitive case. When
one says, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur, the relative clause
qui pauca loquitur expresses that attribute of the man from
which his wisdom is inferred. It is conceived by the mind,
as stripped of its propositional form, and standing in the place
of a substantive noun governed in the genitive case by vir.
The whole sentence might be thus translated, “ the man
of little speaking is wiseor, did the use of the English
language admit of it, “ the man of he speaks little is wise.”
In like manner, when it is said, “ Man, who is born of wo¬
man, is of few days and full of trouble,” the relative clause
is equivalent to an abstract noun in the genitive case, and
the whole might be expressed in the following manner:
“ Man of he is born of woman is of few days and full of
trouble.”
It is obvious that these expressions into which, in the
instances adduced, the relative clauses have been resolved,
will appear extremely uncouth and offensive ; but it is not
meant to recommend them as common modes of phraseo¬
logy. Against their being employed as such, present use
loudly remonstrates.1 They are introduced only with a
view to show the true import of the relative pronoun ; and
1 It is worthy of observation, however, that, repugnant as such expressions are to the present idiom of the English language,
there is nothing in the nature of the thing that could render the use of them improper. All prepositions, as will be seen afterwards,
are expressive of relations subsisting between those objects of which they connect the signs in discourse. Those objects mav be de¬
noted, either by single words, and then the preposition will govern a noun; or by assertions, and then it will govern a nominative
and a verb. Thus, when it is said, “ I came after his departure,” the preposition after expresses the relation between two events,
my coming and his departure, and governs a substantive noun ; but if it is said, “ I came after he departed,” the preposition in this
case (for, as shall be shown afterwards, it is absurd to call it in the one instance a preposition, and in the other a conjunction) ex¬
presses the same relation as before, but governs a nominative and a verb.
This last expression is exactly similar to those employed above. When one says, for example, “ the man of he speaks little is wise,”
however uncouth the expression may appear from its not being supported by the authority of custom, the preposition of is used pre¬
cisely in the same manner, and serves the very same purpose, as when it is said, “ the man of little speaking is wise.” In both cases
it denotes the relation between the two objects, man and little speaking; only in the one it is prefixed to a noun, in the other to an
assertive clause of a sentence, the import of which is to be taken as a noun. Custom has indeed determined that prepositions shall
more frequently govern a noun than a nominative and a verb; but they are, in their own nature, equally well adapted to answer
both purposes.
But as the pronoun of the third person is merely the substitute of some noun, an objector may ask, What noun is here represented
by he? “ The man of he speaks little is wise.” Who is meant by the pronoun Ae? We answer, ware who is declared to be wwe. The
objection proceeds from inattention to the radical signification of the word of, which a late ingenious writer has shown to be the frag¬
ment of a Gothic or Anglo-Saxon word, signifying consequence or offspring. If this be admitted, and, after the proofs which he has
given, we think it cannot be denied, the uncouth phrase, “ The man of he speaks little is wise,” may be thus resolved, “ The man,
a consequence (of his mind is) he speaks little, is wise or, in other words. “ The man, in consequence of his speaking little, is wise.”
The same acute writer, Mr Horne Tooke, has shown that of and for, though of different radical meanings, may often be substituted
the one for the other without injury to the sense. Let this substitution be made in the present instance, and the propriety of the
phrase will be apparent: “ The man is wise/or he speaks little.” It must be remembered, however, that such a substitution cannot
be made in every instance, because for signifies cause, and of signifies consequence.
758
GRAMMAR.
Pronouns, for that purpose they are well adapted. That pronoun
seems to be of use only when there is a deficiency of ad¬
jectives or substantives to denote some complex attribute
by which we want to limit a general term or expression.
Where such adjectives or substantives exist in language,
we may indeed use the relative or not at pleasure. Thus
we may say, homo qui grandia loquitur, or homo grandi-
loquus ; because the adjective and the relative clause are
precisely of the same meaning. But if the Latins were
called upon to translate avQgawos avrod/daxrog, we believe
they must have made use of the relative pronoun, as we
know not any corresponding adjective in their language
The learned and ingenious Mr Harris, in his Treatise
on Universal Grammar, has given an analysis of the rela¬
tive pronoun very different from that which has been given
by us. The result of his inquiry is, that the relative is
equivalent to another pronoun, together with an expres¬
sion of connection of that kind which is denoted by the
particle and. This analysis he exemplifies, and endeavours
to confirm, by the sentence, “ Light is a body which
moves with great celerity.” Now, says he, instead of zvhic/i
substitute the word and it, and in their united powers you
see the force and character of the pronoun here treated.
But let any one attentively consider these two expressions,
“ Light is a body which moves with great celerity,” and
“ Light is a body and it moves with great celerityand
he will find that they are not precisely equivalent. For, to
speak in the language of logic, there is in the first but one
proposition, of which the subject is light, and the predicate
a complex term expressed by the words, body which moves
with great celerity. In the second there are two proposi¬
tions, or two predications, concerning light; first, that it is
a body ; and, secondly, that it moves with great celerity.
The relative clause, in the first case, expresses a property
of the antecedent body, which, with that property, is pre¬
dicated of the subject light; in the second case, this pro¬
perty is removed from the predicate of which it was an es¬
sential part, and is improperly converted into a new predi¬
cation of the subject. The sentence may be resolved upon
our principles, and its precise import preserved ; as “ Light
is a body of it moves with great celerity; ” the clause “ it
moves with great celerity,” is conceived by the mind as
having the force of an abstract substantive, and is connect¬
ed with the antecedent body by the preposition of, answer¬
ing to the termination of the genitive case. This abstract
substantive thus connected expresses a quality of the body
light. But by this example Mr Harris’s doctrine is not ex¬
hibited in all its absurdity; it may be proper to try it by
another.
Let us suppose that the following assertion is true;
“ Charles XII. was the only monarch who conquered king¬
doms to bestow them on his friends.” Here it is evident
there is but one proposition, of which the predicate is ex¬
pressed by the words, “ only monarch who conquered king¬
doms to bestow them on his friends ;” so that the relative
clause is a necessary part of the predicate, and has, like an
abstract noun in the genitive case, the effect of modifying
the general term monarch. Resolve this sentence on Mr
Harris’s principles, and you have two propositions of which
the first is a notorious falsehood: “ Charles XII. was the
only monarch, and he conquered kingdoms to bestow them
on his friends.” But instead of and substitute of, thus,
“ Charles XII. was the only monarch of he conquered king¬
doms to bestow them on his friends," and you preserve the
true import of the expression.1
Are there no cases, then, in which the relative may be Pronouns,
resolved into the connective and with a prepositive pro-
noun ? Undoubtedly there are, and we shall now endea¬
vour to ascertain them.
Adjectives in language have two different effects upon
the substantives to -which they belong, according to the na¬
ture of the attribute which they express. If the attribute
expressed by the adjective be competent to all the species
of which the substantive is the specific name, it is plain
that the adjective does not modify or limit the substantive,
for this obvious reason, that nothing can modify which is
not discriminative. Thus, when Horace says, Praia canis
albicant pruinis, the adjective canis denotes a quality com¬
mon to all hoarfrost; and therefore cannot modify the sub¬
stantive, because it adds nothing to the conception of which
that substantive is the name. But when the attribute ex¬
pressed by the adjective is competent to some individuals
only of the species of which the substantive is the name,
the adjective has then the effect of modifying or limiting
the substantive. Thus when one says vir bonus, he makes
use of an adjective which modifies the substantive, vir, be¬
cause it expresses a Quality or attribute which does not be¬
long to all men.
The clause of a sentence, in which there is a relative,
as it is in every other respect, so is it in this, equivalent
to an adjective ; it either modifies, or does not modify,
the antecedent, according as the attribute which it ex¬
presses is or is not characteristic of the species to which
the antecedent belongs. Thus, when it is said, “ Man, who
is born of woman, is of few days and full of trouble,” the
relative clause “ who is born of woman,” expresses an
attribute common to all men, and therefore cannot mo¬
dify. In like manner, when we say, “ Socrates, who
taught moral philosophy, was virtuous,” the clause, “who
taught moral philosophy,” does not modify. In both these
instances the relative clause might be omitted; and it
might be said with equal truth, “ Man is of few days and
full of trouble,” and “ Socrates was virtuous.”
But if it be said, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur, the rela¬
tive clause, qui pauca loquitur, modifies the antecedent
vir; for it is not affirmed of every man that he is wuse,
but only of such men as speak little. So “ Charles XII.
was the only monarch who conquered kingdoms to be¬
stow them on his friendsand, “ the man that endureth
to the end shall be savedwith many more examples
that will occur to every reader.
Now it will be found that it is only when the relative
clause expresses such a property or circumstance of the
antecedent as does not limit its signification, that the re¬
lative pronoun can be resolved into a prepositive pronoun
with the conjunction and, and that in these cases the re¬
lative clause itself is of very little importance. Thus in
the assertion, “ Charles XII. was the only monarch who
conquered kingdoms to bestow them on his friends,”
where the relative clause is restrictive, the who cannot
be resolved into and he consistently with truth or common
sense. But in the expression, “ Man, who is born of wo¬
man, is of few days and full of trouble,” the relative who
may be so resolved, at least without violating truth, thus,
“ man is of few days and full of trouble, and he is born of
a woman.” The only difference between the sentence
with the relative who, and the same sentence thus resolv¬
ed, is, that, in the former case, it contains but one predica¬
tion ; in the latter two, and these but loosely connected.
Thus, then, it appears that the general analysis of the
1 Mr Harris was probably led into his opinion, from considering the Latin qni or quis as compounded of quc and is (See Hermes,
p. 81, 82, third edit.). But the notion of Perizonius is perhaps better founded, who, in his notes to the Minerva of Sanctius, consi¬
ders it as immediately taken from the Greek -ns, which in the Doric is made *<s, and in the Latin quis. For it seems highly probable,
as some ingenious writers have endeavoured to show, that the Latin is a dialect of the Greek. Of this at least we may "be certain,
that many words in the former are immediately adopted from the latter.
GRAMMAR.
Pronouns, relative pronoun is into the particle of, and a prepositive
‘'-"-V'*-' pronoun; but that there are also occasions on which it
may be resolved into a prepositive pronoun and the par¬
ticle and, without materially altering the sense. Now,
what is the reason of this distinction ?
If the relative clause be equivalent to an adjective, or
to an abstract substantive in the genitive case, it is easy
to see that the relative itself may, in every instance, be
resolved into another pronoun and the particle of\ but it
will not perhaps be quite so evident how it should in any
instance be resolved by and. This last analysis has its
foundation in the nature of the particles of and and; or,
to speak more properly, in the nature of the attribute
which tbe relative clause expresses. Both the particles
q/’and and are used to link or join conceptions together ;
but with this difference, that of has the effect of making
the conceptions it connects figure in the mind as one ob¬
ject ; whereas the conceptions connected by and are still
conceived separately as before. To explain ourselves by
an example : suppose we take two words, man and virtue,
which denote two distinct ideas or conceptions, and join
them together by the particle of, saying man of virtue;
the mind no longer views them separately as significant
of two conceptions, but of one. Take the same words,
and join them together by the particle and, saying man
and virtue; the conceptions denoted by man and virtue
are still viewed separately as two, and notice is only given
that they are collaterally connected.
This being tbe case, it follows, that when the relative
modifies the antecedent, or, in other words, when the re¬
lative clause and the antecedent denote but one concep¬
tion, the relative must then be resolved by of, in order to
preserve this unity of conception. But when the relative
does not modify the antecedent; that is, when its clause
does not express any necessary part of a complex concep¬
tion, then the conceptions or ideas denoted by the rela¬
tive clause and the antecedent may be viewed separately
as two; and therefore the relative may be resolved into
the corresponding prepositive pronoun and the particle
and.
To state this reasoning in a light somewhat different.
As every relative clause, which expresses an attribute
that is not applicable to a whole genus or species, must
necessarily modify some general term, that is, restrict its
signification ; and as that general term must belong either
to the subject or to the predicate of a proposition ; it is
evident, that every such relative clause is a necessary
part of that subject or predicate in which its antecedent
stands. If therefore a relative clause, which modifies, be
taken away either from the subject or the predicate of a
proposition ; or if that connection, in consequence of which
it modifies, be dissolved, which is always done when the
relative is resolved by and-, then the proposition itself
will not hold true. The reason is, that the subject or the
predicate becomes then too general; for, in the one case,
something is predicated of a whole genus or species, which
can be predicated only of some individuals of that genus
or species ; and in the other, a general predication is made
where only a particular one can be applied. Thus, if it
be said, “ all men who transgress the laws are deserving
■of punishmentthe subject of the proposition is express¬
ed by the words, “ all men who transgress the laws.”
Take away the clause of the relative “ who transgress
the laws,” and say, “ all men are deserving of punishment
and you have a proposition which is not true, because that
is affirmed of the whole species which can be affirmed only
of some individuals. Retaining now the clause of the re¬
lative, but resolving it by and, you have the same propo¬
sition as before ; and together with it, in this instance,
another which is equally false, namety, “ all men, and
they transgress the laws, are deserving of punishment
759
that is, “ all men are deserving of punishment, and all men Pronouns,
transgress the laws.”
But when the attribute expressed by the clause of the
relative is characteristic of the genus or species of the an¬
tecedent, and consequently applicable to every individual
which that genus or species comprehends, the relative
clause may be entirely omitted without affecting the truth
of the proposition, which is already as general as it can
be. As in this case the import of the relative clause is
not restrictive of the signification of the antecedent, it is
of little consequence whether the attribute be represent¬
ed by the connective part of the relative, as of the ante¬
cedent, or be affirmed to belong to the antecedent in a
separate assertion. Thus it matters not much, whether
we say, “ man, who is subject to death, ought not to be
too much elated,” that is, according to our analysis, “ man
of he is subject to death, ought not to be too much elated
or whether, forming the relative clause into a separate as¬
sertion, and connecting the two by the particle and, we
say “ man, and he is subject to death, ought not to be too
much elated.” In the one sentence, indeed, the reason
is implied why man should not be too much elated, his
being subject to death ; and in the other, no reason is as¬
signed for this ; we only affirm that man is subject to
death, and likewise that he should not be too much elat¬
ed ; but as both affirmations are equally true and evident,
it is of little consequence, in such a case as this, whether
the reason upon which either is founded be implied or not.
From the whole of this investigation, the following con¬
clusions may be deduced as sufficiently established : ls£,
That the relative pronoun contains in itself the united
powers of a connective and another pronoun. 2dly, That
of is the connective of which, together with another pro¬
noun, it contains the powers, as in every possible instance
it may be resolved into these constituefit parts, and the
import of the sentence in which it has place remain un¬
altered. Sdly, That in the ancient languages the relative
clause of a sentence has the import of an abstract sub¬
stantive in the genitive case ; in English, with the particle
of prefixed, kthly, That the relative pronoun is of ne¬
cessary use only where there is a deficiency of adjectives
or substantives to denote some complex attribute, by
which we want to limit a general term or expression ;
but that where such adjectives or substantives exist in
language, we may use the relative or not at pleasure. And,
bthly. That though, in cases where the relative clause does
not limit a general term, the relative pronoun may, with¬
out violating truth, be analysed by and; yet such analysis
is never proper, as it gives two predicates to the same
subject, which, in the original proposition, had but one
predicate.
If the clause of'the relative be equivalent to an adjective,
as in every instance it seems to be, it will naturally occur,
that in the ancient languages, the relative should agree
with its antecedent in gender, number, and case. They
do agree for the most part in gender and number; in case
they cannot often, because the very intention of introdu¬
cing a relative into language is to represent the antecedent
in a different case. Whenever we have occasion to use a
substantive or noun in a clause of a sentence, and after¬
wards to express by another clause, in which there is a
verb, an attribute of the object denoted by that substantive,
we then employ the relative pronoun. Now it seldom
happens that the two clauses admit of the same regimen;
and hence the case of the relative is often necessarily dif¬
ferent from that of the antecedent, as the case of each must
be accommodated to the clause in which it is found. Thus
we cannot say, “ Deus qui colimus bonus estbut, “ Deus
quern colimus bonus estbecause the regimen of the verb
colo is always the accusative.
This shows the necessity of introducing a relative into
760
GRAMMAR.
'Pronouns, those languages which give inflexions to their nouns. Were
all the nouns of a language indeclinable, there would be
little occasion for a relative; and accordingly in English it
is often omitted. Examples are frequent in our best au¬
thors. Suffice it to quote the following.
For I have business would employ an age. Rowe.
I had several men died in my ship of calentures Swift.
They affect to guess at the object they cannot see Bolingbroke.
We are not ignorant that our most eminent grammarians
consider such expressions as chargeable with impropriety;
and we are far from recommending them in any dignified
or solemn composition. But in the instances adduced there
is not the smallest degree of obscurity; at least there is
none occasioned by the omission of the relative. The rea¬
son seems to be, that the mind can easily, by an effort of
its own, make the antecedent unite, first with the one
clause, and then with the other. Thus, when it is said,
“ I have business would employ an age,” the mind can’
without any difficulty, as the word business has no inflex¬
ions, consider it first as the objective case after have, and
then as the nominative to would employ ; but this cannot
be so easily done in the ancient languages, where the ter¬
mination of the noun is changed by the variation of its cases.
Both in the learned and in the living languages the rela¬
tive has different forms, corresponding to the different gen¬
ders of nouns; and by these it gives notice whether it is
applied to persons, or to things without life. Thus in the
English language we say, The man or the woman who went
to Rome; The tree which stands on yonder plain. It ad¬
mits likewise, when applied to males or females, a variation
of cases similar to that of the personal pronouns. Thus we
say, The man whose book is now before me ; The man or
woman whom I saw yesterday; but the neuter admits of
no such distinction,1 as we say, The tree which I saw, as
well as The tree which stands on yonder plain. In modern
languages the relative admits not of any distinction to de¬
note number; for we say, The man or the men who came
yesterday; The man or the men of whom I speak.
In English, the word that, which by some has been call¬
ed a demonstrative pronoun, by others a pronominal arti¬
cle, and by us a definite article, is often used instead of the
relative, as in the following examples: “ He is the same
man that I saw yesterday; he was the ablest prince that
ever filled a throne.” With regard to the principle upon
which this acceptation of the word that depends, we beg
to offer the following conjecture.
In English, from the phlegmatic arrangement of the
language, occasioned by the want of inflexions and conju¬
gations, the place of every part of a sentence is almost uni¬
formly determined, and very little variety is allowed in the
collocation of the words. The adjective is almost always
placed in apposition with its substantive, and the nomina¬
tive with its verb. In consequence of this uniformity in
the collocation of the words, the mind acquires a habit of
connecting in idea any kind of word with the place in which
it is used to stand; and is naturally led to consider every
word which stands in such a place as belonging to such a
class. Hence it is, we imagine, that the definitive that
passes into the nature of the relative pronoun; as in those
instances in which it occupies the place of the relative, it
vvas natural to consider it as having the same import. Yet
the word that has undoubtedly in itself no more the force
of the relative pronoun than the or this, or any other defi¬
nitive whatever. In such expressions as the foregoing, it
is not improbable that originally the clause of the definitive
that, which we now call the velative clause, was thrown in
as a kind of modifying circumstance, thus, “ The book (I
1 “ Whose is by some authors made the possessive case of which,
Lowth.
read that) is elegant,” where the speaker, finding the word Pronouns,
book too general for his purpose, throws in a clause to qua-
lify and restrict it, or to confine his affirmation to that par¬
ticular book which he is then reading. We can easily sup¬
pose that through time the definitive that in such an expres¬
sion might be transposed or removed from its own place to
that of the relative ; so that the expression would run thus,
“ The book that I read is elegant;” which would be consi¬
dered as precisely equivalent to “ The book which I read
is elegant.” This opinion is not a little confirmed by a si¬
milar use of the article in Greek, which, though undoubt¬
edly a definitive like the English the, is often used instead
of the relative pronoun. Numberless examples may be
found in Homer and Herodotus, especially in the latter,
who seldom uses what is properly called the relative. We
shall produce one instance from each.
’Eurixi &rouljr,'j Kyap.ifAiti'ia, TON srij/ zravrus
Zivs ivitixs wimuri Oiay.'rioi;.—Homer.
Ogxioia yag [iiyaXotm xxtu^ovto {sell. A0r,vait>i) ’bixa
triaxenriafai voftoitri TOTS sev trprt SoXuv 6r,rat Herodot.
We have said that the interrogative pronouns, as they
are called, who, which, what, are intimately connected with
relatives; we now affirm, that the two first of these words
are nothing but relatives, and that the last contains in itself
the united powers of a relative and a definitive. With re¬
spect to cases, number, and gender, the words who and
which, when employed as interrogatives, differ not from the
same words when employed as relatives; and we hold it
as a maxim, without which science could not be applied to
the subject of language, that the same word has always the
same radical import, in whatever different situations it may
be placed. To understand this, it is necessary to observe,
that all men have a natural propensity to communicate
their thoughts in the fewest words possible: hence it fol¬
lows, that words are often omitted which are necessary to
complete the construction of the sentence; and this no¬
where happens more frequently than in the use of who and
which. In sentences where these words are confessedly re¬
latives, we often find them without an antecedent; as,
Who steals my purse steals trash—Shakspeare.
Which who would learn, as soon may tell, &c Drydcn.
Qui Bavium non odit, amet tua carmina, Mcevi Virg.
That is, u He who steals my purse “ Which he who would
learn, as soon may tell;” and “ Me qui Bavium non oditf
See. Such abbreviations occasion no obscurity, because
from previous circumstances the hearer knows the mind of
the speaker and the persons to whom he refers. But it is
not with respect to the relative and antecedent only that
such abbreviations have place; in sentences of a different
form, whole clauses are sometimes omitted, whilst the
meaning of the speaker is made sufficiently plain. Thus,
when King Richard HI. having lost his horse in battle, ex¬
claims,
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !
there is no complete thought expressed; but the circum¬
stances in which the king then was, enabled those about
Ifim to understand that he wanted a horse. Accordingly
Catesby answers him,
Withdraw, my lord; I’ll help you to a horse.
In like manner, when a person asks a question, his ex¬
pression is frequently incomplete ; but the tone of his voice,
or some other circumstance, enables us to ascertain his
meaning, and to supply, if we please, the words that are
omitted. Thus when it is said, An fecisti 9 nothing more
is expressed than If you did it, the Latin an being nothing
else but the Greek a», si; but some circumstance enables
the person who hears it to know that the meaning is, “ Say
and applied to things as well as persons ; I think, improperly 
GRAMMAR.
Verbs, if you did it.” Let us apply these observations to the
words who and which. If these words be relatives, and if
our analysis of the relative be just, it is obvious, that no
complete meaning can be contained in the clause, “ Who
is your principal friend ?” for that clause contains nothing
more than the circumstance of being your principal friend
predicated of some unknown person ; “ of he is your prin¬
cipal friend.” That this is indeed the case, every man
may be convinced, by asking himself what he means by the
interrogative who in such a sentence; for he will find it im¬
possible to affix to it any meaning without supplying an
antecedent clause, by which that which is called an interro¬
gative will be immediately converted into the relative pro¬
noun. The custom, however, of language, and the tone of
voice with which the relative clause is uttered, intimates,
without the help of the antecedent, the wish of the speaker
to be informed by the person addressed of the name and
designation of his principal friend; and we know that the
sentence when completed is, “ Tell me the name and de¬
signation of the person who is your principal friend.”
Again, when the prophet says, “ Who is this that cometh
from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah ?” he utters
but part of a sentence, which when completed will run
thus: “ Describe the 'person who cometh from Edom (this
is that person), with dyed garments from Bozrah.” He
sees a person coming from Edom, of whose name and de¬
signation he is ignorant; he calls upon some one for infor¬
mation concerning these particulars; and that there may
be no mistake, he describes the unknown person as having
“ dyed garments from Bozrah ;” but lest even that descrip¬
tion should not be sufficiently accurate, he throws in the
definitive clause, “ this is that person,” pointing at him, we
may suppose, with his finger. Which, used as an interro¬
gative, indicates a wish of knowing a particular person or
thing out of more than one mentioned ; as, “ Which of the
two did it ?” that is, “ Tell me the one of the two which did
it ?” for, in old English, which as a relative is often used,
where in modern English we should say who; and that
mode of speech is still retained when the antecedent is
omitted, and the relative clause employed to indicate such
a wish as that before us. What includes in itself the sig¬
nification of a definitive and a relative pronoun ; as, “from
what has gone before, what follows may easily be guessed
where the word what is equivalent to that which. When
therefore we say, “ What rude fellow is that ?” our mean¬
ing is, “ Describe that person who is that rude fellow.”
Upon the whole, then, it is evident, that the words called
interrogatives are merely relative pronouns ; and that in¬
terrogative sentences are relative clauses uttered in such
circumstances as to enable the hearer to supply the ante¬
cedents necessary to complete the meaning.
In fine, we have seen that substantives are either prima¬
ry or secondary ; or, in other words, nouns or pronouns.
Nouns denote substances, and those either natural, artifi¬
cial, or abstract. They moreover denote things either
general, or special, or particular; and a general or speci¬
fic name is made to denote an individual by means of words
called articles or definitives. Pronouns are the substi¬
tutes of nouns, and are either prepositive or subjunctive.
The prepositive is distinguished into three orders, called
the first, the second, and the third person. The subjunc¬
tive, otherwise called the relative, includes the powers of
all those three, having superadded as of its own the pecu¬
liar force of a connective.
IV. Of Verbs.
The words which we have hitherto considered are com-
761
rnonly called substantives primary or secondary, and dc- Verbs,
finitives; because nouns are significant of substances;
pronouns are the substitutes of nouns; and the article
serves to ascertain the extent of the noun, and to deter¬
mine whether on any occasion it be significant of a whole
class of substances, or only of one individual. But sub¬
stances are of importance to mankind only on account of
their various qualities or attributes; for their internal tex¬
ture is a thing of which we are profoundly ignorant, and
with which we have no manner of concern. Thus, ex¬
perience teaches us that certain vegetables are pleasant
to the taste, and wholesome food; whilst others are un¬
pleasant and poisonous. The former kinds are valuable
only for their qualities or attributes; and they are the
qualities or attributes of the latter that make them worth¬
less or hurtful. A horse is strong, and swift, and docile,
and may be trained to carry a man on a journey, or to drag
a plough. It is for his strength, swiftness, and docility, that
he is the most /aluable of all quadrupeds. One man is
brave, another learned, and another eloquent; and by pos¬
sessing these different qualities or attributes, each is fitted
for a different station in society. It is plain, therefore,
that in contemplating substances, our attention must be
principally bestowed upon their qualities, and that the
words which serve to denote these qualities must be an
essential part of language. Such words are in general
called attributives, and are of three sorts, verbs, partici¬
ples, and adjectives.
Of all the constituent parts of speech, none has given the
grammarians greater trouble than the verb. The vast va¬
riety of circumstances which it blends together in one word
throws very considerable difficulties in the way of him who
attempts to analyse it and ascertain its nature ; at the same
time that, by its eminent use in language, it is entitled to
all the attention which can be bestowed upon it. To the
discussion of the verb, Mr Harris, whose notions of this
as of the other parts of speech have been generally adopted
by the subsequent writers on grammar, has dedicated a
large proportion of his book, in which he has thrown out
many excellent observations, mixed, as it appears to us,
with several errors. We have already observed, that no
man is ignorant when he uses what is called a verb and
when a noun. Every schoolboy knows that the words is,
loveth, walketh, standeth, in English, and est, amat, amatur,
ambulat, stat, in Latin, are verbs ; he knows likewise that
they are of different kinds, that some of them are said to
be active, some passive, and some neuter. But it should
seem that the first object of our investigation ought to be
the characteristic of the verb, or that which all these words
have in common, and which constitutes them verbs, dis¬
tinguishing them from every other species of words. Now
it is obvious to the slightest attention, that every verb,
whether active, passive, or neuter, may be resolved into
the substantive verb is, and another attributive-, for loveth
is of the same import with is loving; walketh, with is
walking ; and amat, with amans est. But loving, walking,
and amans, are not verbs; and hence it follows, that the
characteristic of the verb, that which constitutes it what
it is, and cannot be expressed by other words, must be
that which is signified by the word is ; and to us that ap¬
pears to be neither more nor less than assertion.
Assertion, therefore, or predication, is certainly the
very essence of the verb, as being that part of its office,
and that part only, which cannot be discharged by other
kinds of words.1 Every other circumstance which the
verb includes, such as attribute, mode, time, it may be
possible to express by adjectives, participles, and adverbs;
1 Hence a common noun, or even a proper name, may be converted into a verb by being rendered assertive or predicative. Thus,
in the indignant rebuke addressed by Rob Roy to Rashieigh Osbaldistone, “ Don’t Mr or Campbell me, sir ; my foot is on my native
heath, and my name is Macgregorthe proper name “ Campbell," being that which Rob usually assumed in his lowland and southern
expeditions, is converted into a verb, and great force thereby given to the exclamation. (Z)/- Hunter.)
VOL. X. 5 D
762
V erh=;.
GRAM M A R.
but without a verb it is impossible to predicate, to affirm
or deny, any one thing of any other thing. The office of
the verb, then, when stript of all accidental circumstances,
seems to be merely this: “ To join together the subject
and predicate of a proposition.” Its powers are analogous
to those of the sign -f 'n algebra, which does not affect
the separate value of the quantities between which it is
placed, but only indicates their union or coalescence. To
explain by an example: When we say, Cicero eloquens,
Cicero wise : these are imperfect sentences, though they
denote a substance and an attribute. The reason is, that
they want an assertion, to show that such an attribute ap¬
pertains to such a substance. But when we insert the
word was, we join the substance and attribute together ;
we give notice that the wisdom and eloquence are applied
to Cicero, and we do nothing more; we neither increase
the wisdom nor diminish it, we neither make it real nor
imaginary; for it was supposed in all its extent when the
words Cicero and wise stood independent of each other.
We may indeed use the verb in a form which implies not
an assertion only, but likewise an attribute ; as when we
say, George writeth, or George walkelh. But as whiteness
or any other particular colour is not of the essence of a
horse, an animal which is found of all colours ; so, in the
phrases quoted, the attribute, though implied, is not of the
essence of the verb ; for it may be equally well expressed
by other words, as George is writing, and George is walk¬
ing, which are phrases of the very same import with
George writeth and George walketh.
In resolving every verb, whether active, passive, or
neuter, into the substantive verb is and another attribu¬
tive, we have the honour to agree with all the gramma¬
rians; but to the word is itself the learned author of
Hermes has given a meaning which, as a verb, it does not
admit. He observes, that before any thing can be the
subject of a proposition, it must exist; that all existence is
either absolute or qualified, mutable or immutable; that
the verb is can by itself express absolute existence, but
never the qualified, without subjoining the particular form ;
and that it signifies both mutable and immutable exist¬
ence, having in these cases different meanings, although
the sentences which he gives as examples are evidently
constructed in the same manner, and consist of the same
parts of speech. His examples are: Of absolute exist¬
ence, B is : of qualified, B is an animal; of mutable, This
orange is ripe; of immutable, The diagonal of the square
is incommensurable ivith its sides. But if predication be
the essence of verb, all this is nothing to the purpose, and
part of it is not true. It is not true that the verb is ever
varies its signification ; for it has as verb no connection
with existence of any kind. All such circumstances are
superadded to its verbal nature ; or, to speak more accu¬
rately, we infer such circumstances from our previous
knowledge of the objects concerning which the predica¬
tion is made. When we say, “ This orange is ripe,” we
do indeed mean, as Mr Harris observes, that it is so now
at this present in opposition to past and future time; but
it is not the verb is, but the definitive this, which fixes the
time of maturity, as well as the place, of the orange. If
we had said, Oranges are ripe, we might have been pro¬
perly asked, When and where are they ripe? although
the same verb is used in both sentences. Even in the
sentence B is, absolute existence, the most simple of all,
is inferred, and not expressed, by the verb ; and the infe¬
rence is made from this obvious principle, that when one
utters a mark of predication, we naturally conclude that
he means to predicate something of the subject. If he
adds no specific predication, as B is round, we apply to
B the most general that we can ; and what other species
is so general as existence ?
That the idea of existence, considered as mutable or
immutable, is not contained in the verb is itself, but is de¬
rived from our knowledge of the objects concerning which
the predication is made, appears manifestly from this, that
if a person be supposed ignorant of the meaning of the
words God and man, whilst he knows that of is, the ut¬
tering of the two propositions, God is happy, and This
man is happy, will give him no notice of existence con¬
sidered as mutable or immutable, temporary or eternal.1
His conclusion with respect to these modes of existence,
if any such conclusion be drawn at all, must be derived
entirely from his previous knowledge of the nature of God
and the nature of man.
Some of our readers may possibly think this notion of
verb too abstract and metaphysical; yet what other cir¬
cumstance than mere predication is essential to that spe¬
cies of words? We say essential; for we are inquiring,
not what is expressed by each individual verb, but what
it is which is equally expressed by all verbs, and which
distinguishes them from the other parts of speech. And
if it be true, that every thing which the verb implies, pre¬
dication alone excepted, may be expressed by other parts
of speech, and that no other parts of speech can predicate,
then we think ourselves warranted to affirm, that simple
predication is the essential characteristic of verb ; that
every word which predicates is a verb ; and that nothing
is so which does not predicate.
It must not, however, be concealed, that a doctrine
very different from this has been maintained by a writer of
distinguished abilities. “ We have energy expressed,”
says Dr Gregory,2 3 “ and of course a verb constituted with¬
out affirmation, when we wish or command ; w ithout com¬
mand, when ive affirm or wish ; without wish, when we
command or affirm; yet in all these cases we have equal¬
ly and indisputably a verb.”
That in all these cases we have a verb, is indeed indis¬
putable ; but we hold it to be equally indisputable, that
in all these cases we have affirmation. The ingenious
author has given no direct example of a wish or command
uttered without affirmation ; and a feeling or sentiment
which is not uttered has nothing to do with language;
but he has given a sentence in which there are three
verbs, that in his opinion denote no affirmation, but a very
plain supposition. If a supposition can be expressed with¬
out affirmation, we shall very readily allow that a wish or
command may be so expressed likewise. The doctor’s
supposition is thus expressed : “ Had any punishment
ever overtaken you for your broken vows ; were but one
of your teeth growing black, or even were but one of your
nails growing less beautiful, I should believe you.” It is
almost superfluous to observe, that to every verb not in
the infinitive mode there must be a nominative, and to
every active verb an object, whatever be the arrangement
of the sentence in which such verbs are found. These
are truths known to every schoolboy; the reasons of them
shall be afterwards given. It is likewise undeniable, that
in the sentence before us the nominative to “ had” is “ any
punishment;” to the first “were,” “one of your teeth;” and
Verbs.
1 The truth of this observation may be proved by experiment, as, for instance, by uttering to a man of good common sense these
two propositions, taking care to express the words God and man in a language which he does not understand. Thus, Dcus is happy,
and hie homo is happy, uttered to a man totally unacquainted with the Latin tongue, will contain no notice of existence considered aa
mutable or immutable.
3 Theory of ihc Moods of Verls, published in vol. ii. of the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
GRAMMAR. 763
Verbs, to the second, “ one of your nails.” But the sentence ar-
ranged in grammatical order, with the several nominatives
before their respective verbs, is evidently elliptical ; and
the conjunction if must be supplied as well to complete
the construction as to make sense of the passage. “ ^fany
punishment had ever overtaken you ; if but one of your
teeth were growing black, or even z/’but one of your nails
were growing less beautiful, I should believe you.” Now
it has been proved, by such evidence as leaves no room
for doubt, that if though called a conjunction, is in fact
a verb in the imperative mode, of the same import with
give ; so that we may substitute the one for the other
without in the smallest degree altering the sense. The
sentence will then run thus: “ Give any punishment had
ever overtaken you ; give butoneof your teeth were growing
black, &c. I should believe you.” It is therefore so far from
being true, that had and were, when the sentence is com¬
pleted, express no affirmation ; that it is only upon grant¬
ing the truth of the affirmation which they denote that
the speaker says, “ I should believe you.” “ Any punish¬
ment had ever overtaken you,” is plainly an affirmation ;
if give that affirmation, admit its truth, “ I should believe
you.” But it cannot be supposed that had and were
change their significations by a mere change of place, or
that by being removed from the middle to the beginning
of a clause they lose their original import, and come to
denote something entirely different. Were this the case,
every attempt to ascertain and fix the general principles
of grammar would be as ridiculous as an attempt to arrest
the course of time. For what purpose, then, it may be
asked, if the verb always denotes affirmation, is it removed
from the middle to the beginning of the clause, when sup¬
position is implied, as in the present instance? We an¬
swer, that supposition is neither more nor less than con¬
ditional affirmation; that when such affirmation is com¬
pletely expressed, the verb is not removed to the begin¬
ning of the clause; and that such removal takes place
only when the clause is elliptical, being merely an artifi¬
cial contrivance in language, to show the reader or hearer
that some such word as if demanding the truth of the
affirmation, is omitted for the sake of dispatch. I his is
evident; for when the word requiring the affirmation to
be granted is supplied, the verb must be restored to its
place in the middle of the clause. Such abbreviations,
and such contrivances to mark them, are frequent in all
languages, as will be seen more clearly when we come to
treat of modes or moods. Upon the whole, then, w'e are
compelled reluctantly to differ from this writer, and still
to think that simple predication is the essence of the verb.
Should we be required to exemplify our theory by lan¬
guage, and to produce instances of this simplified verb in
practice, we might answer, that the not being able to pro¬
duce such instances would be no good argument against
the truth of our principles. It is the nature of language
to express many circumstances by the same word, all of
which, however, are not essential to distinguish the spe¬
cies to which that word belongs from the other species of
words ; and it is the nature of man to infer from discourse
many things which are not actually expressed. Perhaps,
however, something very nearly approaching to an exempli¬
fication of our idea of a simple verb will be found in the
proposition, “ The three angles of every plane triangle Verbs.
are equal to two right angles.” What other office the
verb are here performs than simply to join the subject
and predicate, it is difficult to perceive. It does not give
notice of time ; or such notice, if given, is an imperfec¬
tion ; for the truth of the proposition is independent of
time. Neither ought it to imply existence ; for the pro¬
position would be true were there neither a triangle nor
a right angle in nature.
This idea of verb, when well considered, will be found
just; but should any of our readers suspect it of novelty,
and on that account be disposed to condemn it, we have
only to request that he will restrain his censure till he has
examined the writings of others, and nicely observed the
several states of his own mind in discourse ; for medita¬
tion may perhaps show him that our theory is not false,
and inquiry will satisfy him that it is not novel.1
But although it is certain that assertion, and assertion
only, is essential to the verb, yet the greater part of that
species of words which grammarians call verbs are used
to denote an attribute as well as an assertion ; or, in the
language of logic, they express both the copula and the
predicate of a proposition ; thus, he liveth, he writeth, he
walketh, are phrases equivalent in all respects to he is liv¬
ing, he is writing, he is walking. Now, of attributes, some
have their essence in motion, as walking ; some in the
privation of motion, as resting ’, and others have nothing
to do with either motion or its privation, as white and
black. But all motion and all privation of motion imply
time as their concomitant; and a substance may have an
attribute to-day which it had not yesterday, and will not
have to-morrow. This is self-evident; for a man may be
at rest to-day who yesterday was walking, and to-morrow
will be on horseback ; and a sheet of paper may have been
white yesterday which to-day is black, and at some future
time will be of a different colour. As, therefore, all mo¬
tions and their privations imply time; and as a proposi¬
tion may be true at one time which is not true at ano¬
ther, all verbs, as well those which denote both an attii-
bute and an assertion, as those which denote an assertion
only, come to denote time also. Hence the origin and
use of tenses, which are so many different forms assigned
to each verb, to show, without altering its principal signi¬
fication, the various times in which the assertion express¬
ed by it may be true. Whether these various forms of
the verb be essential to language, it is vain to dispute.
They have place in every language with which we are ac¬
quainted ; and as the use of the verb is to affiim one
thing of another, it is absolutely necessary that the time
when such or such an affirmation is true be matked by
tenses, or some other contrivance. Concerning tenses,
therefore, we shall throw together some observations,
which, mutatis mutandis, are applicable to every language,
oremising only a general remark or two which seem ne¬
cessary in order to proceed with precision.
Time, although its essence consists in succession conti¬
nued and unbroken, may yet be considered by the mind
as divided into an infinite number of parts. There is, how¬
ever, one grand division which necessarily occurs, and to
which the different tenses of verbs are in all languages
adapted. Computing from some portion conceived to be
i « Besides words, which are names of ideas in the mind, there are a great many others that are n.adeuseof to signify tfmcon-
nection that the mind gives to ideas or propositions one with another. I he mind, in communicating its th u g ’
only need signs of the ideas it has then before it, but others also to show or intimate some partrcukr aC on of^ovin at that time
relating to those ideas. This it does several ways; as is and is not are the general marks of the m nris
(Locke on Human Understanding) “ Verbum est pars orationis vanabihs aliqmd de re ahqua dmi sen . ® ^ . verbi cfjjus.
verbi definitio e-t, quod, sit pars orationis, quae agere, pati aut esse sigmficet. Sed nostra accuratu , | ^ ‘gUent, quo non
vis natura petita vuletur. Caeterum ™ affirmari laxiore hie sensu acc.pimus, pro eo quod JL Institution* i
modo affirmationes strictius sic dictae, sed negatumes eLam interrogationesque inclu.luntur. (Rudd ,
see also Beattie’s Theory of Language.)
764
GRAMMA K.
Verbs, present, all time is either past or to come. Hence the tenses
of verbs are threefold; some denoting time present, some
\Sme, past, and others time
Again, from the very nature of time, it must be obvious
that all its parts are relative; or, in other words, that no
portion of it can be ascertained by any thing inherent in
itself, but only by referring it to some other portion, with
respect to which it is past, present, or to come. In this
respect time is perfectly analogous to space ; for as the
space in which any object exists cannot be described but
by stating its relation to some other space, so neither can
the time of any attribute or action be determined, but by
stating its relation to some other time. When, therefore,
we would mark the time of any action or event, we must
previously fix upon some point to which we may refer it. If
this point be known, the time referred to it will also be
known ; but if the former be not known, neither will the
latter.
Lastly, in contemplating an action, we may have occa¬
sion to consider it as going on, or as finished. This dis¬
tinction is likewise denoted by the different tenses of verbs.
In treating, therefore, of the tenses, there are two things
to which attention ought principally to be turned;—the
relation which the several tenses have to one another in
respect of time; and the notice which they give of an
action’s being completed or not completed.
Having premised these remarks, we proceed now to the
tenses themselves ; of which Mr Harris has enumerated no
fewer than twelve. Of this enumeration we can by no
means approve; for, without entering into a minute exa¬
mination of it, nothing can be more obvious, than that his
inceptive present, I am going to write, is a future tense;
and his completive present, I have written, a past tense.
But, as was before observed of the classification of words,
we cannot help being of opinion, that to take the tenses as
they are commonly received, and endeavour to ascertain
their nature and their differences, is a much more useful
exercise, as well as more proper for a work of this kind,
than to raise, as might easily be done, new and hypotheti¬
cal theories on the subject.
It has already been observed that all the tenses must
necessarily mark relative time. In one sense this is ex¬
tremely obvious. The present tense is used in contradis¬
tinction to both the past and future, and marks an attri¬
bute or action as existing in neither. The past and the
future are in like manner used in contradistinction to the
present, and mark an attribute or action which exists not
now, but which in the one case has existed formerly, and in
the other will exist at some time coming. But besides this
relation of contradistinction subsisting among the tenses,
there is another of co-existence, as we may call it, to which
it is of great consequence to attend, especially in examin¬
ing the nature of the present.
The present tense refers not only to something which is
past or future, but also to something with which the attri¬
bute or action of the verb is contemporary. This refer¬
ence is necessarily implied in its very name; for we can¬
not say of any thing that it is present, without implying at
the same time that there is something else with which it is
present. Hence it appears with how little reason Mr Har¬
ris and others have given us an aorist of the present, as
marking present time indefinitely in contradistinction to
other presents, which have been called inceptive, extended,
and completive presents. For from what has been said, it
follows, that the present tense is necessarily and from its
very nature perfectly indefinite, and can of itself give no¬
tice of no precise or determinate portion or point of time
whatever. A thing may have been present fifty years ago,
may be present now, or at any future period. " This tense
implies the relation of co-existence between two or more
things; but without some auxiliary circumstance, it can¬
not in any language mark the particular portion of time in Verbs,
which those things exist. The indefinite nature of this ^’'V^1
tense is indeed most clearly seen in that use of it in which
Mr Harris has styled it the aorist of the present; that is, -
in cases where it is employed to denote the repetition of
an action which the agent is accustomed frequently to
perform, or to express propositions of which the truth is
evinced by general experience ; as in the following ex¬
amples :—
Hypocrisy the only evil that -walks
Invisible, except to God alone.
Ad pccnitendum properat qui cito judicat.
In these instances it is plain that there is no particular time
pointed out; the propositions are true, or apprehended as
true, at all times. Although the actions, therefore, of
“ walking” and “ hastening” are expressed as present, it is
impossible from the expressions to determine any precise
point of time when they are present.
But if the present tense be thus indefinite, how, it may
be asked, are we to ascertain the particular time which is
intended ? We answer, it is to be ascertained, either by
stating the action of the verb as existing in some time al¬
ready known, or by inference. If, for example, we say,
“ Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen,”
the proposition is general, and the time of walking unde¬
termined. But if we add, “ both when we wake and when
we sleep,” the time is by this addition ascertained and spe¬
cified ; for if the time when men wake and sleep be known,
the time when these spirits walk the earth is also known.
When no specifying clause is given by which to determine
the time of the present tense, it is very commonly deter¬
mined by inference. Thus, if one use such an expression
as “ He sleeps while I am speaking to him,” the time of
his sleeping is ascertained by the subsequent clause of the
sentence; but if it be said simply, “ he sleeps,” without
assigning any data from which it may be concluded when
his sleeping is present, we very naturally infer that it is at
the instant when we receive the information of his sleeping.
Such inferences as this are common in language. The
mind is desirous to obtain complete information on every
subject, and therefore frequently supplies to itself what is
not expressed in the speech of others.
Both these ways of ascertaining the precise time of the
present tense are excellently illustrated by the use of the
word present as applied to space. Take a familiar ex¬
ample : “ His brother and he were present when I read
the letter.” It is at first sight evident that this expression
is perfectly indefinite. But if it be said, “ His brother and
he were present at your house when I read the letter,” the
place of action is then determined by being referred to a
portion of space which is known. If no such reference be
made, the person who hears the speech uttered must either
remain ignorant of the place intended, or he must ascer¬
tain it to himself by inference ; and he will probably infer
it to be that in which the speaker is at the time of his ut¬
tering the indefinite sentence. This leads us to observe,
that such inferences are not often made without sufficient
foundation. \ arious circumstances may assist the reader
or hearer in making them, and prevent all danger of mis¬
take. He may have the evidence of sense, or of some¬
thing preceding in the discourse, and a number of other
particulars, to warrant his conclusion. Thus, if, when sit-
ting by a large fire, any one pronounce the words “ I am
too warm,” those to whom he addresses his speech are au¬
thorized to conclude that he is too warm at the time of
speaking, unless he expressly prevent the drawing of that
conclusion by adding some such clause as “ when I wear
a great coat.”
It is strictly demonstrable, and has been in fact demon¬
strated by Mr Harris, that there is no such thing as pre¬
sent time. \et do we not only conceive time as present
GRAM M A R.
765
Verbs, and existing, but frequently as extended to a very great
degree. We speak not only of the present instant, or the
present day, but also of the present year, and even of the
present century. This manner of conceiving time is in¬
deed loose and unphilosophical, but it is sufficient for the
ordinary purposes of language. To express time as it
really is, we ought to say, the passing day, the passing
year, and the passing century ; but in common discourse
we denominate any portion of time present, in which the
present now or instant is included, although it is obvious
that part of that portion is past, and the remainder of it
future. From the very nature of time thus conceived to
be present, the tense now under consideration must repre¬
sent the action of the verb as commenced, and not finish¬
ed ; for as time is in continued succession, and accompanies
every action, when any action is not commenced, it exists
not in any time, although it may exist hereafter in time
which is now future; and when it is finished, it exists no
longer in time present, but in time past. Hence the absur¬
dity of introducing into a theory of the tenses an inceptive
present and a completive present; for these terms imply
each a direct contradiction.
After having said so much respecting the present tense,
we shall have but little to say of the prceter-imperfect. It
states an action in regard to time as past; and in respect
of progress, as unfinished. Legebam, l was reading at
some time, but my reading was then incomplete; I had
not finished the book or the letter. We must here ob¬
serve, however, as we did with respect to the present
tense, that although the prseter-imperfect represents the
action as past, it does not inform us in what precise por¬
tion of past time the unfinished action was going on ; this
circumstance must either be given in separate words, or
be inferred by the hearer. If one say simply, Legebam,
the person to whom he addresses his speech will conclude
that the time of his reading is past with respect to the
present time of his speaking. But if he say Legebam an-
tequam venisti, he expressly states the action of reading
as past with respect to the time in which his hearer came
to the place where they both are at the time of speaking.
The time of the praeter-imperfect is always past with re¬
spect to the present instant when the imperfect is used,
and of this the tense itself gives notice ; but it may also
b.e past with respect to some other time, and of this it con¬
veys no information.
If we join two praeter-imperfects together, the expres¬
sion will state the co-existence of two progressive actions,
both of which were going on at a time past in respect of
some determinate time given or supposed. Cum tu scri-
btbas ego legebam; “ when you were writing I was read¬
ing.” Hence the praeter-imperfect has by some gramma¬
rians been called the relative present; a name which,
however, is by no means exclusively applicable to this
tense. When the praeter-imperfect is by the conjunction
awe? joined in the same sentence with a plusquam-perfect,
the two tenses express two actions, both prior to the time
of speaking; but the one as having continued after the
other was finished. Thus iEneas, speaking of the destruc¬
tion of Troy, says, that after having escaped with his fa¬
ther and followers, he returned to the city in quest of his
wife, and went directly to his own house ; but there, con¬
tinues he, Irruerant Danai, et tectum omne tenebant, “ the
Greeks had rushed in,” that action was over and com¬
pleted before his arrival; but the act of “ possessing the
whole house,” tenebant, was not over, but still continuing.
But it is necessary that the verb should denote actions
which were complete or perfect in past time, as well as
those which were incomplete or imperfect. For this pur¬
pose Greek and English verbs have an aorist, a praeter-
perfect, and a plusquam-perfect. Of these the Latin has
only the two last. The praeter-perfect in that language
sustains a twofold character; it performs the office of the
Greek and English aorist, as well as that of the praeter-
perfect properly so called; that is, it denotes a finished
action at some indefinite past time, as well as at some
time which is both past and definite.
In attempting to analyse the signification of complex
terms, by which we here mean words that include in their
signification a variety of particulars, it is of great advan¬
tage to have these particulars separately expressed by dif¬
ferent words in another language. Now the English has
resolved the tenses, which in the Greek and Latin lan¬
guages are denominated the aorist and the praeter-per-
fect, by means of what are commonly called auxiliary
verbs, expressing the former by the verb did, and the lat¬
ter by the verb have. In examining therefore the aorist
and praeter-perfect, it will be of use to inquire into the
import of these verbs.
Did is evidently the aorist of the verb to do; a verb of
the most general signification, as it denotes action of every
kind. It expresses the finished performance of some ac¬
tion, the completion of which must of course have taken
place in some portion of past time: “ I did write, or I
ivrote (these expressions being equivalent) yesterday, a
month, a year ago.” But the import of did being so very
general, it can convey no determinate meaning without
being limited by the addition of some particular action ;
and this addition, however expressed, is to be considered
in the same light as an accusative case, governed by the
active verb did; for it produces exactly the same effect.
’Eyja-^a, scripsi, I did write ; that is, “ at some past
time I performed the action of writing, and finished it.”
The verb have, which is included in the praeter-perfect,
is plainly a verb of the present tense denoting possession,
But a man may possess one thing as well as another; and
therefore have requires limitation, for the very same rea¬
son that did requires it, namely, because its signification
is perfectly general. Now this limitation, whatever it is,
must be conceived as the thing possessed ; and in instances
where have is limited by a noun, this is obvious, and uni¬
versally acknowledged. “ I have a gold watch,” means “ I
possess a gold watch.” But to annex the same meaning
to the word have, when used as an anxiliary verb, is an
idea we believe not common, and which may perhaps be
Verbs.
thought whimsical; yet what other meaning can be af¬
fixed to it ? To suppose that words have not each a radi¬
cal and determinate signification, is to suppose language
a subject incapable of philosophical investigation ; and to
suppose, with Mr Harris, that there are words entirely
devoid of signification, is at once to render all inquiries
into the principles of grammar nugatory and ridiculous.
We conceive, then, that each of the phrases, ysygeupa
intasrohriv, scripsi epistolam, I have written a letter, is equi¬
valent to the phrase, “ I possess at present the finished
action of writing a letter.” Such an expression may sound
harsh to the ear, because it is not in use ; but we often
employ expressions, to the precise and proper meaning of
which we do not attend ; and if the above be attentively
considered, however awkward it may at first appear, no¬
thing will be found in it either improper or absurd.
The aorist, then, we conceive to state an action as per¬
formed and finished in some past portion of time ; whilst
the praeter-perfect represents the past performance and
completion of that action as now possessed. And here
we may hazard a conjecture why have, when used as an
auxiliary verb, is always joined with a past participle;
whereas did is joined to a word expressing the simple ac¬
tion of the verb, or, as it is called, present infinitive. Of
the expression, “ I have written a letter,” one part,
namely, the verb have, denotes present time; the other part,
viz. written, must denote past time, to give notice that
the action is performed and finished. Did, on the other
766
GRAMMA R.
Verbs.
hand, implying past time, has no occasion for the past
part of another verb to give notice of this circumstance ;
for “ I did write a letter,” is equivalent to, “ at some
past time I performed and finished the simple action of
writing a letter.”
The principal distinction in practice between the aorist
and praeter-perfeet (for the difference seems little in their
real import) consists in the time by which the performance
of the action admits of being particularly specified. The
praeter-perfect is always joined with a portion of time
which includes the present wow or instant; for otherwise
it could not signify, as it always does, the present posses¬
sion of the finishing of an action. But the aorist, which
signifies no such possession, is as constantly joined with a
portion of past time which excludes the present now or
instant. Thus we not only say, “ I have written a letter
this day, this week,” but “ I wrote a letter yesterday, last
week and to interchange these expressions of time in
Greek and English, where the aorist and praeter-perfect
have different forms, would be improper. In Latin, indeed,
where they have but one form, the impropriety does not
appear.
Besides the tenses already examined, which are ex¬
pressive of past time, in most languages the verb has an¬
other tense called the plusquam-perfect, in which, however,
no difficulty occurs to detain our attention. What the
praeter-imperfect is to the present tense, that the plusquam-
perfect is to the preeter-perfect. The verb had, by which
it is resolved in English, being evidently the past time of
have, sufficiently explains its meaning and relation to the
other tenses. “ I had written a letter,” is equivalent to the
phrase, “ I possessed at some past time the finished action
of writing a letter.” It is justly observed by Dr Beattie,
that the imperfect and plusquam-perfect are very useful,
and may be the sources of much elegant expression ; and
that if one were not taught to distinguish, in respect of
meaning as well as of form, these tenses from each other,
and the praeterite from both, one could not pretend to un¬
derstand, far less to translate, any good classic author.
Having considered the tenses which imply present and
past time, it now remains that we examine the import
of those which are expressive of time future. In Latin
and English there are two tenses for this purpose, of which
the first represents an action in point of time as not yet
existing, but as about to exist at some period to come;
but it does not bring the completion of the action into
view. Ihe other asserts the futurity of an action together
with its completion. Scribam, “ I shall be writing,” de¬
notes time and incomplete action; for it does not
say whether I am to write for a long or for a short time,
or whether I shall finish what I promise to begin. This
part of the verb, therefore, to which the Greek
corresponds, is an imperfect future, or, in other words, in¬
definite. Ihe futurity of any action, it should seem, may
always be computed from the time of speaking ; for every
action must be future with respect to the time at which
its futurity is declared : but the time of its futurity may
be more precisely specified by fixing upon some other fu- Verbs,
ture time to which to refer it: “I shall be writing after he "Y''*
shall have departed.” Shall or ivill refers to future time
indefinitely ; and write or renting refers to an action which
is indeed to begin and so far to proceed, but of which no¬
thing is said concerning the completion.
On the other hand, scripsero, “ I shall have written,”
is a perfect future denoting complete action ; for s/w//de¬
notes future time ; written, finished action ; and have, pre¬
sent possession. So that the meaning of the whole asser¬
tion is, that “ at some future period of time I shall pos¬
sess the finished action of writing.” The completion of
the action, together with the possession of it, is always
future with respect to the time of assertion; but, with
respect to some other time expressed or understood, the
completion of the action is to be past: Promittis te scrip-
turum si rogavero, “ you promise to write if I shall have
asked you.” In this sentence the action of asking is fu¬
ture with relation to the time of promising, but it is past
with relation to that of writing. This tense the Latin
grammarians call the future of the subjunctive mode, but
very improperly. The notice which it communicates re¬
spects not the power or liberty of acting, which, as will
be seen by and by, is the characteristic of that mode;
but only the action itself. It ought, therefore, to be ranked
among the tenses of the indicative mode ; for scripsero is,
in every sense, as really indicative as scribam. or scriptu-
rus ero.
These are all the tenses, essentially different from each
other, which have place in the indicative mode (or mood)
of any language with which we are acquainted ;l but as
there are tenses in the mode called subjunctive, which bear
the same names with those already examined, and which
have yet a different import, it will be necessary to consi¬
der them before we dismiss the subject of tenses. Of
modes in general something will be said hereafter; at
present we shall only observe, that the mode with which
we are now concerned is not very properly distinguish¬
ed by the name assigned to it by the Latin grammarians.
They call it the subjunctive, because it is often subjoined
to another verb, and forms the secondary clause of a sen¬
tence ; but the mode called indicative frequently appears
in the same circumstances. The difference between these
two modes appears to us to consist in this, that the indi¬
cative asserts something directly concerning the action,
and the subjunctive, something concerning the power or
liberty of the agent to perform it; for that the latter as¬
serts as well as the former, admits not of dispute.
Ihe present tense of the subjunctive mode, in the learn¬
ed languages, answers to the English auxiliaries mc^and
can. Let us consider these a little. May is evidently a
verb of the present tense denoting liberty. When I assert
that I may write, I give notice that I am under no compul¬
sion to abstain from writing ; that there is no impediment
from without by which lam restrained from writing. Can
is also a verb of the present tense, expressive of internal
power or skill. “ I can write” is equivalent to such an
' “ fefr.hfS oc^ur’”. elegant and ingenious writer, “ that there are two Greek tenses of which I have given no ac¬
count , namely, the second aorist and the second future. The truth is, that I consider them as unnecessary. Their place, forany thine I
know to the contrary, might at all times be sunnlied hv the first aorist and thp J piact;, iur any ming i
first aorist si<mifips timo nast tr, , ,Pi! - ,.“??• ? . a the ^st future- Some grammarians are of opinion that the
cor d a nmre rernme futunU RmH ’ T * -T paSt; and that the first future denotes a nearer, and the se-
cona a more remote, futurity. Rut this, I apprehend, is mere conjecture, unsupported by proof; and therefore I incline rather to
fhp fi'1! rln teaCh uat the Second future and the second aorist have n° meaning different from the first future and
the first aonst; and that they are the present and imperfect of some obsolete theme of the verb; and when the other theme came
into use, happened to be retained for the sake of variety perhaps, or by accident, with a preterite and future signification. Re this as
it will, as these tenses are peculiar to the Greek, and have nothing corresponding to them in other tongues, we need not scruple to
-thnrlT US‘ • (Beattle, T the r'Try °f- LanSnaSf Part il chap. 2.) To these judicious observations we have nothing
to add, except that they acquire no small degree of confirmation from the circumstance that there are many Greek verbs which have
no second future, and which are yet employed to denote every possible modification of future time. Of the paulo-post-futurum of the
wn, W hWe have tak-en »° n"tlce’ because 11 13 ^ound only 111 the Passlve voice; to which, if it were necessary, it is obvious that it
would be necessary in all voices, as a man may be about to act as well as to suffer immediately.
gramma r.
767
Verbs.
expression as this: “ There is nothing in myself which
incapacitates me for performing the operation of writing.
This verb seems originally to have denoted knowledge or
skill, and to have been afterwards extended to signify
power or ability of any kind. There is little doubt ot its
being the same with the old English verb to con, which
signifies to know. The difference between the import of
these two verbs, may and can, will be best perceived in
a familiar example. Suppose we say to any one, “ You
may write a treatise on grammar,” to which he returns
for answer, “ I cannotour assertion evidently supposes
him at liberty to write the treatise ; his answer implies
that he is unable or unskilled to do it. We may con¬
clude, then, that the present tense of this mode contains
a declaration of present liberty, ability, or skill; and its
other tenses will be found to have reference to the same
capacities.
The observation is here to be repeated which was en¬
larged upon when treating of the present of the indicative.
The liberty or ability signified by this tense is always re¬
presented as present, but the time of this presence is in¬
definite. If no particular time be specified, we generally
refer it to the time of speaking; but another point may be
given from which we are to compute. “ When he shall
have finished, you may then proceed as you propose.”
Here the liberty of proceeding is stated as present, not
at the time of speaking, but at the time of his finishing,
which is future to the time of speaking. But though the
liberty, ability, or skill, denoted by this tense, be represent¬
ed as present, the action itself is stated contingentfor
it is not necessary that a man should perform an action
because he has the capacity to perform it.
From this idea of the present of the subjunctive some
of its most peculiar uses seem capable of being explained.
And, in the first place, it appears to have a near affinity
with the future of the indicative, insomuch that in many
instances they may be used promiscuously. Without
materially altering the effect of the expression, we may
say, “ Dico me facturum esse quae imperetl' or “ quae im-
perabit." Ihe reason of this, perhaps, may be, that with
respect to us, futurity and contingency are in most cases
nearly the same, both being involved in equal obscurity;
and therefore it is often of little consequence which mode
of expression we employ.
Secondly, the present of the subjunctive is used to de¬
note the right of which a person is possessed. “ I may,
or I can, sell this book.” This application, which Dr Priest¬
ley considers as the primary signification of the tense,
is easily deduced, or rather it follows immediately from
the foregoing account of its import. For if one be under
no restraint, either external or internal, to prevent him
from performing an action, he has surely a right to per¬
form it.
Thirdly, the present of the subjunctive is often used to
signify command or request; as when one says, “ You
may give my compliments to such a person. This use
of the tense under consideration seems to have arisen
from a desire to soften the harshness of a command, by
avoiding the appearance of claiming superiority. When
a man utters the above sentence, he certainly utters no
command, but only asserts that the person to whom he
speaks has liberty or power to do him a favour. This as¬
sertion, however, may contain no new information; and
therefore the person addressed, reflecting upon the in¬
tention of the speaker in making it, infers that it indicates
a wish or desire that his compliments should be made to
such a person.
Of the subjunctive as well as of the indicative, the prae-
ter-imperfect is evidently the past time of the present. As
the latter asserts liberty or ability to perform some ac¬
tion, as existing at present, the former asserts the same
liberty or ability to have existed in time past; but the Verbs,
precise portion of time past in which these capacities ^
existed must be specified by other words, or it will re¬
main unknown. Thus, in the following sentence, “ Dixi
me facturum esse quae imperaret,” the time of imperaret is
referred to that of dixi; the person having the right to
command is supposed to have had it at the time when
the other said that he would obey. This tense, as well
as the present, states the action as going on and incom¬
plete; and also as future with respect to the liberty or
ability to perform it. It is rendered into English by the
verbs could or might, of which the first is the past time of
can, and the second of may. From the near affinity which
the present of the subjunctive has to the future of the in¬
dicative, the tense now under consideration appears in
many instances as the past time of the latter as well as
the former. Thus, Dixi me facturum qucc imperaret, may
be rendered “ I said that I would do whatever he might,
or whatever he should, command.’
Of the prseter-perfect it is sufficient to observe, that as
the present states the agent as at liberty to be performing
an unfinished action, so this tense states him as at libeity
to perform the action considered as finished. “ I maybe writ¬
ing a letter when you come ;” that is, “ I am at liberty to be
writing a letter when you come. “ I may have written a let¬
ter when you come ;” that is, “ I am at liberty to be in pos¬
session of the finished action of writing a letter when you
come.” It is a common mode of expression to say, “ I
may have done such or such a thing in my time, when
he who speaks can have little doubt whether he has done
the thing or not. In that case, the words may have done,
cannot be considered as the praeter-perfect of the sub¬
junctive of the verb dos for it is nonsense to talk of liber¬
ty with respect to the performance of an action, which
at the time of speaking is supposed to be past and com¬
pleted. What, then, is the import of the phrase? We are
persuaded that it is elliptical, and that the word say or
affirm is understood: “ I may (say that I) have done such
or such a thing in my time ;” for liberty or contingency
can relate to actions only as they are conceived to be pre¬
sent or future.
Of all the tenses, the most complex is the plusquam-
perfect of this mode. It combines a past and a future
time with a finished action. It may be considered as the
past time both of the perfect future and the praeter-per-
fect of the subjunctive; for it represents an action, future
and contingent at some past time, as finished before another
period specified; which period, therefore, though past at
the time of speaking, was itself future with respect to the
time when the futurity or contingency of the action ex¬
isted. “ Promisisti te scripturum fuisse si rogassem;”
“ You promised that you would write, if I should have
asked you.” Here the futurity of the action of ashing,
which is represented as complete and finished, is stated
as co-existing with the past promise ; but the action itself
must be posterior to that promise. It is however suppos¬
ed to be past with respect to the action of writing, which
is also posterior to the promise.
Before we dismiss the subject of tenses, it may not be
improper just to mention number and person; for these
have place in every tense of the verb in the learned lan¬
guages, and in many tenses even of the English verb.
They cannot, however, be deemed essential to the verb ;
for affirmation is the same, whether it be made by you,
by me, or by a third person, or whether it be made by
one man or by a thousand. The most that can be said is,
that verbs in the more elegant languages are provided
with a variety of terminations which respect the number
and person of every substantive, that we may know with
more precision, in a complex sentence, each particu ar
substance, with its attendant verbal attributes. Ihe same
G R A M M A R.
768
Verbs, may be gajj 0f sex with respect to adjectives. They have
terminations which vary as they respect beings male or
female, though it is past dispute that substances alone are
susceptible of sex. We therefore pass over these mat¬
ters, and all of like kind, as being rather amongst the ele¬
gancies of particular languages, and therefore to be learn¬
ed from the particular grammar of each tongue, than
amongst the essentials of language ; which essentials alone
are the subject of inquiry in a treatise on universal gram¬
mar.
Besides tenses, number, and person, in every tongue
with which we are acquainted, verbs are subject to another
variation, which grammarians have agreed to call modes
or moods. Of modes, as of tenses, it has been warmly dis¬
puted whether or not they be essential to language. The
truth seems to be, that the only part of the verb abso¬
lutely necessary for the purpose of communicating thought
is the indicative mode; for all the others, as has been
well observed by Dr Gregory, are resolvable, by means of
additional verbs and a word denoting the action of the
primary verb, into circuitous expressions which fully con¬
vey their meaning.1 But such expressions continually
repeated would make language very prolix and wholly de¬
void of animation ; and for this reason the import of each
of the commonly received modes is a subject worthy of
the philologist’s investigation. About the number of
modes, whether necessary or only expedient, as well as
about the import of each, the writers on grammar have
differed in opinion. Mr Harris, one of the most cele¬
brated of those writers, has enumerated four modes of the
verb, besides the infinitive: viz. the indicative or declara¬
tive, to assert what we think certain ; the potential or sub¬
junctive, for the purposes of whatever we think contin¬
gent ; the interrogative, when we are doubtful, to procure
us information ; and the requisitive, to assist us in the gra¬
tification of our volitions. The requisitive, too, according
to him, appears under two distinct species; either as it is
imperative to inferiors, or precative to superiors. For es¬
tablishing such a variety of modes as this, there appears
to be no sort of foundation whatever. The same reason¬
ing which induced the author to give us an interrogative
and requisitive mode, might have made him give us a
hortative, a dissuasive, a volitive, and innumerable other
modes, with which no language is acquainted. But be¬
sides perplexing his reader with useless distinctions, we
cannot help thinking that Mr Harris has fallen into some
mistakes with regard to the import of those modes which
are universally acknowledged. According to him, asser¬
tion is the characteristic of the indicative, and that which
distinguishes it from the subjunctive or potential; but
this is certainly not true, for, without an assertion, the
verb cannot be used in any mode. Of this the learned
author indeed seems to have been aware, when he ob¬
served respecting the subjunctive mode, that it is em- Verbs,
ployed “ when we do not strictly assert,” and that “ it im-
plies but a dubious and conjectural assertion.” The truth
is, that the assertion implied in this mode, though it is not
concerning the same thing, is equally positive and abso¬
lute with that conveyed by the indicative. An example
quoted by himself should have set him right as to this
matter:
Sed tacitus pasci si posset corvus, hdberet
Plus dapis.
Who does not feel that the assertion contained in haberet
is as absolute and positive as any assertion whatever ?
Perhaps we may be asked to define what we mean by ‘
a mode. We know not that we can define it to the satis¬
faction of all. Thus much, however, seems to be obvious,
that those variations which are called modes do not imply
different modifications of the action of the verb. Amo,
Amem, Ama, do not signify modes of loving; for modes
of loving are,-loving much, loving little, loving long, loving
short, and the like. Shall we then get over the difficulty
by saying, with Mr Harris, that “ modes exhibit some way
or other the soul and its affections ?' This is certainly
true, but it is nothing to the purpose; for it does not
distinguish the meaning of mode from the object of lan¬
guage in general, all languages being intended to exhibit
the soul and its affections.
Grammatical modes of verbs have been defined by Dr
Gregory to be “ concise modes of expressing some of
those combinations of thoughts which occur most fre¬
quently, and are most important and striking.” This is
a just observation; but perhaps he would have given a
more complete definition had he said, that grammatical
modes of verbs are concise modes of expressing some of
those combinations of thoughts which occur most fre¬
quently, and of which assertion is an essential part.2 This
indeed seems to be the real account of the matter, espe¬
cially if our notion of the nature of verb be well founded,
that its essence consists in affirmation. And in this opi¬
nion we are the more confirmed, from a conviction that no
man ever employs language on any occasion but for the
purpose of affirming something. The speaker may affirm
something directly of the action itself, something of the
agent’s power or capacity to perform it, or something of
his own desire that it should be performed, but still he
must affirm. If this be so, then are all the modes equally
indicative. Some may be indicative of perceptions, and
others of volitions; but still they all contain indications.
On this idea the three foregoing modes of amo will be
thus distinguished : When a man indicates his present
feeling of the passion of love, he uses the first; when he
indicates his present capacity of feeling it, he uses the
second ; and w hen he indicates his present that the
and aTword HP1 r ’I ln.StanC1’ !)e resoIvei1 ,nto a vfb of commanding in the first person of the present of the indicative,
I denoting the action of the primary verb, commonly called the infinitive mode of that verb. Thus, / nunc et versus tecum
meanare canoros, and Jubeo te nunc ire et tecum meditari, &c. are sentences of the very same import. The subjunctive may be resolved in
tne same manner by means of a verb denoting power or capacity ; for credam, and possum credere, may often be used indifferently The
indicative mode however, is not thus convertible with another verb of affirming in the first person of the present of the indicative
and a word denoting the action of the primary verb ; for Titius scribit, “ Titius writes,” is not of the same import with dico Titium
scnbere, quod Titius scribat, ‘ I say that Titius writes.” The first of these sentences, as has already been shown, contains but one
asseition ; the second obviously contains two. Titius writes, is equivalent to Titius is writing; I say that Titius writes, is equivalent
to / am saying that Titius is writing. The reason why the imperative and subjunctive are resolvable into expressions into which the
indicative cannot be resolved, will be seen when the import of each of those modes is ascertained.
* verb>excH,t the. simPle verb am, art, is, &c. expresses without modes a combination of thoughts, namely, affirmation and
an attribute. Ihe affirmation, however, is alone essential to the verb, for the attribute may be expressed by other words. It is in¬
deed extremely probable, that in the earliest ages of the world, the affirmation and attribute were always expressed by different
words ; and that afterwards, for the sake of conciseness, one word, compounded perhaps of these two, was made to express both the
affirmation and the attribute ; hence arose the various classes of verbs, active, passive, and neuter. Of a process of this kind there are
evident signs in the Greek and some other tongues. But the improvers of language stopped not here. The same love of conciseness
induced them to modify the compound verb itself, that it might express various combinations of thought still more complex; but in
all these combinations assertion was of necessity included; for if the word had ceased to assert, it would have ceased to be a verb of
any kind.
GRAMMAR.
769
Verbs, person to whom he is speaking would entertain that pas-
sion, he uses the third.
As to what Mr Harris calls the interrogative mode, he
observes that it has a near affinity to the indicative. It
has in fact not only a near affinity to it, but, as far as lan¬
guage is concerned, there is not between the one and the
other the slightest difference. For, in written language,
take away the mark of interrogation, and, in spoken lan¬
guage, the peculiar tone of voice, and the interrogative
and indicative modes appear precisely the same. That
such should be the case is extremely natural. To illus¬
trate this, let us for once speak in the singular number,
and conceive one of our readers to be present. “ I assert
a thing, taking the truth of it for granted; but if you
know me to be wrong, I presume that you will set me
right.” In this case, assertion produces the same effect
as interrogation. Instances of the same kind perpetually
occur in common conversation. An acquaintance says to
me, “ You took a ride this morning.” I answer yes or
no, according to the case ; and the same effect is pro¬
duced as if he had said, “ Did you take a ride this morn¬
ing ?” In this way simple assertions would at first be
employed to procure information wanted. Fecisti, you
did such a thing ; fecisti ne, you did it not; either would
produce the proper reply, and the information wanted
would be gained.1 * * * 5 This being observed as language im¬
proved, men would accompany such a sentence with a
peculiar tone of voice, or other marks, to signify more
unequivocally that they wanted information, or that such
information was the only object of their speech. Further
progress in refinement would lead them to alter the posi¬
tion of the words of a sentence when they meant to ask
a question, as we do in English, saying, when we assert,
“ You have read Euripides,” and when we interrogate,
“ Have you read Euripides?”
In Greek and Latin, questions are asked commonly
enough by the particles 1/ and an. These particles we
know to be exactly equivalent to the English particle if,
at least to the sense in which that particle is commonly
taken. An fecisti, is “ If you did it;” and the sentence
may either be an abbreviation for die an fecisti, “ tell me
if you did it;” or an may perhaps be, as if certainly is,
the imperative mode of some obsolete verb equivalent to
give ; and in that case, an fecisti will be a complete inter¬
rogative sentence, signifying, “ you did it, give that'' But
of the interrogative mode of Mr Harris we have said
enough ; perhaps our readers will think too much, since
it is a useless distinction not found in any language. It
will, however, be proper to say something of his precative
mode, as far as it is the same with the optative mode of
the Greek grammarians.
And nothing, we think, can be clearer, than that the
Greek optative constitutes no distinct mode of the verb,
whatever meaning be annexed to the word mode. The
different tenses of the optative are evidently nothing but
the past tenses of the corresponding tenses of the sub¬
junctive. Thus, pres. subj. racrw, I may strike ; pres, op-
tat. ru-roiyji, I might strike, &c. This is proved to be in¬
dubitably the case by the uniform practice of the Greek
writers. Examples might be found without number were
one to read in search of them. The following sentence
will illustrate our meaning : ’Eg^ovrcc/ 'A&yi'juioi ha [SoqOuffi
roig Atycioig, “ The Athenians come that they may assist
the Argives.” Here the leading verb k^yovreu being of the
present tense, the dependent verb fioriOucn is the present
subjunctive. But change the former to the past time, and
the latter must also be changed. ’Hgypvro 'Adrivuioi ha
fioridonv roig 'A^yuoig, “ The Athenians came that they might
assist the Argives.” Here it is plain that fSoqQonv, the pre¬
sent of the optative, is the past time of fiorfiwen, the pre¬
sent of the subjunctive; and the same holds in other in¬
stances.
It is almost unnecessary to add, that when this mode
is employed to denote a wish, the wish is not expressed
by the verb, but is understood. Such abbreviated ex¬
pressions to denote a wish are common in all languages.
Thus, in Greek,
Verbs.
'Tp.iv ptv hm Sa/sv, iXupma Scupar l%ovrei
’Excrifftrai Xlampoio wcXtv, x. r.
signifies, “ The gods might give you (or, as we say in
English, changing the position of the verb, might the gods
give you) to destroy,” &c. So in Latin, Ut te omnes dii
deceque perdant, “ That all the gods and goddesses may
destroy you.” Again, in English, “ O that my head were
waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears.” In all these,
and such like sentences, words equivalent to I ivish, I
pray, are understood. In Greek a wish is sometimes in¬
troduced by the particle si or sirs, if; as in Homer,
’Ej/ ofiiXi; recyovn; Tipivou, kya-pos <r kiroXuiui.
“ Tjf it had been your fate not to be born, or to die unmar¬
ried.” The supplement is, “ It would have been fortunate
for your country,” or some such thing. In like manner, a
poor person not uncommonly entreats a favour by saying,
“ Sir, if you would be so good.” Here he stops ; but the
completion of his sentence is, “ it would make me happy.”
In all these cases a wish is not formally expressed by the
speaker, but inferred by the hearer. They are therefore
instances of that tendency which mankind universally dis¬
cover to abbreviate their language, especially in cases
where the passions or feelings are interested.
The interrogative and optative modes being set aside
as superfluous, it would appear from our investigation,
that the real distinct modes of the verb, which are found
in the most copious and varied language, are only three;
the indicative, the subjwnctive, and the imperative: And
these are all that can be considered as necessary; the first
to indicate the speaker’s feeling or acting, the second to
indicate his capacity of feeling or acting, and the third to
indicate his desire that the person to whom he speaks
should feel or act.
Here again we have the misfortune to differ in opinion
from Dr Gregory, who seems to think that a greater num¬
ber of modes, if not absolutely necessary, would, at any
rate, be highly useful. His words are, “ All languages,
I believe, are defective in respect of that variety and ac¬
curacy of combination and of distinction, which we know
with infallible certainty take place in thought. Nor do I
know of any particular in which language is more deficient
than in the expressing of those energies or modifications
of thought; some of which always are, and all of which
might be, expressed by the grammatical moods of verbs.
Of this there cannot be a clearer proof than the well-
known fact, that we are obliged to express by the same
mood very different modifications or energies of thought.
As, for instance, in the case of the grammatical mood
1 Of a question put in the form of an assertion we have a remarkable instance in the gospel of St Matthew. When Christ stood
before Pilate, the governor asked him, saying, 2u b S (ZairiXtv; rav \ovlaiuv, “ Thou art the king of the Jews.” That this sentence was
pronounced with a view to obtain some answer, is evident from the context; yet it is as plainly an affirmation, though uttered proba¬
bly in a scoffing tone, as the serious confession of Nathaniel, b S [hcuriXiu; rov U^anX, “ Thou art the king of Israel.” Plad not the
question been put in this form, which asserts Christ to be the king of the Jews, the reply could not have been 1u Xiyu;, “ Ihou
sayestfor without an assertion the governor would have said nothing. >(See Dr Campbell’s Translation of the Gospels, where the
form used in the original is with great propriety retained in the version.)
5 E
VOL. X.
GRAMMAR.
770
Verbs, called the imperative, by which we express occasionally
prayer to God, command to a slave, request to a superior,
advice to an equal or to any one, order as from an officer to
his subaltern, supplication to one whom we cannot resist.”
If these be, as the author calls them, specific differences
of thought, he will not surely object to their being all
ranked under one genus, which may be called desire.
That the internal feelings which prompt us to pray to
God, to command a slave, to request a superior, to advise
an equal, to give an order to an inferior, and to supplicate
one whom we cannot resist, are all different in degree,
cannot be denied. Each of them, however, is desire ;
and the predication by which the desire is made known to
the person whom we address, is the same in all, when we
utter a prayer as when we utter a command, when we re¬
quest as when we supplicate. But predication alone is
that which constitutes the verb; for desire by itself, how¬
ever modified, can be expressed only by an abstract noun ;
and the mere energy of desire, when not applied to a par¬
ticular agent, can be expressed only by a participle, or
by what is commonly, though improperly, called the in¬
finitive mode. Now it is certainly conceivable that a
few shades of meaning, or a few degrees of one general
energy, might be marked by corresponding variations of
such verbs as combine energy with predication ;l 2 and
there could be no great impropriety in calling those va¬
riations modes, or rather modes of modes ; but that such
a multiplication of modes would be an improvement in
language, is by no means evident. The verb, with the
modes and tenses which it has in all languages, is already
a very complex part of speech, which few are able, and
still fewer inclined, to analyse; and it would surely be
of no advantage to make it more complex by the intro¬
duction of new modes, especially when those degrees of
energy which could be marked by them are with equal and
perhaps greater precision marked, in the living speech, by Verb
the different tones of voice adapted to them by nature;
and, in written language, by the reader’s general know¬
ledge of the subject, and of the persons who may be occa¬
sionally introduced. If there be any particular delicacy
of sentiment or energy which cannot thus be made known,
it is better to express it by a name appropriated to itself,
together with the simple and original verb of affirmation,
than to clog the compound verb with such a multiplicity
of variations as would render the acquisition of every lan¬
guage as difficult as is said to be that of the Chinese writ¬
ten characters. The indicative, subjunctive, and impera¬
tive, are therefore all the modes of the verb which to us
appear to be in any degree necessary or expedient; and
they are in fact all the modes that are really found in any
language with which we are acquainted.
For the infinitive, as has already been observed, seems
on every account to be improperly styled a mode. To that
name it has no title which we can perceive, except that its
termination sometimes (for even this is not universally
true) differs in the learned languages from the terminations
of the other parts of the verb. Nay, if affirmation be, as it
has been proved to be, the very essence of verb, it will fol¬
low that the infinitive is no part of the verb at all; for it
expresses no affirmation. It forms no complete sentence by
itself, nor even when joined to a noun, unless it be aided
by some real part of a verb either expressed or under¬
stood. Scribo, scribebam, scripsi, scripseram, scribam,
scripsero, “ I am writing, I was writing, I have written, I
had written, I shall write, I shall have written,” contain
each of them an affirmation, and constitute a complete
sentence; but scribere “ to write,” scripsisse “ to have
written,” affirm nothing, and are not more applicable to
any one person than to another. In a word, the infinitive is
nothing more than an abstract noun? denoting the simple
1 Dr Gregory seems to think, that not merely a few, but a vast number, of these energies might be so marked. “ Affirming, deny¬
ing, testifying, foretelling, asking, answering, wishing, hoping, expecting, believing, knowing, doubting, supposing, stipulating, being
able, commanding, praying, requesting, supplicating, loving, hating, fearing, despairing, being accustomed, wondering, admiring, wa¬
vering, swearing, advising, refusing, exhorting, dissuading, encouraging, promising, threatening, &c.” says he, “ all admit very readily
of being combined with the general import of a verb.” And he adds, that “ if every one of them had been expressed in all languages
by variations as striking as those of rwru), rvrrr/nfti, and rt/wTs, they must have been acknowledged as distinct' moods of the verb.”
If all these words denote different energies of thought, which, however, may be doubted, and if all those different energies, with
many others for which, as the author justly observes, it is not easy to find names, could, like capacity and desire, be combined with
the general, action or energy of one verb ; and if those combinations could be marked by corresponding variations of that verb ; we
should indeed acknowledge such variations to be distinct modes, or modes of modes, of the verb. But we doubt much if all this be
possible. We are certain that it would be no improvement; for it seems to be evident, either that, in some of the modes, the radical
letters of the original verb must be changed, and then it would cease to be the same verb ; or that many of the modes must be ex¬
pressed by words of very unmanageable length ; not to mention, that the additional complication introduced by so many minute dis¬
tinctions into a part of speech already exceedingly complex, would render the import of the verb absolutely unintelligible to nine
tenths even of those who are justly styled the learned.
2 In our idea of the infinitive, we have the good fortune to agree with the learned Ruddiman, whose words are, “ Non inepte hie
modus a yeteribus quibusdam verbi nomen est appellatum. Est enim, si non vere ac semper, quod nonnulli volunt, nomen substanti-
vum, significatione certe ei maxime affinis ; ejusque vices sustinet per omnes casus. Et quidem manifesto substantivum videtur, cum
adjectivum ei additur neutri generis ; ut, Cic. Att. xiii. 28, Cum vivere ipsum turpe sit nobis. Pers. v. 53, Veils suum cuique est. Cic.
Fin. i. 1, Totum hoc displicet philosophari. Petron. c. 52, Mcum intelligere nulla pecunia vendo. Item, absque adjectivo, ut Ovid. Met. ii.
483, Posse loqui eripitur, id est, potestas loquendi. Plaut. Bacch. i. 2. 50, Hie vereri perdidit, id est, verecundiam. Cic. Tusc. v. 38,
Loquor de docto homine et erudito, cui vivere est cogitare, id est, cujus vita est cogitatio." See Grammatical Latinos Institutiones, pars secunda,
lib. i. cap. 2, where the reader will find examples of the infinitive used by the best Roman writers as a substantive noun in every case.
This opinion of .Ruddiman and the ancient grammarians has been controverted with much ingenuity by Dr Gregory, who seems to
think that in the infinitive alone we should look for the essence of the verb divested of every accidental circumstance, time only ex¬
cepted. If this be indeed the case, almost every thing which we have said of the verb, its tenses, and its modes, is erroneous ; and
he who takes his principles of grammar from the Encyclopaedia Britannica will fill his head with a farrago of absurdities. But it may
without much difficulty be shown, that the error does not attach to the doctrine respecting the infinitive, wffiich has been stated and
illustrated in this article, but to the strange inversion of all recognised principle involved in the notion which Dr Gregory has es¬
poused, apparently by reason of its novelty alone.
The Doctor acknowledges {Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, \o\. ii. liter, class, p. 195), that the infinitive is most impro-
perly called a mode, and on that account he thinks we ought to turn our thoughts exclusively to it, u when we endeavour to investi-
gate the general import of the verb, with a view to ascertain the accident which it denotes, and be led, step by step, to form a distinct
notion of what is common in the accidents of all verbs, and what is peculiar in the accidents of the several classes of them, and thereby
be enabled to give good definitions, specifying the essence of the verb,” &c. It may be true, that to the infinitive exclusively vie
should turn our attention when we wish to ascertain the accident denoted by a particular verb or class of verbs ; that is, the kind of
action, passion, or state ot being, of which, superadded to affirmation, that verb or class of verbs is expressive ; but in accidents of this
kind it may be doubted if there be any thing that with propriety can be said to be common to all verbs. There seems indeed to be
nothing common to all verbs but that which is essential to them, and by which they are distinguished from every other part of speech;
but every kind of action, passion, and state of being, may be completely expressed by participles and abstract nouns, and therefore
GRAMMAR.
Verbs, energy of the verb, in conjunction with time; and is not
a mode as far as we can conceive of any thing. Thus,
Scire tuum nihil est, is the same with Scientia tua nihil est;
and “ Death is certain,” is identical with “ To die is cer¬
tain.”
Before we dismiss the subject of modes, it may not be
771
improper to take notice of the connection which Mr Har- Verbs,
ris, after Apollonius, has found between commanding and
futurity. “ Intreating and commanding,” he says, “ have
a necessary respect to the future only. For what have
they to do with the present and the past, the natures of
which are immutable and necessary ?” This is surely con-
in such accidents we cannot find the essence of the verb, because such accidents distinguish it not from other parts of speech. Were
a man called upon to specify the essence of verse or metre, he would not say that it consists in the meaning of the words, or in the
using of these words according to the rules of syntax. In every kind of verse where words are used, they have indeed a meaning, and
in all good verses they are grammatically constructed ; but this is likewise the case in prose, and therefore it cannot be the essence
of verse. The essence of verse must consist in something which is not to be found in prose, namely, a certain harmonic succession of
sounds and number of syllables ; and the essence of the verb must likewise consist in something which is not to be found in any other
part of speech, and that is nothing but affirmation. But if affirmation be the very essence of the verb, it would surely be improper,
when we endeavour to ascertain the general import of that part of speech, to turn our thoughts exclusively to a word which implies
no affirmation ; for what does not affirm, cannot in strictness of truth be either a verb or the mode of a verb.
In the same page it is said that “ the infinitive denotes that kind of thought or combination of thoughts which is common to all the
other modes.” In what sense this is true we are unable to conceive; it denotes indeed the same accident, but certainly not the same
thought or combination of thoughts. In the examples quoted, Non est vivere, sed valere vita, the infinitives have evidently the
effect of abstract nouns, and not of verbs; for though vivere and valere express the same states of being with vivo and valeo, they by
no means express the same combination of thoughts. Vivo and valeo affirm that I am living, and that 1 am •well; and he who utters
these words must think not of life and health in the abstract, but of life and health as belonging to himself. Vivere and valere, on the
other hand, affirm nothing ; and he who utters them thinks only of the states of living and of being in health, without applying them
to any particular person.
The learned author of The Origin and Progress of Language having said that the infinitive is used either as a noun, or that it serves
to connect the verb with another verb or noun, and so is useful in syntax, the doctor combats this opinion, and infers that the infi¬
nitive is truly a verb, because “ the thought expressed by means of it may be expressed in synonymous and convertible phrases, in
different languages, by means of other parts or moods of the verb.” Of these synonymous and convertible phrases he gives several
examples, the first of which is taken from Hamlet’s soliloquy. “ To le or not to be, that is the question,” he thinks equivalent in
meaning to, “ The question is, whether we shall be or shall not 6c.” But we are persuaded he is mistaken. “ VV hether we shall be or
shall not be,” involves a question, whether we shall exist at some future and indefinite time; but the subject of Hamlet’s debate
with himself wras not, whether, if his conscious existence should be interrupted, it would be afterwards at some future and indefinite
time restored, but whether it was to continue uninterrupted by his exit from this world. This, we think, must be self-evident to
every reader of the soliloquy. It is likewise obvious that the word “ question” in this sentence does not signify interrogatory, but
subject of debate, or matter to be examined; and that the word “ that” serves no other purpose than to complete the verse, and give addi¬
tional emphasis, perhaps, to an inquiry so important. “ To be or not to be, that is the question,” is therefore equivalent in all respects
to “ The continuance or non-continuance of my existence is the matter to be examined and the infinitive is here indisputably used
as an abstract noun in the nominative case. Should it be said that the doctor may have taken the sentence by itself, unconnected
with the subject of Hamlet’s soliloquy, we reply, that the supposition is impossible; for, independently of the circumstances with
.vhieh they are connected, the words “ To be or not to be" have no perfect meaning. Were it not for the subject of the soliloquy,
from which every reader supplies what is wanting to complete the sense, it might be asked, “ To be or not to be —what % A coward, a
murderer, a king, or a corpse ? Questions all equally reasonable, and which in that case could not be answered.
With the same view, to prove that the infinitive is truly a verb, the doctor proceeds to remark upon the following phrases, Dico,
credo, puto, Titium existere, valere, jacere, cecidisse, procubuisse, projccisse Mcevium, projectum fuisse a Maevio ; which, he says, have the
very same meaning with dico, quod Titius existat, quod jaceat, quad ceciderit, &c. He adds, that “ the infinitives, as thus used, acquire
not any further meaning, in addition to the radical import of the verb with tense, like the proper moods ; but the subjunctives after
quod lose their peculiar meaning as moods, and signify no more than bare infinitives.” In the sense in which this observation is
made by the author, the very reverse of it seems to be the truth. The infinitives, as thus used, acquire, at least in the mind or the
reader, something like the power of affirmation, which they certainly have not when standing by themselves; whereas the subjunc¬
tives neither lose°nor acquire any meaning by being placed after quod. Dico, credo, puto, Titium existere, valere, jacere, &c. when trans¬
lated literally, signify, I say, believe, think, Titius to exist, to be well, to lie along ; a mode of speaking which, though now not elegant,
was common with the best writers in the days of Shakspeare, and is frequently to be found in the writings of Warburton at a much
later period. Dico, credo, puto, quod Titius existat, quod jaceat, &c. signifies literally, I say, believe, think, that Titius may exist, may lie along,
&c. Remove the verbs in the indicative mode from the former set of phrases, and it will be found that the infinitives had acquired
a meaning, when conjoined with them, which they have not when left by themselves ; for Titium existere, jacere, “ Titius to exist, to
lie along,” have no complete meaning, because they affirm nothing. On the other hand, when the indicative verbs are removed, to¬
gether with the wonder-working quod, from the latter set of phrases, the meaning of the subjunctives remains in all respects as it was
before the removal; for Titius existat^ jaceat, &c. signify, Titius may exist, may lie along, as well when they stand by themselves as
when thev form the final clauses of a compound sentence. Every one knows that quod, though often called a conjunction, is always
in fact the relative pronoun. Dico, credo, puto, quod Titius existat, must therefore be construed thus : Titius existat (est id) quod dico,
credo, &c. “ Titius may exist—is that thing, that proposition, which I say, believe, think.” In the former set of phrases, the infi¬
nitives are used as abstract nouns in the accusative case, denoting, in conjunction with Titium, one complex conception, the existence,
&c. of Titius; Dico, credo, puto, “ I say, believe, think and the object of my speech, belief, thought, is Titium existere, “ the existence
0t in Confirmation of the same idea, that the infinitive is truly a verb. Dr Gregory quotes from Horace a passage, which, had we
thought quotations necessary, we should have urged in support of our own opinion :
Nec quicquam tibi prodest
Aerias tentasse domos, animoque rotundura
Percurrisse polum, morituro.
To our apprehension, nothing can be clearer than that tentasse and percurrissc are here used as nouns; for if they be not, where
shall we find a nominative to the verb prodest.« It was certainly what was signified by tentasse aerias domos, animoque rotundum
percurrisse polum, that is said to have been no advantage to Archytas at his death. This, indeed, if there could be any ( ou
about it, would be made evident by the two prose versions which the professor subjoins to these beautiful lines. the hist o em
is as follows ; Nec quicquam tibi prodest quod ailrias domos tentaveris, et atiimo percurreris ; which must be thus constructea :
Tentaveris aerias domos, et PERCUrreris animo' polum (est id) quod nec quicquam tibi prodest. This version, however, is no per ec y
accurate ; for it contains two propositions, whereas Horace’s lines contain but one. The second, which, though it may be a crabbed
and inelegant sentence, expresses the poet’s sense with more precision, is in these words: Nec quicquam tibi prodest morituro tua ten-
tatio domuum atriarum, et cursus tuus circa polum. Having observed, with truth, that this sentence has the very same meaning
with the lines of Horace, Dr Gregory asks, “ why are not tentatio and cursus reckoned verbs as well as tentasse and percurrisse . h,et
those answer this question who believe that any of these words are truly verbs; for they are surely, as he adds, all very near alan ;
indeed so near, that the mind, when contemplating the import of each, cannot perceive the difference. Meanwhile, we beg leave in
772 GRAMMAR.
Verbs, founding commands with the execution of commands.
But the learned writer proceeds to inform us, that “ it
is from the connection of futurity with commands that
the future of the indicative is sometimes used for the im¬
perative mode.” The connection of which he speaks ap¬
pears to us entirely imaginary; for futurity has nothing
to do with commands, though it may with the execution
of them. The present time is the time of commanding,
the future of obeying. But supposing the connection real,
it would not account for the future tenses being used im¬
peratively. For although it were true, as it is evidently
false, that commands are future, it would not follow that
the relation is convertible, or that employing the future
should imply a command. The principle upon which
such expressions as, Thou shall not hill, come to have the
force of a command, seems to be this: When a person,
especially one possessed of authority, asserts that an ac¬
tion depending on the will of a free agent, and therefore
in its own nature contingent, shall or shall not actually
take place; what are we to conclude from such an asser¬
tion? Why, surely it is natural to conclude that it is his
will, his command, that his assertion be verified. The
English word shall, if we be well informed, denoted ori¬
ginally obligation; a sense in which its past tense should
is still commonly employed. In English, therefore, the
foregoing process of inferring a command from an asser¬
tion of futurity seems to have been reversed; and the
word shall, from denoting a command or obligation, has
come to denote futurity simply.
Having considered the verb in its essence, its tenses, and
its modes, w'e might seem to have exhausted the subject;
but there is still something more to be done. Gramma¬
rians have distinguished verbs into several species; and it
remains with us to inquire upon what principle in nature
this distinction is made, and how far it proceeds. Now it
must be obvious, that if predication be the essence of verbs,
all verbs as such must be of the same species ; for predica¬
tion is the same in every proposition, under every possible
circumstance, and by whomsoever it is made. But the
greater part of verbs contain the predicate as well as the
predication of a proposition ; or, to speak in common lan¬
guage, they denote an attribute as well as an affirmation.
Thus, lego is “ I am reading,” amhulo, “ I am walking,”
sto, “ I am standing,” verbero, “ I am striking,” verberor,
“ I am stricken.” But the attributes expressed by these
verbs are evidently of different kinds; some consisting in
action, some in suffering, and some in a state of being
which is neither active nor passive. Hence the distinction
ot verbs, according to the attributes which they denote,
into active, passive, and neuter. Lego, which is an asser¬
tion that I am employed in the act of reading, is an active
verb; verberor, which is an assertion that I am suffering
under the rod, is a passive verb, because it xlenotes a pas¬
sion ; and sto, which is an assertion that I am standing
still, is said to be a neuter verb, because it denotes neither
action nor passion. But it is self-evident that there cannot
be action without an agent, nor passion without a passive
being; neither can we make a predication of any kind,
though it denote neither action nor passion, without predi¬
cating of something. All verbs, therefore, whether active,
passive, or neuter, have a necessary reference to some
noun expressive of the substance of which the attribute
denoted by the verb is j)redicated. This noun, which in
all languages must be in the nominative case, is said to be
the nominative of the verb ; and in those languages in Participles,
which the verb has person and number, it must in these
respects agree with its nominative.
Of action, and consequently of verbs denoting action, there
are obviously two kinds. There is an action which passes
from the agent to some subject upon which he is employed,
and there is an action which respects no object beyond the
agent himself. Thus lego and ambulo are verbs which
equally denote action ; but the action of lego refers to some
external object as well as to the agent; for when a man is
reading, he must be reading something, a book, a news¬
paper, or a letter, whereas the action of ambulo is con¬
fined wholly to the agent; for when a man is walking he
is employed upon nothing beyond himself, his action pro¬
duces no effect upon any thing external. These two spe¬
cies of verbs have been denominated transitive and intran¬
sitive ; a designation extremely proper, as the distinction
which gave rise to it is philosophically just. Verbs of both
species are active ; but the action of those only which are
called transitive respects an external object; and therefore
in those languages of which the nouns have cases, it is only
after verbs which are transitive as well as active, that the
noun denoting the subject of the action is put in the accu¬
sative or objective case. Verbs which are intransitive,
though they be really active, are in the structure of sen¬
tences considered as neuter, and govern no case.
So much, then, for that most important of all words, the
verb. We proceed now to the consideration of partici¬
ples, adjectives, and adverbs, which, as they have a near
relation to one another, we shall treat of under one head
or division.
V.— Of Participles, Adjectives, and Adverbs.
1. Of Participles.
The nature of verbs being understood, that of participles
is not of difficult comprehension. Every verb, except that
which is called the substantive verb, is expressive of an at¬
tribute, of time, and of an assertion. Now if we take away
the assertion, and thus destroy the verb, there will remain
the attribute and the time ; and these combined make the
essence of that species of words called participles. Thus,
take away the assertion from the verb yga^s/, writeth, and
there remains the participle ygatpuv, writing, which, without
the assertion, denotes the same attribute and the same time.
In the same manner, by withdrawing the assertion, we dis¬
cover yga-vj/ag, ivritten, in eyga-yg, wrote; yeufojv, about to
write, in jpxfu, shall be writing. This is the doctrine of
Mr Harris respecting participles ; and, in our opinion, it is
equally elegant, perspicuous, and just. But as it has been
controverted by an author of some note in the republic of
letters, we should perhaps be wanting in duty to our readers
were we to pass his objections wholly unnoticed.
It is acknowledged by Dr Beattie, the writer to whom
we allude, that the view which we have taken is the most
convenient in which the participle can be considered in
universal grammar ; but he affirms that present participles
do not always express present time, nor preterite partici¬
ples past time ; nay, that participles have often no connec¬
tion with time at all. He thus exemplifies his assertion in
Greek, in Latin, and in English:
“ When Cebes says, Eruyp/xv'o/xsi* vserrarowres h ru) rou
Kcovov hew, ‘ W'e were walking in the temple of Saturn,’ the
participle of the present walking is, by means of the verb
our turn to ask, Why are not tcntasse and percurrisse reckoned abstract nouns as well as tentatio and cursus ? To this question it is not
easy to conceive what answei can be returned upon the doctor's principles. In his theory there is nothing satisfactory ; and what
has not been done by himself, we need scarcely expect from any of his followers. On the other hand, our principles furnish a verv
obvious reason for excluding tentatio and cursus from the class ot verbs; it is, because these words express no predication. Tcntassc and
percurrisse indeed denote predication no more than tentatio and cursus ; and therefore upon the same principle we exclude them like¬
wise from a class to which, if words are to be arranged according to their import, they certainly do not belong.
GRAMMAR.
773
Participles, were, applied to time past, and therefore of itself cannot be
understood to signify any sort of time.” Again, after ob¬
serving, that in English we have but two simple participles,
such as writing and written, of which the former is gene¬
rally considered as the present and the latter as the past,
the doctor adds, but “ the participle writing, joined to a
verb of different tenses, may denote either past or future
action ; for we may say not only, 7 am writing, but also, I
was writing yesterday, and I shall be writing to-morrow
and hence he infers that no time whatever is denoted by
the present participle. But this is obviously a hasty infe¬
rence, drawn from the doctrine of absolute time and a defi¬
nite present, which we have already shown to be ground¬
less and contradictory. When we speak simply of an action
as present, we must mean that it is present with respect to
something besides itself, or we speak a jargon which is un¬
intelligible ; but we do not ascertain the time of its pre¬
sence. From the very nature of time, an action may be
present now, it may have been present formerly, or it may
be present at some future period ; but the precise time of
its presence cannot be ascertained even by the present of
the indicative of the verb itself; yet who ever supposed
that the present of the indicative denotes no time ? The
participle of the present represents the action of the verb
as going on ; but an action cannot be going on without
being present in time with something. When, therefore,
Cebes says, “We were walking in the temple of Saturn,”
he represents the action of the verb walking as present with
something ; but by using the verb expressive of his asser¬
tion in a past tense, he gives us to understand that the ac¬
tion was not present with any thing at the period of his
speaking, but at some portion of time prior to that period ;
and what that portion of time was, must be collected from
the subsequent parts of his discourse. The same thing may
also be said of the phrases I was writing yesterday, and I
shall be writing to-morrow. They indicate that the action
of the verb write was present with me yesterday, and will
again be present with me to-morrow. The action and the
time of action are denoted by the participle ; that action
is affirmed to belong to me by means of the verb ; and the
time at which it belonged to me is pointed out by the
tenses of that verb, am, was, and shall be. All this is so
plain, that it could not have escaped Dr Beattie’s penetra¬
tion, if he had not hastily adopted the absurd and contra¬
dictory notion of a definite present.
Of the truth of his assertion respecting past participles
he gives a Greek and a Latin example. The former is
taken from St Mark, viz. 6 xnfTzvGag guSriffzTai; and the lat¬
ter is that which is commonly called the perfect future of
the passive verb amor, amatusfuero. In the first instance,
he says that the participle, though belonging to the aorist
of the past time, must be rendered either by the indefinite
present, “ he who believeth or by the future, “ he who
will believe;” and the reason which he gives for this ren¬
dering of the word is, that “ the believing here spoken of
is considered as posterior in time to the enunciation of the
promise.” This is indeed true, but it is not to the purpose ;
for with the enunciation of the promise the time of the
participle has no manner of concern. The time of xutTsvgxs
depends entirely upon the time of tfu6r)gerai, with respect
to which it must undeniably be past. Our Lord is not
here asserting, that he who shall believe at the day of final
retribution shall be saved, but that he who shall on that
day be found to have believed in time past shall be saved ;
and if the participle had not been expressive of a finished
action and a past time, the whole sentence would have con¬
veyed a meaning not friendly to the interests of the gospel.
In like manner, the time of amatus is referred, not to the
time of speaking, but to the time of fuero, with respect to
which, who sees not that it is past ? The two words, taken
together, contain a declaration, that he who utters them
shall, at some time posterior to that of speaking, have been Adjectives.
loved; the expression shall have been loved denotes two
times, both future with respect to the time of speaking;
but when the time denoted by shall have comes to be
present, that of the participle loved must be past, for it is
declared that the action of it shall then be complete and
finished.
We conclude, then, that it is essential to a participle to
express both an attribute and time; and that such words
as denote no time, though they may be in the form of par¬
ticiples, as doclus, “ learned,” eloquens, “ eloquent,” &c. be¬
long to another part of speech, which we now proceed to
consider.
2. Of Adjectives.
The nature of verbs and participles being understood,
that of adjectives becomes easy. A verb implies, as we
have said, an attribute, time, and an assertion ; a participle
implies only an attribute and time ; and an adjective implies
only an attribute as belonging to some substance. In other
words, an adjective has no assertion, and it denotes only
such an attribute as has not its essence either in motion or
its privation. Thus, in general, the attributes of quantity,
quality, and relation, such as many, few, great, little, black,
white, good, bad, double, treble, and the like, are all denot¬
ed by adjectives.
To understand the import and the use of this species of
words, it must be observed that every adjective is resolv¬
able into a substantive and an expression of connection
equivalent to of Thus, a good man is a man of goodness ;
where we see the attribute denoted by the adjective fully
expressed by an abstract noun. But it is evident that the
noun goodness does not express the whole meaning of the
adjective good; for every adjective expresses not only an
attribute, but also the connection between the attribute
and its substance ; whereas in the abstract noun, the attri¬
bute is considered as a substance unconnected with any
other substance.
In the next place, it is to be observed, that the connec¬
tion expressed by adjectives, like that expressed by of, is
of a nature so general and indefinite, that the particular
kind of connection must, in some languages, be inferred
from our previous knowledge of the objects between which
it subsists, or it will for ever remain unknown. This might
be proved, by a variety of examples, but will perhaps be
sufficiently evident from the following: Color salubris sig¬
nifies colour that indicates health ; exercitatio salubris, ex¬
ercise that preserves health ; victus salubris, food that im¬
proves health ; medicina salubris, medicine that restores
health. In all these examples the connection expressed by
the adjective form of salubris is different; and though it
may be known from previous experience, there is nothing
in any of the expressions themselves by which it can be
ascertained. Thus, adjectives are each significant of an
attribute and connection ; but the particular kind of con¬
nection is ascertained by experience. The usual effect of
adjectives in language, is to modify or particularize a ge¬
neral term, by adding some quality or circumstance which
may distinguish the object meant by that term, from the
other objects of the same species. I have occasion, for
example, to speak of a particular man, of whose name I am
ignorant. The word man is too general for my purpose, it
being applicable to every individual of the human species.
In what way then do I proceed, in order to particularize
it, so as to make it denote that very man whom I mean
to specify ? I annex or conjoin to it such words as are sig¬
nificant of objects and qualities with which he is connect¬
ed, and which are not equally applicable to others from
whom I mean to distinguish him. Thus I can say, a man
of prudence or a prudent man, a wise man, a good man, a
\
774
GRAMMA R.
Adjectives, brave man, and so on. By means of these additions the gene-
ral term man is limited or modified, and can be applied only
to certain men to whom belong the attributes expressed by
the adjectives prudent, wise, good, and brave. If it be still
too general for my purpose, I can add to it other qualities
and circumstances, till I make it so particular as to be ap¬
plicable to but one individual man in the universe.
This is the way in which adjectives are commonly used,
but this is not the only way. Instead of being employed
to modify a substantive, they sometimes appear as the
principal words in the sentence, when the sole use of the
substantive seems to be to modify the abstract noun, con¬
tained under the adjective to which that substantive is
joined. In order to understand this, it will be necessary
to attend to the following observations.
It may be laid down as a general proposition, that when
any term or any phrase is employed to denote a complex
conception, the mind has a power of considering, in what
order it pleases, the simple ideas of which the complex
conception is composed. To illustrate this observation by
an example: The word eques in Latin denotes a complex
conception, of which the constituent simple ideas are those
of a man and a horse ; with this connection subsisting be¬
tween them, that the man is conceived as on the back of
the horse. In the use of this word, it is well known that
the idea first in order, as being the principal subject of the
proposition, is commonly the man on the back of the horse ;
but it is not always so, for the mind may consider the horse
as the principal object. Thus, when Virgil says,
convey no meaning, but) from the building of the city to Adjectives,
its deliverance” Both the participles condita and libera-
tarn are here used inversely ; that is, the abstract substan¬
tives contained in condita and liberatam are modified or
restricted by the substantives urbe and urbem, with which
they unite. Again, Ovid, speaking of the contest between
Ajax and Ulysses for the arms of Achilles, has these lines :
Qui, licet eloquio fidum quoque Nestora vincat,
Hand tamen efficiet, desertum ut Nestora crimen
Nullum esse rear 
Here also the adjective or participle desertum is taken in¬
versely, and the general notion of desertion contained in it
is modified or rendered particular by being joined with the
substantive Nestora. The meaning of the passage is, “ I
will never be induced to believe that the desertion of Nes¬
tor was not a crime.” Were desertum to be taken directly
as an adjective modifying its substantive, the sentence must
be translated, “ I cannot believe that Nestor deserted was
not a crime.” But it is evident that this is nonsense ; as
Nestor, whether deserted or not deserted, could not be a
crime.
It were easy to produce many more examples of adjec¬
tives taken inversely; but these may suffice to illustrate
the general principle, and to show, that without attend¬
ing to it, it is impossible to understand the ancient au¬
thors. We shall produce one instance of it from Shak-
speare, to evince that it is not confined to the ancient lan¬
guages, though in these it is certainly more frequent than
in the modern :
Frecna Pelethronii Lapithae gyrosque dedere,
Impositi dorso ; atque cquitem docuere sub armis
Insultare solo, et gressus glomerare superbos—
the energies attributed to the object signified by equitem
make it evident that the horse, and not the man, is meant;
for it is not- the property of a man, insultare solo, et gres¬
sus glomerare superbos.
The same observation holds true where the complex ob¬
ject is denoted by two or more words ; an adjective, for in¬
stance, and a substantive. Thus in the phrase summits
mons se inter nubila condit, the words summus mons re¬
present a complex conception, of which the constituent
ideas are those of height and mountain, connected together
by the adjective form of summus. Either of these ideas
may be the subject of the proposition ; and the expression
will accordingly admit of two different significations. If
mons be made the subject of the proposition, the meaning
will be, “ the highest mountain hides itself amongst the
clouds.” If the substantive included in the radical part of
summus be made the subject of the proposition, the expres¬
sion will signify, “ the summit, or highest part, of the
mountain, hides itself amongst the clouds.” The latter is
the true import of the sentence.
I rom these observations and examples, we shall be en¬
abled to understand the two uses of the adjective. It is
either employed, as has been already observed, to restrict
or modify a general term ; or the abstract substantive con¬
tained in the adjective is modified by the noun, with which,
in the concrete or adjective form, that abstract substantive
is joined. The first may be called the direct, the second
the inverse, acceptation of adjectives.
The inverse acceptation of adjectives and participles, for
both are used in the same manner, has scarcely been no¬
ticed by any grammarian excepting Dr Hunter of St An¬
drews ; yet the principle is ot great extent in language.
In order to explain it, we shall produce a few examples,
which on any other principle it is impossible to understand.
Livy, speaking of the abolition ot the regal authority at
Home, says, Regnatum est Romce ab urbe condita ad li¬
beratam annos ducentos quadraginta quatuor, “ Monarchy
subsisted at Rome (not from the city built, which would
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou canst not bite so nigh
As benejits forgot;
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friends remember'd not.
Here it is evident that the adjective forgot is taken in¬
versely ; for it is not a benefit, but the forgetting of a be¬
nefit, which bites more than the bitter sky; and there¬
fore, in this passage, the adjective serves not to modify
the noun, but the noun benefits is employed to modify the
abstract substantive contained in the adjective forgot,
which is the subject of the proposition, and the principal
word in the sentence.
Had Mr Harris attended to this principle, and reflected
upon what he could not but know, that all adjectives de¬
note substances ; not indeed subsisting by themselves, as
those expressed by nouns, but concretely, as the attri¬
butes of other substances; he would not have classed ad¬
jectives with verbs, or have passed so severe a censure
upon the grammarians for classing them with nouns. It
matters very little how adjectives are classed, provided
their nature and effect be understood; but they have at
least as good a title to be ranked with nouns as with verbs,
and in our opinion a better. To adopt Mr Harris’s lan¬
guage, they are homogeneous with respect to nouns, as
both denote substances ; they are heterogeneous with re¬
spect to verbs, as they never do denote assertion.
Besides original adjectives, there is another class, which
is formed from substantives. Thus, when we say, the party
of Pompey, the style of Cicero, the philosophy of Socrates;
in these cases the party, the style, and the philosophy
spoken of, receive a stamp and character from the per¬
sons whom they respect; and those persons, therefore,
perform the part of attributes. Hence they actually pass
into attributives, and assume as such the form of adjectives.
It is thus we say, the Pompeian party, the Ciceronian
style, and the Socratic philosophy. In like manner, for a
trumpet of brass, we say a brazen trumpet, and for a crown
of gold, a golden crown, &c. Even pronominal substan¬
tives admit a similar mutation. Thus, instead of saying
the book of me, and of thee, we say my book, and thy book;
GRAMMAR.
Adverbs, and instead of saying the country of us and of you, we
^ say our country and your country. These words, my,
thy, our, your, &c. have therefore been properly called
pronominal adjectives.
It has been already observed, and must be obvious to
all, that substances alone are susceptible of sex ; and that
therefore substantive nouns alone should have distinc¬
tions respecting gender. The same is true with respect
to number and person. An attribute admits of no change
in its nature, whether it belong to you or to me, to a man
or a woman, to one man or to many; and therefore the
words expressive of attributes ought on all occasions, and
in every situation, to be fixed and invariable. For as the
qualities good and bad, black and white, are the same, whe¬
ther they be applied to a man or a woman, to many or to
few ; so the word which expresses any one of these attri¬
butes ought in strictness to admit of no alteration, with
whatever substantive it may be joined. Such is the or¬
der of nature, and that order, on this as on other occa¬
sions, the English language most strictly observes; for
we say equally, a good man or a good woman; good men
or good women; a good house or good houses. In some
languages, indeed, such as Greek and Latin, of which the
nouns admit of cases, and the sentences of an inverted
structure, it has been found necessary to endow adjectives
with the threefold distinction of gender, number, and
person; but as this is only an accidental variation, occa¬
sioned by particular circumstances, and not in the least
essential to language, it belongs not to our subject, but to
the particular grammars of these tongues.
There is, however, one variation of the adjective, which
has place in all languages, is founded in the nature of
things, and properly belongs to universal grammar. It is
occasioned by comparing the attribute of one substance
with a similar attribute of another, and falls naturally to
be explained under the next section.
3. Of Adverbs, and the Comparison of Adjectives.
As adjectives denote the attributes of substances, so
there is an inferior class of words which denote the mo¬
difications of these attributes. Thus, when we say,
« Cicero and Pliny were both of them eloquent; Statius
and Virgil both of them wrote the attributes expressed
by the words eloquent and wrote are immediately referred
to Cicero, Virgil, &c.; and as denoting the attributes of
substances, these words, the one an adjective, and the
other a verb, have been both called attributives of the first
order. But when we say, “ Pliny was moderately elo¬
quent, but Cicero exceedingly eloquent; Statius wrote in¬
differently, but Virgil wrote admirably;" the words mo¬
derately, exceedingly, indifferently, and admirably, are not
referrible to substantives, but to other attributes ; that is,
to the words eloquent and wrote, the signification of which
they modify. Such words, therefore, having the same ef¬
fect upon adjectives that adjectives have upon substan¬
tives, have been called attributives of the second order.
By grammarians they have been called adverbs ; and if we
take the word verb in its most comprehensive signification,1
as including not only verbs properly so called, but also
every species of words which, whether essentially or acci¬
dentally, are significant of the attributes of substances, we
shall find the name adverb to be a very just appellation, as
denoting a part of speech, the natural appendage of such
verbs. So great is this dependence in grammatical syntax,
that an adverb can no more subsist without its verb, that
775
is, without some word significant of an attribute, than a Adverbs,
verb or adjective can subsist without its substantive. It is , &c-
the same here as in certain natural subjects. Every colour,
for its existence, as much requires a superficies, as the su¬
perficies for its existence requires a solid body.
Amongst the attributes of substance are reckoned quan¬
tity and quality; thus we say a white garment, a high
mountain, and the like. Now some of these quantities and
qualities are capable of intension or remission ; or, in other
words, one substance may have them in a greater or less
degree than another. Thus we say, a garment exceed¬
ingly white, a mountain tolerably or moderately high.
Hence, then, one copious source of secondary attributes
or adverbs to denote these two, that is, intension and re¬
mission ; such as greatly, tolerably, vastly, extremely, indif¬
ferently.
But where there are different intensions of the same at¬
tribute, they may be compared together. Thus, if the
garment A be exceedingly white, and the garment B be
moderately white, we may say, the garment A is more
white than the garment B. This paper is white, and snow
is white-, but snow is more white than this paper. In
these instances the adverb more not only denotes inten¬
sion, but relative intension ; nay, we stop not here, as we
not only denote intension merely relative, but relative in¬
tension than which there is none greater. Thus we say,
Sophocles was wise, Socrates was more wise than he, but
Solomon was the most wise of men. Even verbs, proper¬
ly so called, which denote an attribute as well as an asser¬
tion, must admit both of simple and of comparative in¬
tensions ; but the simple verb to be admits of neither the
one nor the other. Thus, in the following example, Fame
he loveth more than riches, but virtue of all things he
loveth most ; the words more and most denote the dif¬
ferent comparative intensions of the attribute included un¬
der the verb loveth; but the assertion itself, which is the
essential part of the verb, admits neither of intension nor
remission, and is the same in all possible propositions.
From this circumstance of quantities and qualities being
capable of intension and remission, arise the comparison of
adjectives, and its different degrees, which cannot well be
more than the two species above mentioned; one to de¬
note simple excess, and one to denote superlative. Were
we indeed to introduce more degrees than these, we ought
perhaps to introduce an infinite number, which is absurd.
For why stop at a limited number, when in all subjects sus¬
ceptible of intension, the intermediate excesses are in a
manner infinite ? Between the first simple white and the
superlative whitest there are infinite degrees of more white;
and the same may be said of more great, more strong, more
minute, and so on. The doctrine of grammarians about
three such degrees of comparison, which they call the posi¬
tive, the comparative, and the superlative, must be absurd;
both because in their positive there is no comparison at all,
and because their superlative is a comparative as much as
their comparative itself. Examples to evince this may be
met with everywhere. Socrates was the most wise of all
the Athenians ; Homer was the most sublime of all poets.
In this sentence Socrates is evidently compared with
the Athenians, and Homer with all other poets. Again,
if it be said that Socrates was more wise than any other
Athenian, but that Solomon was the most wise of men, is
not a comparison of Solomon with mankind in general, as
plainly implied in the last clause of the sentence, as a com¬
parison of Socrates with the other Athenians in the first ?
1 Aristotle and his followers called every word a verb which denotes the predicate of a proposition. This classification was cer¬
tainly absurd; for it confounds not only adjectives and participles, hut even substantives, with verbs; but the authority ol Aristotle
was great; and hence the name of adverb, though that word attaches itself only to an adjective or participle, or a verb significant or
an attribute, and does not attach itself to the pure verb.
GRAMMAR.
776
Adverbs, But if both imply comparison, it may be asked, in what
v _ c‘ consists the difference between the comparative and super-
lative ? Does the superlative always express a greater ex¬
cess than the comparative ? It does not; for though So¬
crates was the most wise of the Athenians, yet is Solomon
affirmed to have been more wise than he; so that here a
higher superiority is denoted by the comparative more than
by the superlative most. Is this then the difference be¬
tween these two degrees, that the superlative implies a com¬
parison of one with many, whilst the comparative implies
only a comparison of one with one ? No, this is not always
the case neither. The Psalmist says, that “ he is wiser (or
more wise) than all his teacherswhere, though the com¬
parative is used, there is a comparison of one with many.
The real difference between these two degrees of com¬
parison may be explained thus When we use the super¬
lative, it is in consequence of having compared individuals
with the species to which they belong, or one or more spe¬
cies with the genus under which they are comprehended.
Thus Socrates was the most wise of the Athenians, and
the Athenians icere the most enlightened of ancient na¬
tions. In the first clause of this sentence, Socrates, al¬
though compared with the Athenians, is at the same time
considered as one of them; and in the last the Athenians,
although compared with ancient nations, are yet consider¬
ed as one of those nations. Hence it is that in English
the superlative is followed by the preposition of and in
Greek and Latin by the genitive case of the plural num¬
ber ; to show that the object which has the pre-eminence
is considered as belonging to that class of things with which
it is compared. But when wre use the comparative degree,
the objects compared are set in direct opposition ; and the
one is considered not as a part of the other, or as compre¬
hended under it, but as something altogether distinct and
belonging to a different class. Thus, were any one to say,
“ Cicero was more eloquent than the Romans,” he would
speak absurdly; because every body knows, that of the
class of men expressed by the word Romans, Cicero was
one, and such a sentence would affirm that orator to have
been more eloquent than himself. But when it is said
that “ Cicero was more eloquent than all the other Romans,
or than any other Roman,” the language is proper, and the
affirmation true ; for though the persons spoken of were
all of the same class or city, yet Cicero is here set in con¬
tradistinction to the rest of his countrymen, and is not con¬
sidered as one of the persons with whom he is compared.
It is for this reason that in English the comparative degree
is followed by a noun governed by the word of contradis¬
tinction than, and in Latin by a noun in the ablative case
governed by the preposition prwA either expressed or un¬
derstood. We have already observed, that the ablative
case denotes concomitancy; and therefore when an adjec¬
tive in the comparative degree is prefixed to a noun, that
noun is put in the ablative case, to denote that two things
are compared together in company ; but by means of the
preposition, expressed or understood, that which is denoted
by the comparative adjective is seen to be preferred be¬
fore that which is denoted by the noun.
We have hitherto considered the comparative as expressed
by the words more and most; but the authors or improvers Adverbs,
of language have contrived a method of retrenching the use &c.
of these adverbs, by expressing their force by an inflexion
of the adjective. Thus, instead of more fair, they say
fairer; instead of most fair, fairest; and the same method
of comparison takes place both in the Greek and Latin
languages ; wdth this difference, however, between the ge¬
nius of these languages and ours, that we are at liberty to
form the comparison either in the one method or in the
other j whereas in those languages the comparison is sel¬
dom or never formed by the assistance of the adverb, but al¬
ways by the inflexion of the adjective. Hence this inflex¬
ion is by the Greek and Latin grammarians considered as
a necessary accident of the adjective ; but it has reached
no further than to adjectives, and participles sharing the
nature of adjectives. The attributes expressed by verbs
are as susceptible of comparison as those expressed by ad¬
jectives ; but they are always compared by means of ad¬
verbs, the verb being too much diversified already to admit
of more variations without perplexity.
It must be confessed, that comparatives, as well the sim¬
ple as the superlative, seem sometimes to part with their
relative nature, and to retain only their intensive. Thus
in the degree denoting simple excess,
Tristior, et lacrymis oculos suffusa nitentes Virg.
Tristior means nothing more than that Venus was very
sad. In the degree called the superlative this is more
usual. Phrases extremely common are, Vir doctissimus,
vir fortissimus, “ a most learned man, a most brave man
that is, not the bravest and most learned man that ever ex¬
isted, but a man possessing those qualities in an eminent
degree. In English, when w^e intimate that a certain qua¬
lity is possessed in an eminent degree, without making any
direct comparison between it and a similar quality, we do
it by the intensive wmrd very, more commonly than by
most; as, Cicero was very eloquent, the mind of Johnson
was very vigorous. This mode of expression has been call¬
ed the superlative of eminence, to distinguish it from the
other superlative, which is superlative upon comparison.
Yet it may be said, that even in the superlative of emi¬
nence something of comparison must be remotely or indi¬
rectly intimated, as we cannot reasonably call a man very
eloquent, without comparing his eloquence with the elo¬
quence of other men. This is indeed true ; but we can¬
not therefore affirm that comparison is more clearly inti¬
mated in this superlative than in the simple adjective elo¬
quent ; for wffien we say that a man is eloquent, we mark
between his eloquence and that of other men a distinction
of the same kind, though not in the same degree, as when
we say that he is very eloquent.
In English we distinguish the two superlatives, by pre¬
fixing to the one the definite article the, to show that some¬
thing is predicated of the object expressed by it, which
cannot be predicated of any other object; and by subjoin¬
ing the preposition of to show that the objects with which
it is compared are of the same class with itself; as, “ Solo¬
mon was the wisest of men ; Hector was the most valiant of
the Trojans.” To the other superlative2 we only prefix
See liuddiman, Grammatical Institutiones, pars secunda, lib. i. cap. 2. Although it is certainly true, that when we use the super¬
lative, we ought in propriety to consider the things compared as of the same class; and when we use the comparative, as of different
classes; yet this distinction is not always attended to by the best writers in any language. In Latin and Greek the comparative is
sometimes used where m English we should use the superlative; as dextra estfortior mannum; and in the Gospel it is said, that “ a
grain of mustard-seed is the smader of all seeds, but when grown up it is the greater Uu&v) of herbs.” Even in English,
the custom of the language permits us not to say, “ he is the tallest of the two,” it must be the taller of the two; but we cannot say
he is the taller of the to,’ it must be the tallest. For these and other deviations from the general rule no reason is to be found in
the nature ot things ; they are errors made proper by use.
? In English, the termination cst is peculiar to the superlative of comparison, to which the definite article is prefixed. Thus we
may say, “ Homer was the sublimest of poetsbut we cannot say, “ Elomer was a sublimest poet.” Again we may sav “ Homer
was a sublime poetbut not, “ Homer was tfie am/sublime poet.”
GRAMMA R.
the indefinite article a; as, “ he was a rerygood man; he
was a most valiant soldier.”
As there are some qualities which admit of comparison,
so there are others which admit of none ; such, for example,
are those which denote that quality of bodies arising from
their figure, as when we say, a circular table, a quadrangu¬
lar court, a conical piece of metal, and the like. The rea¬
son is, that a million of things participating the same figure,
participate it equally, if they do it at all. To say, there¬
fore, that whilst A and B are both quadrangular, A is more
or less quadrangular than B, is absurd. The same holds
true in all attributives denoting definite quantities of what¬
soever nature; for as there can be no comparison without
intension or remission, and as there can be no intension or
remission in things always definite, therefore these attri¬
butives can admit of no comparison. By the same method
of reasoning, we discover the cause why no substantive is
susceptible of these degrees of comparison. A mountain
cannot be said more to be or to exist than a mole-hill; but
the more or less must be sought for in their quantities. In
like manner, when we refer many individuals to one spe¬
cies, the lion A cannot be called more a lion than the lion
B ;l but if more any thing, he is more fierce, more swift, or
exceeding in some such attribute. So, again, in referring
many species to one genus, a crocodile is not more an ani¬
mal than a lizard ; nor a tiger more than a cat; but, if any
thing, the crocodile and tiger are more bulky, more strong,
&c. than the animals with which they are compared; the
excess, as before, being derived from their attributes.
Of the adverbs or secondary attributives already mention¬
ed, those denoting intension and remission may be called
adverbs of quantity continuous, as greatly, vastly, tolerably,
&c.; once, twice, thrice, &c.2 are adverbs of quantity discrete;
as more and most, less and least, to which may be added
equally, 'proportionally, &c. are adverbs of relation. There
are others of quality ; as when we say, honestly industrious,
prudently brave ; they fought bravely, he painted
And here it may be worth while to observe, how the
same thing, participating the same essence, assumes differ¬
ent grammatical forms from its different relations. For
example, suppose it should be asked, How differ honest,
honestly, and honesty ? The answer is, they are in essence
the same; but they differ in as much as honest is the attri¬
butive of a noun ; honestly, of a verb or adjective ; and ho¬
nesty being divested of these its attributive relations, as¬
sumes the power of a noun or substantive, so as to stand
by itself.
The adverbs hitherto mentioned are common to verbs of
every species; but there are some which are confined to
verbs properly so called, that is, to such verbs as denote
motions or energies with their privations. All motion and
rest imply time and place as a kind of necessary coinci¬
dence. Hence, when we would express the place or time
of either, we have recourse to adverbs formed for this pur¬
pose ; of place, as when we say, he stood there, he went
hence, he came hither; of time, as when we say, he stood
then, he went afterwards, he travelled formerly. To these
may be added the adverbs which denote the intensions
and remissions peculiar to motion, such as speedily, hastily,
swiftly, slowly, See.; as also adverbs of place made out of
prepositions, such as upwards and downwards, from up and
down. It may, however, be doubted whether some of
these words, as well as many others, which do not so pro¬
perly modify attributes, as mark some remote circumstance
attending an attribute or our way of conceiving it, are truly
adverbs, though so called by the grammarians. The sim¬
ple affirmative and negative yes and no are called adverbs,
though they surely do not signify that which we hold to be
the very essence of the adverb, a modification of attributes.
“Is he learned? No.” “ Is he brave? Yes.” Here
the two adverbs, as they are called, signify not any modi¬
fication of the attributes brave and learned, but a total
negation of the attribute in the one case, and in the other
a declaration that the attribute belongs to the person spo¬
ken of.
Adverbs are indeed applied to many purposes ; and their
general nature may be better understood by reading a list
of them, and attending to their etymology, than by any
general description or definition. Many of them seem to
have been introduced into language in order to express by
one word the meaning of two or three, and are mere ab¬
breviations of nouns, verbs, and adjectives. Thus, the im¬
port of the phrase, in what place, is expressed by the sin¬
gle word where ; to what place, by whither ; from this place,
by hence; in a direction ascending, by upwards; at the
present time, by now; at what time, by ivhen; at that
time, by then ; many times, by often ; not many times, by
seldom ; and so of others.
Mr Horne Tooke has, with great industry and accuracy,
traced many of the English adverbs from their origin in
the ancient Saxon and other northern tongues, and shown
them to be either corruptions of other words or abbrevia¬
tions of phrases and sentences. He observes, “ that all ad¬
verbs ending in ly, the most prolific branch of the family,
are sufficiently understood ; the termination being only the
word like corrupted, and the corruption so much the more
easily and certainly discovered, as the termination remains
more pure and distinguishable in the other sister languages,
in which it is written lick, lyh, lig, ligen.” He might have
added, that in Scotland the word like is, at this day, fre¬
quently used instead of the English termination ly ; as for
a goodly figure, the common people say a good-like figure.
Upon this principle the greater part of adverbs are resolv¬
ed into those parts of speech which we have already consi¬
dered, as honestly into honest-like, vastly, into vast-like. Sec.;
so that when we say of a man he is honestly industrious, we
affirm that he is honest-like industrious, or that his industry
has the appearance of being honest. Adverbs of a differ¬
ent termination the same acute writer resolves thus; aghast
into the past participle agazed;
The French exclaimed, the Devil was in arms.
All the whole army stood agazed on him—Shaksp.
Ago, into the past participle agone or gone. Asunder he
derives from asundered, separated; the past participle of
the Anglo-Saxon verb asundrien, a word which, in all its
varieties, is to be found in all the northern tongues, and
comes originally from sond, that is, sand. To wit, from wit-
tan, to know ; as videlicet and scilicet, in Latin, are abbrevia¬
tions of videre-licet and scire-licet. Needs, he resolves into
need is, used parenthetically; as, “ I must needs do such a
thing.” “ I must (need is) do such a thing ;” that is, “ I
must do it, there is need of it.” Anon, which our old au¬
thors use for immediately, instantly, means, he says, in one,
that is, in one instant, moment, minute. As,
And right anon withouten more abode.
Anon in all the haste I can.
Alone and only are resolved into all one, and one-like. In
the Dutch, een is one ; and all een alone; and all-een-like,
only, anciently alonely. Alive is on live, or in life. Thus,
in Chaucer,
777
Adverbs,
&c.
1 When Pope says of a certain person, that he is “ a tradesman, meek, and much a liar," the last phrase is the same with much
given to lying, the word liar having the effect of an attributive.
8 These words were anciently written one's, twie's, thrie's, and are merely the genitives of one, two, three, the substantive time or
turn being omitted. Thus, How often did you write % Answer, Once, that is, one's time. (See Horne Tooke’s Diversions of Parley).
VOL. X. 5 F
778
GRAMMAR
Adverbs, Christ eterne on live.
&c- Avght or ought; a whit or o whit; o being formerly writ-
ten for the article a, or for the numeral one ; and whit or
hwit, in Saxon, signifying a small thing, as a point or jot.
Awhile, which is usually classed with adverbs, is evidently
a noun with the indefinite article prefixed ; a rvhile, that
is, a time. Whilst, anciently and more properly whiles, is
plainly the Saxon hwilees, time that. Aloft was formerly
written on-loft. As, in Chaucer,
And ye, my mother, my soveregne pleasance
Over al thing, out take Christ on lofte..
Now, says Mr Horne Tooke, Igft, in the Anglo-Saxon, is
the air or the clouds, as, in lyfte cummende, coming in the
clouds (St Luke). In the Danish, lift is air; and “at
spronge i luftenf to blow up into the air, or aloft. So in
the Dutch, de loef hebben, to sail before the wind; loeven,
to ply to windward; loef, the weather gage, &c. From
the same root are our other words, Loft, lofty, to luff, lee,
leeward, lift, &c. It would be needless, as the ingenious
author observes, to notice such adverbs as, afoot, adays,
ashore, astray, aslope, aright, abed, aback, abreast, afloat,
aloud, aside, afield, aground, aland, &c. These are at first
view seen for what they are. Nor shall we follow him
through the analysis which he has given of many other
adverbs, of which the origin is not so obvious as of these.
Of the truth of his principles we are satisfied; and have
not a doubt, but that upon those principles a man conver¬
sant with our earliest writers, and thoroughly skilled in
the present languages, may trace every English adverb1 to
its source, and show that it is no part of speech separate
from those which we have already considered. The ad¬
verbs, however, of affirmation and negation, are of too
much importance to be thus passed over; and as we have
never seen an account of them at all satisfactory, except
that which has been given by Mr Horne Tooke, we shall
transcribe the substance of what he says concerning aye, yea,
yes, and no. To us these words have always appeared im¬
properly classed with adverbs, upon every definition which
has been given of that part of speech. Accordingly, our
author says, that aye or yea is the imperative of a verb of
northern extraction ; and means have, possess, enjoy. And
yes is a contraction of ay-es, have, possess, enjoy, that.
Thus, when it is asked whether a man be learned, if the
answer be by the word yes, it is equivalent to have that,
enjoy that belief or that proposition.
The northern verb of which yea is the imperative, is in
Danish ejer, to possess, have, enjoy. Eja, aye or yea; eye,
possession ; ejer, possessor. In Swedish it is ega, to possess,
of which the imperative is ja, aye, yea; egare, possessor.
In German, ja signifies aye or yea; eigener, possessor,
owner ; eigen, own. In Dutch, eigenen is to possess -,ja, yea.
Greenwood derives not and its abbreviate no from the La¬
tin ; Minshow, from the Hebrew; and Junius, from the
Greek. Our author very properly observes, that the inha¬
bitants of the north could not wait foravrord expi’essive of
dissent till the establishment of those nations and languages;
and adds, that we need not be inquisitive nor doubtful con¬
cerning the origin and signification of not and no ; since we
find that, in the Danish nodig, in the Swedish nodig, and
in the Dutch, noode, node, and no, mean averse, unwilling.
So that when it is asked whether a man be brave, if the an- Prepos;-
swer be no, it is a declaration that he who makes it is averse tions, &c.
from or unwilling to admit that proposition.
Most writers on grammar have mentioned a species of
adverbs, which they call adverbs of interrogation, such as
where, whence, whither, how, &c. But the truth is, that
there is no part of speech which, of itself, denotes interro¬
gation. A question is never asked otherwise than by ab¬
breviation, by a single word, whether that word be a noun,
a pronoun, a verb, or an adverb. The word where is equi¬
valent to in what place ; whence, to from what place ; and
how, to in what manner, &c. In these phrases, in what
place, from what place, and in what manner, the only word
that can be supposed to have the force of an interrogative,
is what, which is resolvable into that which. But we have
already explained, under the head of Pronouns, the princi¬
ples upon which the relative is made to denote interrogation;
and the same reasoning w ill account for the adverbs where,
whence, whither, how, &c. being employed as interrogatives.
When wTe say, “ Where were you yesterday ? whence have
you come ? whither are you going ? how do you perform
your journey ?” we merely use so many abbreviations for
the following sentences: “ Tell us, or describe to us, the
place where (or in which) you were yesterday; the place
whence (or from which) you have come ; the place to
which you are going; the manner in which you perform
your journey ? And so much for adverbs. We now pro¬
ceed to those parts of speech which are usually called pre¬
positions and conjunctions, and of which the use is to con¬
nect the other words of a sentence, and to combine two or
more simple sentences into one compound sentence.
VI.— Of Prepositions, Conjunctions, and Interjections.
It has been observed, that a man wdfilst awrake is con¬
scious of a continued train of perceptions and ideas passing
in his mind, which depends little upon his own will; that
he cannot to the train add a new idea; and that he can
but very seldom break its connection. To the slightest
reflection these truths must be apparent. Our first ideas
are those wdiich we derive from external objects making
impressions on the senses ; but all the external objects
which fall under our observation are linked together in
such a manner as indicates them to be parts of one great
and regular system. When we take a view of the things
by which we are surrounded, and which are the arche-
types of our ideas, their inherent qualities are not more
remarkable than the various relations by which they
are connected. Cause and effect, contiguity in time or
place, high and low, prior and posterior, resemblance and
contrariety, with a thousand other relations, connect things
together without end. There is not a single thing which
appears solitary and altogether devoid of connection.
The only difference is, that some are intimately and some
slightly connected, some nearly and some at a distance.
That the relations by which external objects are thus
linked together must have great influence in directing the
train of human thought, so that not one perception or idea
can appear to the mind wholly unconnected with all other
perceptions or ideas, will be admitted by every man who
1 The same resolution might probably be made of the Greek and Latin adverbs, were we as intimately acquainted with the sources
of those tongues as Mr Horne Tooke is with the sources of the English language. “ Many of the Latin adverbs,” says Ruddiman,
“ are nothing else but adjective nouns or pronouns, having the preposition and substantive understood ; as quo, eo, eodem, for ad quce,
ea. eadem (loca) or cui, ei, eidem (loco); for of old these datives ended in o. Thus, qua, hac, iliac. See. are plainly adjectives in the abla¬
tive singular feminine, the word via, “ a way,” and the preposition in, being understood. Many of them are compounds; as, quomo-
do, i. e. quo modo ; quemadmodum, i. e. ad quern modum; quamdbrem, i. e. 06 quam rem ; quare, i. e. (pro) qua re ; quorsum, i. e. versus
quern (locum) ; scilicet, i. e. scire licet ; videlicet, i. e. videre licet ; ilicet, i. e. ire licet ; illico, i. e. in loco ; magnopere, i. e. magno ppere; m-
viirum, i. e. ni (est) mirum ; hodie, i. e. hoc die ; postridie, i. e. postero die ; pridie, i. e. pro: die. Perfecto, certe, sane, male, bene, plane,
are obviously adjectives. Forte is the ablative offers; and if we had leisure to pursue the subject, and were masters of all the lan¬
guages from"which the Latin is derived, we doubt not but we should be able to resolve every adverb into a substantive or adjective.
GRAM M A R.
Preposi- believes that his senses and intellect represent things as
tions, &c. they are.
This being the case, it is necessary, if the purpose of
language be to communicate thought, that the speaker be
furnished with words, not only to express the ideas of
substances and attributes which he may have in his mind,
but also to indicate the order in which he views them,
and to point out the various relations by which they are
connected. In many instances all this may be done by
the parts of speech which we have already considered.
The closest connection which we can conceive, is that
which subsists between a substance and its qualities; and
in every language with which we are acquainted, that
connection is indicated by the immediate coalescence of
the adjective with the substantive ; as we say, a good man,
a learned man ; vir bonus, vir docius. Again, there is a
connection equally intimate, though not so permanent,
between an agent and his action ; for the action is really
an attribute of the agent; and therefore we say, the boy
reads, the man writes ; the noun coalescing with the verb
so naturally, that no other word is requisite to unite them.
Moreover, an action and that which is acted upon being
contiguous in nature, and mutually affecting each other,
the words which denote them should in language be mu¬
tually attractive, and capable of coalescing without exter¬
nal aid; as, he reads a book, he builds a house, he breaks
a stone. Further, because an attribute and its modifica¬
tions are inseparably united, an adjective or a verb is
naturally connected with the adverb which illustrates or
modifies its signification; and therefore, when we say, he
walks slowly, he is prudently brave, it is plain that no
other word is necessary to promote the coalescence of the
attributes “ walking” and “ bravery” with their modifica¬
tions of “ slowness” and “ prudence.” The agreement be¬
tween the terms of any proposition which constitutes truth
is absolutely perfect; but as either of the terms may agree
with many other things besides its correlate, some word is
requisite in every proposition to connect the particular pre¬
dicate with the particular subject; and that is the office
of the simple verb to be ; as, the three angles of every tri¬
angle are equal to two right angles.
Thus we see that many of the relations subsisting be¬
tween our ideas may be clearly expressed by means of
nouns, adjectives, verbs, and adverbs; and in those lan¬
guages of which the nouns have cases, there is perhaps no
relation of much importance which might not be thus
pointed out, without being under the necessity of em¬
ploying the aid of any additional part of speech. In
English, however, the case is otherwise; for were we to
say, “ He rode Edinburgh, went the parliament-house,
walked his counsel the court met,” we should speak unin¬
telligibly ; as in these expressions there is either a total
want of connection, or such a connection as produces
falsehood and nonsense, In order to give meaning to the
passage, the several gaps must be filled up by words sig¬
nificant of the various relations by which the different
ideas are connected in the mind ; as, “ He rode to Edin¬
burgh, went to the parliament-house, and walked with his
counsel till the court met.” Of these connecting words,
to and with are caWed prepositions, and and till are usually
called conjunctions. Although these prepositions and
conjunctions are not so absolutely necessary in Greek
and Latin as they are in English, yet as there is no lan¬
guage wholly without them, nor any language in which
it is not of importance to understand their force, they well
deserve a place in universal grammar.
The sole use of conjunctions and prepositions in lan¬
guage is to connect either sentences or other words; but
the theory of these connectives themselves has certainly
never been understood, unless Mr Horne Tooke has at last
hit upon the truth. Mr Harris writes about them and
779
about them, quoting passages from Greek and Latin au- Conjunc-
thors, and produces at last no information. His defini- tions.
tions of both, as parts of speech void of signification, are
highly absurd; and even the principal distinction which
he makes between them seems not to be well founded.
Prepositions and conjunctions denote the relations sub¬
sisting between the ideas expressed by those words or
sentences which they serve to connect; and as relations
are contemplated by the mind as well as positive ideas
themselves, the words which denote these relations can¬
not be insignificant. The essential difference between
the conjunction and preposition, according to the same
author, consists in this, that the former connects sen¬
tences, and the latter words; but the fact is often other¬
wise. An obvious example occurs where the conjunction
and connects not sentences but words. “ A man of wis¬
dom and virtue is a perfect character.” Here it is not
meant to be asserted, “ that the man of wisdom is a per¬
fect character, and that the man of virtue is a perfect cha¬
racter ;” for both these assertions would be false. This
sentence therefore (and many such will occur) is not re¬
solvable into two; whence it follows, that the conjunction
and does not always connect sentences; and the same is
frequently the case with other conjunctions.
Mr Horne Tooke’s idea of prepositions and conjunctions
is, that they do not form distinct classes of words, but are
merely abbreviations of nouns and verbs; and, with respect
to the English language, he has been remarkably success¬
ful in proving his position. But though such be undenia¬
bly the case in English, it would be rash to conclude a
priori that it is so in all other tongues. To establish this
general conclusion would require a long and tedious de¬
duction in each particular language; and how much lan¬
guage, leisure, industry, and acuteness, such an under¬
taking would require, even in one tongue, it is not easy
to determine. In the languages with which we are best
acquainted, many conjunctions, and most prepositions,
have the appearance at least of original words; and
though this most acute grammarian, from his knowledge
of the northern tongues, has been able to trace the most
important of those in English to very plausible sources,
the same thing would be difficult in other languages of
which the sources are obscure, and absolutely impossible
in those of which they are wholly unknown. It is, how¬
ever, a strong presumption in favour of his opinion, that
grammarians have never been able to assign any general
characteristic of those species of words, which, did they
constitute distinct parts of speech, one would think could
not have so long remained undiscovered. It is a further
presumption in his favour, that many words in Greek and
Latin, as well as in English, which have been called con¬
junctions, are obviously resolvable upon his principles,
and indeed discover their meaning and origin upon mere
inspection. We shall therefore content ourselves with
retailing the common doctrine respecting these parts of
speech so far as it is intelligible, subjoining at the bottom
of the page the analysis given by Mr Horne Tooke, of the
most important English conjunctions and prepositions;
and requesting our readers, who would understand the
subject, to attend more to the relations between their va¬
rious ideas, than to the frivolous distinctions which, in
compliance with custom, we are compelled to lay before
them. We shall treat first of the conjunction.
1. Of Conjunctions.
A conjunction is a part of speech of which, as its name
indicates, the use is to connect either twro or more words
in a sentence, or to make of two simple sentences one com¬
pound sentence. It is usually said that conjunctions never
connect words, but sentences only, and that this is the cir¬
cumstance which distinguishes them from prepositions. \ v e
Cx R A M M A R
780
Co ijvtnc- have already given one example which proves this distinc-
tums. tjon j.0 jp founded; we shall now give from Mr Horne
Tooke one or two more, which will place its absurdity in
a still clearer light: Two ayid two are four ; John and Jane
are a handsome couple; AB and BC a7id CA form a tri¬
angle. Are two four ? Is John a couple and Jane a couple f
Does one straight line form a triangle ? It appears indeed
that and may connect any two things which can be con¬
nected, as it signifies addition.1 2
Conjunctions connecting sentences sometimes connect
their meaning, and sometimes not. For example, let us
take these two sentences, “ Rome was enslaved, Caesar was
ambitious,” and connect them together by the conjunction
because; “Rome was enslaved because Ca?sar was ambi¬
tious.” Here the meanings, as well as the sentences, ap¬
pear to be connected by that natural relation which sub¬
sists between an effect and its cause; for the enslaving of
Rome was the effect of Cassar’s ambition. That particular
relation therefore is that which is denoted by the conjunc¬
tion because? which would be improperly used to connect
two sentences between which the relation of an effect to
its cause exists not. But if it be said, “ manners must be
reformed, or liberty will be losthere the conjunction or,
though it joins the sentences, yet as to their meaning is a
perfect disjunctive. Between the reformation of manners
and the loss of liberty there is certainly a natural relation ;
but it is not the relation of contiguity or similitude, or of
cause and effect, but of contrariety. The relation of con¬
trariety therefore is the signification of the word or? And
thus it appears, that though all conjunctions may combine
sentences, yet, with respect to the sense, some are conjunc¬
tive and others disjunctive.
Those conjunctions which conjoin both sentences and
their meanings are either copulatives or continuatives. The
principal copulative in English is and, which we have al¬
ready considered. The continuatives are much more nu- Conjunc-
merous; if, an, because, therefore, wherefore, hence, &c. ti”"3-
The difference between them is this: The copulative does
no more than barely couple words or sentences, and is
therefore applicable to all subjects of which the natures
are not incompatible.4 The relation which it denotes is
that of juxtaposition, or of one thing added to another.
Continuatives, on the contrary, by a more intimate con¬
nection, consolidate sentences into one continuous whole ;
and are therefore applicable only to subjects which have
an essential relation to each other, such as that of an effect to
its cause, or of a cause to its effect. For example, it is no
way improper to say, “ Lysippus was a statuary, and Pris-
cian a grammarian ; the sun shineth, and the sky is clear
because these are things that can co-exist, and yet imply no
absurdity. But it would be absurd to say, “ Lysippus was
a statuary because Priscian was a grammarian though not
to say, “ the sun shineth because the sky is clear.” With
respect to the first, the reason is, that the word because de¬
notes the relation which an effect bears to its cause; but
the skill of Priscian in grammar could not possibly be the
cause of Lysippus’s skill in statuary; the coincidence be¬
tween the skill of the one and that of the other, in arts so
very different, was merely accidental. With respect to the
shining of the sun and the clearness of the sky, the case is
widely different; for the clearness of the sky is the cause
of the sun’s shining, at least so as to be seen by us.
As to the continuatives, they are either suppositive, such
as if, an; or positive, such as because, therefore, as, &c.
Take examples of each: “ You will live happily «/you live
honestly ; you live happily because you live honestly ; you
live honestly, therefore you live" happily.” The difference
between these continuatives is this : The suppositives de¬
note connection, but do not assert actual existence ; the
positives imply both the one and the other.5
1 And is a Saxon word, being, according to Mr Horne Tooke, an abbreviation of anad, the imperative of the verb ananad to add
to or heap up. So that when we say two and two are four, we only declare that two added to two are four.
2 Because is compounded of the Saxon be, ly, and cause ; and by some of our most ancient authors it was written by cause. “ Rome
was enslaved because Caesar was ambitious," is therefore equivalent to, “ Rome was enslaved by the cause Cjesar was ambitious taking
the phrase, “ Caesar was ambitious,” as an abstract noun in concord with the other noun cause. ’ b
3 Or seems to be a mere contraction of the Saxon odeu, which signifies other, that is, something different and often contrary. So
that the conjunction or must always denote diversity, and very often contrariety. '
4 As day and night, heat and cold ; for we cannot say of the same portion of time, it is day and it is night; or of the same body it is
bath hot and cold. J ’
5 The reason of all this will be apparent from the analysis given by Mr Horne Tooke of those words which we have called suppo¬
sitive conjunctions. If and an may be used mutually and indifferently to supply each other’s place ; for they are both verbs, and
of the same import. If is merely the imperative of the Gothic and Anglo-Saxon verb gifan, to give; and in those languages, as
well as in the English formerly, this supposed conjunction was pronounced and written as the common imperative gif. Thus,
My largesse
Hath lotted her to be your brother’s mistresse,
Gif shee can be reclaimed ; gif not, his prey. Sad Shepherd.
Gawin Douglass almost always uses gif for if, as the common people in some counties of Scotland do even at this day ; and it is ob¬
vious, that our if has always the signification of the English imperative give, and no other. So that the resolution of the construction
in the sentence, “ If you live honestly you will live happily," is simply this, “ Give you live honestly (taking you live honestly as an ab¬
stract noun) you win live happily." Your living happily is declared to depend upon your living honestly as the condition ; but give that
and your happiness is positively asserted. In like manner may such sentences be resolved as,
I wonder he can move ! that he’s not fixed !
If that his feelings be the same with mine.
Thus, ‘’ His feelings be the same with mine, give that, I wonder he can move,” &c. And here we cannot forbear giving our assent to
the truth of Mr Horne Tooke’s observation, that when the datum upon which any conclusion depends is a sentence, the article if
not expressed, may always be inserted. We do not, however, think the insertion at all times absolutely necessary to complete the syn¬
tax ; for active verbs govern whole sentences and clauses of sentences as well as substantive nouns. Instances of this occur so fre¬
quently m the Latin classics, that they can have escaped no man’s notice who has ever read Horace or Virgil with attention. We
agree likewise with this most ingenious author, that where the datum is not a sentence, but some noun governed by the verb if or
give, the article that can nevei be inserted. For example, if we be asked how the weather will dispose of us to-morrow, we cannot
say : u If that tear, it will send us abroad ; if that foul, it will keep us at home but “ if Mr, it will send us abroad,” &c. The reason
is obvious. I he verb in this case directly governs the noun; and the resolved construction is, “ give fair weather, it will send us
abroad ; give foul weather, it will keep us at home.”
An, the other suppositive conjunction mentioned, is nothing else than the imperative of the Anglo-Saxon verb anan, which like¬
wise means to give or to grant. As, ” An you had an eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortune be-
fore you that is, “ Grant you had an eye behind you, you might see,” &c. This account of the two conditional conjunctions in
English is so rational and satisfactory, that we are strongly inclined to believe that all those words which are so called, are in all
languages to be accounted for in the same manner. Not indeed that they must all mean precisely to give or grant, but some word
equivalent; such as, be it, sttppose, allow, permit; which meaning is to be sought for in the particular etymology of each respective
language. ■
G R A M M A R
Conjunc- The positives above mentioned are either causal, such
tions. as because, since, as, &c. ;L or collective, such as therefore,
wherefore, &c. The difference between them is this: The
causals subjoin causes to effects; as, “ the sun is in eclipse,
because the moon intervenesthe collectives subjoin ef¬
fects to causes ; as, “ the moon intervenes, therefore^ the
sun is in eclipse.” We therefore use causals in those in¬
stances where, the effect being conspicuous, we seek for its
cause; and collectives, in demonstration and science, pro¬
perly so called, where the cause being first known, by its
help we discern effects.
As to causal conjunctions, we may further observe, that
there is not one of the four species of causes which they
are not capable of denoting. For example, the material
cause ; “ The trumpet sounds because it is made of metal.”
The formal; “ The trumpet sounds because it is long and
hollow.” The efficient; “ The trumpet sounds because an
artist blows it.” The final; “ The trumpet sounds that it
may raise our courage.” It is worth observing, that the
first three causes are expressed by the strongest affirma¬
tion ; because if the effect actually be, these must be also.
But this is not the case with respect to the last, which is
only affirmed as a thing that may happen. The reason is
obvious ; for whatever may be the end which set the artist
first to work, that end it may still be beyond his power to
obtain ; as, like all other contingents, it may either hap-
781
pen or not. Hence also it is connected by a particular Conjunc-
conjunction, that,3 absolutely confined to this cause. , tions.
We come now to the disjunctive conjunctions, a species
of words which bear this contradictory name, because whilst
they conjoin the sentences, they disjoin the sense ; or, to
speak a language more intelligible, they denote relations
of diversity or opposition.
That there should be such words, whether called con¬
junctions or not, is extremely natural. For as there is a
principle of union diffused throughout all things, by which
this whole is kept together and preserved from dissipation ;
so is there in like manner a principle of diversity diffused
throughout all, the source of distinction, of number, and of
order. Now it is to express in some degree the modifica¬
tions of this diversity, that those words called disjunctive
conjunctions are employed.
Of these disjunctives some are simple and some adversa¬
tive : Simple, as when we say, “ either it is day or it is
night;” adversative, as when we say, “ it is not day, but it
is night.” The difference between these is, that the sim¬
ple express nothing more than a relation of diversity ; the
adversative express a relation not barely of diversity, but
also of opposition. Add to this, that the adversatives are
definite, the simple indefinite. Thus, when we say, “ the
number three is not an even number, buft an odd,” we not
only disjoin two opposite attributes, but we definitely af-
1 Of the causal conjunctions mentioned in the text, lecause has been already considered; and some account must be given of the
two words since and as. The former of these, according to Mr Horne Tooke, is a very corrupt abbreviation, confounding together
different words and different combinations of words. To us it appears to be compounded of seand, seeing, and es, that or it; or of
sin, seen, and es. Seand and sin are the present and past participles of the Anglo-Saxon verb seon, to see. In modern English since
is used four ways; two as a preposition affecting words, and two as a conjunction affecting sentences. When used as a preposition,
it has always the signification of the past participle seen joined to thence (that is, seen and thenceforward), or else the significa¬
tion of the past participle seen only. When used as a conjunction, it has sometimes the signification of the present participle seeing,
or seeing that; and sometimes the signification of the past participle seen, or seen that. We shall give examples of all these signifi¬
cations. As a preposition signifying seen and thenceforward: “ A more amiable sovereign than George III. has not swayed
the English sceptre since the conquest." That is, “ The conquest seen (or at the completion of the sight of the conquest), and thence¬
forward, a more amiable sovereign than George III. has not swayed the English sceptre.” Since, taken in this sense, seems rather to
be a corruption of siththan or sithence, than a compound of seand and es. 2dly, As a preposition signifying seen simply : “ Did George
III. reign before or since that example ?” ■idly. As a conjunction, since means seeing that: as, “ If I should labour for any other sa¬
tisfaction but that of my own mind, it would be an effect of frenzy in me, not of hope ; since (or seeing that) it is not truth, but opi¬
nion, that can travel through the world without a passport.” Athty, It means seen that or that seen ; as, “ Since death in the end takes
from all whatsoever fortune or force takes from any one, it were a foolish madness in the shipwreck of worldly things, when all sinks
but the sorrow, to save that;” that is, “ Death in the end takes from all whatsoever fortune or force takes from any one; that seen, it
were a foolish madness,” &c.
As, the other causal conjunction mentioned in the text, is an article meaning always it, or that, or which. Take the following ex¬
ample :
She glides away under the foamy seas
As swift as darts or feather’d arrows fly.
That is, “ She glides away (with) that swiftness (with) which darts or feathered arrows fly.” In German, where as still retains its ori¬
ginal signification and use, it is written es. So is another conjunction of the same import with as, being evidently the Gothic article
sa or so, which signifies it or that.
3 As Air Harris has called therefore, wherefore, &c. collective conjunctions, we have retained the denomination, though perhaps a
more proper one might be found. It is indeed of little consequence what name any class of words be called, provided the import of the
ivords themselves be understood. Wherefore and therefore evidently denote the relation of a cause to its effects.- They are compounds
of the Saxon words h wa:r and th^er with for or vooit; and signify/or which, for those, ox for that. It is worthy of remark, that
in some parts of Scotland the common people even at this day use this for these.
3 We have already considered the word that, and seen that it is never a conjunction, but uniformly a definite article. “ The trumpet
sounds (for) that it may raise our courage ;” taking the clause “ it may raise our courage” as an abstract noun in concord with that and
governed hy for. Or the sentence may be resolved thus : “ The trumpet may raise our courage (for) that (purpose) it sounds.”
4 Mr Horne Tooke has favoured us with some ingenious remarks on the two different derivations of the word but, when used in
the two acceptations which are usually annexed to it, viz. that which it bears in the beginning of a sentence, and that which it has
in the middle. He has given it as his opinion, that this word, when employed in the former way, is corruptly put for bot, the
imperative of the Saxon verb botan, to loot, to superadd, to supply, &c. and that when used in the latter it is a contraction of be-utan,
the imperative of beon-utan, to he out. Our ancient writers made the proper distinction between the orthography of the one word and
that of the other. Gawin Douglass, in particular, although he frequently confounds the two words, and uses them improperly, does
vet abound with many instances of their proper use ; and so contrasted, as to awaken, says our author, the most inattentive reader.
Of the many examples quoted by him, we shall content ourselves with the two following:
Bot thy worke shall endure in laude and glorie,
But spot or fault condigne eterne memorie.
Bot gif the fates, but pleid,
At my pleasure sufl'erit me life to leid.
If this derivation of the word but from botan, to superadd, be just, the sentence in the text, “ the number three is not an even num¬
ber, but an odd,” will be equivalent to “ the number three is not an even number, superadd (it is) an odd number;” and if so, the
opposition is not marked (at least directly) by the word but, but by the adjectives even and odd, which denote attributes in their own
nature opposite. It is only when but has this sense that it answers to sed in Latin, or to mais in French. In the second line of the
quotation from Gawin Douglass’s Preface the word but is evidently a contraction of be-utan, and has a sense very different from
782
GRAM M A R.
Conjunc- firm the one to belong to the subject, and deny the other.
tions- But when we say, “ the number of the stars is either1 even
^"'■"'1 or odd,” though we assert one attribute to be, and the
other not to be, yet the alternative is notwithstanding left
indefinite.
As to adversative disjunctives, it has been already said,
after Mr Harris, that they imply opposition ; but the truth
seems to be, that they only unite in the same sentence
words or phrases of opposite meanings. Now it is obvious,
that opposite attributes cannot belong to the same subject;
as when we say, “ Nereus was beautiful,” we cannot super-
add to this sentence that he was ugly ; we cannot say, “ he
was beautiful hut ugly.” When there is opposition, it must
be either of the same attribute in different subjects; as
when we say, “ Brutus was a patriot, hut Caesar was not;”
or of different attributes in the same subject, as when we
say, “ Gorgias was a sophist, hut not a philosopher;” or
of different attributes in different subjects, as "when we
say, “ Plato was a philosopher, hut Hippias was a sophist.”
I he conjunctions used for all these purposes have been
called absolute adversatives, we think improperly, as the
opposition is not marked by the conjunctions, but by the
words or sentences which they serve to connect. Mr
Locke, speaking of the word hut) says, that “ it sometimes
intimates a stop of the mind, in the course it was going,
before it came to the end of itto which Mr Horne
Tooke replies with truth, that hut itself is the farthest of
any word in the language from intimating a stop. On the
contrary, it always intimates something to follow; inso¬
much that when any man in discourse finishes his words
with hut, instead of supposing him to have stopped, we al¬
ways ask, hut what ?
Besides the adversatives already mentioned, there are
two other species, of which the most important are unless
and although. For example, “ Troy will be taken, unless
the palladium be preserved ; Troy will be taken, although
Hector defend it.’ The nature of these adversatives may
thus be explained. As every event is naturally allied to
its cause, so by parity of reason it is opposed to its prevent¬
ive ; and as every cause is either adequate or inadequate
(inadequate when it endeavours without being effectual),
so in like manner is every preventive. Now adequate pre¬
ventives are expressed by such adversatives as unless:
“ Troy will be taken, unless the palladium be preserved ;”
that is, this alone is sufficient to prevent it. The inade¬
quate are expressed by such adversatives as although:
“ Troy will be taken, although Hector defend it;” that is,
Hector’s defence will prove ineffectual. These may be
called adversatives adequate and inadequate.
Such is the doctrine of Mr Harris, which, although we
can discover in it no determinate meaning, we have ven¬
tured with others to retail, from respect to our readers,
who may be more perspicacious than ourselves. The au¬
thor was a man of great learning, and the subject, as he
has treated it, appears to be intricate. But whatever sense
or nonsense there may be in what he says of causes and
preventives, adequate and inadequate, we have no hesita¬
tion in affirming that he has totally mistaken the import of
the words' unless and although. From these being called
both preventives, the one adequate and the other inade¬
quate, an unwary reader might be led to infer that they
denote the same idea or the same relation ; and that the
whole difference between them is, that the expression of
the one is more forcible than that of the other. Nothing,
however, can be further than this from the truth. The
meaning of unless is directly opposite to that of although.
Unless2 and though are both verbs in the imperative mode ;
the former signifying take away or dismiss, the latter al¬
low, permit, grant, yield, assent. This being the case,
“ Troy will be taken unless the palladium be preserved,”
is a sentence equivalent to “ Remove the palladium be
preserved (taking the palladium he preserved as an abstract
noun, the preservation of the palladium^) Troy will be
taken. Again, “ froy will be taken, although Hector
defend it,” is the same as “ Troy will be taken allow Hec¬
tor (to) defend it.” The idea, therefore, expressed by un¬
less is that of the removal of one thing to make way for
another; the idea expressed by although* is that of allow-
that of bot in the preceding hoe. the meaning of the couplet is, “ Superadd (to something said or supposed to be said beforef thv
vvorke shall endure in Jaude and glorie, be out (id est, wthout) spot or fault.” In the following passage^DonnV^he wS?/
although written m the same manner, is used in both its meanings : “You must answer that shewas brought very near the fire and
bofdprs tn > Pi°Wn Vi ; .°r1! Sn’ Flf Sh-e WaS Fovokedit.° 11 b7 a divine inspiration. But that another divine inspiration moved the be-
. e s to believe that she did therein a noble act, this act offer’s might have been calumniated.” That is, “You must answer that
t Obr10USht Vyr{ near the fire’ “ SuPeradd (to that answer) be out (or unless or •without, for, as will be seen by and by all
whUe 110 Same mi,)0n) ?at an0t)1Ver inspiration moved,” &c. To these remarks and examples it may be worth
say, “ He came ffoirho^Ss br^S? ^ ^ ^ ^ WITHOUT ’ as nolhin£ is m°re common than to hear a clown
Having mentioned without as a word of the same import with lut when distinguished from tmf it mnv nnt Uo + • j
that word here; for though in modern Kngliah it is entirely conBned to the oE of »TeStfon ? 7, &rZ v'o e
ently either as a preposition or a conjunction. Without, then, is nothing but the imperative wyrthan utan from the Ano-l ^
and Gothic verb weorthax, w.than, which in the Anglo-Saxon language is iLo“Serwlth tlm verb , Anglo-Saxon
this derivation, which is Mr Horne Tooke’s, the word without, whether cdled conffincUon "preposition !s the’ Ze as d
utf, out!1 6 ltS inip°rt’ Sh°uld 11 after a11 be nothmS more than a impound of with, which signifies to join, and sometimes to be, and
> linker is nothing more than a distributive pronoun which every body understands, and or we have already exnlained
but more andenUv'irw 6 "T °f ^ueen Ellzabeth, says Mr Horne Tooke, this conjunction was sometimes written'fmeto or onelesse ■
out more anciently it was written o?iles and sometimes onlesse. Thus, m the trial of Sir John Oldcastle in r*
governance ’^by'sI^T6 FhlofT/n^^M^d T"’ Z' "Z" Tfb Wer£ br°U^ht out of the W-”’ So, in “ TheTaged
shah not understande. “ >,o man shall be crowned, onles he lawfully fight.” “ The soul waxeth feeble onle--- th ' ^-ve
r shed ” “ Tt eannnt hprrvnm„ J s xIle b0Ui waxetn xeeDie, onlesse the same be che-
distt or remove S' by the graCe °f G°(b N°W °NLES 18 the imperative of the Anglo-Saxon verb oxdesan, h
Les, the imperative of uesan, which has the same meaning as onlesan, is likewise used sometimes bv dd nrv’fpvo • *
less. Instances might be given in abundance from Gawin Douglass and Ben Jonson • but nerW iT maYbetf mnre • " f °f
remark that it is this same imperative les which, placed at the end of nouns, and coalescing wHh then? vTn f imP°[tance to
SU "vr a<(lectlve®as hopeless, restless, deathless, motionless, &c. that is, dismiss hope, rest, death morion &c ’ g ° °Ur angua^e
whiS th^pkice^f theseTw^OT^i^suppHed^^he^8 ‘o W or%nle,» as well as the manner in
derivation wh^chwe have’adoptedl^The^ Greelf.!..«(sVongly justify his
fc ,1ml. And m the same manner do we sometimes supply its place in English by lu’l mlhZTi Uml i„t ATI ' “*1 n'e'tn
per just to add, that, according to the same author the coniunction lest is a rnntrLi™ lf\&c; 11 mav be P1'0'
that leal with the article fi.her eapressed or^S no more ^ “““ ‘ ““
A“,mgh a compounded of .7 or and IW, ,W> „r, as the vuigar more purely to/> a„d N„w
Conjunc¬
tions.
G R A M M A R. 783
Conjunc- ing one thing to coexist with another, with which it is ap-
tions. parently incompatible.
Before we take leave of this subject, we might treat, as
others have treated, of adverbial conjunctions, and conjunc¬
tions of various other denominations.1 But of multiplying
subdivisions there is no end; and systems in which they
abound convey for the most part no information. The
nature of conjunctions can be thoroughly understood only
by tracing each to its original in some parent or cognate
tongue ; and when that shall be done in other languages
with as much success as it has been done by Mr Horne
Tooke in English, then, and not till then, may we hope to
see a rational, comprehensive, and consistent theory of this
part of speech. Then too shall we get rid of all that far¬
rago of useless distinctions into conjunctive, adjunctive,
disjunctive, subjunctive, copulative, continuative, subcon-
tinuative, positive, sup-positive, causal, collective, prevent¬
ive, adequate and inadequate, adversative, conditional, illa¬
tive, and the like, which explain nothing, and which serve
only to veil ignorance and perplex sagacity.
That Mr Horne Tooke’s principles will apply exactly to
the conjunctions of every language both dead and living, is
what our limited knowledge of these languages does not
authorize us positively to affirm. It is, however, a strong
presumption in favour of his opinion, that illiterate savages,
the first cultivators of language, are little likely to have
sent out their faculties in quest of words to denote the ab¬
stract relations subsisting among their ideas, when we have
such evidence as his book affords, that the names of the
most common substances and qualities could answer that
and every other purpose, which in the ordinary intercourse
of life can be answered by the faculty of speech. It is a
further presumption in his favour, that in the rudest lan¬
guages there are few if any conjunctions; and that even
in others which are the most highly polished, such as Greek
and Latin, as well as English, many of those words which
have been called conjunctions are obviously resolvable into
other parts of speech. Thus ccXXa, translated but, is evi¬
dently the neuter gender of either the nominative or accu¬
sative plural of aX/.og, another ; and when used as a con¬
junction, it intimates that you are going to add something
to what you have already said. Cceterum has the same Preposi.
meaning, and is nothing but iripov. Mais, but, in French,
is the Latin majus; ut, uti, art, quod, is the relative pro-
noun. Of quocirca, quia, prceterea, antequam, quenquam,
quemvis, quantumvis, quamlibet, &c. the resolution is too
obvious to require being mentioned. Where such resolu¬
tions as these can be made, or when the conjunctions of
any particular tongue can be traced to their origin in any
other, there needs be no dispute about their true import;
but when the case is otherwise, and the conjunction either
appears to be an original word, or is derived from a source
to which it cannot be traced, we would advise such of our
readers as wish to speak or write correctly, to dismiss from
their minds all consideration of copulatives, continuatives,
causals, and disjunctives, with the rest of that jargon which
we have already mentioned; and to inquire diligently in
what manner and for what purpose the conjunction in
question is used by the best writers, both ancient and mo¬
dern, of the particular language which they are studying.
This will indeed be found a work of labour ; but it appears
to us to be the only means left of discovering the precise
relations which such conjunctions were intended to ex¬
press ; and, by consequence, of knowing what words or
sentences they are fitted to connect, so as to produce a
style at once accurate and perspicuous.
2. Of Prepositions.
By Mr Harris and his followers, a preposition is defined
to be a part of speech devoid itself of signification, but so
formed as to unite two words that are significant, and that
refuse to coalesce or unite of themselves. We have al¬
ready expressed our opinion of that theory which holds
certain words to be devoid of signification ; but its absur¬
dity, in the present instance, is more than ever glaring.
Concerning the number of prepositions, it is well known
that hitherto authors have never been agreed. The ancient
Greek grammarians admitted only eighteen, the ancient
Latin grammarians above fifty ; though the moderns, Sanc-
tius, Scioppius, Perizonius, Vossius, and Ruddiman, have
endeavoured to lessen the number without fixing it. Bishop
thaf or thauf is evidently the imperative thaf or thafig of the verb thafian or thafigan, to allow,permit, grant, yield, assent; and
thafig becomes thah, though, thong, and thoch, as Gawin Douglass and other Scottish authors write it, by a transition of the same
sort, and at least as easy as that by which hafuc becomes hawk. It is no small confirmation of this etymology, that anciently they
often used all he, albeit, all had, all were, all give, instead of although ; and that as the Latin si (if) means be it, and nisi and sine,
unless and without, mean he not, so etsi, although, means and he it. _ _ , , ,
1 In a work of this kind, which professes to treat of universal grammar, it would be impertinent to waste our own and our reader s
time on a minute analysis of each conjunction which may occur in any one particular language. We shall therefore pursue the sub¬
ject no further; but shall subjoin Mr Horne Tooke’s table of the English conjunctions, referring those who are desirous ot fuller
satisfaction to his ingenious work entitled The Diversions of Parley.
If
An
Unless
Eke
Yet
Still
Else
Though
or
Tho’
But
But
Without
And
j- Are the Imperatives -
( Gif 'j fGiF
An- I An an-
Onles I Onlesan
Eac Eakan
Get Getan
Stell Stellan
Thafig ^ Of their respective verbs i Thafugan
Thaf
Bot
Be-utan
Wyrth-utan
[An ad j
Lest is the participle lesed, of lesan, to dismiss.
SlTHTHAN
Thafian j
Botan
Beon-utan
Wyrthan-utan Tobeout.
A nan ad Dare congeriem.
To give.
To grant.
To dismiss.
To add.
To get.
To put.
To diminish.
To allow.
To boot, or superadd.
To he out.
Since
Syne
Seand-es
SlTHTHE
or
- is the participle of Seon, to see.
.Sin-es
That is the article or pronoun that.
As is es, a German article, meaning it, that, or which. And
So is sa or so, a Gothic article of the same import with ab.
784 GRAMMA R.
Preposi- Wilkins thinks that thirty-six are sufficient; and Girard
tioiis. says that the French language has done the business effec-
tually with thirty-two. But if prepositions be words de¬
void of signification, why should there be disputes respecting
their numbers? or why in any language should there be more
than one preposition, since a single unmeaning mark of con¬
nection would certainly answer the purpose as well as a thou¬
sand ? The cipher, which has no value of itself, and only
serves, if we may use the language of grammarians, to con¬
note and consignify, and to change the value of figures, is not
several and various, but uniformly one and the same. That
“ the preposition is so formed as to unite two words which
refuse to coalesce or unite of themselves,” is indeed true ;
and this union it effects, not by having no signification of
its own, but by signifying the relation by which the things
expressed by the united words are connected in nature.
Prepositions are to be accounted for in much the same
manner as the cases of nouns. .The necessity of this spe¬
cies of words, or of some equivalent invention, follows
from the impossibility of having in language a distinct com¬
plex term for each distinct collection of ideas which we
may have occasion to put together in discourse. The ad¬
dition or subtraction of any one idea to or from a collec¬
tion of ideas, makes it a different collection ; and if, after
either of these operations, it were to be expressed by the
same word as before, nothing could ensue but misrepresen¬
tation and falsehood. Now, to use in language a different
and distinct complex term for each different and distinct
collection of ideas, is equally impossible as to use a dis¬
tinct particular term for each particular and individual idea.
To supply, therefore, the place of the complex terms which
are wanting in a language, are the cases of nouns and pre¬
positions employed; by the aid of which, complex and ge¬
neral terms are prevented from being infinite or too nume¬
rous, and are used only for those collections of ideas which
we have most frequent occasion to mention in discourse.
By means of prepositions this end is obtained in the most
simple manner. For, having occasion to mention a collec¬
tion of ideas, for which there is no single complex term in
the language, we either take that complex term which in¬
cludes the greatest number, though not all, of the ideas we
would communicate; or else we take that complex term
which includes all and the fewest ideas more than those
we would communicate ; and then, by the help of the pre¬
position, we either make up the deficiency in the one case,
or retrench the superfluity in the other. For instance,
having occasion to mention a house of a particular descrip¬
tion, and knowing that the term house is too general for
our purpose, and that the building we have in view has no Preposi-
appropriate name, we say, perhaps, “ a house with a party- tions-
wall,” or a “ house without a roof.” In the first instance,
the complex term house is deficient, and the preposition
directs to add what is wanting ; in the second instance,
the complex term is redundant, as it denotes a complete
house. The preposition, therefore, directs to take away
what is superfluous.
Now, considering prepositions in this the most simple
light, as serving only to limit or modify general terms, it
is absolutely necessary that they should have meanings of
their own ; for otherwise, how could we, in the instance
before us, make known by them our intention, whether of
adding to, or retrenching from, the same general term
house. If, to a disciple of Mr Harris, we should say, a
house join ; he would reply join what ? But he would not
contend that join is an indeclinable word which has no
meaning of its own, because he knows that it is the impe¬
rative of a verb, of which the other parts are still in use ;
and its own meaning is clear, though the sentence is not
completed. If, instead of join, we should say to him, a
house with, he would still ask the same question, with
what ? But if we were to discourse with him concerning
the word with, he would probably tell us that with is a
preposition, an indeclinable word, which is itself devoid of
signification, but so formed as to unite two words that are
significant. And yet it would be evident by his question,
that he felt it had a meaning of its own ; which is in reality
the same as join.1 Indeed, so far has always been plainly
perceived, that with and without are directly opposite and
contradictory; and it would puzzle the most acute philo¬
sopher to discover opposition and contradiction in two
words where neither of them had any signification. Wil¬
kins, therefore, has well expressed their meaning, where
he says, that with is a preposition “ relating to the notion
of social, or circumstance of society affirmed; and that
without is a preposition relating to the same notion of so¬
cial, or circumstance of society denied.”
But to denote the relations of adding and taking away,
is not the only purpose for which prepositions are em¬
ployed. They all indeed serve to modify some general
term or general affirmation, but not precisely in the same
way as with and without. It has already been observed,
that words significant of those things wffiich coincide in
nature, coalesce with one another in syntax, wfithout being
beholden to any auxiliary tie. For instance, an adjective
coalesces with its substantive, a verb with its nominative;
a noun expressing an object acted upon, with a verb de-
_ 1 This account of prepositions is taken from Mr Horne Tooke, who adds, that the only difference between the two words ■with and
join, is, that the other parts of the Gothic and Anglo-Saxon verb withan, to join (of which with is the imperative), have ceased to be
employed in the language./ As with means join, so the corresponding French preposition avec means, and have that, or have that also.
But though with, as theumperative of withak, means join, it has sometimes a very different signification. Mr Tyrwhit in his Glos¬
sary has truly observed, that with and by are often synonymous. They certainly "are so ; but then with seems to be an abbreviation
of the imperative of wyrthan, to be; as without is of wyrthan-utan, to be out. This being the case, our two instances in the text
will stand thus : a house join a party-wall; a house be-out a roof. Nor let any one be surprised that we make no difference between
the conjunction without and the preposition without. The word is the same, whether it be employed to unite words or sentences.
Prepositions were originally, and for a long time, classed with conjunctions; and when first separated from them, they were only
distinguished by the name of prepositive conjunctions. They are generally used to unite words, but not alwavs; for we may say in¬
differently, “ I came after his departure," or “ I came after he departed." By the greater part of grammarians indeed, after, when
employed as in the first sentence, is classed with the prepositions; when employed as in the second, it is classed with the conjunc¬
tions. The word, however, is the same in both sentences ; its meaning is the same, and its effect precisely the same. The only cir¬
cumstance of discrimination is, that in the first example it is prefixed to a noun, “ his departurein the second, it is prefixed to a
nominative and a verb, “ he departed.” But even the nominative and the verb, thus applied, express no more than a specifying
circumstance annexed to the other proposition, “ I cameand whenever they are rightly apprehended by the mind, they are stripped
of their prepositionary form, and considered abstractedly under a new phasis, “ his departure.” Thus then the two sentences are sv-
nonymous in every respect, excepting the apparent grammatical nature of the words “ his departure,” and “ he departed;” and
even these are reduced to one grammatical form in the mind, whenever the import of the propositions is rightly apprehended.
Without, and many other prepositions, especially in the learned languages, are used exactly as after is used in the two instances which
we have given. Mr Horne Tooke quotes Lord Mansfield for saying, “ It cannot be read without the attorney-general consents to it.”
This, in modern English, is not the common phraseology; but it offends not against any principle of grammar. The nominative and
the verb are here, as in the former instance, considered as an abstract noun. '■'t Jt cannot be read without the consent of the attor-
ney—general.”
GRAMMAR.
Preposi- noting action ; and an adverb with its verb. Take the
foHowing example: “ The splendid sun genially warmeth
the fertile earth. But suppose we were desirous to modify
this affirmation by the addition of other substantives, air,
for instance, and beams ; how would these coincide with
the other words of the sentence, or under what character
could they be introduced ? Not as nominatives or accusa¬
tives to the verb, for both these places are already filled ; the
nominative by the substance sun, which is certainly the
agent in this operation ; the accusative by the substance
earth, which is as certainly the object acted upon. Not as
qualities of the sun and earth; for qualities inhering in
their substances can only be expressed by adjectives, and
the words air and beams are both substantives. Here then
we must have recourse to prepositions; but we can em¬
ploy only such prepositions as point out the relations which
the air and the beams have to the sun warming the earth.
In English we should say, “ the splendid sun with his beams
genially warmeth through the air the fertile earth.” The
sentence, as before, remains entire and one ; the substan¬
tives i equired are both introduced; and not a w ord which
was there before is detruded from its proper place. The
import of with we have already discovered ; it directs to
unite the beams to the sun, as jointly with him performing
the operation. But the air has no other connection with
this operation, than as the medium or passage between the
sun and the earth ; and therefore the preposition through^
must denote that relation which subsists between an object
in motion and the medium in which it moves ; nor could a
preposition of a different import have been employed, with¬
out altering the meaning of the whole sentence.2
Mr Harris is of opinion that most, if not all, prepositions
were originally formed to denote the relations of place. For
this opinion we see not sufficient evidence. If indeed we
could suppose the inventors or earliest improvers of language
to have at all concerned themselves with relations as ab¬
stracted from the objects related, we must believe that
those which first attracted their attention were the relations
subsisting among themselves, and the various bodies with
which they were surrounded. We must likewise agree
with our author, that place is the grand relation which
bodies 01 natural substances maintain at all times to one
another; but we do not therefore think that it would at¬
tract the earliest notice of untaught barbarians. On the
contrai y, we are or opinion that mankind must have made
very considerable progress in science before they attempted
to abstract place from body; an attempt which, according
to some of the most profound philosophers,3 is not only
difficult, but absolutely impracticable. But whatever be
in this, the relations of cause and effect, of duration and
motion, are in themselves as obvious, and as likely to
arrest the attention and obtain names, as those of place.
Amongst men totally illiterate they are evidently more so ;
for pain and pleasure would suggest some idea of cause
and effect as matters of importance. There is, however,
no probability that the inventors of any language had the
least idea of abstract relations. They doubtless expressed
complex conceptions by nouns and verbs, significant at
once of the particular ideas and of the various relations by
which they viewed those ideas as combined together in a
complex conception. Afterwards, when men’s minds be¬
came enlarged, and when, from the fluctuation insepara¬
ble from a living language, objects or ideas received new
names, the old words, whether nouns or verbs, wdiich were
originally employed to express a particular complex con¬
ception, of which certain particular relations made a part,
might be retained for the purpose of denoting those and
all similar relations ; and thus verbs and nouns w ould de¬
generate into particles bearing the names of prepositions
and conjunctions. For instance, one Anglo-Saxon being
desirous to communicate to another his own conception of
a house with a party-wall, and having, we shall suppose,
no such word in his tongue as a preposition, would natu¬
rally utter the word house, desiring his friend, at the same
time, to add to that well-known sound another sound (ut¬
tering it) significant of the particular circumstance want¬
ing to complete his complex conception, viz. a house with
(that xsjoin) a party-wall. The word with, as the impera¬
tive of a verb, denotes of course three ideas combined
together, namely, a command or wish, an affirmation, and
the idea of junction. But when the verb withan was dis¬
missed from the English language, the imperative with was
still retained; but losing its verbal and modal nature, it
was thenceforth employed to denote only one of the three
ideas for which it originally stood, viz. the idea of junc¬
tion. And thus it is that verbs, and also nouns and adjec¬
tives, in passing from one language to another, may be¬
come prepositions4 and conjunctions. Thus too it is that
some of those prepositions come to denote the contiguous,
and some the detached, relation of body. The conti¬
guous, as wrhen we say, “ Caius walked with a staff;” that
is, “ Cams join a staff, walked;” “ the statue stood upon5
a pedestalthat is, “ the statue stood (the place of its
standing) the higher part of a pedestal;” (i the river ran
785
Preposi¬
tions.
the “ ia„s"l<’ther’, Sa-TS Mr Hr'J0" e' th"n the , or the
eiples, stands tin,,: “ The ZThkZZl 2 t 80 ** Z sel"«’«\i" «* ‘o*l, resolved upon Ms prin-
the fertile earth.” And in n A I' “r <0r’ ‘h? air beinS or meiijm)-
English, or its equivalent preposition in any Wull • ^ prTeP(!sltl°” ^ lnsta^e where through is used in
-T t6 L?in ™d Ita!ian P^piitionV, the French and thefSpanish ^por^ ^ “ SpamSh and “ French
speak nonsense. “ TteVm^wa^etl^ oi through, we should in the one case alter the meaning, and in the other
that the meaning of each be attended to consequence, of the air. So necessary is it that prepositions have a meaning, and
King’s Origin of and The ^m^nphyoflihl^T^611 °f Aberdeen- See The PrinciPl™ of Human Knowledge, Law’s Notes 0n
the A,™,!'™ £ Sbwe™“” Tnrepo0s“tfo’„T’„Sil3l’ if0"’ &C' T'"* '#Fre"d’' bc“mes «•» Proposition cte, to which
in French, and mean, ’ Sir feit nece^rv A , ”T ""'’'"i "VN ‘“iW6- or in Italian, become, ,ms
be converted into urenositinns Tt, r i 1 ^ ver^s .an(^ nouns sp°Md always pass from one language to another, in order to
PlaZ The Latin Z is "L ^ ident^ upted imperative of *4*-, m 'disjoinjo Z
5 Up upon over 'hove nhn„r ’ 1, n 18 ^ie lmPeratlve which has the same meaning as
unnnrJSr,;; atfhe a Luve, AA’ “* C<"”mon *»» Unification. In the Anflo/aAn, nFa,
superlative ufem^st t ^ ’ altisnmns- Ufa or x™ • comparative ufera, ofere, or ofer, oner or upper ;
words the sentences in the tevt ^ * ’ ^eufan5 B10rANi 0:N hove, alove. If this be a just account of the origin of these
rTnilcr a sand ” ‘ the - - ’ ^ °CCUr’ wil1 run thus: “ The statue 8tood ™ h^h a pedestalthe river
ning &c. and place is rather infeed ? 'ft the ^ And here we ^ observe, that the mere relation between standing, run!
tuef and every one knows that it f l|le V6rb ltSe, tban exPressed b7 a separate word. The reason is obvious. For if a sta-
eance there ma’v be in it fnr 0 i •USt stand on some thing as well as at some time. There is therefore no necessity, whatever ele-
V0I x ' ’ niploying any word to denote that relation, which is commonly believed to be signified bv on ,• but it is
5 G
GRAMMAR.
786
Preposi- over a sand,” that is, “ the river ran (the place of its run-
tions. ning) the higher part of a sand.” The detached relation,
as when we say, “ He is going to1 Italy, that is, “ He is
going, the end (of his journey) Italy “ the sun is risen
above the hills,” that is, “ the sun is risen (the place) the
top of the hills;” “ these figs came from Turkey,” that is
“ these figs came beginning (their journey at) Turkey.”
Besides the detached relation of body, Mr Harris is of
opinion that the preposition from denotes two other rela¬
tions not less different than those of motion and rest. Thus,
if we say, “ That lamp hangs from the ceiling,” the prepo¬
sition/rom assumes a character of quiescence. But if we
say, “ That lamp is falling from the ceiling,” the preposi¬
tion in such case assumes a character of motion. But this Preposi.
is evidently a mistake. The detached relation in the for- tlons-
mer instance of the Jigs, as well as the motion and rest in
the present instances, are expressed not by the preposition,
but by the verbs, came, falls, hangs. The word from has
as clear, as precise, and at all times as uniform and une¬
quivocal a meaning, as any word in the language. From
means merely beginning, and nothing else. It is simply
the Anglo-Saxon and Gothic noun frum, beginning, origin,
source, fountain, author? Now if this meaning be applied
to Mr Harris’s instances, from will speak clearly for itself,
without the assistance of the interpreting verbs, which are
supposed by him to vary its character.
necessary to insert, between the verb and pedestal, a word significant of place, that pedestal may not be mistaken, by an ignorant per¬
son, for a portion of time, or any thing else connected with the standing of the statue. _
1 That to is significant of detached relation, is the language of Mr Harris, which, though it may be allowed in a loose and vulgar
sense, is certainly not philosophically just. The preposition to, in Dutch written toe and tot, is the Gothic substantive taui or tatjhts,
signifying act, effect, result, or consummation ; which Gothic substantive is itself no other than the past participle tauid or tauids of
tlfe verb taujan, agere. And it is obvious that what is done is terminated, ended, finished. In the Teutonic this verb is written
tuan or tuon ; whence the modern German thun, and its preposition tu. In the Anglo-Saxon, the verb is teogan, and the pre¬
position to. Do, the auxiliary verb, as it has been called, is derived from the same root, and is indeed the same word as to. Ihe dif¬
ference between a t and a u is so very small, that an etymologist knows by the practice of languages, and an anatomist by the reason
of that practice, that in the derivation of words it is scarcely worth regarding. To support this etymon of to, Mr Horne Tooke gives
a similar instance in the Latin tongue. The preposition ad, he says, is merely the past participle of agere, which past participle is
likewise employed as a Latin substantive. He exhibits the derivation of ad thus :
( AGDUM AGD AD
Agitum—agtum k or or or
(aCTUM-^ ACT AT.
The most superficial reader of Latin verse, he observes, knows how readily the Homans dropped their final um. And a little considera¬
tion of the organs and practice of speech will convince him how easily agd or act would become ad or at; as indeed this preposition was
indifferently written either way by the ancients. By the later writers of Rome, the preposition was written ad with d only, in order
to distinguish it from the other corrupt word called the conjunction at; w'hich for the same reason was written with the t only,
though that likewise had anciently been written, as the preposition, either ad or at. The preposition to and the conjunction too in
English, are both in svntax and in meaning used exactly as the preposition ad and the conjunction at in Latin. From the specimens
prefixed to Johnson’s Dictionary, as a history of our language, it appears that, as late as the reign of Elizabeth, the preposition and
conjunction were both written with one o. And it has been shown in the first volume of the Transactions of the Royal Society of
Edinburgh, that to and too, as well as ad and at, are precisely of the same import. The only difference, in either language, between
the preposition and the conjunction, is, that the former directs, as a modification of some previous proposition, the addition of some
substantive or noun; the latter, sometimes a sentence or clause of a sentence considered abstractedly as a noun ; and that, when the
former is used, the preposition to which the modifying circumstance is to be added, is formally expressed, but omitted when the lat¬
ter is employed. Thus Denham says,
Wisdom he has, and to his wisdom courage ;
Temper to that, and unto all success.
In this example, every succeeding circumstance is by the preposition to marked as an addition to the preceding. “ Wisdom he has,
and courage additional to his wisdom.” But Denham might with equal propriety have omitted the object which to governs, or to
which it directs something to be added, though he must then, from the custom of the language, have employed the conjunction in¬
stead of the preposition. As,
Wisdom he has, and couragc-tao.
That this mode of expression would have been more concise than, and as intelligible as, the other, “ Wisdom he has, and courage to
his wisdom,” must be evident to every one.
Not only is the object governed by to omitted, when it is represented by a substantive in the context, but also when it is involved
in a preposition; anil then the conjunction, as it is called, is always used. Thus,
Let those eyes that view
The daring crime, behold the vengeance too.
So, “ He made him prisoner, and killed him too." In the one example, the circumstance of beholding the vengeance is stated as an
addition to the viewing of the crime; and in the other, the killing him is stated as an addition to the making him a prisoner. In both
examples, the object governed by too is the amount of the preceding proposition taken abstractedly as a noun or substantive. Thus
then it appears, that to and too, though classed the one with the prepositions, and the other with the conjunctions, are really one and
the same word. The same is true of ad and at. Thus, “ Ad hoc, promissa barba et capilli efferaverant speciem oris,” signifies
“ Additional to this, his long beard and hair had given a wildness to his aspect.” But when the object governed by ad is not formally-
stated, ad itself is classed with the conjunctions, and written differently, at. Thus Terence, “ Ph. Fac ita ut jussi, deducantur isti.
Pa. Faciam. Ph. At diligenter. Pa. Fiet. Ph. At mature.” By the means of at, the circumstances of diligence and haste
are superadded to the action commanded. “ Ph. It is not enough that you do it; you must do it carefully too. Pa. Well, it shall
be carefully done. Ph. In good time too." At, taken in this sense, is most commonly employed, like the English but, to mark
the unexpected union of incongruous objects; as, “ Aulam tyranni frequentabat, at patriam amabat;” literally, “ He frequented
the court of the tyrant; joined even to that he loved his country.” “ He was a courtier and a patriot too" But if ad and at in Latin,
and to and too in English, be derived from verbs which signify to do or act, it may be asked how they come themselves to denote addi¬
tion. The answer is obvious. If a man should utter a sentence, and to the end of it subjoin the very general word do, the person to
whom he spoke would naturally ask, do what ? and this question would, of course, produce an additional sentence or clause of a sen¬
tence. Besides, it is to be observed, that agere, from which the Latin preposition is derived, as well as the Gothic verb, which is the
source of the English particles, means not only tu do, but also to adduce or bring; so that when we say, “ he is going to Italy,” we
do nothing more than affirm that “ he is going,” and desire the person to whom we speak, “ to add Italy to the journey.”
From this derivation of the preposition to, it will be seen at once upon what principle it is employed to mark the infinitive mode..
In the learned languages that mode is generally known by its termination; but in English it would be impossible, without the aid of
to, or of some other word significant of action, to distinguish the verb love from the noun or substantive.
2 This derivation is Mr Horne Tooke’s; and he supports it by the following sentence: Ne rccdd ge se the on frurnman worhte, he
ivorhte uicepman and •wifnien; which is the Anglo-Saxon of St Matthew, xix. 4, “ Annon legistis, quod qui eos in principio creavit, cre-
avit eos marem et feminam ?”
GRAM M A R. 787
Preposi- These figs came from Turkey.
ti0118- That \&m\) falls from the ceiling.
That lamp hangs from the ceiling.
Came is a complex term for one species of motion ; falls
is a complex term for another species of motion ; and hangs
is a complex1 2 term for a species of attachment. Have we
occasion to communicate or mention the commencement or
beginning of these motions, and of this attachment, and
also the place where they commence or begin? To have
complex terms for each occasion of this sort is absolutely
impossible ; and therefore nothing can be more natural or
more simple than to add the signs of those ideas, viz. the
word beginning, which will remain always the same, and
the name of the place, which will perpetually vary. Thus,
These figs came—beginning Turkey.
That lamp falls—beginning ceiling.
That lamp hangs—beginning ceiling.
That is,
Turkey ihe place of beginning to come.
Ceiling \he place of beginning to fall.
Ceiling the place of beginning to hang.
It has been said by no less a man than Bishop Wilkins,
that from refers primarily to place, and secondarily to time.
But the truth is, that from relates to every thing to which
beginning relates, and to nothing else.
From morn till night the eternal larum rang.
That is, the “ larum rang beginning morning,” or morn¬
ing being the time of its beginning, till night.
As from always denotes beginning, so to and till always
denote the end. There is, however, this difference be¬
tween them, that to denotes the end of any thing ; till the
end only of time. We may say indifferently, “ From morn
to night,” or <£ from morn till night, the eternal larum
rang but we cannot say, “ These figs came from Turkey
till England.” That till can, with propriety, be opposed
to from only when we are talking of time, is evident; for
it is a word compounded of to and while, that is, time.
And as the coalescence of these two words to-while took
place in the language long before the present superfluous
use of the article the, the phrase, “ From morn till night”
is neither more nor less than “ From morn to time night.”
When we say, “ from morn to night,” the word time is
omitted as unnecessary.
Besides from, Mr Harris mentions over as significant
sometimes of motion and sometimes of rest; and quotes as
instances the two following passages from Milton:
 To support uneasy steps
Over the burning marl.
Here, says he, over denotes motion. Again,
 He with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamoured.
Here over denotes rest. But the truth is, that over de¬
notes neither motion nor rest in either of these passages.
In the first quotation, indeed, motion is implied ; but it is
implied in the word steps, and not in over, which denotes
only that the place of the steps was the top of the burn¬
ing marl. In the second quotation, rest is implied, and
that too a particular species of rest; but it is implied, or
rather expressed, by the verb hung, and over denotes the
place of that species of rest.
But though the original use of prepositions was to de- Preposi-
note the relations of body, they could not be confined to tions.
this office only. They by degrees extended themselves to
subjects incorporeal, and came to denote relations, as well
intellectual as local. Thus, because in point of place he who
is above has commonly the advantage of him who is below ;
hence we transfer over and under1 to dominion and obe¬
dience. Of a king we say, “ he ruled over his people and
of a soldier, “ he served under his general.” So too we say,
with thought; without attention ; thinking over a subject;
under anxiety ; from fear ; through jealousy, and the like.
All which instances, wuth many others of a similar kind,
show that the first words of men, like their first ideas, had
an immediate reference to sensible objects ; and that in
after days, when they began to discern with their intellect,
they took those words which they found already made, and
transferred them by metaphor to intellectual conceptions.
Amongst the relations which may be considered rather as
intellectual than corporeal, are those of cause and conse¬
quence ; and for the denoting of these we have two pre¬
positions, which sometimes appear in direct opposition to
one another, and at other times may exchange places with¬
out injury to the sense.
“ Well! ’tis e’en so! I have the London disease they
call love. I am sick of my husband, and for my gallant.”
(Wycherley’s Country Wife.)
Here of and for seem almost placed in opposition ; at
least their effects in the sentence appear to be very differ¬
ent ; for, by the help of these two prepositions alone, and
without the assistance of any other words, she expresses
the twm contrary affections of loathing and desire. The
truth, however, is, that the author, if it had pleased him,
might have used of where he has employed for, and for
where he has put of. This is evident from the following
quotation from the Sad Shepherd:
Marian. Come, Amie, you’ll go with us.
Amie. I am not well.
Lionel. She’s sick of the young shepherd that bekist her.
In the same manner we may, with equal propriety, say,
“ We are sick o/hunger or, “ We are sick/or hunger.”
And in both cases we shall have expressed precisely the
same thing, with only this difference, that, in the former
sentence, we declare sickness to be a consequence; in the
latter we declare hunger to be a cause. But to return to the
Country Wife, that poor lady seems to have had a com¬
plication of distempers; she had at least two disorders ; a
sickness of loathing, and a sickness of love. She was sick
for disgust, and sick for love. She was
Sick of disgust for her husband.
Sick ofiowcfor her gallant.
Sick for disgust of her husband.
Sick/jr love </her gallant.
In the first sentence, as thus stated, sickness is declared to
be the consequence of disgust, of which her husband is de¬
clared to be the cause. In the second, sickness is declared
to be the consequence of love, of which her gallant is declar¬
ed to be the cause. In the third sentence, disgust is de¬
clared to be the cause of her sickness, and the consequence
or offspring of her husband. In the fourth, love is declar¬
ed to be the cause of her sickness, and the consequence or
offspring of her gallant.
1 These are complex terms because they are verbs. Each denotes an affirmation and time; and, combined with these, came and
falls denote motion, and hangs denotes rest.
2 Under and beneath, though by the sound they seem to have little connection, are yet in fact almost the same word, and may very
well supply each other’s place. Under is nothing but on-neder, and beneath is compounded of the imperative be and the noun neath.
Neath uncompounded having slipped away from our language, would perhaps be unintelligible, had not the nouns nether and neiher~
most still continued in common use. Neath, Anglo-Saxon, ncothan, neothe; Hutch, neden ; Danish, ned; German, niedre; and Swedish,
nedre and neder; is undoubtedly as much a substantive, and has the same meaning, as the word nadir. In common language it de¬
notes the bottom.
GRAMMAR.
788
Preposi- Thus, then, it appears, that though the first two of these
tions. sentences, taken entire, convey the very same meaning
with the last two, yet the import of the preposition for is
as different from that of of, as cause is from consequence}-
When two words or sentences are linked together by the
former of these prepositions, the object expressed by the
last word or sentence is declared to be the cause of that
which is expressed by the preceding ; when two words or
sentences are linked together by the latter preposition, the
object expressed by the first word or sentence is declared
to be the consequence of or to proceed from, the object ex¬
pressed by the second. It is therefore a matter of perfect
indifference to the sense whether we say “ sickness of hun¬
ger,” or “ sickness/or hunger“ the man, of he speaks little,
is wise,” or “ the man is wise, for he speaks little.” By means
of the preposition of, we declare sickness to be the conse¬
quence proceeding from hunger, and wisdom to be the con-
sequence we infer from the man’s speaking little ; by means
of/or, we declare hunger to be the cause of sickness, and
the circumstance of speaking little to be the cause from
which we infer the man’s wisdom. In the one sentence,
of is to be considered as a noun in apposition to sickness ;
in the other, as a noun in apposition to the man is wise
taken abstractedly as a noun. In the one sentence for (id
est, cause) is to be considered as a noun in apposition to
hunger; in the other, as the same noun in apposition to he
speaks little taken abstractedly as a noun.
In the foregoing use of prepositions, we have seen how
they are applied by way of juxtaposition ; that is to say,
where they are prefixed to a word without becoming a part
of it. But they are used also by way of composition ; that
is, they are prefixed to other words so as to become real
parts of them. Thus in Greek we have iffusraddcu ; in La¬
tin, intelligere i and in English, uNBEiistand. So also, to
h'OREtell, or ovERact, to uNDERvalue, to ourgo; and in
Greek and Latin other instances innumerable. In this
case the prepositions commonly transfuse something of their
own peculiar meaning into the word with which they are com¬
pounded. For example, if we suppose some given space,
e and ex signify out of that space ; per, through it; in,
within it; sub, under it. Hence, e and per, in composi¬
tion, augment: Enormis is something not simply big, but
big in excess; something got out of the rule, and beyond
the measure. Dico, “ to speak Fjlico, “ to speak out
whence sdictum, “ an edict,” something so effectually spo¬
ken that all are supposed to hear and to obey. On the
contrary, in and sub diminish and lessen. InjusIus, im-
quus, “ uxjust, iNequitable something that lies within
justice and equity, that reaches not so far, that falls short
of them. Susniger, “ blackish suBrubicundus, “ red¬
dish ; tending to black, and tending to red; but yet under
the standard, and below perfection.
Before we dismiss this part of our subject, we shall
make the same general remark upon prepositions which we
formerly made on conjunctions, viz. that the precise im¬
port of each can with certainty be known only by tracing
it to its source in some word of known and determinate
meaning, either in the language where the preposition it¬
self has place, or in some parent or cognate tongue. And Interjec-
it may be laid down as an infallible rule, that where differ- tiomi
ent languages use the same or a similar particle, that lan-
guage ought to be considered as its legitimate parent, in
which the true meaning of the word can be found, and
where its use is as common and familiar as that of any
other verbs and substantives. When prepositions can be
traced to such sources as these, no room can be left for
disputes concerning their meaning. In carrying on this
etymological pursuit, we find advantages in the nature of
prepositions which conjunctions do not afford us. With and
without, from and to, with many other words belonging to
this class, have meanings directly opposite and contradic¬
tory to each other. If, then, by the total or partial ex¬
tinction of an original language, the root of any one pre¬
position be lost, whilst that of its opposite remains, the phi¬
losopher ought to be satisfied with reasoning from contra¬
riety, as nothing is more evident than that the meaning of
a word,is known when we know with precision the mean¬
ing of its opposite. When we meet, however, with a luck¬
less preposition of which no root is left to be dug up, and
which has itself no direct opposite in the language, nothing
remains but that we inquire for what purpose it is used by
the best writers both ancient and modern ; and if we can
fix upon one meaning which will apply, however awkward¬
ly, to all the places where it occurs, or to the greater part
of them, the probability is, that we have discovered the
true and original meaning of the preposition ;1 2 and by keep¬
ing that meaning constantly in view, we shall ourselves be
enabled to use the word with perspicuity and precision.
3. Of Interjections.
Besides the above parts of speech, there is another ac¬
knowledged in all the languages of Europe, called the in¬
terjection } a word which cannot be comprehended under
any of the foregoing classes. The genuine interjections
are very few in number, and of very little importance, as
they are thrown into a sentence without altering its form
either in syntax or in signification. In the words of Mr
Horne Tooke, the brutish inarticulate interjection has no¬
thing to do with speech, and is only the miserable refuge
of the speechless. The dominion of speech, according to
the same author, is erected on the downfall of interjections.
Without the artful contrivances of language, mankind
would have nothing but interjections with which to com¬
municate orally any of their feelings. “ The neighing of
a horse, the lowing of a cow, the barking of a dog, the
purring of a cat, sneezing, coughing, groaning, shrieking,
and every other involuntary convulsion with oral sound,
have almost as good a title to be called parts of speech as
interjections. In the intercourse of language, interjections
are employed only when the suddenness or vehemence of
some affection or passion returns men to their natural state,
and makes them for a moment forget the use of speech ;
or when, from some circumstance, the shortness of speech
will not permit them to exercise it.” The genuine inter¬
jection, which is always expressive of some very strong
sensation, such as ah ! when we feel pain, does not owe
1 Junius derives/or from the Greek eras; Skinner from the Latin pro; but I believe, says Mr Horne Tooke, that it is no other
than the Gothic substantive fairina, cause. He imagines also that </, in the Gothic and Anglo-Saxon a/ is a fragment of the Gothic
and Saxon words afaua and afora, posteritas, proles. In a word, he considers/or and o/as nouns or substantives; the former always
meaning cause, the latter always meaning consequence, offspring, successor, follower, &c. If this account of these words be just, and we
have no doubt of it, the prepositions for and q/'are in syntax to be considered as nouns in apposition with other nouns, or with sentences
taken abstractedly as nouns.
2 For instance, let us suppose that Mr Horne Tooke’s derivation of for, from the Gothic substantive fairina, is fanciful and ill
founded : yet there can be little doubt but cause is its true and original meaning, when it is found, that of sixteen examples brought
bv Greenwood and forty-six by Johnson, of different significations of the word/or, there is not one where the noun cause may not be
substituted instead of the preposition/or; sometimes indeed awkwardly enough, but always without injury to the sense. Even
where for seems to be loco alterius, which Lowth asserts to be its primary sense, it will be found to be cause, and nothing else. Thus,
“He made considerable progress in the study of the law before be quitted that profession for this of poetry that is, “ before he
quitted that profession, this of poetry” being the cause of his quitting it.
GRAMMA R. 739
Abstract, its characteristical expression to the arbitrary form of ar-
V—ticulation, but derives its whole force from the tone of
voice and modification of countenance and gesture. Of
consequence, these tones and gestures express the same
meaning, without any relation whatever to the articulation
they may assume ; and are therefore universally under¬
stood by all mankind. Voluntary interjections are used in
books only for embellishment, and to mark forcibly a strong
emotion. But where speech can be employed, they are
totally useless, and are always insufficient for the purpose
of communicating thought. Dr Beattie ranks strange,
prodigious, amazing, wonderful, O dear, dear me, &c. when
used alone, and without apparent grammatical syntax,
amongst the interjections ; but he might with as much
propriety have considered hardly, truly, really, and even
many Latin verbs, as interjections ; for these too are often
used alone to supply the place of whole sentences. The
truth is, that all men, when suddenly and violently agitat¬
ed, have a strong tendency to shorten their discourse by
employing a single word to express a sentiment. In such
cases, the word employed, whether noun, adjective, or
verb, would be tbe principal word of the sentence, if that
sentence were completed ; and the agitation of the speaker
is such, and the cause of it so obvious, that the hearer is
in no danger of mistaking the sense, and can himself sup¬
ply the words which are wanting. Thus, if a person, after
listening to a romantic narrative, were to exclaim, strange !
would any man of common sense suppose, that the word
strange, because uttered alone, had lost the power of an
adjective and become an interjection ? No, surely ; every
one sees that the exclamation is equivalent to, “ that is
strange,'’ or “ that is a strange story.” Real interjections
are never employed to convey truth of any kind. They
are not to be found amongst laws, in books of civil insti¬
tutions, in history, or in any treatise of useful arts or sci¬
ences ; but in rhetoric and poetry, in novels, plays, and
romances, where in English, so far from giving pathos to
the style, they have generally an effect that is disgusting
or ridiculous.
Having now analysed every part of speech which can
be necessary for the communication of thought, or which
is acknowledged in any language with which we are ac¬
quainted, we shall dismiss the subject, after annexing an
abstract, which may present atone view the several classes
and subdivisions of words. Of the different modes of di¬
viding the parts of speech, as well as of the little import¬
ance of systematic classifications, we have already declar¬
ed our decided opinion; but for the sake of those who
may think differently from us, we shall in the abstract
subjoined adopt Mr Harris’s classification as far as it is
intelligible ; after informing our readers that Mr Horne
Tooke admits only three parts of speech, the article, the
noun, and the verb, and considers all other words as cor¬
ruptions or abbreviations of the two last of these.
GRAMMATICAL ABSTRACT,
Exhibiting a Systematic View of Words, as they are com¬
monly arranged into distinct Classes, with the Subdivi¬
sions under each Class.
All language is composed of words, each of which may
be defined, a sound significant of some idea or relation.
These words may be arranged into four general divisions,
namely,
I. SUBSTANTIVES ; which are all those words that
are expressive of things which exist, or are conceived to
exist, of themselves, and not as the energies or qualities
of any thing else. These may be divided into two orders,
viz.
1. Nouns, properly so called, being the names of all
those things which exist, or are conceived to exist. These Abstract,
may be divided into three kinds, each of which admits of
the subdivisions after mentioned, viz.
Natural, or those which are used as the names of natu¬
ral substances ; sucb are (genus) animal; (species) man,
dogs (individual) Alexander, Cyrus, Cerberus, Argus.
Artificial, or the several names of artificial objects ; such
as, (genus) edifice ; (species) house, church ; (individual)
Vatican, St Peter s, St Paul’s.
Abstract, or those which are the names of qualities con¬
sidered as abstracted from their substances; such as,
(genus) modern/ (species) flight, courses (individual) the
falcon’s flight, the greghound’s course.
Nouns of all kinds admit of the following accidents, viz.
Gender, which is a certain affection of nouns denoting
the sex of those substances of which they are the names.
For as in nature every object is either male or female, or
neither the one nor the other, grammarians, following this
idea, have divided the names of beings into three classes.
Those which denote males are said to be of the masculine
gender ; those which denote females, of the feminine gen¬
der ; and those which denote neither the one nor the
other, of the neuter gender. The English is the only lan¬
guage of which the nouns are, with respect to sex, an ex¬
act copy of nature.
Number. As there is no object in nature single and
alone, and as by far the greater part of nouns are the
names of whole classes of objects, it is evident that every
such noun ought to have some variation, to denote whether
it is one individual of the class which is meant, or more
than one. Accordingly we find, that in every language
nouns have some method of expressing this. If one be
mentioned, the noun is used in that form which is called
the singular number ; if more than one, it is used in a dif¬
ferent form, which is called \he plural number.
Cases. All nouns, excepting proper names, are general
terms; but it is often necessary to use those general
terms for the purpose of expressing particular ideas. This
can be done only by connecting the general term with
some word significant of a quality or circumstance pecu¬
liar to the individual intended. When that quality or
circumstance is not expressed by an adjective, it is in
English and most modern languages commonly connected
with the noun by the intervention of a preposition; but
in the Greek and Latin languages the noun has cases to
answer the same, and even in English the noun has, be¬
sides the nominative, one case to denote possession.
2. Pronouns, which are a species of word invented to
supply the place of nouns in certain circumstances. They
are of two kinds, viz.
First, the prepositive ; so called because they are capable
of leading a sentence. These are divided into three or¬
ders, called the pronouns of the
First person. The pronoun of this person, in English
I, denotes the speaker as characterized by the present act
of speaking, in contradistinction to every other character
which he may bear. It is said to be of the first person,
because there must necessarily be a speaker before there
can be a hearer ; and the speaker and hearer are the only
persons employed in discourse.
Second person. The pronoun of this person, in English
thou, denotes the person addressed as characterized by
the present circumstance of being addressed. It is said
to be of the second person, because in discourse there can¬
not be a hearer till there be a speaker. The pronouns
of the first and second persons have number and cases,
for the same reason that nouns have these accidents; but
in no language have they any variation denoting gender.
The reason is, that sex, and all other properties and
attributes whatever, excepting those just mentioned as de¬
scriptive of the nature of these pronouns, are foreign from
790
Abstract.
GRAMMA
the mind of the speaker when he utters I or thou in dis¬
course.
Third person. The pronouns of this person, he, she,
it, are employed to denote any object which may be the
subject of discourse different from the speaker and the
hearer. They are improperly said to be of any person ;
for there can be but two persons employed in discourse,
the speaker and the party addressed. They are, how¬
ever, pronouns ; since they stand by themselves, and are
the substitutes of nouns. He is the substitute of a noun
denoting a male animal ; she, of a noun denoting a female
animal; and it, of a noun denoting an object which has
no sex. All these, like the pronouns personal, admit of
number and cases ; but there is this peculiarity attending
them, that though in every case of the singular number
the distinction of gender is carefully preserved, in the
plural it is totally lost in some languages; they, theirs, and
them being the nominative, possessive, and accusative cases
of he, of she, and of it.
Secondly, the subjunctive; so called, because they cannot
lead a sentence, but only serve to subjoin a clause to
another previously enunciated. Of this kind are
Which and who. This subjunctive pronoun may be sub¬
stituted in the place of any noun whatever, whether it be
expressive of a genus, a species, or an individual; as, the
animal which, the man who, Alexander who, &c. Nay, it
may even become the substitute of the personal pronouns
themselves ; as when we say, I who now write, you who
now read, thou who readest, he who wrote, she who spoke ;
where it is observable, that the subjunctive who adopts
the person of that prepositive pronoun which it represents,
and affects the verb accordingly. Who and which, there¬
fore, are real pronouns, from substitution ; and they have
this peculiarity besides, that they have not only the power
of a pronoun, but also of a connective of the same import
with that which in English is expressed by the preposi¬
tion of. The word that is now used indifferently for who
or which, as a subjunctive pronoun ; but it was originally
used only as a definitive, and as such it ought still to be
considered in philosophical grammar.
II. ATTRIBUTIVES ; which are those words that are
expressive of all such things as are conceived to exist, not
of themselves, but as the attributes of other things. Ihese
are divided into,
1. Verbs, or those words which are expressive of an
attribute and an assertion ; as, I wrote.
The attributes expressed by verbs have their essence
in motion or its privation ; and as motion is always accom¬
panied by time, therefore verbs are liable to certain varia¬
tions called tenses, viz.
H\\e present, which represents the action of the verb as
going on, and as contemporary with something else ; as, /
write, or lam writing, either just now, or when you are read¬
ing. The prceter-imperfect, which represents the action of
the verb as having been going on but not finished in some
portion of past time; as, / was writing, no matter when,
yesterday, last week, or last year. The aorist of the past,
which represents the action of the verb as finished in some
indefinite portion of past time ; as, I wrote, or did ivrite, yes¬
terday, or last week. The prater-perfect, which represents
the action of the verb as just now finished, or as finished
in some portion of time within which the present instant is
comprehended ; as, / have written this day or this week.
The plusquam-perfect, which represents the action of the
verb as having been finished in some portion of time with¬
in which a determinate past instant was comprehended ;
as, I had written last week before I saw you. The first
future, which represents the action of the verb as to be go¬
ing on at some indefinite future time ; as, I shall write or
be writing to-morrow, or next week. second future,
which represents the action of the verb as to be completed
R.
at some definite future time ; as, I shall have written when Abstract,
you come to-morrow, next week, next month, or next year.
Affirmation is the essence of every verb, insomuch that
all verbs may be resolved into the substantive verb is, and
another attributive. But a man may affirm something of
the action of the verb directly, something of his liberty
or capacity to perform that action, or something of his
wish that another should perform it. To denote these se¬
veral kinds of affirmation, all verbs have what grammarians
call modes, viz. the indicative, to denote the first kind of
affirmation ; as, I write: the subjunctive, to denote the se¬
cond ; as, I may or can write : the imperative, to denote the
third ; as, write thou, or do thou write. Besides these, gram¬
marians have given to every verb a mode, called the infi¬
nitive ; as, to write. But this seems on every account to be
improperly styled a mode. Nay, if affirmation be the es¬
sence of verb, the infinitive cannot be considered as any
part of the verb at all, for it expresses no affirmation. It
is indeed nothing more than an abstract noun denoting the
simple energy of the verb in conjunction with time.
Verbs have likewise been distinguished into the follow¬
ing kinds, according to the nature of the attribute of which
they are expressive, namely, ls£, Active-transitive, or those
which denote an action that passes from the agent to some
external object; as Caesar conquered Pompey : ‘Id, Active-
intransitive, or those which express that kind of action
which has no effect upon any thing beyond the agent him¬
self ; as, Caesar walked: ‘M, Passive, or those which ex¬
press not action but passion, whether pleasing or painful;
as, Portia was loved, Pompey was conquered: \th, Neu¬
ter, or those which express an attribute that consists nei¬
ther in action nor in passion ; as, Caesar stood.
2. Participles, or those words which are expressive of
an attribute combined with time. In English there are
only two participles; the present, as writing, which ex¬
presses the action of the verb to write, as going on ; and
the past, as written, which expresses the action of the same
verb as finished, and therefore past in time. In Greek
and Latin there is a future participle, by which the attri¬
bute is represented as being in a state of exertion at some
future time ; as, qoafm, scripturus, about to write.
3. Adjectives, or those words which express as inhe¬
ring in their substances the several qualities of things, of
which the essence consists not in motion or its privation ;
as, good, bud, black, white, large, small, and the like. As
attributes are the same whether they belong to males or
females, to one object or to many, adjectives ought in strict¬
ness to admit of no variation respecting sex or number;
and in English they actually admit of none. Some qualities,
however, are of such a nature, that one substance may have
them in a greater degree than another ; and therefore the
adjectives denoting these qualities admit in most languages
of a variation which grammarians call the degrees of com¬
parison. Thus Plato was wise, Socrates was wiser than
lie, but Solomon was the wisest of men. There is a spe¬
cies of adjectives derived from nouns, and even from pro¬
nouns ; for we say, the Pompeian party, a brazen trumpet,
and my book, which are phrases equivalent to “ the party
of Pompey, a trumpet of brass, and the book of me.”
4. Adverbs, or those words which, as they denote the
attributes of attributes, have been called attributives of the
second order, to distinguish them from verbs, participles,
and adjectives, which denote the attributes of substances,
and are therefore called attributives of the first order. Ad¬
verbs are divided into two kinds, viz.
First, Those which are common to all attributives of
the first order, that is, which coalesce equally with verbs,
with participles, and with adjectives. These may be di¬
vided into adverbs of intension and remission, or of quan¬
tity continuous; as moderately, vastly, exceedingly, &c.
These, like adjectives of a similar nature, admit of the dif-
GRAMMA R.
791
Abstract, ferent degrees of comparison. Of quantity discrete; as,
once, twice, thrice, &c. These are not, in strictness of
speech, adverbs, being in reality the possessive cases of
one, two, three, &c. Of relation; as more, most, less,
least, equally, proportionally, Sec.
Second, Those which are confined to verbs properly so
called, and which are of the following kinds : Of time ; as,
then, when, afterward, now, &c.: of place ; as, here, there,
where, hence, whence, &c.; and also adverbs derived from
prepositions; as, upward, downward, &c.: of intensions
and remissions peculiar to motion; as, speedily, hastily, slow¬
ly, See. We have given adverbs a place amongst the parts
of speech necessary for the communication of thought;
but it may be doubted whether they be entitled to this
distinction. English adverbs at least seem to be nothing
more than corruptions of nouns, adjectives, and verbs.
III. DEFINITIVES ; which are all those words that
serve to define and ascertain any particular object or ob¬
jects as separated from others of the same class. These
are commonly called Articles, which are divided into
two kinds, viz.
1. Indefinite, as a. or an, which is prefixed to a noun
or general term, to denote that but one individual is meant
of that genus or species of which the noun is the common
name. This article, however, leaves the individual itself
quite indeterminate. Thus, man is the general name of
the whole human race; a man is one individual, but that
individual is unknown. Any is prefixed to a noun either
in the singular or plural number, when it is indilferent as to
the truth of the proposition what individual or individuals
be supposed ; thus, “ any man will be virtuous when temp¬
tation is away.” Some is prefixed to nouns in the plural
number, to denote that only part of the species or genus is
meant, leaving that part undetermined; thus, “ some men
are great cowards.”
2. Definite, as the, which is prefixed to a noun, to de¬
note one individual of the species of which something is
predicated that distinguishes it from every other individual.
Thus, “ the man that hath not music in himself is fit for
treasons.” It is used before nouns in both numbers, and for
the same purpose ; for we may say, “ the men who have not
music in themselves are fit for treasons.” This, prefixed to
a noun in the singular number, denotes an individual as
present and near at hand ; as, “ this man beside me.” That,
prefixed to a noun in the singular number, denotes an
individual as present but at a little distance; as, “ that
man in the corner.”1
Besides these, there are many other articles both definite
and indefinite.
IV. CONNECTIVES, or those words which are em¬
ployed to connect other words, and of several distinct
parts to make one complete whole. These may be divid¬
ed into two kinds, viz.
1. Conjunctions, by which name are distinguished all
those connectives which are commonly employed to con¬
join sentences. These have been divided into two kinds,
ca\\ed conjunctives, or those words which conjoin sentences
and their meanings also; and disjunctives, or those words
which, at the same time that they conjoin sentences, dis¬
join their meanings. Each of these general divisions has
been again subdivided ; the former into copulatives and
continuatives, the latter into simple disjunctives and ad¬
versative disjunctives. But the general division is absurd,
and the subdivisions are useless. Conjunctions never dis¬
join the meaning of sentences, nor have any other effect
than to combine two or more simple sentences into one
compound sentence. If those simple sentences be of op- Abstract.
posite meanings before their combination, they will con-
tinue so after it, whatever conjunction be employed to
unite them. In nature, different truths are connected, if
they be connected at all, by different relations ; and there¬
fore, when the sentences expressive of those truths are
connected in language, it must be by words significant of
those natural relations. Thus, accidental addition is ex¬
pressed by the conjunction and; as when we say, “ Ly¬
sippus was a statuary, and Priscian was a grammarian.”
The unexpected junction of contrary truths is expressed
by but; as, “ Brutus was a patriot, but Caesar was not.”
The relation of an effect to its cause is expressed by be¬
cause; as, “ Rome was enslaved because Caesar was am¬
bitious.” The relation of an effect to a cause of which
the existence is doubtful, is expressed by if; as, “you
w’ill live happily if you live honestly:” the relation of a
cause to its effect, by therefore-, as, “ Caesar was ambiti¬
ous, therefore Rome was enslaved.” The idea of simple
diversity is expressed by either and or ; “ either it is day
or it is night.” Contrariety between two affirmations,
which, though each may be true by itself, cannot both be
true at once, is expressed by unless ; as, “ Troy will be
taken unless the Palladium be preserved.” Coincidence
of two affirmations apparently contrary to each other is
expressed by although; as, “ Troy will be taken although
Hector defend it.”
2. Prepositions, or those connectives of which the
common office is to conjoin words which refuse to coa¬
lesce ; and this they can do only by signifying those rela¬
tions by which the things expressed by the united words
are connected in nature. The first words of men, like
their first ideas, had an immediate reference to sensible
objects; and therefore there can be no doubt but that the
original use of prepositions was to denote the various re¬
lations of body. Afterwards, when men began to discern
with their intellect, they took those words which they
found already made, prepositions as well as others, and
transferred them by metaphor to intellectual conceptions.
Prepositions viewed in this light are
Either proper, or those which literally denote the re¬
lations subsisting amongst the objects of sense, such as
the accidental junction of two things between which there
is no necessary connection; as, “ a house with a party
wall.” The separation of two things which we should
expect to find united ; as, “ a house without a roof, a
man without hands.” The relation subsisting between
any thing and that which supports it; as, “ the statue
stands upon a pedestal.” The relation of higher and low¬
er ; as, “ the sun is above the hills,” “ to support uneasy
steps over the burning marl,” “ tbe sun is set below the
horizon,” “ the shepherd reclines under the shade of a
beech tree.” The relation between any thing in motion
and that in which it moves; as, “ the rays of light pass
through the air.” The relation between any thing con¬
tinued, whether motion or rest, and the point of its be¬
ginning; as, “ the rays of light proceed from the sun,”
“ these figs came from Turkey,” “ that lamp hangs from
the ceiling.” The relation between any thing continued
and the point to which it tends; as, “ he is going to Italy,”
“ he slept till morning.” The relation between an effect
and its cause; as, “ I am sick of my husband and for my
gallant.”2
Or metaphorical. For as those who are above others in
place have generally the advantage over them, the pre¬
positions which denote the one kind of superiority or in-
1 These two articles have plurals; these is the plural of this, and those the plural of that.
2 Conjunctions and prepositions are indeed employed only to connect sentences and words ; but it may be doubted whether tiey
be parts of speech distinct from nouns, verbs, and adjectives.
792
Grammar, feriority, are likewise employed to denote the other.
V*-' we say of a king, “ he ruled over his peopleand of a
soldier, “ he served under such a general.”
Interjections are a species of words which are found
perhaps in all languages on earth, but which cannot be in¬
cluded in any of the classes above mentioned ; for they are
not subject to the rules or principles of grammar, as they con¬
tribute nothing to the communication of thought. They
may be called a part of that natural language with which
man is endowed, in common with other animals, to express
or allay some very strong sensation ; such as, ah ! when
he feels pain. In this view the interjection does not owe
its characteristical expression to the arbitrary form of arti¬
culation, but to the tone of voice, and the modifications of
countenance and of gesture with which it is uttered ; it is
therefore universally understood by all mankind. In dis¬
course interjections are employed only when the sudden¬
ness or vehemence of some affection returns men to their
natural state, and makes them for a moment forget the use
of speech. In books they are thrown into sentences with¬
out altering their form either in syntax or in signification ;
and in English this is generally done with a very bad effect,
though the writer no doubt employs them with a view to
pathos or embellishment.
To the masterly and instructive treatise on the Theory of
Language, which is here reprinted, it does not seem to be
either necessary or desirable that any large supplement
should now be added. Historical or Comparative Gram¬
mar—that special department of philology which traces the
history of particular languages, and disentangles their mutual
relations—has in the present age made vast advances, if it
might not rather be said to be a science almost altogether
new. But there has not, and could not have been, a simi¬
lar progress in that first and fundamental department of
philology on which Historical Grammar rests—the recent
developments of Universal Grammar may safely be asserted
not to have yet stretched, in any leading section, beyond
points reached in the foregoing dissertation. It is true, in¬
deed, that a science like Universal Grammar, directly depen¬
dent on mental laws, and on not a few mental laws which
are far from having been satisfactorily evolved by the psy-
chologers or metaphysicians themselves, cannot in all quar¬
ters be free from discrepancies of opinion. But, if there
were here room or fit occasion for a systematic exposition
of the relations between our article Grammar and the most
modern phases of philological inquiry, both special and
general, the commentary, fairly conducted, would make two
things appear very clearly. On the one hand, the results
of late investigations into the history of particular tongues,
while they would give rise to very few corrections, and to
none that are at all important, would exhibit many addi¬
tional proofs and illustrations of doctrines taught m the
article. On the other hand, a comparison with later at¬
tempts to develop the universal theory of language, would
show that several doctrines, now so currently recognised as
to be even trite, were propounded or proved for the first
time, either in this treatise, or in the oral teaching of the
distinguished thinker and philologer, from whose prelections
its materials are announced as having been mainly derived.
One part only of Dr Hunter’s philological system has the
advantage of being published authoritatively in his own
words : and, perhaps, in the preceding dissertation, this part
is less clearly set forth than the rest; because his own enun¬
ciation of it was not made in print till late in his life, and
because it involves several fine and peculiar steps of ana¬
lysis. The part in question is his Theory of the Verb, which Grammar,
probably contains no doctrine not to be found in the fore¬
going pages, but which, nevertheless, should also be studied
as a whole in his own statement of it. That statement, in
the shape of an “ Introductory Essay on the Moods and
Tenses of the Greek and Latin Verb,” is affixed to the seve¬
ral impressions of Dr Hunter’s edition of Ruddiman’s Latin
Rudiments ; and some specific illustrations from the tenses
of the Greek verb appeared in the ninth volume of Trans¬
actions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
A complete generalization of this Theory of the Verb,
such as to fit it exactly to its place in a system of Universal
Grammar, would be a very ambitious undertaking ; while it
would be liable to the risk of incorporating, with the opi¬
nions of the venerable scholar himself, others which might
not really be his. A few sentences, however, attempting
to explain the outline of the theory, may be useful as a
clue to some of the views stated in the body of the article.
1. The separate consideration of the element of Time is
the key to all the intricacies presented by the Verb.
2. Two only of the three possible Modes of Time are ex¬
pressed directly by the verb. These are, the Present and
the Past. Those forms of the verb which deal with the
Future do not express it directly : they merely enable us to
infer it. This is seen most easily through the auxiliary
forms prevalent in such languages as our own. Our “will”
expresses directly nothing more than resolution, and our
“shall” nothing more than obligation ; but futurity is na¬
turally and necessarily inferred, in regard to the action or
suffering to which the resolutiop or the obligation relates.1
3. In all tenses of the verb Time is expressed, not Abso¬
lutely, but Relatively ; that is, relatively to those two points,
the present and the past. “ If,” says Dr Hunter, “ we sepa¬
rate the Time from the other circumstances involved in those
forms of the Greek and Latin verb called the Moods and
Tenses, the Time thus separated, or separately attended to,
will in every one of them be found to be either the Present
or the Past. One primary object of those forms seems to
have been, to give the present and the past as two fixed
points of time, with a reference to which all the other ideas
involved in them are to be estimated and determined. They
are all past, present, future, contingent, &c., with reference
to one or other of these two fixed points.”
4. It is implied in the preceding propositions, that the
Moods of the verb cannot be rightly analysed, until the
relations of the Tenses have been clearly brought to light.
5. For the dissection of the Moods, however, a second
principle is required, which may be stated broadly thus.
That which forms the radical part of a verb into a Mood (a
flexional termination in some languages, an auxiliary or group
of auxiliaries in others) is commonly said to modify the
radical part of the verb. But the opposite view is the cor¬
rect one. The radical part of the verb modifies that by
which it is formed into a mood ; the radical part modifies
the flexion or auxiliary. The Modal part of the expression
really contains the leading assertion, whose varieties are
thus comparatively few; the Radical part of the verb modi¬
fies and varies the meaning of the assertion, according to an
indefinite multiplicity of occasions. Whatever opinion may
be adopted as to the origin and history of the [Greek and
Latin] Flexions, no doubt can be entertained that they are
similar in their nature to our Auxiliaries; that the termina¬
tions contain the generic Y>axt of the expression, and are mo¬
dified by the radical part of the verbs combined with them.”
Thus, in the expression “ Amem, I may love,” the generic
assertion is made by “ —em, I may and this assertion is
specificated by “ Am—, love.”
GRAMMAR.
Thus
1 Besides classical and other illustrations of the inferential character of the future tense, the fact is curiously exemplified by our own
mother-tongue. In the Anglo-Saxon verb, one and the same form does duty both as present and as future, the context determining which
of the two is intended.
G R A
Grammont 6. This analysis, when followed out to its consequences, is
II maintained to carry with it the doctrine, that there is only
Granada. one true Mood, namely, the Indicative. Our English auxi-
liaries are again convenient as examples. “ I am, or I am
not; I do, or I do notexpressions affirming or denying
existence and action,—are readily admitted to be indicatives.
But so, likewise, are expressions like these: “ I may, or I
may not; I can, or I cannot;” which affirm or deny liberty
and power; and which affirm or deny liberty and power
quite as positively as the other expressions affirm or deny
action and existence. “ To consider certain of those forms
as exclusively Indicative or Assertive, and others as not
so, seems to be founded completely in misapprehension,
and tends to perplex and mislead. “ I may write,” “ I
might write,” are equally Assertions as “ I do write” and
“ I did write.” The thing indicated or asserted is dif¬
ferent ; but, in so far as assertion is concerned, they are
completely similar; they stand on precisely the same
footing.”
7. The result of the examination of the moods, in its appli-
GRAMMONT, a town of Belgium, province of East
Flanders, on both sides of the Dender, 21 miles S.S.E. of
Ghent. It is a walled town, and contains two churches,
several chapels, a town-hall, hospital, college, and several
schools. It has manufactures of lace, cotton yarn, linen
and woollen goods, leather, soap, paper, and tobacco; as
well as bleaching and dyeing works, breweries, and distil¬
leries. Pop. (1851) 7816.
GRAMMONT, Count. See Hamilton.
GRAMPIANS, a mountain chain in Scofand. See
Scotland.
GRAMPUS, an animal of the cetaceous order. See
index to Mammalia.
GRAN (Hung. Esztergom, anc. Strigonium), a royal free
city of Hungary, capital of a cognominal county, on the
right bank of the Danube, nearly opposite the mouth of the
river Gran, 26 miles N. by W. of Buda. This was long
the residence of the Hungarian monarchs, and the finest
city in Hungary, till almost annihilated by the attacks of
the Turks. These held it for seventy years previous to
1683, when they were finally expelled by John Sobieski
of Poland. It is now the seat of the archbishop and prince-
primate of Hungary. The cathedral, the palace of the
archbishop, and the houses of the chapter, occupy the sum¬
mit of a high and precipitous rock, the site of an ancient
fortress, of which only portions of the walls now remain.
The cathedral, commenced in 1821, and only recently
finished, is said to be the most splendid building in Hun¬
gary. Gran, with its several suburbs, contains about 12,000
inhabitants, who are chiefly employed in the weaving and
dyeing of woollen cloths.
GRAN CANARIA. See Canary Islands.
GRANADA, sometimes called Upper Andalucia, is
bounded on the E. and S. by the Mediterranean and Mur¬
cia, and on the N. and W. by Andalucia. It is situated
between N. Lat. 36. 16. and 38. 4., and between W. Long.
1. 38. and 5. 30. Its greatest extent from E. to W. is
about 200 miles, and from N. to S. about 140. The area
is 9630 square miles English ; and the population (in 1849)
amounted to 1,157,584. The form of this province is an
irregular triangle, with the base to the E. on Murcia, and
the apex to the S.W. towards the Straits of Gibraltar.
Granada is beautifully diversified with majestic mountains,
extensive plains, and rich valleys, all fringed ivith a tropi¬
cal maritime border. The Sierra Nevada chain extends
throughout the province, from N.E. to S.W., under the
names of Roncla, Antequerra, Orca, Huescar, and Sierra
Nevada, “with its diadem of snow,” which, in its highest
YOL. X.
G R, A 793
cation to the classical languages and our own, is, in skeleton, Granada,
briefly this. Our common Auxiliary Verbs, “am, do, have,
shall, will, may, can,” assert, respectively, existence, action,
possession, duty or obligation, volition, liberty or possibility,
ability or power; “and they are all verbs of the present time
or tense, each of them having a correspondent form appro¬
priated to past time.” The Flexional Forms of the Greek
and Latin verbs imply or involve those auxiliaries, and con¬
tain the same assertions ; and each of them “ will be found,
like the auxiliaries which they involve, to have two corre¬
sponding forms, the one predicating those attributes of the
preseyit time, the other of the past?'
8. I he manner in which this analysis of the moods is ap¬
plied in detail to the modifications expressed by the tenses,
will be best learned from Dr Hunter’s own treatise. But,
in the preceding article, in the section on the verb, the par¬
ticulars are worked out with so much of general adherence
to the principles just explained, that, with no further aid than
these few general propositions, the application of the two
laws jointly cannot be difficult.
point, the Cerro de Mulhacen, a little S.E. from Granada,
is 12,762 feet above sea-level. All this chain has an ele¬
vation of more than 9900 feet, and above this height is
covered with perpetual snow. Thus, under a latitude of
37°, eternal snow and the temperature of Africa are com¬
bined; hence every variety of vegetable production from
the lichen to the cotton plant and sugar-cane is found here.
Towards the south the mountains gradually decline to the
Sierra de Gador, near Almeria, where the elevation is
7800 feet. At this extremity, near Macael, stands the
famous rock Filabers, 2000 feet high, and 4 miles in cir¬
cuit, consisting of one solid mass of white marble. The
secondary mountains are of several kinds; but many of
them are formed of marble of various colours, red, black,
white. About 8 miles from Granada, on the banks of the
Xenil, there is a quarry of beautifully veined green serpen¬
tine, capable of receiving a fine polish. In the mountains
immediately surrounding the city of Granada occur many
kinds of alabaster, some of which are as transparent and
brilliant as Oriental cornelians ; there are also quarries of
jasper, and a considerable variety of precious stones. Some
lead, copper, and silver mines still exist, and several of them
were worked by the Moors. In the sands of the Darro gold
is found; and mineral waters, chiefly chalybeate and sul¬
phureous, are abundant in the province, yet few of them
have been analyzed. The most famous of them are those
of Alhama (with a temperature of 118° Fahr.), Almeria,
and Javal-cohol. As might be expected, the climate
of Granada is cold in the mountainous districts, tem¬
perate in the plains, and extremely hot and sultry in the
valleys. The hot wind called Solano, which blows from
the S.E., is here attended with pernicious effects. It
shrivels up the vegetation, and affects the human body
with the sensations of strong fever; assassinations, mur¬
ders, and suicides, are most frequent during the prevalence
of this wind. The snowy range is a perpetual alembic of
fertilizing water, wdiieh is beautifully commensurate with
the heats ; for the hotter the weather the more copious do
the waters become from the melting of the snow. This
w'ater is wealth ; for the soil of the plains, though light, be¬
comes very productive under the combined effect of mois¬
ture and warmth. Here the succession of crops is contin¬
uous, and the hemp is the finest in the world. Agriculture,
though much degenerated since the expulsion of the Moors,
still forms the wealth of the province, which teems with
corn and wine, oil, silk, and delicious fruits, in great abun¬
dance. The line of irrigation divides the desert from the
paradise ; all lying within its influence is green and fruitful;
5 H
794 G R A
Granada, all beyond it is brown and barren. Agriculture is more
. - / flourishing in this province, however, than in any other part
of Spain. The Vega of Granada is considered the richest
plain in the kingdom, i he estate of the Duke of Welling¬
ton is formed of part of this rich plain, and is occupied by
nearly 300 tenants. This estate is so managed as to form
an excellent model for Spanish agriculturists. The princi¬
pal assistance rendered to the crops is the irrigation of the
soil, which is accomplished by conveying streams along the
more elevated side of every field by means of embankments,
in which sluices are cut, which convey the water into small
rills, which occur at short intervals, so as to flood the whole
field with ease in the hot season. The preservation of
manure is carefully attended to. It is collected in large
pits, well rammed to prevent leaking ; and as soon as well
rotted it is distributed in an almost liquid state over the
land. This is according to the old Moorish mode, which
has always proved the best. This manure is not applied to
the production of corn, but is used for gardens, melon-
grounds, and mulberry plantations. The most abundant
grain crops are raised by the mere assistance of irrigation,
without any manure; and the average annual produce of
land well watered is fifty bushels of wheat per acre English.
Near the rivers in the lower grounds considerable quantities
of rice are cultivated, but often before sowing the rice a
crop of hemp or flax is taken from the land. I he breeding
and fattening of cattle, however, is much more attended to
by the Spanish than the cultivation of cereals. In winter
the cattle are pastured in the uplands, where grass is best;
but no hay is made by the farmers; and after harvest,
which occurs in June, the flocks and herds are fed in the
stubble fields. The horses of Granada are inferior to those
of Cordova, but the asses are very fine animals, and are
highly esteemed in all the eastern countries of Europe.
The wool produced in this province is coarse, and of com¬
paratively little value. The best sailcloth is made from the
hemp of Granada, which has a very strong fibre. The
mulberry tree is cultivated solely for the sake of its leaves
as food for the silk-worm. In the Vega as much silk is
produced as furnishes employment to 1500 persons; and
the manufactures in Granada alone require a supply of
120,000lbs. annually.1 The mountains surrounding Granada
itself are well adapted for the nurture of the vine; but so
badly managed are all things connected with its cultivation,
that the wine is of very inferior quality, and mostly has the
flavour of the sheep-skins with tarred seams in which it is
carried fi'om the vineyards. The Tierno, Moscatel, and
Malaga, however, which are made in other parts of this pro¬
vince, are excellent wines, and in high repute. Though
olive-trees are extensively cultivated, yet sufficient oil is not
produced for home consumption. The sugar-cane is es¬
pecially cultivated around Velez-Malaga, and is of excellent
quality, quite equal to that of the West Indies for size and
juiciness. The foreign trade is chiefly carried on from the
ports of Malaga and Almeria, and consists in exports of su¬
mach, lead, kali, dried fruits, almonds, lemons, anchovies, oil,
and wine ; while the chief imports are cloths, mercery, hard¬
wares, &c. The internal commerce consists chiefly in ex¬
changing dried fruits, corn, and wine, for silk and oil.
The people of Granada, like the rest of the Andalucians,
are generally considered by the Castilians as the Gascons
of Spain. The women are rather handsome and very at¬
tractive. The features and complexion of the people
generally indicate traces of their mixed Moorish descent.
The posterity of those Moors who professed Christianity in
order to escape persecution are chiefly to be found here ;
and they are at present equally as bigoted as the Spaniards
themselves. In the Alpujarras, however, there still re-
G R A
main a few scattered families of that unfortunate race who Granada,
still secretly cling to the doctrines of the Koran, and re-
luctantly concede an external conformity to the Roman
Catholic creed. Since the fall of the last Moorish kingdom
in 1492, when Granada was united to the crown of Castile,
this province has been governed by the Castilian laws.
At Almeria resides a captain-general, as well as the civil
and military provincial authorities; but the law-courts
were transferred to Albacete in 1835. In order to pro¬
tect the province from the corsairs of the African coast,
watch-towers are erected along the shores at short dis¬
tances from the mouth of the Rio-Frio to the Straits of
Gibraltar.
This province contains 18 cities or towns ; 300 villages ;
and about 200 convents of both sexes. Thirty-five of these
religious houses are in the city of Granada.
Granada, a city of Spain, and the capital of a province
of the same name, is situated on the Xenil, at the influx of
the Darro. The Moorish name of this famous city is Kar-
nattah, “ the city of strangers,” composed of the Arabic
Kar, the same as the Celtic caer, or cahir, “ an eminence,”
or what is built on it, and naltah, “ a pilgrim,” or “ stran¬
ger.”2 Others consider it the name of a local goddess.
At the Moorish invasion one of Tarik’s generals gave Kar-
nattah, or Granada, to the Jews, whence it was called Kar-
Sattah-el-Yahood. It occupied the site of the modern
Torres Bernejas, and ranged above the Carnpo del Prin¬
cipe, being quite distinct from Illiberis (which in Basque
means “new city”), with which it has been often confounded.
Illiberis was built on the Sierra Elvira.3 Granada stands
partly on level ground near the river, at an elevation of 2445
feet above the sea, and partly on the slopes of two adjacent
hills. It is divided into four quarters—the Alhambra with
the fauxbourg Churna; the City properly so called ; the Al-
baycin fauxbourg ; and the Antequeruela fauxbourg. Of
these the city proper is surrounded by high walls, flanked
by towers now in ruins; the Alhambra and the Albaycin
have separate walls and ramparts; but the Antequeruela
is quite open. On the summit of the Alhambra Hill stand
the magnificent remains of the regal palace, which attest
the perfection of art among the Moors, as well as the splen¬
dour of their princes during their palmy days in the Penin-
sula. (See Alhambra.) The Albaycin occupies the other
hill; the Antequeruela is the chief residence of the work¬
ing classes; the town proper occupies the space between
the two hills, and extends into the plains. The streets are
generally narrow and tortuous; but the houses are toler¬
ably well built, while their oriental structure and antiquity
render them objects of great interest. There are several
handsome squares, and a number of public fountains in the
town. Though the great object of attraction is the Al¬
hambra, Granada contains several other edifices worthy of
notice. The cathedral, though an irregular and heavy
building, is profusely ornamented with jasper and coloured
marble. It is surmounted with a dome resting on twelve
arches upheld by as many pilasters, beneath which stands
its richly decorated high altar. In the adjoining royal
chapel are numerous fine monuments, among which are
those of their “ Catholic majesties,” Ferdinand and Isabella.
The church of Nuestra Senora de las Angustias has a splen¬
did high altar and two magnificent towers. The church of San
Jose is an elegant modern edifice built on the site of a very
ancient one, of which the tower still stands. Among the
other public buildings of Granada may be mentioned the
xinfinished palace of the Emperor Charles ; the monastery
of San Geronimo, founded by the famous Gonzalo de Cor¬
dova, whose remains were deposited in a splendid mauso¬
leum in its church; the old Carthusian convent, situated
1 It is estimated that 1 lb. of silk is produced by 1500 worms, and that a mulberry tree ten years old will barely supply fo0(1 for as
many worms as yield 7 lbs. 2 Casiri, Bib. Esc. ii. 247. 3 Ford’s Handbook of Spam, m. 124.
G R A
New on an eminence in the suburbs, and adorned with paintings
Granada, by Murillo, Morales, and Cano ; the Generalife, a Moorish
palace, surrounded with gardens and fountains ; the episco¬
pal palace ; the university ; and the general hospital. Its
manufactures are unimportant; the chief being silk and
coarse woollen stuffs, hats, and paper. It has, also, a royal
manufactory for saltpetre and gunpowder. The trade of the
city is insignificant, and carried on entirely in the weekly
markets, which are lively and well attended. The roads to
Granada are kept in wretched repair, so that during the
rainy season it is nearly isolated from the rest of the world.
Granada was founded by the Moors in the tenth century,
near the site of the ancient Illiberis, and at first belonged to
the kingdom of Cordova. In a.d. 1235 it became the capi¬
tal of the new kingdom of Granada, and rose to almost un-
* paralleled splendour. Its population at this time is said
to have amounted to 500,000. In 1491, when it had be¬
come the last stronghold of the Moors in Spain, it mustered
the extraordinary number of 60,000 men to defend it against
the Christian forces of Ferdinand and Isabella. The be¬
siegers, after innumerable deeds of valour on both sides,
gained possession of the city, January 2, 1492, when the
banner of Castile first floated on the towers of the Alhambra
The Moors still continued to constitute the great body of
the inhabitants till 1610, when they wrere expelled from all
parts of Spain ; and in no part of the kingdom was this
severe and impolitic proceeding more keenly felt than in
Granada, which has never recovered from its effects. Pop.
(in 1845) 70,025.
Ginez Perez de Hita, Historia de log Moros de Granada ; Wash¬
ington Irving, A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada, London,
1829, 2 vols. 8vo) Luis de Marmot, Historia de los Moriscos de
Granada, Malaga, 1600, folio ; Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, Guerra
de Granada que hizo Felipe II. contra los Moriscos ; Romey, Historic
d' Espa/jne depuis les premiers temps ■jusqu' a nos jours, Paris, 1839-47,
vols. i.-vii. But especially—Madoz, Diccionario Geografico-Esta-
distico-Historico de Espana, Madrid, 1847-1854 : this is the most
elaborate and trustworthy historical, geographical, and statistical
work on Spain. See also the fine plates of Antiquedades Arales de
Granada y Cordoba, and the magnificent volume of Murphy.
Granada, New, is the most important of the three
republics into which the South American republic of Co¬
lombia resolved itself at the dissolution of that confedera¬
tion in 1831. Till 1810 it was a vice-royalty under the
Spanish crown, but subsequently a part of the republic of
Colombia, the middle and western portions of which it now
embraces. New Granada is bounded on the N. by the
Caribbean Sea, on the E. by the republic of Venezuela, on
the S.E. by Brazilian Guiana, on the S. by the republic
of Ecuador, and on the W. by the Pacific Ocean. It lies
mostly between the equator and 12. N. Eat., and between
70. and 83. W. Long. Area about 480,000 square miles.
Several offshoots of the Andes traverse the western and
larger portion of the republic; but the eastern portion be¬
longs to the immense llanos or planes of the Orinoco. On
the borders of Ecuador, not far north of the town of Pasto,
the great chain of the Andes separates into two branches—■
the western branch, called the Cordillera de la Costa, run¬
ning parallel to the coast of the Pacific ; and the other to
the east, containing several paramos or elevated plains, as
well as the sources of the Japura and Putumayo, affluents
of the Maranon. Further north rise the Rio" Grande or
Magdalena, and its largest tributary the Cauca, which flow
nearly due S. to N., and fall into the Caribbean Sea by
deltoid mouths nearly seven miles broad. Again, in N. Eat.
1. 50., the Eastern Cordillera parts, forming two branches
nearly parallel, inclosing the broad, rich valley of the Rio
Grande. Of these chains, the most easterly, stretching to
the Sierra Nevada de Merida, along the right bank of the
Rio Grande, is called the Eastern Cordillera de Cundina-
marca; the valleys of the Rio Grande, and its tributary the
Cauca, are separated by the Central Cordillera; and the
G R A 795
valley of the Cauca is separated from the Choco districts New
by the Western Cordillera. These three Cordilleras are Granada,
by some designated respectively—Cordillera de la Suma
Paz, from the colossal groupe of this name near Santa Fe
de Bogota ; Cordillera de Quindiu ; and .Cordillera de
Choco. The eastern chain does not exceed 13,000 feet
in elevation so long as the central one rises to the perpe¬
tual snow-line ; but at the point where the Western Neva-
das cease, the eastern chain rises to the snow limit (N. Eat.
5. 5.), and is collectively the most elevated of the three
Cordilleras. The Peak of Tolima (N. Eat. 4. 46.), which
rises to the height of 18,270 feet, and is the culminating
peak of the Andes in the northern hemisphere, belongs to
the Quindiu chain. The Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta,
which extends along the coast between the Cundinamarca
and the Quindiu chains, does not properly belong to the
Andes. About 30 miles from the shore this Sierra rises
abruptly from the plains between the Sea of Maracaybo and
the Gulf of Darien to the height of nearly 19,500 feet.
The vast tract of country between the Western Andes and
the Pacific contains the basins of the rivers San Juan and
Atrato, as well as a narrow tract along the sea-shore. This
narrow strip has a soft, alluvial, and very fertile soil, but is
almost always in a swampy state from the incessant rains
which drench it, and render it most insalubrious, especially
for Europeans. Hence it is abandoned almost exclusively
to native tribes and a few negroes, who are employed in
washing the gold sand found along the western declivity of
the Andes in considerable quantity, and is here and there
intermixed with platinum. The most southern of the table¬
lands which extend along the western declivities of the
Eastern Andes, as well as those of Tunja and Bogota, are at
an average elevation of 9000 feet above sea-level; and on
them are cultivated the cereals and fruits of Europe, as well
as the root called aracacha. Those further north are much
less elevated, and adapted to the cultivation of tropical
grains, fruits, roots, coffee, sugar, tobacco, and cotton. The
low country, extending between the plateaux of Cucuta
and Girona and the mountain group of Santa Marta, is
mostly covered with extensive forests, and almost desti¬
tute of population from the insalubrity of the climate,
caused by the almost incessant rains, numerous swamps,
and frequent inundations. It contains the extensive lake
of Zapatosa.
The llanos or plains of the Orinoco extend over the en¬
tire tract, stretching away to the western banks of the
Orinoco and to the Cassiquiare, between the Rio Negro
on the S. and the Rio Apure on the N. As far south
as the Vichada, the northern part is a complete level,
averaging only 300 feet above sea-level near the moun¬
tains, whence it gradually but almost imperceptibly declines
towards the Orinoco. With the exception of a few palms
that occur at great intervals all over the plain, and some
low bushy trees along the rivers, this district is quite desti¬
tute of trees. During the rainy season, which is from April
till November, rain falls in torrents, accompanied with fear¬
ful thunderstorms, which usually occur between two and
four o’clock in the afternoon ; but the contrast is very strik¬
ing in December, January, and February, when a cloud never
crosses the sky. This immense plain is not at all fit for
cultivation; but innumerable herds of cattle and horses
find abundant pasture on it during the rainy season, though
they suffer much during the dry months from November
till April. The wet season is, on an average, 8° Fahr. hotter
than the dry, and the mean annual temperature is 80° Fahr.
The part of this great plain south of the River Vichada is
covered with immense forests, infested with numerous wild
beasts; and it is somewhat hilly in several districts, espe¬
cially between the rivers Negro and Guaviare, where steep
rocks start out of the plain abruptly to an elevation of from
300 to 600 feet. No breeze ever passes over this part of
NEW GRANADA.
796
New the plain, and its temperature averages three or four degrees
Granada, above that of the northern portion. In it also rain falls
v i- ^ J every day in the year, except during December and Janu¬
ary, sometimes in the form of dense mist, and oftener in
great torrents. Such is the state of the climate, that the
most S.E. part of it, inclosed by the Atabapo, Negro, Orinoco,
and Cassiquiare, is uninhabited, though covered with enor¬
mous forest-trees. At all seasons since a.d. 1788 the navi-
o-ation between the Atlantic and the Pacific has been practi¬
cable for boats by means of a canal dug in the Raspadura
Ravine between the two rivers, under the superintendence
of a monk.
The principal rivers of New Granada are the Magdalena
and Cauca, which run their whole course within the terri¬
tory of the republic, taking their rise in the Andes near the
southern frontier, and, after flowing nearly the entire length
of the country from S. to N., unite in one channel,
and discharge their combined waters through a delta by
three channels into the Caribbean Sea, about W. Long.
75. Besides these two principal streams, a large num¬
ber of the tributaries of the Orinoco, having their sources
in the different ranges of the Andes, drain the llanos of the
east. Of these the principal are the Apure, Meta, Vichada,
Guaviare, Rio Negro, and Japura on the mutual boundary
with Ecuador. The lakes of New Granada are inconsider¬
able ; the most celebrated is the Guatavita, not far from the
city of Bogota, into which, it is affirmed, large treasures
were thrown by the natives during the Spanish invasion
and conquests.
The mineral riches of New Granada are considerable,
and mostly occur in the western declivity of the three
chains of the Andes. They consist of salt-rock, lead, iron,
copper, mercury, platinum, silver, and gold. Along all the
central and western declivity of the Andes gold is found,
and is obtained by washing the sand of the rivers as well as
that on the sides and foot of some hills. It is found on the
plateaux of Cucuta and Girona in the Eastern Andes, where
silver also is obtained in considerable quantity. There are
also some very rich mines in the mountain region between
the Rios Cauca and Magdalena N. of N. Eat. 5£. Pla¬
tinum is found in the western declivityofthe Western Andes,
and mei'cury in the valley of Santa Rosa, near Antioquia,
and near the Pass of Quindiu in the Central Andes. Cop¬
per is found in the Eastern Andes, near Pamplona, and N.
of Tunja. Iron and coal occur in the mountains bordering
on the table-lands of Bogota, and lead in various parts of
the Eastern Andes. In some mountains N.E. of Bogota
large masses of rock-salt are found, and it is worked by the
government. Large quantities of salt are furnished also by
salt-springs in the same mountains.
From the great diversity of surface, soil, and climate of
New Granada, the natural productions are extremely varied,
embracing almost every variety found in the temperate as
well as in the tropical zone. The chief objects of culture
over the table-lands of Bogota, and the district north of it
along the western slopes of the eastern range, are the cereals
as in Europe, the aracacha-root, and potatoes; but in the
river-valleys, and on the coast-plains, maize is the chief
grain cultivated with rice, sweet potatoes, and plantains.
As articles of commerce are cultivated coffee, cotton, cocoa,
tobacco, some sugar, and indigo. The forests abound with
numerous kinds of useful timber trees; but those converted
into articles of export are the logwood, Brazil, Nicaragua,
and fustic trees, which grow most abundantly in the forests
of the Santa Marta chain. The balsam of Tolu, so named
from a village near Cartagena, is collected largely on the
banks of the Rio Sinu, and ipecacuanha on those of the
Rio Magdalena; cinchona, or Peruvian bark, is obtained
in large quantities in the region of the Sierra de Santa
Marta, as well as in several other places ; cochineal of the
finest quality is procured from the banks of the Sogamozo.
Previous to the discovery of this country by Europeans, New
horses and cattle were unknown in these regions ; but now Granada,
tasajo, or jerked beef, and hides, as articles of commerce, are
furnished by the immense herds of cattle which the llanos
support; and mules, horses, and cattle are exported to the
West Indies.
The population of New Granada are descendants of the
Spaniards who have settled there during the three last cen¬
turies, and some of the native tribes intermixed with a few
negroes. Very different degrees of civilization are found
among the native tribes. Before the invasion of the
Spaniards, those of the table-lands along the Eastern
Andes had organized a political system and made some
progress in the simpler arts of civilization. These, with the
Indians in the valley of the Upper Magdalena, are still
the best husbandmen in the republic. Between the Pacific '
and the Western Andes, nearly all the population are de¬
scendants of the aboriginal native tribes, whose progress in
the arts of civilized life is very small, and almost exclusively
owing to the few Spanish priests scattered among them as
missionaries. None but the descendants of Europeans dwell
in the treeless llanos; and their occupation is the care of
the herds of mules, horses, and cattle. Wandering Indians,
still in a very barbarous state, occupy the southern wooded
portion of the llanos. The numbers of the respective races
occupying New Granada have been estimated by Hubner
as follows:—
White Caucasians  450,000
Native civilized Americans  301,000
Negroes  80,000
Metis (descendants of Spaniards and natives)... 999,000
Mulattoes  283,000
Samoyes  120,000
Zambos (in Magdalena)  100,000
Quadrones  30,000
Total estimated population in 1853  2,363,000
Agriculture holds the first place in the industry of New
Granada. Rice, cotton, tobacco, cocoa, sugar, and tropi¬
cal fruits, are among the productions of the coast region ;
while the elevated plains yield maize, wheat, and all the
products of a temperate zone. The cultivation of the soil,
however, is carried on very carelessly; and reclaimed land
bears but a small proportion to the whole. On the llanos
towards the Orinoco, almost the sole occupation of the
people is the rearing of cattle and horses. Agriculture
is chiefly in the hands of the converted Indians, who
manifest a very decided predilection for these labours of
peace. Manufacturing industry is of so little importance
that it can hardly be said to exist in the republic. It is
limited to home-made coarse woollens and cottons, adapted
for the use of the lower classes only. At Bogota the capi¬
tal, and the other principal towns, indeed, straw-hats, car¬
pets, and some other articles are made, but in no case does
the native industry become commensurate with the demands
of the country, so that nearly all manufactured goods in use
are imported. Mining is carried on, but only to a very in¬
considerable degree. There is a silver mine at Santa Ana,
in Bogota, the only one now worked; and gold is collected
in a few localities. Emeralds, diamonds, and pearls, are
also obtained. The salt mines of Zipaquira are, however,
extensively worked. With the exception of this last, the
mining business of the country is left entirely to the poor
and ignorant.
The principal ports of New Granada are,—on the Carib¬
bean Sea, Santa Marta, Cartagena, Chagres, Rio de la
Hacha, and Portobello; on the Pacific, Panama and Buena¬
ventura. Steamers now navigate the Magdalena; and the
only railway in the country is that from Aspinwall to
Panama.
The commerce of this republic was much more extensive
before its independence than at present. This arises from
NEW G 11 A N A D A. 797
New almost incessant internal war, the unsettled state of the go-
Granada. vernment, and the inadequate means of communication with
the interior, which, for want of roads, cannot export its
superabundant produce. Another great hindrance is the
swampy insalubrious nature of the climate over the tracts
bordering on the sea, endangering the lives of those who
traverse them. So thoroughly inaccessible is the valley of
the Upper Cauca, which is the most fertile tract in the re¬
public, that none of its produce can be exported except
what is carried over its inclosing mountains on the backs of
men. It is everywhere surrounded by lofty mountains, and
the Cauca becomes unfit for navigation on issuing from the
valley. The exports of New Granada average annually
about L.900,000; while the imports somewhat exceed
L.1,000,000. The total value of the exports from New
Granada to the United Kingdom in 1854 was L.376,065 ;
of imports therefrom L.284,695; of which L,270,722 were
goods of British manufacture. The trade of the interior
is carried on chiefly by mule-carriage, the roads being ex¬
ceedingly bad ; but of late years considerable improvement
has been made in this respect.
New Granada enjoys a republican form of government,
based on the written constitution of 1832, which was a
close copy of the constitution of the United States of
North America. On this, however, some amendments
have since been made. Every man born in the country,
able to read and write, and that without distinction of
class or colour, is a citizen; and foreigners are natural¬
ised at the age of twenty. The supreme government
is centralized, and not as in the United States federal.
The legislature consists of a chamber of deputies, with
65 members, elected by the people, and a senate of
39 members, elected by provincial colleges. The presi¬
dent, in whom the chief executive power is vested, is
chosen for four years. Justice is administered by an in¬
dependent judiciary, consisting of a supreme court, and
provincial and other inferior courts ; and all judges are ap¬
pointed by the president, with the consent of the senate.
Representation is based on population, but each province
must be represented by at least one deputy. All religious
sects are tolerated in the state, but the Roman Catholic is
the only religion that receives support from the public
treasury. They do not, however, recognise the supremacy
of the Pope—the Archbishop of Bogota being considered
the head of the church. The bishops of Cartagena, Mom-
pox, Neyva, Pamplona, Santa Marta, and Popayan, are his
suffragans, and exercise authority in their particular dio¬
ceses. Education, formerly greatly neglected, has of late
years received the attention of government, and the public
generally have become alive to its great importance. Public
schools, on the Lancasterian system, are established in all
the large towns. In Bogota there is a university ; and in
the provincial capitals colleges, or high schools, have been
established. Bogota has also an observatory, a public
library, and several special schools; and in several places
associations have been formed for the promotion of science,
art, and literature. Much, however, is still wanting to a
complete educational system.
The armed force of the republic is still small. The
army proper consists of less than 2000 men ; while the
active militia does not amount to 6000. In time of war,
however, every male adult is liable to military service.
The navy is only fit for coast service.
The war of the revolution bequeathed to the state a
bankrupt treasury and a heavy debt. In 1852 the national
liabilities amounted to $37,060,888 ; and this sum is being
constantly increased by unsatisfied interest, and a defi¬
ciency in the annual receipts. The expenditure in
1851-2 amounted to $2,145,779, while the receipts were
$1,553,513.
The republic of New Granada is now divided into five
departments, which are again subdivided into 18 pro- New
vinces :— Granada.
Cundinamarca, containing the four provinces of Bogota ^
Antioquia, Neyva, and Mariquita.
Boyaca, containing also four, Pamplona, Socorro, Tunja,
and Casanare.
Magdalena, also four, Cartagena, Santa Marta, Rio
Ilacha, and Mompox.
Cauca, also four, Pastes, Popayan, Choco, and Buena¬
ventura.
Istmo, two, Panama and Veragua.
The 'principal towns:—In Cundinamarca—Bogota, the
capital not only of the department but of the republic, hav¬
ing a population of about 40,000 ; Honda, which has about
5000 inhabitants; Rio Negro, 6000; Mariquita, a small
town near rich mines of gold, west of Honda; Neyva,
pop. 4000; Timana, 2000—both these are noted for their
plantations of cacao, and gold is washed near Timana
—Ibague has a college, and is situated nearly 4900 feet
above sea-level, at the foot of the Central Andes; in the
valley of the Cauca are Antioquia, pop. 4500, and Madellin,
9000.
In Boyaca—Tunja, the capital, has a population of
about 7000; Socorro, 12,000; Rosario de Cucuta, a
pretty large town carrying on an active commerce in
cacao, sugar-cane, coffee, and cotton; Pamplona, with
4000 inhabitants, and several gold mines in its vici¬
nity.
In Magdalena—Cartagena, the capital; Mompox, pop.
10,000; Ocana, 8000; Santa Marta, 3000; Ciudad de la
Hacha, 3000; west of this town, along the coast, pearls were
formerly fished.
In Cauca—Popayan, the capital, has about 20,000 in¬
habitants. It is situated 5824 feet above sea-level, near
the sources of the Cauca river; and the volcanoes Porace
and Sotara are in the vicinity; Cali, in the vale of Cauca,
from which the chief road over the Western Andes
leads to Buenaventura on the Pacific; Buenaventura, a
collection of a few miserable huts built on posts, and yet
it is the only port that supplies the valley of the Cauca
and Popayan with wares, and it has mostly several ves¬
sels anchored there, both coasters and foreign. Atacames
and Barbacoas are small harbours also on the Pacific.
Pasto, with a population of 5100, stands at an elevation
above the sea of 8580 feet in the Andes, near the
boundary of Ecuador, on a fine plain near the foot of a very
restless volcano.
In Istmo—Los Santos has a population of about 1600;
David, 2800 inhabitants; Panama, 6000; and Santiago,
2200.
New Granada was discovered by Columbus 1498-1502. History.
Different governments having been established throughout
the country, a vice-royalty was at length, in 1732, formed
of what is now the republics of Ecuador and New Granada.
In 1810 the Spanish authority was thrown off, and an in¬
cessant war against that power maintained until 1824, when
the Spaniards were finally vanquished. Bolivar, the most
distinguished leader of the Spanish-American revolution in
1818, proposed the union of Venezuela with New Granada;
and when the Congress of Angostura met early in 1819, the
fundamental law was enacted, which established the repub¬
lic of Colombia, and which was inaugurated on the 17th
December of the same year. This union was never cordial,
and lasted only ten years. In November 1829, Venezuela
seceded from it; and in May 1830, Ecuador also withdrew.
The central part of Colombia constituted itself the Republic
of New Granada, 21st November 1831. In 1832 the con¬
stitution was promulgated, and the republic divided into
provinces. Under the constitution, New Granada be¬
came an integral state, and the powers of government were
divided into legislative, judicial, and executive, each
798 G R A
Granada independent of the other. The provinces secured to them-
II selves municipal bodies, having powers over all local legisla-
Granary^ jn tjie constitution was reformed, but without any
variation in the organization of the government. On Janu¬
ary 1, 1852, slavery was entirely abolished, and no slave
has been born in the republic since 1821. In 1855 the
Isthmus of Panama was constituted a state under the name
of Istmo, subject to the national government, however, in
certain specified affairs.
Granada, a town of Central America, state of Nica¬
ragua, on the N.W. bank of the lake of Nicaragua. By
means of the lake and the river S. Juan, it communicates
with the Caribbean Sea, and thus carries on a considerable
trade. Pop. about 12,000.
GRANADA, Fray Luis de, a celebrated Dominican
friar, one of the greatest of the ascetic writers of Spain,
was born in 1505, and died in 1588. His father was one
of those whom Ferdinand the Catholic induced by valuable
privileges and immunities to settle in Granada after the
conquest of the Moors. At five years of age Luis was left
a destitute orphan by the death of both his parents; but
the Conde de Tendilla, alcalde of Alhambra, struck with
the singular intelligence of the child, took him under his
protection and had him educated with his own sons.
Having completed his nineteenth year, Luis determined to
devote himself to the Church, assumed the habit of the
preaching friars in the convent of Santa Cruz, and became
the first evangelical orator of his day. In vain did the
queen offer him the bishopric of Viseu, and afterwards
nominate him to the metropolitan church of Braga: he de¬
clined all ecclesiastical honours and emoluments in order
that he might spend his life in what appeared to him a
sphere of humble but extensive usefulness.
Luis de Granada wrote several things in Latin ; but his
Guide to Sinners, his Meditations for the Seven Mornings
and Evenings of the Week, and his Symbol of Faith, which
are all in the vernacular, are his most celebrated works.
His friend, and predecessor of the same school, Juan de
Avila, had created, so to speak, a powerful, deeply-coloured
language for embodying religious sentiment, and Granada
beautified it by retouching it with light and shade, giving
it additional harmony, fluency, and dignity. These authors
long seem to have been considered the great models for
Spanish prose ; and though we cannot enter into the rapture
of the Spanish critics in extolling the power and pathos of
their effusions, yet we may mention those on the sufferings
and death of the Saviour as exquisite specimens. The
Descent into Hell, to emancipate the spirits there impri¬
soned, we consider the finest specimen of the style and
eloquence of Luis de Granada. This is justly considered
one of the most sublime passages in the Spanish language.
Fray Luis de Granada lived to the age of 83, honoured by
all ranks, and died in a convent at Lisbon, where he had
spent his declining years in strict seclusion.
GRAN A RD, a market-towm of Ireland, county of Long¬
ford, 65 miles W.N.W. of Dublin. It has a parish church,
a Roman Catholic chapel, dispensary, market-house, bar¬
racks, and union workhouse. Near the town is the Mote
of Granard, an artificial mound, with vestiges of an encamp¬
ment. Pop. (1851) 1805, besides 1855 in workhouse.
GRANARY, a building to store corn in. Granaries are
generally built of brick, with quarters of timber wrought in
the inside, to which the boards, wfith which the inside of the
granary must be lined, are nailed so close to the bricks that
there may be no space left for vermin to harbour in. There
is an advantage in having many storeys, because the shal¬
lower the corn lies the better, and the more easily it is turned.
The tw7o great requisites in the erecting of granaries are—
to make them sufficiently strong, and to give them an ex¬
posure to the most drying winds. In many parts of Eng¬
land, particularly in Kent, corn is treated in the following
G R A
manner. To separate it from dust and other impurities Granary,
after it is threshed, it is tossed with shovels from one end
to the other of a long and large room; the lighter substances
fall down in the middle of the room, and the corn only is
carried from side to side or from end to end of it. After
this the corn is screened; and being then brought into the
granary, it is spread about half a foot thick, and turned from
time to time, about twice in a week; the screening of it is
also repeated once a week. This sort of management is
continued about two months, after which it is laid a foot
thick for two months more; and during this time it is turned
once a week, or twice if the season be damp, and now and
then screened. After about five or six months, it is raised
to two feet thickness in the heaps, and then turned once or
twice in a month, and screened from time to time. After
a year, it is laid two and a half or three feet deep, and
turned once in three weeks or a month, and screened pro¬
portionally. When it has lain two years or more, it is
turned once in two months, and screened once a quarter ;
and however long it be kept, the oftener the turning and
screening are repeated the better will the grain be preserved.
It is proper to leave an area of a yard wide on every side
of the heap of corn, and other empty spaces into which the
corn may be turned and tossed as often as required. In
Kent two square holes are made at each end of the floor,
and a round one in the middle, by means of which the corn
is thrown out of the upper into the lower rooms, and so up
again, that it may be the better turned and aired. The
screens are made with two partitions, to separate the dust
from the corn, which falls into a bag ; and when sufficiently
full this is thrown away, while the pure and good corn re¬
mains behind. Corn has by these means been kept thirty
yeai’s ; and it is observed, that the longer it is kept the more
flour it yields in proportion to the corn, and the purer and
whiter the bread is, the superfluous humidity alone evapor¬
ating in the keeping. At Zurich in Switzerland corn has
been kept eighty years, or longer, by methods of a similar
description.
The public granaries at Danzig are seven, eight, or
nine storeys in height, and have a funnel in the midst of
each floor, to let down the corn from one to another. They
are built so securely, that though every way surrounded
with water, the corn contracts no damp, and the vessels have
the convenience of coming up to the walls to be loaded.
The Russians and others preserve their corn in subterranean
granaries of the figure of a sugar-loaf, wide below and nar¬
row at top, the sides being well plastered, and the top co¬
vered with stones. They are careful to have the corn well
dried before it be laid into these storehouses, and often dry
it by means of ovens, especially where the summer dry
weather is too short to effect this sufficiently. This method
of storing grain has been practised in many countries from
remote antiquity; and in Sicily, in particular, at the pre¬
sent day, many of the granaries are simply excavations in
the calcareous rock.
Some recommend that the roofs of granaries should be
composed of tiles, because in the worst seasons, when the
regular apertures cannot be opened with safety, there will
always be a considerable inlet for fresh air at their joinings,
and also an issue for the exhalations given out by the grain ;
while others prefer a very close roof, as of lead or zinc, for
the perfect exclusion of insects and vermin. If there hap¬
pen to be any windows to the south, care must be taken
to shut them in moist weather, and in the time of the hot
southern winds. There must be no cellar or other damp
place under a granary, nor should it ever be built over
stables; for in either of these cases the corn will certainly
suffer by the exhalations—be rendered damp in the one,
and ill-tasted in the other.
M. Duhamel and Dr Hailes have recommended various
contrivances for ventilating or blowing fresh air through
G E A
Grand corn laid up in granaries or ships, in order to preserve it
Canal sweet and dry, and to prevent its being attacked by weevils
II or other insects. This may be done by nailing wooden
Grand |)ars or ]a(]is on the floor of the granary, about an inch dis-
a^1 s‘ / tant from each other when they are covered with hair-cloth
V / ™ only ; or at the distance of two or three inches when coarse
wire-work, or basket-work of osiers, is laid under the hair¬
cloth, or when an iron plate full of holes is laid upon them.
These laths may be laid across other laths, nailed at the dis¬
tance of fifteen inches, and two or more inches deep, that
there may be a free passage for the air under them. The
under laths must come about six inches short of the wall of
the granary at one end, on which a board is to be set edge¬
wise, sloping against the wall; for by this disposition a large
air-pipe is formed, which having an open communication
with all the interstices between and under the bars, will ad¬
mit the passage of air below forcibly through a hole at the
extremity, and consequently carry off the moist exhalations
of the corn. The ventilators for supplying fresh air may
be fixed against the wall, on the inside or outside of the
granary, or under the floor, or in the ceiling ; but wherever
they are fixed, the handle of the lever that works them
must be out of the granary, otherwise the person who works
them would be in danger of suffocation when the corn is
fumigated with burning brimstone, as is sometimes done for
destroying weevils. Small moveable ventilators will an¬
swer the purpose for ventilating corn in large bins in gra¬
naries, and may easily be moved from one bin to another.
If the granary or corn-ship be very long, the main air-pipe
may pass lengthwise along the middle of it, and convey air
on both sides under the corn. In large granaries, double
ventilators laid upon each other may be fixed at the middle
and near the top of the granary, that they may be worked by a
windmill fixed on the roof of the building, or by a water¬
mill. The air is conveyed from the ventilators through a
large trunk or trunks, reaching down through the several
doors to the bottom of the granary, with branching trunks
to each floor, by means of which it may be made to pass
into a large trunk along the adjoining cross-walls ; and from
these trunks several lesser trunks, about four inches wide,
branch off at the distance of three or four feet from one
another, and reach through the whole length of the gra¬
nary, their farther ends being closed. Seams of one-tenth
or one-twelfth of an inch should also be left open at the
four joinings of the boards, where they are nailed together,
that the air may pass through them into the corn. In some
of these lesser trunks there may be sliding shutters, to stop
the passage of the air through those trunks which are not
covered with iron, or to ventilate one part of the granary
more briskly than others, as there may be occasion. There
should also be wooden shutters, hung on hinges at their
upper part, so as to shut close of themselves; and these
should be fixed to openings in the walls of the granary on
their outside ; by which means they will readily open to
give a free passage for the ventilating air, which ascends
through the corn, but will instantly shut when the ventila¬
tion ceases, and thereby prevent the admission of damp
from the external air. The ventilation should be made
only in the middle of dry days, unless the corn, when first
put in, be cold and damp.
GRAND CANAL. See Ireland.
GRAND ISLAND, an island in the Niagara River,
United States of North America. Its lower extremity is
about four miles above the Niagara Falls. It is about nine
miles in length by six in breadth, having an area of about
17,400 acres. The soil is fertile ; the surface is level, and
mostly covered with a heavy growth of timber.
GRAND RAPIDS, a town in the United States of
North America, capital of Kent county, Michigan. It is
finely situated on the left bank of the rapids of the Grand
River, forty miles from its mouth and sixty miles W.N.W.
G R A 799
from Lansing. This is one of the most important and Grand
flourishing inland towns of the state, and a place of much 1Ter
activity in trade and manufactures. Steamboats run daily Q.rai|
from this place to Grand Haven at the mouth of the i ° /
river, where they meet the lake steamers. Grand Rapids
wras founded in 1833, and incorporated in 1850. Pop. (1853)
about 5000.
GRAND RIVER, in the state of Michigan, the largest
river lying wholly within the state. It rises in the Wash¬
tenaw and Hillsdale counties by two branches, which unite
in Jackson county. Thence it pursues a very winding
course, generally in a westward direction, to Lake Michi¬
gan. It is about 270 miles in length, and is about 320
yards wide at its mouth. There are several smaller streams
of this name in the United States.
GRAND SERJEANTRY, an ancient species of tenure,
whereby the tenant was bound, instead of serving the
king in the wars, to do some special honorary service
to the king in person ; as to carry his banner, sword, or the
like ; or to be his butler, champion, or other officer, at his
Coronation.
GRANDEE (Span, grande), a nobleman of the highest
rank. This term was originally applied in Spain to those
great lords of the court on whom was conferred the privi¬
lege of remaining covered in the presence of the king. In
some Spanish families this honour is hereditary.
GRANDOLLA, a town of Portugal, prov. of Alentejo,
30 miles S.S.E. of Setubal. It is situated in a plain west
of the Serra de Grandolla, and is celebrated for its annual
fair and the ruins of an old castle in its vicinity. The sur¬
rounding country abounds in fruits of the finest quality,
and an active trade is carried on in these, and wines and
oil of excellent quality manufactured here. Pop. nearly
3000.
GRANGE, an ancient term for a granary, and originally
applied to the storehouse in which religious tithes paid in
grain were deposited. It was also used in a more extended
sense for a whole farm, with all its appendages of barns,
stables, &c.
GR ANGEMO UTLI, a seaport-town of Scotland, county
of Stirling, on the Carron and the Forth and Clyde Canal, a
quarter of a mile from the Firth of Forth,and 11 miles S.S.E.
of Stirling. It has a custom-house, extensive quays and
warehouses, and a dry dock. The chief exports are iron
goods, coal, grain, wool, linen yarn, and cotton and woollen
goods ; imports, timber, hemp, flax, tallow, &c. The har¬
bour is commodious, but is not accessible to vessels draw¬
ing above twelve feet of water. Pop. (1841) 1488. The
population of 1851 is included in Falkirk.
GRANGER, James, a well-known biographer, who has
himself been left without any memorial. The time and
place of his birth, and the condition of his parents, are
equally unknown. He studied, however, at Christ Church,
Oxford, which he probably left without taking a degree;
and having entered into holy orders, was presented to the
vicarage of Shiplake in Oxfordshire, which appears to have
been his only preferment. In the dedication of his Bio¬
graphical Dictionary, which was published in 1769, he in¬
forms us that his name and person were at that time known
to few persons, as he had the good fortune to retire early
to independence, obscurity, and contentment. In 1772 he
published a sermon entitled An Apology for the Brute
Creation, in which he strongly censured cruelty to ani¬
mals ; but which, owing to the mention made in it of
horses and dogs, seems to have excited disgust amongst
the purists of that time. In 1773 he presented to the public
another sermon on the “ Nature and Extent of Industry,
which, notwithstanding a strange dedication, was more
favourably received. But his principal work, indeed that
by which alone he is now known, is his Biographical His¬
tory of England, from the time of Egbert the Great to
800 G R A
Granicus the Revolution, a production of very considerable merit,
II. which occupied him many years, and of which he lived
ranja. to gee two e(j}tions soi(]> jn this work he has only given
'''-“V'-''*''' biographies of those persons of whom some engraved por¬
trait had been executed ; and this circumstance, joined to
the success which it met with, seems to have had the effect
contemplated by the author, namely, to create a taste for
collections of portraits. The Biographical History was
first published in 1769, in four thin vols. quarto; but the
second and subsequent editions have been published
in octavo. On the 14th April 1776, whilst at the com¬
munion table in the act of administering the sacrament,
Granger was seized with an apoplectic fit, and died next
morning.
GRANICUS, in Ancient Geography, a small river of
Asia Minor, rising in Mount Ida in the Troad, and flowing
northwards into the Propontis, which it enters opposite the
island of Proconnesus. Its historical is greater than its
geographical interest; for it was the scene of two very
famous battles, the first gained by Alexander over the
Persians in 334 b.c., and the second by Lucullus over
Mithridates in 74 b.c. The Granicus is probably repre¬
sented by the modern Kodsha-su, though some writers
identify it with the Dimotico.
GRANITE, a compound rock, constituting the lowest
of the geological formations, according to older geolo¬
gists ; but it has lately been found resting even on secon¬
dary formations in the Alps. It (essentially) consists of
quartz, felspar, and mica. Its great durability as a mate¬
rial for building is attested by many of the ancient Egyptian
monuments, in which the stone exhibits no appearance of
decay even after a lapse of 3000 years. There are some
granites, however, which shake and crumble down in a very
few years, particularly those in which felspar predominates.
This rock becomes refractory to work after it has been some
time quarried; and it is usual to keep it for some time
under water before it is wrought into ornamental objects.
See Mineralogv and Geology.
GRANJA (la) de Torkehermosa, a royal town of
G R A
Spain in the province of Estremadura. It is situated in a very Granollers
beautiful plain, and its streets and houses are regularly and ||
commodiously built. The vicinity abounds with excellent Granula-
water, fruits, honey, and yields abundance of cereals. The tion-
town contains one large and two small squares, a parish
church, a town-house, a prison, and a primary school. It
has manufactures of woollen and linen cloth, and a consi¬
derable trade in cattle, wool, and corn. Pop. about 2000.
GRANOLLERS, a royal town of Spain, in the pro¬
vince of Cataluna, 20 miles N. by E. of Barcelona, on the
left bank of the rivers Besos and Congost. It is not well
built, has narrow, badly-paved streets, four squares, a large
parish church, a chapel, two schools, a town-house, hospi¬
tal, prison, and storehouse. Its manufactures are hempen
shoes, linen, woollen, earthenware, and cotton fabrics; and
its principal trade is in corn, fruits, wool, and cattle. Pop.
about 2500. Two annual cattle fairs are held here.
GRANTHAM, a municipal and parliamentary borough
and market-town of England, county of Lincoln, on the
right hank of the Witham, 22 miles S.S.W. of Lincoln.
The parish church is a spacious Gothic edifice of the thir¬
teenth century, surmounted by an elegant spire 273 feet
high, and has an elaborately carved font, and some splen¬
did monuments. At the free grammar-school, founded
by Bishop Fox, Sir Isaac Newton received part of his edu¬
cation. Grantham has also a guildhall, with a spacious
assembly room, a gaol, house of correction, savings-bank,
dispensary, several dissenting places of worship, and national
and other schools. The principal trade is that of malting,
which is carried on to a great extent. Market-day, Satur¬
day. It is governed by a mayor, four aldermen, and twelve
councillors, and returns two members to parliament. Pop.
(1851) of municipal borough, 5,375; of parliamentary
borough, 10,873.
GRANULATION of metals, an operation simply per¬
formed by slowly pouring the melted mass through an iron
cullender into water, which is kept in agitation bv means of
a bundle of twigs. By this method metals may be reduced
to minute grains.
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Engraved I>v S.HaJl Bm*v Str^ Bloom si >T
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Inside. Length of FurnaceJ2 Feet.
TuKlisheilyA.&C.Black, Edinburgh.
PLATE CCLXXILI.
Tublishe i by A..& C-Black, EdmburgTi.
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PLATE C(LXXIV.
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PLATE CCLXXVL.
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FLINT-GLASS MANIJFACTCXKY
Published byA:&C.Black,Edinburgh.